Martin turned the chair with him to face her, holding up the
picture for her to see better. It wasn't just a brief glimpse of familiarity
that he saw in the woman's eyes. He saw full-blown recollection and admiration.
While Martin doubted that he could be so lucky to find someone who'd spotted
his mark, the lead was most definitely worth following.
"I believe I just said that," she smiled. "We, ahem...
met a few blocks from here. My boyfriend and I had broken up moments before,
and I... well, to say the least, wasn't paying attention and ran out into the traffic.
Before I realized where I was going, I saw an incoming truck and froze. Right
when the vehicle was about to hit me, he seemed to appear out of nowhere and
took me to safety."
Martin took special note of the emotion that came and went from
the woman's fine features. Her face moved from sadness, to fear, to admiration,
all in a matter of seconds.
"How long has he been missing for?" she asked, her voice
sympathetic.
"A few weeks now," he began, believing that it would be
best to take advantage of the situation that grew before him. "I've been
entrusted with the job of finding this man. If you could provide any
information on your encounter with him, I would be truly grateful."
The woman smiled and retrieved her purse from the nearby table.
"I could take you to the street I bumped into him, as well as tell you
everything I can about him on the way there. It's not much, but perhaps the
information will be useful."
Martin slid the photo back into the file folder, and dropped it
into his briefcase. A moment later he stood next to the woman, gulping down the
last few sips of his coffee.
"Lead the way, ma'am," Martin offered, and she gladly
did so.
They were hardly outside the coffee shop when the woman stopped,
turning to him. She was a little to the side of the walkway. He moved to join
her; his expression alerting her to his confusion. When he neared, she reached
out to shake his hand. He obliged.
"I'm Anita Williams, by the way," she said, offering him
a firm handshake. Her ocean-coloured eyes stared into his expectantly. Martin
wasn't too excited to be introducing himself, but he needed to be polite. After
all, if this woman, Anita, had information that could help him, he would need
her on his side.
"Martin Phillips." He said nothing else, but he offered
her a forced smile. she returned him one of her own.
"Well, I guess I'll tell you what I can about...," Anita
began, "George Wilson?" Martin said.
Why tell a stranger the real name of an alleged Terrorist?
Also, it would help Martin fathom how much she knew about the man.
"Oh... George" Anita said. Martin walked alongside her
on the busy sidewalk, weaving in and out of the crowd in such a way only done
by long time New Yorkers. There was a brief moment where Anita and him were
alone, and that's when she began her story.
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