I received a call early Sunday morning. It was one of my contacts. “Monsieur is on the move,” the bass voice stated. I sat up slightly in bed, perched on my left elbow while a sliver of light from the street pushed through the drapes.
“Are you sure? Give me the details.”
“He’s purchased a ticket for Honolulu and will leave at 1510 this afternoon.” I gave a set of instructions, and thanked him before hanging up. My head raced as I threw back the covers and headed towards the bathroom.
The hard jets of water awakened my senses as I clicked away at the mental list that began to form. Afterwards, I pulled the small suitcase from the closet with my left hand as the right pulled blouses, and slacks from their hangers. Shoes for the chase found their way into the case. As a seasoned traveler, packing was swift as bureau drawers opened and closed with the same swiftness.
“Finally,” I thought, “Monsieur will finally be mine.” Later, a slight hold up from my editor, delayed my departure from the apartment. He needed clarification on the article I just turned in, “The Need for Speed.” (A close look at the increased use of mood altering drugs.)
The 101 degree weather in Palm Springs required a lot of cool air on the car’s highest level. My heart began to pound as I headed west on 10 and met up with a slight nudge of traffic. LAX seemed like hours away as the traffic came to a crawl. The GPS flashed its detour sign so I clicked the path that would move me the fastest, 9 miles out-of-the-way.
Finally, I returned to the highway after many twists, turn and stops on regular streets. Pressing on the gas pedal, pushed the dial 65 to 70 miles an hour as I kept an eye out for the highway patrol. The 101 traffic would cluster then move as cars weaved in and out of lanes. The clock clicked over to 5 p.m. as the giant LAX letters came into view. No time for budget parking so I circled the stack garage near the airport and at the second turn around, a small spot by a pillar and the Element slid into place. The chase is on…