CHAPTER FIFTY

Foiled

Feeling paranoid, Christine drove about fifty miles. Noticing the time, she decided to drive off the first exit at Harpsburg.

Unwanted tears gathered on her lashes. Oh, how she missed her father right now. Finding the bank she needed, she drove to the automated teller.

After she withdrew all the cash available, she dropped the car off at a rental office. Finding a seedy gas station, she used the restroom to remove her portable baby-bump and change her clothing.

Next door was a used car lot. The owner didn't ask a single personal question, accepting the credit card with a curious lift of his brow. Christine smiled to herself; he was probably hoping she wouldn't ask any questions either.

Before signing the papers she checked all the areas her father had taught her to examine. Crawling out from under the vehicle a scream clawed at her throat. She had nearly rolled over on a swarthy, greasy mechanic who was hunkered down by the car.

Glancing over his shoulder he said in a low voice, "You don't want that one lady. The best one on the whole lot is that Volkswagen Beetle over there."

Christine gave him a questioning look and he harrumphed, "Don't take no rocket scientist to figure you're running from someone, most likely your old man. Most women are scared to come in here.

"Consider it my good deed for the day. You don't need to break down on the highway where he can find ya."

"How…,"

He smiled then nodded toward the beetle, "I saw ya go in the lavatory over at Jasper's. You went in pregnant and came out a movie star. Fastest birth I ever heard tell of."

Handing her the keys he questioned, "Wanna take me for a whirl?"

Nerves tore at her stomach. Did she have a choice? Sliding in the driver's seat she waited for him to shut the passenger door. Starting the car she pulled to the road.

"Take a left, and go one block and turn around back to the right," he pulled his knees up on the dash, "Take it slow so you can remember what I'm gonna tell you."

Christine pulled out into traffic.

"Next town over has a big high school theatre program. See that building by the bridge? It's where them kids buy their costumes and what not. The owner won't remember anyone purchasing different colored contacts and wigs and such. In fact he turns off the surveillance camera if you say the words drama queen.

"He helps with other things you might need, if ya know what I mean. Just say Plato sent ya. He owes me one."

"Why are you helping me?" Christine queried, suspicious.

"Had me a kid sister once, maybe if she knew the ins and outs of things her old man wouldn't have found her and slit her throat."

Christine swallowed, "I'm sorry."

"What's done is done. He got what was coming to him. Didn't last a day in prison.

"Now, most bigger cities have places like this row of businesses, but you lucked out here, sista. If Jason Marz had seen you, you'd be waking up one of his girls right about now. Most every place has their Marz."

An hour later, Christine was amazed at the Costume Store's service. All she had to do was mention drama queen and then Plato sent her and she was ushered to a hidden door in back of the building.

Bob the owner made a complete new identity for her. Driver's license, credit cards, birth certificate and social security number. His wife, Doris helped her color her hair.

"Plato must be a good friend," Christine mused, trying not to gag on the second hand smoke.

Doris snorted back a laugh as she put out her cigarette, "Friend he ain't. He just happens to own this side of town. He likes to check in on his profits dressed like a regular guy."

"Your looks worked in your favor today, honey. Here is some cash. It ain't marked, I promise."

Christine watched the smoke surround the side of the Doris' mouth, turning into a screw it bored a hole into the woman's lip. Christine glared at the fumes tunneling into the woman.

Doris leaned back, startled by Christine's stare.

"Promise me something, Doris. Get that scab on the corner of your mouth looked at, okay? Don't freak out, I'm a nurse.

"Here let me look at it," Christine placed a finger over the screw hole. Having no place to go, the smoke turned into the shape of a coffin and dissipated.

"Yeah, Bob has been after me to do that," Doris ran a finger over her lip, "Funny it seems a lot smaller than usual."

Shrugging, she reached out to pat Christine's arm, "Come look ole Doris up next time you're in town."

It had been dark for a couple of hours when Christine headed toward the expressway.


"Nadir, take Darius and check for computer records on the car Ms. Daae rented. Check the surveillance tapes too. She has altered her looks."

Nadir nodded as he continued to busily write. The person on the line kept up an uninterrupted conversation. Exasperated, Erik relieved him of the phone.

The security system wasn't a problem, a few wires cut and the two Middle Eastern men were in. Working on the computer, Nadir shook his head in irritation. The employees backed the system up at night. A company representative probably picked up the discs.

It would take Erik only an hour or so to hack the computer for the information he needed. Neither he nor Darius were that skilled.

Darius found a folder and pointed to the only female customer that day. Annemarie Likens.

The security cameras were run straight through instead of on a disc. Smart.

Motioning to the door, Nadir followed Darius out. At least they had a name. It was a start. Nadir sighed. That woman was smart; she more than likely had ditched that alias already.

The two men returned to find Erik pacing frantically, "Do tell me you have good news," he growled in greeting.

"The computer information is picked up and taken to headquarters every night. The security footage is wired straight through.

"We did get a name, Annemarie Likens," Nadir offered.

"Aaargh," Erik growled, "Rachel, Forrest Vandyke and their daughter Anya were murdered a couple of days ago. The boy- Cole, and an Agent by the name of Guidicelli were the only survivors."

Darius grit his teeth holding back his response. Nadir bowed his head, "May Allah be with them."

The Phantom resumed his pacing, "Agent Green is spearheading operation 'Draino'. There is a helicopter heading to pick us up as I speak. Shade is downstairs packing what materials we have at our disposal.

"Ms. Daae's position will have to be ascertained at a later time."


"Don't worry Mr. Hawke. I am really Betty Watts."

An Amazonian sized woman exited the bedroom. Hawke narrowed his eyes; he had to look up to meet her gaze. Her iron gray hair was pulled back in a severe bun and she wore a black skirt with a white shirt.

"This young lady is Mia Fletch," Ms. Watts waved a hand toward the smaller woman.

Ms. Fletch bowed quipping, "Healer extraordinaire."