Even now she was still languishing in some dark hole. She would be tortured and brainwashed, then turned out into the world to serve a darker cause.
I was thinking of them this morning when the last call came. I had numbly accepted everything they put me through, but learning about Muffy had filled me with helpless rage.
Two o’clock found me at the airport with another faxed photo. I located my target in the airport bar. My orders were simple. Whatever it took, I was to make sure that she was on the flight to Atlanta. I sat on the stool beside her.
“Going to Atlanta?” I asked.
She looked up, studying me intently as though wondering if I was really just a friendly stranger. “Yes, I am. How did you know?”
“I saw you at the ticket counter,” I lied. The bartender came by, and I ordered a
