Read an Excerpt

PROLOGUE
 
“I can’t believe I’m going to England! This is so exciting!”
 
“I just hope this morning flight leaves at ten-fifteen like it’s supposed to. After being up most of the night, I know I’ll sleep my way over.…”
 
The voices caught the man’s attention, and he immediately gravitated toward the two women speaking. One was tall and thin, the other shorter and plumper, but both were in their late twenties or early thirties and looked exactly like what they were. Tourists. Even better, the plump one held a small carry-on bag that was identical to his own. No special straps with her name on it; no fancy identity tags; no betraying scuff marks. Just a brand-new blue Samsonite, of which there were millions in use and, doubtless, one or two others on the flight from Kennedy to London. He’d banked on that … banked on the mass confusion that always reigned at one of the busiest airports in the world.
 
All it would take would be one little switch and “The Adams” would go across the pond, easy as pie—and without ever being traced back to him.
 
With all the airport security measures for bombs and drugs, he couldn’t take the chance of carrying the materials himself. Of course that security was a blessing, since he was reasonably assured his merchandise wouldn’t be blown up. But still, he couldn’t take it over himself.
 
He got into the security check line at the edge of the terminal right behind the women, hoping to make the switch on the other side, where all the bags tended to pile together after going through the X-ray machine. The taller woman, however, set her distinctively different bag in between his and the other. The man cursed at the lost opportunity.
 
And then the taller woman laughed.
 
The laugh caught his attention in an entirely different way. It was deep and throaty, sending a shiver of animal magnetism down the man’s spine, making him want to hear it again. In bed. After making love.
 
He caught hold of himself, knowing it was a mistake to have a feeling for his victim or his victim’s traveling companion. That wouldn’t do at all.
 
The tall one, still laughing that wonderful laugh, said, “I remember the last time you had a premonition that a man was coming into your life, Gerry. You found a male kitten the next day.”
 
“Was I wrong?” his target asked triumphantly. “I have it on this trip. And I have it for you, Leslie.”
 
The woman scoffed as she walked through the metal detector.
 
The man smiled slightly at the woman security guard as he passed through the detector himself. Out of the corner of his eye he watched his bag on the X-ray screen. It was packed with the usual toiletries and other ordinary paraphernalia any passenger would need.
 
Even down to “The Adams.”
 
He didn’t miss his next opportunity when the tall woman went into the ladies’ room and the plump one named Gerry walked into the nearly empty gift shop. Lovely woman that Gerry obviously was, she set her bag down on the floor while she paid for her magazines and Life Savers. He set his down right next to hers, stretching his fingers as if the bag was heavy.
 
“I know how you feel,” she murmured to him. “Mine weighs a ton too.”
 
He hoped not. Smiling at her, he said, “Know what you mean.”
 
He picked up a newspaper, set exact change on the counter, then picked up a bag and turned toward the entrance, not rushing, but hurrying as if he were concerned about the time he had left until his flight took off. On his way out he passed Gerry’s tall companion coming into the shop. She never even blinked at him.
 
He headed for the rest room and occupied a stall for a time—enough to allow the women to get to their gate, hopefully without noticing the bag. The identity tag with its wonderful cover flap was the manufacturer’s original. He pushed up the flap and read the information with great satisfaction. When he emerged from the men’s room, he strolled down the terminal walkway and past the waiting lounge for the departure gate the women would be using. They were there already and so was the bag, settled nicely against the one woman’s leg.
 
Smiling to himself, he went to the nearest bank of telephones and dialed a number. When the other end was answered, he said, “Gerry O’Hanlon. American Air. Flight Six-four-three.”
 
The Adams was on its way.