Chapter 22: Vanishing Act

I RETIRED EARLY and lay restless in my bed. Too much contact with Simon could definitely warp your sense of reality. Someplace along the line I went to sleep.

For the second morning in a row, I was awakened by Angel. This time, however, she was not as gentle.

“Dag!” she yelled, bursting into my room. I sat up in bed fast enough to make my head swim and looked at her. It must have been something about my expression that alerted her to the fact that her robe was not tidily closed. For a moment it looked as if she didn’t care, but then she pulled it closed and tightened the belt. I could tell this was done reflexively, though as she blurted out, “Simon’s gone! I’ve looked everywhere. There is no note and he’s not here. I called the front desk and they said he left this morning after ordering breakfast to be delivered.”

“He must have gone out for a walk,” I said. “It is getting a little stuffy in here after three days.”

“You don’t understand, Dag,” she sobbed. “They said he checked out and paid the bill for a late departure so we didn’t have to hurry.”

“He checked out?” I was having a hard time processing this. “And left us here?”

“Yes,” she sobbed as she sank down on the edge of my bed and buried her face in her hands. I patted her on the back, not knowing quite what the proper response should be. I was saved by the chime on the front door. “That’s breakfast,” she said. “How could he do this?”

“Well, look, you go out and let room service in while I get dressed. I’ll be out in a minute and we’ll start looking for him.” She started to protest, but it’s hard for me to get out of bed in the morning with a woman in the room. It’s not like I’m a pajamas kind of guy. “Maybe he sent a note with breakfast,” I said. Her eyes lit up and I was truly sorry I’d said that, but she left the room to rush to the door.

I slid out of bed and cranked the shower on full and hot. After I’d shaved, I selected my traveling suit and my one clean shirt and tie. Life in a luxury penthouse was obviously drawing to a close. I went out to join Angel at the breakfast table.

She was still in her robe and sat at the table solemnly spreading butter on whole wheat toast. She hadn’t bothered with makeup yet and the creases around her eyes were deeper and sadder than I had observed yesterday. Her eyes were red and a little puffy. A tear still trickled down her cheek. I reached across with my napkin and gently dried her eye. She looked up at me directly then.

“He’s gone,” she said flatly.

“Did he leave a note?” I asked. She pointed at my plate. Under the dome covering my dish of oatmeal was a small envelope with my name on it. I somehow didn’t think it was a get well card. I opened it and read it over.

“I don’t know what I was thinking, Dag,” I read. “They’ll hunt me for as long as they think I can be found. I certainly can’t drag Angel through that. My only hope is to get out of town and never come back. I’ve got plenty of cash in lots of places in the world. I can buy a new identity and disappear for good. But they’d spot me again in no time if I had Angel with me. I can see the contract now: look for an ugly little man with a tall golden goddess.

“When I bought the estate in Croatia, I put it in Angel’s name, so I hope she takes that Marine of hers and settles down there. I know she’s got plenty of money.

“I called the airport and there was a guy there last night asking about me and my plane. I asked for a description and was told that he didn’t speak English too well and was the size of a pro-ball tackle. You can guess who that was. So now I’m out of here.

“Good luck on getting a new heart, buddy. If anything happens to me, you know what to do. Bury the fuckers.”

I handed it to Angel, but she refused.

“I already read it,” she said.

I made a quick call to the airport and discovered that Simon’s plane had taken off 40 minutes ago. They could not patch a call through no matter what I said. I’d no more than hung up when my cell phone rang and my dear ex-wife started bending my ear about finding her husband.

“I’m at the airport getting ready to fly to Atlanta,” Brenda said. “Make sure Simon is there and for her own safety, get rid of the bitch.”

“It’s too late, Brenda,” I said, almost relieved. “Simon left this morning. Did you happen to tell Bradley where he was?”

“Well, I might have mentioned it.”

“Well, there was a welcoming committee here already. Simon ran.”

“Ridiculous,” Brenda went on. “What would he have to run from? He’s much more powerful than Bradley. Find him.”

“I’m not going hunting for Simon again,” I said. “I’m tired and I need to go home.”

“Just track him on his tracking thing,” Brenda said. She had come a long way. She wasn’t always so technical.

“What tracking thing?” I asked.

“The one on his airplane,” she said. “You have his computer, don’t you? I can’t imagine you didn’t do this from the start. He has a tracking program on the computer that connects to the plane to keep track of it when he has sent it someplace. What kind of a computer hacker are you anyway?”

I had seen the application, but I didn’t find a way to track anything on it. I’d tried entering the call numbers of the plane, Simon’s social security number, any number of things, but it never connected to anything. I let Brenda know that it was a waste of time.

“It’s fated to die,” she said.

“What?” I asked.

“Simon’s morbidity got to him a few years ago and he named the plane Fated to Die. He has it tattooed on his butt.” Way too much information.

“Okay, I’ll try it. But if I can’t make contact with him I’m coming home. In fact, I’m getting a flight back regardless. I’m through.” I told Angel that for what it was worth, I might be able to track where Simon was flying to.

“I’ll take a look at the tracking system and see if I can locate the plane, but frankly, I don’t know what good that will do. Unless we see that he’s changed his mind and is coming back, I’d suggest we get a ticket back to Seattle. He checked us out of the hotel. Why don’t you get dressed and we’ll see what we can find. I’d rather not be here when Brenda lands.”