dk.coldfire-第24部分

按键盘上方向键 ← 或 → 可快速上下翻页，按键盘上的 Enter 键可回到本书目录页，按键盘上方向键 ↑ 可回到本页顶部！
————未阅读完？加入书签已便下次继续阅读！


　Ultimately；　when　she　wrote　about　him；　she　would　be　able　to　do　so　with　more　authority　if　she　had　been　an　eye…witness　at　two　of　his　rescues。　
　She　almost　lost　her　nerve　when　he　swung　off　the　airport　service　loop　into　a　parking　garage；　because　there　was　no　longer　a　convenient　car　between　them　to　mask　her　presence。　But　the　alternative　was　to　drive　on；　park　in　another　garage；　and　lose　him。　She　hung　back　only　as　far　as　she　dared　and　took　a　ticket　from　the　dispenser　seconds　after　he　did。　
　Ironheart　found　an　empty　slot　halfway　along　a　row　on　the　third　level；　and　Holly　pulled　in　ten　spaces　past　him。　She　slumped　down　in　her　seat　a　little　and　remained　in　her　car；　giving　him　a　head　start　so　there　was　less　of　a　chance　of　him　glancing　back　and　seeing　her。　
　She　almost　waited　too　long。　When　she　got　out　of　her　car；　she　was　barely　in　time　to　glimpse　him　as　he　turned　right　and　disappeared　around　a　wall　at　the　bottom　of　the　ramp。　
　She　hurried　after　him。　The　soft；　flat　slap…slap　of　her　footsteps　echoed　hollowly　off　the　low　concrete　ceiling。　At　the　base　of　the　ramp；　when　she　turned　the　corner；　she　saw　him　enter　a　stairwell。　By　the　time　she　passed　through　that　door　after　him；　she　heard　him　descend　the　final　flight　and　open　the　door　below。　
　Thanks　to　his　colorful　Hawaiian　shirt；　she　was　able　to　stay　well　behind　him；　mingling　with　other　travelers；　as　he　crossed　the　service　road　and　entered　the　United　Airlines　terminal。　She　hoped　they　weren't　going　to　Hawaii。　Researching　a　story　without　the　financial　backing　of　the　newspaper　was　expensive　enough。　If　Ironheart　was　going　to　save　someone's　life　today；　she　hoped　he　would　do　it　in　San　Diego　instead　of　Honolulu。　
　In　the　terminal；　she　hung　back　behind　a　group　of　tall　Swedes；　using　them　for　cover；　while　Ironheart　stood　for　a　while　at　a　bank　of　monitors；　studying　the　schedule　of　uping　departures。　Judging　by　the　frown　on　his　face；　he　didn't　see　the　flight　he　wanted。　Or　maybe　he　simply　didn't　yet　know　which　flight　he　wanted。　Perhaps　his　premonitions　did　not　e　to　him　full…blown；　he　might　have　to　work　at　them；　nurse　them　along；　and　he　might　not　know　exactly　where　he　was　going　or　whose　life　he　would　be　saving　until　he　got　there。　
　After　a　few　minutes；　he　turned　from　the　monitors　and　strode　along　the　concourse　to　the　ticket　counter。　Holly　continued　to　stay　well　back　of　him；　watching　from　a　distance；　until　she　realized　that　she　would　not　know　his　destination　unless　she　was　close　enough　to　hear　him　give　it　to　the　clerk　Reluctantly　she　closed　the　gap。　
　She　could　wait　until　he　had　bought　the　ticket；　of　course；　follow　him　to　see　which　gate　he　waited　at；　then　book　herself　on　the　same　flight。　But　what　if　the　plane　took　off　while　she　was　dashing　through　the　endless　hallways　of　the　terminal？　She　could　also　try　to　cajole　the　clerk　into　telling　her　which　flight　Ironheart　had　taken　by　claiming　to　have　picked　up　a　credit　card　he'd　dropped。　But　the　airline　might　offer　to　return　it　to　him；　or　if　they　found　her　story　suspicious；　they　might　even　call　security　guards。　
　In　the　line　at　the　ticket　counter；　she　dared　to　close　within　one　person　of　Ironheart。　The　only　traveler　between　them　was　a　burly；　big…bellied　man　who　looked　like　an　NFL　linebacker　gone　to　seed；　he　had　mildly　offensive　body　odor；　but　he　provided　considerable　cover；　for　which　she　was　grateful。　
　The　short　line　moved　quickly。　When　Ironheart　stepped　up　to　the　counter；　Holly　eased　out　around　the　fat　man　and　strained　forward　to　hear　whatever　destination　was　mentioned。　
　The　public…address　system　inconveniently　brought　forth　a　woman's　soft；　sensuous；　yet　zombielike　voice；　announcing　the　discovery　of　a　lost　child。　
　At　the　same　time；　a　noisy　group　of　New　Yorkers　went　past；　plaining　about　the　perceived　phoniness　of　California's　have…a…nice…day　service　ethic；　apparently　homesick　for　hostility。　
　Ironheart's　words　were　drowned　out。　
　Holly　inched　nearer　to　him。　
　The　fat　man　frowned　down　at　her；　evidently　suspecting　her　of　attempted　linejumping。　She　smiled　at　him　in　such　a　way　as　to　assure　him　that　she　had　no　evil　intentions　and　that　she　knew　he　was　large　enough　to　squash　her　like　a　bug。　
　If　Ironheart　glanced　back　now；　he　would　look　directly　into　her　face。　She　held　her　breath；　heard　the　clerk　say；　〃。　。　。　O'Hare　Airport　in　Chicago；　leaving　in　twenty　minutes。　。　。　；〃　and　slipped　back　behind　the　fat　man；　who　looked　over　his　shoulder　to　frown　down　at　her　again。　
　She　wondered　why　they　had　e　to　LAX　for　a　flight　to　Chicago。　She　was　pretty　sure　there　were　plenty　of　connections　to　O'Hare　from　John　wayne　in　Orange　County。　Well。　。　。　though　Chicago　was　farther　than　San　Diego；　it　was　preferable　to…and　cheaper　than…Hawaii。　
　Ironheart　paid　for　his　ticket　and　rushed　off　in　search　of　his　gate　without　glancing　in　Holly's　direction。　
　Some　psychic；　she　thought。　
　She　was　pleased　with　herself　When　she　reached　the　counter；　she　presented　a　credit　card　and　asked　for　a　seat　on　the　same　flight　to　Chicago。　For　a　moment　she　had　the　terrible　feeling　that　the　clerk　would　say　the　plane　was　fully　booked。　But　there　were　seats　left；　and　she　got　her　ticket。　
　The　departure　lounge　at　the　gate　was　nearly　empty。　Boarding　of　the　flight　had　virtually　been　pleted。　Ironheart　was　nowhere　in　sight。　
　On　the　way　along　the　tunnel…like　boarding　gate　to　the　door　of　the　aircraft；　she　began　to　worry　that　he　would　see　her　when　she　had　to　walk　back　the　aisle　to　her　seat。　She　could　pretend　not　to　notice　him；　or　pretend　not　to　recognize　him　if　he　approached　her。　But　she　doubted　that　he　would　believe　her　presence　on　his　flight　was　sheer　coincidence。　An　hour　and　a　half　she'd　been　in　a　rush　to　confront　him。　Now　she　wanted　nothing　more　than　to　avoid　confrontation。　If　he　saw　her；　he　would　abort　his　trip；　she　might　never　get　another　chance　to　be　present　at　one　of　his　last…minute　rescues。　
　The　plane　was　a　wide…body　DC…10　with　two　aisles。　Each　row　of　right　seats　was　divided　into　three　sections：　two　by　the　window　on　the　port　side　five　down　the　center；　two　by　the　window　on　the　starboard　side。　
　Holly　assigned　to　row　twenty…three；　seat　H；　which　was　on　the　starbord　side　one　seat　removed　from　the　window。　As　she　headed　back　up　the　aisle；　she　scanned　the　faces　of　her　fellow　passengers；　hoping　she　wouldn't　lock　eyes　with　Jim　Ironheart。　In　fact；　she　would　rather　not　see　him　at　all　during　the　flight　and　worry　about　catching　sight　of　him　again　at　O'Hare。　
　The　DC10　was　an　immense　aircraft。　Though　a　number　of　seats　were　empty；more　than　two　hundred　and　fifty　people　were　on…board。　She　and　Ironheart　might　very　well　fly　around　the　world　together　without　bumping　into　each　other　getting　through　the　few　hours　to　Chicago　should　be　a　cinch。　
　Then　she　saw　him。　He　was　sitting　in　the　five…wide　middle　section　of　sixteen；　the　port…aisle　seat；　on　the　other　side　of　the　plane。　He　was　paging　through　an　issue　of　the　airline's　magazine；　and　she　prayed　that　he　would　not　look　up　until　she　was　past　him。　Though　she　had　to　step　aside　for　flight　attendant　escorting　a　small　boy　who　was　flying　alone；　her　prayer　was　answered。　Ironheart's　head　remained　bowed　over　the　publication　until　she　was　past　him。　She　reached　23…H　and　sat　down；　sighing　with　relief　Even　he　went　to　the　restroom；　or　just　got　up　to　stretch　his　legs；　he　would　probably　never　have　any　reason　to　e　around　to　the　starbord　side　Perfect。　
　She　glanced　at　the　man　in　the　window　seat　beside　her。　He　was　in　his　early　thirties；　tanned；　fit；　and　intense。　He　was　wearing　a　dark…blue　business　suit；　white　shirt；　and　tie　even　on　a　Sunday　flight。　His　brow　was　as　furrowed　as　his　suit　was　well…pressed；　and　he　was　working　on　a　laptop　puter。　
　He　was　wearing　headphones；　listening　to　music　or　pretending　to；　in　order　discourage　conversation；　and　he　gave　her　a　cool　smile　calculated　to　do　the　same。　
　That　was　fine　with　her。　Like　a　lot　of　reporters；　she　was　not　garrulous　nature。　Her　job　required　her　to　be　a　good　listener；　not　necessarily　a　good　talker。　She　was　content　to　pass　the　trip　with　the　airline's　magazine　and　be　own　Byzantine　thoughts。　
　Two　hours　into　the　flight；　Jim　still　had　no　idea　where　he　was　expected　to　go　when　he　got　off　the　plane　at　O'Hare。　He　was　not　concerned　about　whoever；　because　he　had　learned　to　be　patient。　
　The　revelation　always　came；　sooner　or　later。　
　Nothing　in　the　airline's　magazine　was　of　interest　to　him；　and　the　inflight　movie　sounded　as　if　it　were　about　as　much　fun　as　a　vacation　in　a　Soviet　prison。　The　two　seats　to　the　right　of　him　were　empty；　so　he　was　not　required　to　make　nice　with　a　stranger。　He　tilted　his　seat　slightly；　folded　his　hands　on　his　stomach；　closed　his　eyes；　and　passed　the　time…between　the　flight　attendants'　inquiries　about　his　appetite　and　fort…by　brooding　about　the　windmill　dream；　puzzling　out　what　significance　it　had；　if　any。　
　That　was　what　he　tried　to　brood　about；　anyway。　But　for　some　curious　reason；　his　mind　wandered　to　Holly　Thorne；　the　reporter。　
　Hell；　now　he　was　being　disingenuous；　because　he　knew　perfectly　well　why　she　had　been　drifting　in　and　out　of　his　thoughts　ever　since　he　had　met　her。　She　was　a　treat　for　the　eyes。　She　was　intelligent；　too；　one　look　at　her；　and　you　knew　about　a　million　gears　were　spinning　in　her　head；　all　meshing　perfectly；　well…oiled；　quiet　and　productive。　
　And　she　had　a　sense　of　humor。　He　would　give　anything　to　share　his　days　and　his　long；　dream…troubled　nights　with　a　woman　like　that。　
　Laughter　was　usually　a　function　of　sharing…an　observation；　a　joke；　a　moment。　You　didn't　laugh　a　lot　when　you　were　always　alone；　and　if　you　did；　that　probably　meant　you　should　make　arrangements　for　a　long　stay　in　a　resort　with　padded　walls。　
　He　had　never　been　smooth　with　women；　so　he　had　often　been　without　them。　
　And　he　had　to　admit；　even　before　this　recent　strangeness　had　begun；　he　was　sometimes　difficult　to　live　with。　Not　depressive　exactly　but　too　aware　that　death　was　life's　panion。　Too　inclined　to　brood　about　the　ing　darkness。　Too　slow　to　seize　the　moment　and　succumb　to　pleasure。　
　If　He　opened　his　eyes　and　sat　up　straighter　in　his　seat；　because　suddenly　he　received　the　revelation　that　he　had　been　expecting。　Or　part　of　it；　at　least。　
　He　still　did　not　know　what　was　going　to　happen　in　Chicago；　but　he　knew　the　names　of　the　people　whose　lives　he　was　expected　to　save：　Christine　and　Casey　Dubrovek。　
　To