Krycek strode down the walkway with his carry-on bag in tow. He headed for the men's room and ducked inside. Phil Smith walked out of the restroom a few moments later. He hadn't encountered any of Gambini's stooges since the two he had run into as Krycek at La Perdita International, but he figured he would still have to be careful, since the mobster was guaranteed to have a few more sets of eyes around this close to his hostages. The Krycek identity had been good enough to get him through security at two major airports, but it would still arouse a little suspicion if the same Mr. Krycek kept popping up all over the place. The mobsters hadn't seen him at LPI, and Phil Smith was dead as far as every law-enforcement department in the U.S. knew, so he might as well be himself for a little while. If someone became suspicious, there were tons of other people he could pass himself off as - and without going through all the trouble of putting on an actual disguise. If you control what people see when they look in your direction, then you can be anyone.
Phil exited the terminal and hailed a cab.
"Where you headed?" the cab driver asked.
Phil thought a moment. "The airport Ramada," he said finally. He handed the cabby a dollar bill. "Hopefully you can get me there in a hurry."
The cabby's eyes widened. "A hundred bucks for a ten-mile ride?"
Phil smiled. "Let's just say I have an important meeting to catch."
The driver floored the gas and peeled out of the cab lane.
