Free Dance for the Dead by Thomas Perry Page A

sure.
    Jane led them to the baggage
claim and waited while they tried to spot their suitcases. The dark
one said, “Are those the ones? Don’t look.”
    Jane didn’t look. She
said, “Tall, muscular guy with dark hair and cowboy boots.
Shorter one with curly hair. Both in coats, no ties.”
    “Yes,” said the
blonde. “The very ones.”
    Her companion turned to her in
surprise. “You looked?”
    “Of course I did,”
said the blonde. “As soon as I heard about it. But I have a
feeling they’re not our type. Worse luck.”
    There was more to the quiet one
than Jane had expected. “Maybe my type in Las Vegas isn’t
the same as my type in Woodland Hills.” She was joking, but
some part of her mind was agitated.
    Jane decided not to let them get
too curious. “A lot of ugly things happen in this town. Nobody
you want to know hangs around in airports looking for a nice date.”
    The two bags came down and the
blonde soberly scooped them both off the track. Jane picked them up
and walked toward the exit with the two women at her back. She used
the seconds to prepare herself. If Mary Perkins had failed to rent
the car in time, or more likely, had rented it and decided not to
drive it back into the light and danger of the airport, Jane was
going to be left at the curb with two innocents and some men who
might consider this a good opportunity to push them into the back of
a car.
    She stepped out the door into
the cool desert air, set the bags down on the sidewalk, and looked
around her. She was careful not to look behind her for the two men,
but she knew they must be coming closer. Then a car swung out from
the loading zone for United Airlines a hundred yards away and glided
toward them. It was a black Lincoln Town Car, and as it drew nearer,
she could see Mary Perkins behind the wheel, her face set in an
expression of intense discomfort. She stopped two feet from the curb
in front of Jane.
    The order and economy of Jane’s
movements were critical now. As soon as the car stopped she swung
open the back door and said, “Hop in.” As soon as the two
women were inside she pushed the button down and slammed the door.
Scooping somebody off a curb was easy, but dragging them out of a
locked car took time and force. She snatched the suitcases off the
pavement, scurried to the back of the car, and banged on the trunk.
Mary Perkins leaned out the window and tossed her the key. She set
the suitcases inside, closed the lid, and looked around her as she
ran to the driver’s side. She couldn’t see them anywhere,
which meant they were somewhere nearby getting into their own car.
“I’ll drive,” she said.
    Mary Perkins barely had time to
slide to the passenger seat before Jane was inside and wheeling the
big car out into the loop. She drove fast to be sure the two men
thought it was worthwhile to keep her in sight. She swung to the
right on Las Vegas Boulevard. The Strip began just past the airport
entrance, and already she was gliding past big hotels: Excalibur,
Tropicana, Aladdin, Bally’s on the right, the Dunes on the
left. They stopped for the light at Flamingo Road, but she still
couldn’t pick out the car that must be following somewhere in
the long line of headlights. The light changed and she drove the two
hundred yards with the bright moving lights of the Flamingo Hilton on
her right and Caesar’s parking lot on the left, then pulled
into the long approach to the front entrance.
    The blonde said, “How do
you make any money on four dollars a trip?”
    Jane shrugged. “Lots of
hotels, lots of flights, and nothing shuts down, so we work long
hours. We take turns driving.” She turned to Mary Perkins.
“That reminds me. If you want to take a nap, this is a good
time.”
    Mary took the hint and leaned
back in the big front seat. “Thanks,” she said. She
arranged herself so that her head didn’t show over the
headrest.
    Jane stopped the car at the
Caesar’s front entrance and ran to open the trunk. The