Corrector

by Blink, Bob

Jake had contacted Karin this morning and explained what was happening, so she would know why he wasn’t around today. He couldn’t alert Zack and Cheryl, as they were still in Australia, and would be heading back toward Sydney from wherever they were. They would be flying back in a couple of days.

  Grabbing the other small travel case, Jake headed out to the garage where he placed everything in the trunk of the Toyota. He could have flown commercial, except for the gun, but once again, he didn’t want any more records than necessary. It was a habit, and even though this trip wasn’t a killing mission, he felt it better to continue being careful. The attack on Cheryl’s mom wasn’t until tomorrow, so he had plenty of time to fly down, stay near the Los Angeles airport in one of the business hotels, and be at the house in time the following morning. He’d used the new credit card and ID, so nothing about the trip should tie him or his previous identity to the area.

  At the Reno FBO office, he retrieved the luggage from the trunk and walked into the building, waving at the familiar face manning the desk.

  “Flying today?”

  “Business trip,” he confirmed. He stopped at the desk for a minute. “I’m going to need to gas her up,” he explained.

  The man reached for his phone. I’ll alert them you are coming over,” he said.

  At the plane Jake loaded the luggage into the seat behind him, then climbed up inside. After settling in, he started the plane, allowing the engine to warm up before releasing the brakes and slowly taxing over to the fuel pump. There he shut down the engine and climbed out so the attendant could fill it up.

  The man seemed to be having troubles this morning, and discovered that the pumps were locked and had to go get a key. It took several minutes before he returned and was able to unlock the pump. Finally he was able to get the transfer started.

  “Mr. Mathews?” a voice said from behind him. At first Jake paid no attention, then it dawned on him that was who he was supposed to be at the moment. Surprised he turned and looked toward the sound of the voice.

  Jake was surprised to see a cop waiting, his service automatic drawn, and while not pointing at him, was clearly ready if the need arose.

  “Mr. Mathews, I’d appreciate it if you would turn and place your hands on the side of the plane with your legs spread well apart,” the cop said.

  “What is this about?” Jake asked in what he hoped was a casual voice as he moved slowly to comply, but he suspected he knew. Somehow they had finally tracked him down. Somehow the plane had been the link they had tumbled to. He’d always known it was possible, but had felt that he had been careful enough that it wouldn’t happen. Also, the fact it had been a long time since he’d used the plane for one of his missions, he had come to assume that he was in the clear.

  “I don’t actually know,” the cop said honestly. “I was ordered to come here and detain you. That’s all I know. I’ll be taking you into the station. They’ll tell you what this is all about I’m sure.”

  There was no point in panicking. They obviously knew about the plane, but hadn’t managed to track him back to his real identity. At least, not yet. If they had, they would have confronted him at the house before this. He could back-track and simply avoid coming here, and they wouldn’t know about him. That’s what he’d have to do. He could decide later what to do about the plane. He could have it sold, or simply abandon it. The latter might be the best approach. They could wait and watch it for a long time before deciding he wasn’t returning. For now, it was probably best to go along with the cop and see how bad it was. He needed to learn what they knew so he could adjust his plans accordingly.

  After being professionally searched, he was placed into the back seat of the patrol car. This one stank and had no handles on the door and a solid inch thick plastic barrier between him and the front compartment. The cop then retrieved his bags and threw them in the trunk of the patrol car. Not that it mattered much, but there was nothing illegal about the gun he had been carrying in the case. They drove away leaving the plane still filling with gas. It didn’t matter. None of this was going to happen in the long run anyway.

  While he waited in his cell after being fingerprinted and booked Jake considered how glad he was that he hadn’t made the trip to Las Vegas with Karin as he’d been thinking. They would have both been arrested and the experience would have been frightening for her. It would have been undone, but he still was glad that hadn’t happened. He had to wait more than three hours. No one talked with him. No one offered him a drink or a chance to visit the restroom. They totally ignored him. Finally, an older cop he hadn’t seen before arrived and opened the cell.

  “This way,” the man said.

  Jake suspected he was going to learn who had ordered his detainment.

  “In here,” the cop said, standing aside so that Jake could enter the room. Inside was a scarred old table that was bolted to the floor and a couple of chairs. One of the chairs was occupied by an older man in a suit. Jake noted that his browning was on the table along with the three loaded magazines.

  “You sit on the far side,” the cop directed.

  Jake sat down in the chair and allowed his legs to be cuffed. He wasn’t going to be moving very far until they released him.

  “That will be fine,” the older man in the suit said. “I can handle it from here.”

  Neither Jake nor the man spoke until the cop had left, closing the door behind him. Then the man smiled and said, “I’m Special Agent Thomas of the FBI.”

  FBI Jake thought. So, this has to be related to the earlier events. Somehow they had stumbled onto what he had been doing. Given the way this had gone down, it had to be the plane that had given him away. Well, he’d always known it was a bit of a risk.

  “So, Mr. Mathews, or should I call you Mr. Waters? The identification papers you have on you don’t reflect the Mathews identity at all. We’ve spent a great deal of time trying to chase down your false identity. I must compliment you on how well you set that all up. But none of that matters now. We have your real identity from your wallet, verified by the fingerprints we took earlier. Your army record verifies your identity. It’s nice to know who you really are and not just another working identity. I’ll have a team over at this address by the end of the day and we’ll see if we can learn a lot more about you.”

  Jake said nothing and sat watching the man. He’d already decided this agent wasn’t the one who had chased him down. This was a field agent, but someone who was handy to come and take possession of him. Someone else had to be in charge. Someone who might be coming here. Jake wondered if it was worth waiting for him to arrive.

  “You don’t appear particularly nervous about being detained. I assume you know why?”

  “Why don’t you tell me,” Jake suggested calmly.

  Agent Thomas smiled. “We believe you have been involved in an extended killing spree over the past couple of years. You and your plane have been traced to the sites of more than a half dozen murders.”

  They didn’t know about them all, Jake realized. He wondered which ones they hadn’t linked.

  “They were all about to kill dozens of innocent people,” Jake said. “I think you must know that. Your people will have examined the crime scenes and been able to surmise what had been intended.”

  “Yes, so I’ve been told. That’s one of the things that has people very curious. How could you know in advance and be in place to act? At first it was thought you were one of them and had changed your mind and had killed the shooter off to hide your involvement. But as the number and distribution of the events expanded, that explanation didn’t fit.”

  “It sounds like you haven’t been part of the investigation,” Jake noted.

  Agent Thomas frowned. He didn’t know what he had expected, but this calm reaction and open admission of the crimes wasn’t something he had considered.

  “No. No, I haven’t. There is a team that has been watching your trail for some time.”

  “Maybe I should wait and talk with
them?”

  “You’ll get your chance. But it won’t be for a few days. We’ll be transporting you back to Washington tomorrow. Once you get there you will be interrogated by Agent Carlson, who is the senior agent who is responsible for this case. Then we’ll see how much you are willing to tell us.”

  That was enough. Jake couldn’t afford to be taken from the area. He wasn’t going to get to meet the man who had been pursuing him, but at least he had a name. There was little more for him to learn here. He had two things to deal with. He still hadn’t resolved the matter with Cheryl’s mom. He gave it another fifteen minutes, but it soon became clear that Agent Thomas wasn’t going to reveal any more.

  Jake back-tracked.

  Chapter 28

  Crap! It was one thing to envision them one day getting a lead on you. It was another to have them suddenly appear and drag you off into custody. Jake wasn’t sure how he would deal with the unexpected intrusion by the FBI into his life, but he would have plenty of time to think about it as he traveled to Southern California. Obviously, he was going to need to do some serious planning. They didn’t really know who he was. Yet! That could change depending on how well he had done his planning when he had set everything up.

  Jake took the flight book for Stan Mathews from his bag and placed it back into the safe. He wouldn’t be needing that today, or most likely, ever again. Instead, he grabbed the second, far less used book from the shelf in the safe. He decided he could keep the new ID and the reservations he had made in that name. It had never been used before and should be clean. He would need his own ID as well. That was unfortunate, but couldn’t be helped.

  “Jake?” Karin asked questioningly a few minutes later when he called her. “Is something wrong? You just called a short time ago.”

  He explained the situation briefly.

  “My God! They arrested you? What are you going to do? Maybe you shouldn’t try anything right now.”

  “Don’t overreact,” Jake said, trying to calm Karin down. It hadn’t been his intent to get her all worked up, but felt she needed to be aware of the recent development and the change in his plans. “They don’t seem to know who I am. They have gotten as far as the plane, but that is hopefully secure. I planned for there to be no links back to me. I just need to stay away from it entirely. The FBI is seeking Stan Mathews. They won’t be looking for Jake Waters right now, and would have no reason to expect any activity in Los Angeles. I am going to have to decide how to proceed long term, however.”

  He was over simplifying, of course. The folks who knew him as Mr. Mathews where he parked the plane would have given the FBI a description of him. They could start circulating that in the Reno/Sparks area. They could eventually get some hits. He might have to move away, and even that might not be sufficient. He’d have to decide if he needed an alternate full time identity. Would Karin go with him somewhere they could start over? This was no time to worry Karin with such disturbing thoughts.

  “They might know more than you realize,” she objected.

  It was possible he admitted to himself.

  “I don’t think so,” he said with more confidence than he felt. “In any event, I have to go today. There is no way I can let something happen to Cheryl’s mom. I owe her.”

  “What if something goes wrong?”

  “Then I’ll simply back-track out of it, and think of another approach. Don’t worry. This is a simple task, not tricky like some of the things I’ve done before. I’ll be back tomorrow and we can talk about where to go from here.”

  They talked another few minutes. Jake was satisfied he had put Karin’s fears to rest. He wished his own worries were equally settled.

  He grabbed his two bags and headed to the garage. The Toyota Camry would have to stay here. He wouldn’t be driving that any more, and would have to think of a good way to ditch it permanently. Stan Mathews and everything related to him would have to cease to exist.

  Jake threw the bags into the back of the Chevy pickup and climbed into the passenger seat. A few minutes later and he was once again on his way out of the gate, but this time instead of turning south on the 395 for the local airport, he turned north. A half an hour away Stead had a smaller airport, the home of the Reno air races, where he could rent a plane. He had a second license in his own name, not as well used and not as high a rating as the Mathews license had been. He used it just enough to keep it current as a backup. He also had never rented a plane in Reno, not wanting to take a chance that someone might spot him and make the connection to his other identity. The flying community wasn’t all that large in this area.

  He parked his truck at the small facility he’d visited several times in the past. He didn’t know the man working the shop today, but it was easy enough to arrange for the rental of a turbo powered Cessna TR 182. They had two of them here, and the documentation established that he had flown both of them several times in the past. Jake hadn’t flown under his own name often, but he did so often enough to keep his records current. They had on file all of the necessary documentation as well as a checkout by one of their pilots, so it was only a couple of minutes before he had completed the rental process. Jake returned to the truck for his two bags, which he loaded in the plane’s cargo space.

  A few minutes later he was taxing down toward the take off runway. The exchange with the tower was brief today. He was flying under Visual Flight Rules which was simpler. It also meant no one would know where he was going. Even though the police weren’t looking for Jake Waters, he felt better taking a few extra precautions. As the plane rose, he tapped the brakes to stop the wheels from spinning and retracted the gear into the plane. This was something he hadn’t had to worry about with the Corvalis and its fixed gear. Then he punched in a direct route to LAX in his Garmin 430 GPS navigation system that would take him over the backbone of the Sierra Nevada mountains and directly over Yosemite National Park. He leveled out at 15,500 feet, a VFR cruising altitude that was appropriate for his slight easterly heading. Opposing VFR traffic should be cruising a thousand feet above or below him and IFR traffic would be five hundred feet above or below his cruising altitude. Glancing at the Garmin he noted that with a ground speed of just over 200 miles per hour he would be in LA in less than two hours.

  As Jake gained altitude, he looked over toward the Reno International Airport. His plane was down there. No one would be alerted this morning. There would be no calls to the FBI, and no one would be aware that he now knew that the plane was being watched and the pilot was actively being sought. It was a shame. He’d already decided he would simply leave the plane sit. Trying to sell it would just increase his involvement with it, even though it would be handled through the special corporation. It would be best to simply walk away from that as well. Money wasn’t a concern. He could always get more as needed the same way he’d earned what he’d used to set everything up in the first place. He would miss the sleek and speedy Cessna. It had been a joy to fly, and he had loved owning it. He could afford to buy another, but that would be stupid. From this point on, he’d have to stay away from any Cessna aircraft. It would be the kind of thing they would look for.

  Descending into the LA basin, Jake crossed directly over LAX in the VFR corridor and made a descending left turn into the Hawthorne airport traffic pattern. Five minutes later he was parked in front of the restaurant at the east end of the field. He arranged to leave the plane overnight, then called for a cab to take him somewhere he could rent a car.

  Almost an hour later he pulled into the covered parking at the LAX Sheraton Gateway Hotel where he had made reservations. He checked in, just another businessman as far as anyone could tell. He went up to his room, unpacked his bags, and pulled out the map he had marked up before leaving Reno to familiarize himself with the freeways and major roads he would need to follow. Then he went back down to his rental and drove the short distance down Century Boulevard to the 405 onramp. Forty-five minutes later he was moving slowly down the street behind where Cheryl’s p
arents lived.

  Jake had decided that he wanted to have a look at the alley entrance he planned on using in the morning. He also intended to acquire the hidden key tonight rather than the following morning. He knew from Cheryl that her stepfather typically came home late, and that this night was the night her mom went to the gym. No one would be in the house, which should make it easy to scout the yard and obtain the key. In the morning, he intended to go directly to the rear entrance and not linger outside. He knew from the police reports that at least one of the neighbors tended to rise early and had been alert to the shots fired. He didn’t want any witnesses seeing him coming or going.

  Jake walked down the alley and was surprised how easy they made it for someone to sneak into the houses. The alley had high wooden fences that hid the homes from view, but also hid the alley from the owners. A small army could walk down this way without being detected. When he reached the back of the house, defined by the two large trees overhanging the back fence he’d seen when he had been here with Cheryl, he found that the back gate was recessed, which further hid his activities from anyone else in the alley. It took only a few moments to defeat the cheap master padlock and make his way into the back yard. He waited in the shade of the trees and listened for a while. There were no sounds from the house. No radio or television, and no one moving around that he could hear. Satisfied, he walked over to the side gate and recovered the magnetic lock box that had been attached to the backside of the gas meter half buried in the bushes. Still kneeling, he slid it open and checked for the key. It was there. He flipped the box over and let the key drop into his hand, then closed the box and reattached it to the back of the meter.

  Silently, Jake walked across the yard to the back door of the garage. He could have tried to go in through the back door of the house, but there was more chance of running into someone that way. Cheryl’s mom had come down the stairs tomorrow, so she had been upstairs, but Jake wasn’t certain where her stepfather had been. He slipped the key into the door lock and turned it carefully. The locked opened silently, and he was able to push the door open. Jake didn’t worry about the alarm. Cheryl had explained they had one, but neither liked using it and they only activated it if they were going out of town for a couple of days. Quickly, he stepped inside and closed the garage door behind him. Still listening for any signs of activity, Jake made his way over to the door leading into the house. As he expected, it wasn’t locked. He tried the key in the lock and established it would work here as well against the chance they locked it at night. Satisfied, he turned to leave. He had seen everything he needed inside when Cheryl had showed him around.