Now she saw rolling hills and fields in broad open valleys, uplands bisected by steep slopes and wretched soils, an unbroken ridge of shale, limestone. The train climbed up from the plateau toward the Alleghenies. Mona closed the blinds and placed the plastic bag on the table, emptied it out.
There were packets of money bundled inside brown laundry paper, a plastic box with columns of gold Chinese Pandas, a small black velveteen pouch.
She took a breath, unzipped the pouch, turned it so that diamonds tumbled into her cupped palm, their brilliance pulsing even in the shadowy daylight behind the blinds, the sight of there freezing her eyes.
Maybe two dozen there, she thought. She poured them back into the pouch, gathered up the rest of the payback from the table. Count it later. Everything fit perfectly into the empty mahjong case she'd carried the gun in. The case slipped into a neoprene knapsack, all stashed inside the Samsonite. The gun came out of the garment bag, the silencer unscrewed, the magazine ejected. She wrapped all of it in a hand towel, stuffed it into the side compartment of the Rollmaster, and let the light back into the room.
Rugged terrain streaked by, and she could see great lakes far to the north, imagined the Chinese gold coast of Toronto there, considered the possibilities. Seven Chinatowns, newer and cleaner than New York, but lots of Hong Kong Chinese in each. Hip Chings, probably. She watched until the sun began to set behind the mountains. There was no appetite in her stomach and she knew she had to avoid the other passengers.
By nightfall the train had descended into Pittsburgh, then raced west across Ohio and Indiana. She fell asleep in her clothes on the narrow bed, snuggled in beside the knapsack, and awoke fitfully with the first light that filtered in through the blinds.
She brushed her teeth, combed her hair, straightened her clothes. She felt excited and weary at the same time. Coffee and sweet bread came from the dining car. She added XO, finished it off with a chain of cigarettes.
She could keep on the run, she knew, and even be successful in eluding the police, whose energy and resources would dim after a week or so. But Golo would only be satisfied with the return of the gold and diamonds, or if he had a body with which to account to his superiors for the losses. Golo, she knew, would be harder to evade. Johnny was her wild card, in case Golo got too close. She consulted her jade piece, which suddenly felt cool to her touch.
Beware, it said, rain follows thunder.
Move on.
Chicago was a layover where she ducked the passenger lounge in the terminal, keeping the Rollmaster close. Passing the outskirts of Chinatown, she found Wentworth Street, came upon a shopping mall where she filled herself with jook congee and jow gwai, fried bread. On Archer Boulevard she bought melon cakes from a Chinese bakery. She searched along Canal Street, combed the shops along Twenty-Fourth. At the Oriental Gift Shop she found a Chinese box of dark mahogany, which had the symbolic Double Happiness etched in brass on top, a polished wood rectangle with ornate hinges and a sliding drawer. The small gold stick-on label underneath read "Made in China."
She paid for it with cash.
The next train, the California Zephyr, god of the west wind, would carry her the rest of the way. There were Chinese families aboard; she avoided them.
The Superliner crossed the Mississippi, passed the vast bulk and sprawl of prairie lands, tilled and planted with grains, soils of black and red loess. From her window the sky was so big she felt no one would ever catch her.
It was midnight when they arrived in Omaha.
Thirty-six hours out of the Big Uncle's power now, only two things worried her and both were men. Golo would surely come after her, backed by the Hip Chings on both coasts. Johnny would want to keep running, jump the country. Keep him calm, under control, she thought. She still needed him, if only for the extra cover he might provide.
The Zephyr surged westward, into the Rockies, through coniferous forests of Ponderosa pine, fir and spruce, sailing through the Divide, passing river canyons and gorges of sedimentary rock. Her window scanned mountain peaks with rolling alpine meadows, timberline savannahs following the Colorado River. A view so striking she had to chase it with brandy to steady herself.
SellJohnny on the jewelry distributor angle-he'd hook into that. Let him dream about Big Money. Daylight awoke her in Salt Lake City. A soft yellow afternoon.
She kept the rubberized knapsack beside her, made a phone call from the platform.