This time we made the same light. I shoved another twenty to the front. He sped, braked, swerved, and slid between trucks, cabs, and cars. We caught up. Got parallel. I looked over, from our window into theirs. Someone completely different was inside.

“Fuck,” I said.

“Not them?” the cabbie said.

“Keep going, then…turn on Fourteenth. Left on Fourteenth.”

“Whatever you say.”

I was far more certain than I should have been. I felt like I knew.

He made the left. “We’re going to head uptown. Which is going to be faster, Tenth or Twelfth?”

“How far?”

“Forty-Sixth Street.”

“I don’t know,” he said, “this time of night, this weather, either one could be a mess.”

“Tenth,” I said.

He said, “OK,” then turned his radio to Arabic music and kept on trying to make good time.

—

Just after we crossed Forty-Second Street I saw another town car that could have been them. We were close. It signaled a turn on Forty-Sixth and made it. We didn’t. No matter. It was either them or it wasn’t and I was willing to take the bet. “Good job,” I told the cabbie. The meter said $48. I gave him three more twenties.

“OK,” he said with genuine enthusiasm. I grabbed my hat off the seat, pulled it down low, and pushed myself out the door.

The weather hit me in the face and pulled at my clothes. I looked down the block and saw Owen and his too big umbrella opening the back door of the Lincoln—such a gentleman—for Allison—still in her black wig—getting out. Going to his office. Which used to be mine.

—

I scrambled down the opposite side of the street until I got to where I could see into the building. Owen still had the round black shroud open, even indoors, partially hiding Allison.

I leaned against the bricks behind me, getting as much shelter from the storm as I could.

The security guy knew Owen. He and Allison got past him with a simple wave. Water dripped as they went toward the elevators. That annoyed the security guy. Owen didn’t close the umbrella until an elevator arrived.

I pulled out my wallet. I had two nearly real law enforcement IDs in there, one federal, one state. I chose the federal and put it in the plastic window so it would show if I did a G-man ID flip. I pulled my hat down low over my eyes, dodged the traffic, and went across the street. I walked in, water dripping from the brim of my hat and falling from my coat, my shoes squeaking. The security guy said the usual and shoved the sign-in book toward me. I flashed the fake ID. I signed a fake name, put JTF next to it, and NYB for my destination.

He said, “JTF? NYB?”