The Dryden Note
Page 20
“Gentleman?”
“Yes. I wanted you to have the opportunity to retreat, theoretically undetected.”
“I don’t...”
“Until you touched me, you could have reevaluated your plan and departed without embarrassment.”
“Embarrassment? Hmm,” she said, “and now?”
“Now you’re here—and I know you’re here.”
“And?”
“And you know I know you’re here. And I know you know I know you’re here. You know I know you know I know you’re here. I know...”
“Is there an end to this?”
“Sure,” he said, “it ends now.”
He grasped her hand and pulled her onto the bed. He drew her robe from her bare shoulders and looked at her. “No, I was wrong. It all begins now.”
Chapter 36
July 12, Atlanta.
Hanrahan smiled as Mangrum entered the war-room.
“They let me right in,” Mangrum was beaming.
“I decided you should be in on the endgame. Less than five hours to go.” “OK, tell me how the accident plays out.”
Hanrahan explained his plan.
Mangrum hurried toward the exit. “Changed my mind—can’t stay. Leave it to the
pros.” John Mankowski walked across the room. “He’s funny to watch. He swells, then sags, then swells, then sags. Wonder what’s with him?”
Hanrahan declined to explain Mangrum’s condition, but said, “He’s a problem going somewhere to happen.”
“Almost pitiful.”
“Depends on how you feel about wounded rattlesnakes.”
Yang answered the telephone and listened. “This is Bauer. Tell Seamus the road is blocked.”
“How?”
“Logging truck on its side. Large logs all over the highway. No way around.”
“How long will it be blocked?”
“Today, for sure.”
Just after 1:00 PM, Tyler started his SUV, then said , “Back the way we came?” “Yes,” Sloan agreed. “Bad time to get lost.”
“Agreed.” Tyler turned left onto Georgia 325 toward Poteete’s corner. As they crossed the Lake Nottely dam, Celia leaned forward from the second seat and
said , “One more time, fellows, as we go into whatever has the professor here so nervous, tell me why you’re doing this for me.”
“Damsel-indistress,” Tyler said.
“Damsel-indistress,” Sloan said, “what else could it be?”
Twelve minutes later, a man sitting in a dark green Range Rover at the northwest corner of Georgia 515 and US 19/129 looked from the occupants of the dark blue SUV stopped at the traffic light to the enlarged photographs on the seat beside him.
Yang answered the telephone. “ Sam, Nick. Tell Seamus the subject vehicle is a dark blue Ford Explorer. Three occupants, two males, one female. Continuing south on US 129 into Blairsvile.”
“Noted.”
“I thought they were supposed to turn onto 515.”
“They’ll be back. Stay where you are.”
At a Circle K store half a mile south of downtown Blairsville a Georgia Highway Patrol car blocked the highway. A patrolman approached.
“What’s the problem, officer?”
“A log trailer is across the highway about a mile south of here.”
“Can’t get through?”
“Not today and maybe not tomorrow.”
Tyler nodded.
“Where you folks headed?”
“Atlanta.”
“The fourlane is your best bet now.”
“Four lane?” Tyler said.
“Turn around, go back to the courthouse, follow the signs to Georgia 515, turn
south.”
“Thank you.”
“515 turns into I-575 northeast of Canton, then I-575 intersects I75.” Sloan reached for the map.
Three minutes later Hanrahan answered the telephone.
“It’s Nick. The SUV passed here on 515 toward Atlanta at 1:35.”
Seamus walked to the marker board with predicted events. He checked the top line
leave B’ville 1:30. Hanrahan spoke into a radio microphone. “Tracker?”
“Tracker.”
“Watch for a dark blue Ford Explorer, Georgia tags, leaving Blairsville at one thirtyfive on Georgia 515, heading toward Atlanta. Three occupants, two males, one female.”
“Tracker.” Passing through East Ellijay, Sloan called Harding’s Washington office. “Afternoon, Professor. Where are you?”
“Approaching Jasper. We came via Georgia 400, but we’re heading back to town on
the interstate.”
“Why the change?”
“129 to 400 was blocked.”
“Blocked? How?”
Sloan explained.
“Interesting,”
“Maybe.”
“Any activity?”
“None.”
“When do you expect to reach the hotel?”
“Just before four.”
“Excellent! We’re almost home, Professor.”
One hour and fifty minutes later, the pilot of the Bell Jet Ranger that had been hovering over the I-575/I75 interchange reported to Hanrahan. “Wild Blue One marks the dark blue Ford Explorer just completing the turn onto I75 south.”
“Wild Blue One,” Hanrahan acknowledged. “Tracker stay with the Explorer.”
Ten minutes later the helicopter pilot reported again. “Wild Blue One, Base.” “Base.”
Hanrahan put the call on the war-room loudspeaker.
“Wild Blue One. Subject has departed I-75 and is now moving west onto the 120
Loop into Marietta.”
“Base.” Hanrahan faced to the marker board.
remaining in place until 1:00 Monday – probably leaving just in time to arrive at P/CON at 4:00 – assume driving directly to hotel
“What are they doing in Marietta?”
Yang shook his head.
“Maybe they don’t have the letter yet.”
“And maybe the guy wanted to change neckties.”
“You’re right,” Hanrahan said, “it makes no difference now.”
Hanrahan called the helicopter. “Wild Blue One, base.”
“Blue.”
“Stay with the SUV. Avoid being noticed.”
“Where’s the tracker car? What kind is it?”
“White 1988 Pontiac four-door. Parked on the side of the interstate just north of Delk
Road. Hood’s up. Assuming the subject returns to the interstate at the same place he left, tracker will rejoin the chase after the SUV passes.”
“Blue.” Tyler negotiated the narrow streets of old Marietta, then drove west on Dallas Road until he reached the entrance to West Cobb Country Club. He stopped in from of a brick colonial.
There was an envelope taped to the front door, with a note attached. ‘Tom: Henry left this for you. Sorry I couldn’t wait. Call us. Candy.’ He read the letter to Celia and Tyler.
“Unbelievable!” Celia exclaimed.
“Amen,” said Sloan.
“So what about delivery?” said Tyler.
“Good point.”
“What does that mean?” said Celia.
“Hmm, probably nothing,” Sloan said. “They acknowledge the debt and agree to
deliver the shares. Probably just a hurryup job.” “Base, Blue.”
“Base.”
“Subject is turning back onto I75 south.”
“Wild Blue One, run a jigsaw pattern, west of the expressway.” “Blue.”
“Tracker, stay close, but don’t alarm.” “Tracker.”
Chapter 37
“I recommend the right lane,” Sloan said. “Avoid entanglements.” Tyler moved into the slow lane.
“Not too much traffic.”
“Monday afternoon, inbound. Should be light until we hit the perimeter.” Sloan looked in the second seat. “You awake back there?”
“Wide awake. I’m thinking about
what I’m going to say.”
“I’m looking for a pretty small turnout. I expect it will just be conversation.”
Mangrum knocked on the door to the warroom, then entered. “May I join you?” Hanrahan, in front of a large television screen, nodded, then spoke to the television operator on top of the Taylor Building, “Spotter One.”
“One.”
“Shift your aiming point two, no—three degrees to the right. I want a better deflection angle.”
“One. Shifting. How now?”
“OK. Look like you might receive any visitors?”
“One. No. I’ve driven a wedge between the door and the frame.”
“Power?”
“Battery.”
“Break.”
“Spotter Two.”
“Two.”
“You’re fine. You’re higher and have a better angle-on.”
“Two.”
“Any possibility of company?”
“No and I’m on battery, too.”
“Break.”
“Tracker, base.”
“Tracker.”
“Location?”
“Estimate two miles north of Delk Road.”
“Break.”
“All players, subject is two miles north of the Delk Road exit. Wild Blue One, you are primary surveillance. You may hold steady course now.”
“Blue.”
“Break.”
“Leader, Base.”
“Leader.”
“Get ready for the appearance of a dark blue Ford Explorer travelling in the outer lane.”
“Leader.”
“Break.”
“Follower, Base.”
“Follower.”
“Same message to you.”
“Follower.”
“Break.”
There was lull in the transmissions, which Mangrum took as an opportunity to talk. “Just grand, Seamus, just grand. We’ve got them!”
Hanrahan smiled at the ecstatic expression on the Chairman’s face.
“Spotter One and Two, Base.”
“Spotter One.”
“Spotter Two.”
“We have good coverage from Wild Blue One. Nothing useful from you yet.” “Spotter One. Too far. We’re able to see traffic beginning at Windy Hill Road.” “Base.”
The light for the direct line from Mangrum’s office flashed. Hanrahan walked to the nearest telephone console. “Yes?”
“It’s Evonne. Is Mr. Mangrum there, Mr. Hanrahan?”
“For you,” Hanrahan said, beckoning toward Mangrum.
Mangrum took the handset. “Mangrum.”
“I thought you should know we are receiving more FAXes from your associates— repeats of earlier FAXes, mostly—and there’s a man holding on your direct line who’s being unpleasant.”
“Evonne,” Mangrum said, in a near whisper, “I know you’re doing your usual best, but we are involved in some important matters here this afternoon.” He paused, his voice then becoming shrill. “So dump each and every one of those FAXes in your shredder, then tell that goddamn son of a bitch on the phone I’ll call him back when I’m good and goddamn ready!” Mangrum slammed the handset into its cradle.
He walked toward Hanrahan’s position in front of the monitors. “It is going to work, isn’t it, Seamus?” Mangrum’s voice had changed in the intervening five seconds. “We’re going to win, aren’t we?”
“Step back where you were, Walter,” Hanrahan said, his tone soothing. “You don’t want to spoil this op by getting in the way, do you?”
Mangrum retreated. “Goddamn professor!” Mangrum raged. “Should have had you take him out when he first appeared.” Mangrum paused. “Goddamn Morgan woman! Should have canceled her ticket in Rome, before she ever met this goddamn meddler.”
Mangrum rushed forward and grabbed Hanrahan by his shoulders. “Seamus! You’ve got to pull it off. Kill this goddamn bitch and get my letter back!”
Hanrahan shook off Mangrum’s grasp and motioned for Luther.
“See Chairman Mangrum to his office, please.”
The tall guard led the muttering man toward the exit.
Mangrum broke free and yelled across the room to Hanrahan. “Don’t pull this off, Hanrahan, and I may not remain Chairman. No chairmanship, no money for you!”
Luther reclaimed control of his charge and led him away.
“Except for the five hundred thousand you’ve already transferred,” Hanrahan murmured.
Sloan peered at the traffic to the rear. “How fast are we going?”
“Fiftyfive.”
“Traffic is light and moving fast, is it not?”
“We’re not, but the other lanes are, yes. What’s your point?”
“Traffic flow in this lane is slow and cautious.”
Tyler fowned. “Of course. Half of the drivers are from out of town and wondering what’s coming next. More significantly, this lane exits for the perimeter.”
Sloan nodded, then said, “The van in front. Steady driver. Been with us a while, hasn’t he?”
“Yes, now that you mention it—probably getting ready to exit.”
Sloan turned his head to the rear. Celia turned to see what interested Sloan. “The old red truck, too?”
Tyler glanced into his rear vision mirror. He nodded and said, “Yessss. Yes.”
A few moments later, Sloan was unable to contain his concern. “Increase your speed a bit?”
Tyler accelerated to sixty miles per hour. Both the van and the red truck matched the change.
“Interesting. What might slowing produce?”
Tyler tapped the brakes of the SUV. Both the van and the truck adjusted their speeds accordingly.
Yang, monitoring the feed from the helicopter, called to Hanrahan. “Fluctuation just now in the speed of the SUV. Small increase, small decrease.”
“Wild Blue One, did you copy Sam?”
“Blue. Yes. And agree.”
Hanrahan nodded his head in agreement. “OK, everybody, listen up. The subject has made us. The gloves are off!”
He looked from monitor to monitor. He pushed the microphone arm of his headset closer to his mouth. “Doctor and Big Boy move forward now and take position.”
“Doctor.”
“Big Boy.”
Mangrum, finding no one forcing him to remain on the 80th floor, returned to the FAD ops room and resumed watching the monitors.
Chapter 38 Sloan was still considering the meaning of the matching moves by their fellow travelers, when he heard a siren at his rear. There was no space for traffic to leave the expressway to the right and no consensus among the drivers as to what should be done otherwise. Traffic in the far right lane moved steadily.
Sloan listened to the siren, closer now. Traffic in the second lane was forcing its way left, into the third lane. The ambulance, in the second lane, passed Tyler’s SUV, then slowed.
“Odd,” Sloan said. “Why doesn’t he go ahead?” “Base. Spotter One.”
“Base.”
“Doctor has cleared the traffic in the second lane beyond the subject.” “Base. We see that.”
“One.”
“Break.”
“Doctor, clear the area.”
“Doctor.” The ambulance driver turned off his siren, drove forward, and disappeared. “Big Boy, Base.”
“Big Boy.”
“The exit is three hundred yards ahead of you. Your lane there and beyond the
subject is now open. Drive forward until your cab is even with rear of a dark blue Ford Explorer, Georgia plates, three occupants. Leader and follower are in position fore and aft. Stay there throughout the turn.”
“Big Boy.” “Woody, immediately after the exit there are four lanes, two on the left that join I -285 west and two on the right that travel over the high overpass above I-75 and join I-285 east.”
“Understand,” Tyler said. Sloan swung his head to the rear again. The old red truck was half a car’s length behind. “Becoming
crowded.”
“Sons of a bitches,” Tyler swore.
“What about breaking out to he left?”
“Right now!” Tyler began twisting the steering wheel, but he saw the gray-and-red cab of a Volvo tractortrailer in his rear vision mirror. He returned to his lane. “Big eighteen wheeler to our left rear.”
Sloan looked at the Volvo, then looked forward. “OK, this lane and the one on our left are exiting right, then turning left onto the overpass.”
Tyler nodded.
“The eighteen wheeler is steady now, just at our rear.”
The tractor moved forward, slightly in front of the SUV, then held its relative position.
“The box has three sides, Woody, including a trailer loaded with cement blocks.” “I see it.”
The four vehicles completed their turn onto the overpass.
Sloan looked back at Celia’s seatbelt. “Pull it as tight as you can.”
He turned back to see the beginning of the overpass’ retaining wall. “The retaining wall completes the box.”
“Right.” Tyler glanced at the rear vision mirror. “The red truck behind us is dropping back a little bit.”
Sloan said, “And the van is pulling away.”
“Woody!” Celia screamed. “The tractor-trailer is turning into our lane!”
Tyler and Sloan looked to the left. The tractor’s rightside wheels were on the dividing line.
“Son of a bitch!” Tyler yelled.
The Explorer and the eighteen wheeler were approaching that portion of the overpass directly above I75’s southbound lanes.
The SUV was forced onto the paved shoulder and carromed off the retaining wall. Tyler steered the Explorer back into the right lane and accelerated. “Not today. Not this boy!”
“Wild Blue One, Base.”
“Blue.”
“Drop way down. I want to be able to read wristwatches!” “Blue.”
The helicopter dropped to five hundred feet above the overpass.
“He’s trying to force us over the retaining wall!” Celia yelled.
“No way!” Tyler yelled.
“How..?”
“This!” Tyler jammed the brake pedal to the floor.
The SUV stood on its nose, then settled onto all four wheels and moved ahead. The
driver of the red truck braked and began turning left, found no space in the second lane, and steered right. The truck crashed against the SUV’s right rear fender, then lurched farther right, toward the retaining wall.
Tyler glanced at the traffic behind him in the second lane. The truck’s earlier violent attempt to turn into the lane had alerted the drivers to the rear, so there was now space behind the tractor-trailer. Tyler turned the Explorer into the second lane.