“Sebastian told me that you’re limited in how much you can become involved. Something about staying out of mortal affairs. But you’re willing to show us the direction we need to take. I think Drake is responsible for framing my mother. I believe he’s the real killer who had it planned all along so he could inherit the company. For that, he has to pay. I also think he is planning some kind of an accident that involves a plane crash. You talked about funerals once. Are we on the right track?”
“You will learn from the inside out—that is the core—the core is the heart. I cannot tell you from the outside what you have to learn from the inside. In regard to the other, you have picked up the scent. It’s time to give chase. Don’t be deterred. Others who are very close are depending on you.”
“How will I know if I’m doing the right thing? What if I make a mistake that gets somebody hurt?”
Janus stood and slapped the wrinkles from his slacks. “You haven’t strayed. You’ve fulfilled all of your expectations so far. Can you feel that small triumph?”
“Yeah, I guess so. But how are you so certain? You never stay around long enough to see what happens. This might not have a good end.”
“I have already seen the end.”
“What do you mean you’ve already seen it?”
“Love and hate is the sun and the moon, the future and the past. One face looking forward—the other looking back. The bridge to each is within your grasp. A turn from either direction takes you to another place. You are the key. I promise you will learn all the paths. One day you will know it all.”
Sebastian blinked. “Huh?”
“Janus gave them a curt bow. “Now if you’ll excuse me, I should be on my way. I’m afraid I’ve aged a good hour on this side.” He chuckled.
Avy jumped to her feet. “Oh, by all means! Don’t hesitate to walk through whatever you want.” She pulled a chair out of his way, thinking he might stumble over it on his way out. Then she realized what a ridiculous notion that was since no obstacle could have ever stopped him. She blushed.
Janus stroked Avy’s hair with a loving pat. “Sebastian, I wouldn’t let this one get away if I were you. You’re quite lucky to have found such a treasure.”
“Sir, I’m reminded of it everyday, just like a beautiful sunrise.”
Janus turned on his heel, stepped through the workbench, and disappeared into the wall beyond. Sebastian let out a breath. Avy stared in wonder, finding it amazing that he passed from one dimension to the other with so little effort. He didn’t need doors or gates. He made them.
She hurried to the workbench, grabbed a scrap piece of cardboard and a carpenter’s pencil. She began writing.
“Whatcha doing?”
“I’m doing one better than remembering what he said. I’m writing it down this time word for word. I have the feeling he laid a clue down to something very important.”
Love and hate is the sun and the moon, the future and the past, she wrote. One face looking forward—the other looking back. The bridge to each is within your grasp. A turn from either direction takes you to another place. You are the key. I promise you will learn all the paths. One day you will know it all.
She knew she would record it again in her golden diary. She vowed that every time he started speaking in funny riddles, she would write it down, no matter how ridiculous it sounded.
“You know,” said Sebastian, looking at the workbench. “No matter how many times I’ve seen him leave like that I never get tired of it.”
“Yeah, ditto. You were right. He doesn’t like to stick around for long. He has a world wide web of his own to surf. Did you catch that bit about already seeing the outcome of things? That was spooky.” She looked at the words she had written down. “It’s all here, too. I know for sure he’s been moving through time. How would he know how things are going to turn out if he didn’t? He’s guiding me, guiding both of us. He checks in every so often to make sure I’m on the right track. That’s all part of it, too.”
“Then so far we’re doing everything right. We have until Tuesday morning to figure this out. Then we can find out what’s up with that company jet.”
“How are we going to get access to it? We need to find out who is going to be on it and where it’s going.”
Sebastian cracked his knuckles, heading for the door. “Keep it locked—stay armed,” he said over his shoulder. “I’ll be back. I might have to camp out all night to do it.”
“Where are you going?”
“Federal Aviation Administration.” He left, locking the door.
Chapter 14
Avy knew that no one could have recognized the true identities of the two people who pulled into the Raleigh-Durham Airport at five in the morning. Decked out in a navy blue skirt, matching blazer, silk blouse, and red scarf, Avy looked like she belonged on the senate floor. A grayish blond wig, cut in a pert pageboy style, framed her face that was painted with eyeliner, mascara, and rouge. The sunglasses were huge,with gold mirrored lenses. A broach fashioned in the shape of a small bi-wing airplane was pinned high on her lapel. Sebastian smiled under a thick stick-on mustache, while wearing a jet-black suit, brown loafers, and pilot’s sunglasses.
Postures erect, clipboards in hand, they marched toward the airport entrance. They knew that anyone within a dozen feet away could read the FAA identification tags swinging from their pocket clips—the same FAA tags that Sebastian had stolen from the district office the day before. A simple cut and paste had replaced the original photos with their own.
But the true goldmine came in the form of the FAA pamphlets that Sebastian had brought home, which explained the procedures of the organization, and what type of power they possessed in regulating the aircraft industry. Sebastian and Avy wasted no time in studying the most important functions of the administrators and officers, sure that the information would prove helpful. From what Avy and Sebastian had gleaned, airport officials knew that FAA administrators rarely good-newsed anybody. Whenever they showed up, it meant something terrible had happened or something was headed in that direction. They had complete authority over anything that flew, including jurisdiction over the maintenance bays and hangars. Moses never had such power over his multitudes, even after parting the Red Sea. The couple expected the same reaction.
They walked into the main lobby and bellied up to the information desk. The clerk did a double-take, swallowed her first words, then pulled back in silence. Avy let Sebastian speak for them, following their exact rehearsal.
“Good morning. We’ll be doing a walkthrough of your facility this morning. Just so you know, it will be a cursory safety sweep.”
“Oh, by all means,” said the clerk. “I’ll call security or our manager if you’d like a personal escort.”
“An escort won’t be necessary. We’d prefer to solo around the premises. We’re going to check on some maintenance improprieties. We would appreciate it if you wouldn’t announce our presence.” He read her nametag. “I’m sure you understand, Ms. Worthington.”
“That’s your prerogative, sir. At least let me afford you the use of one of our shuttle carts. There’s no sense in wearing out your shoe leather.”
Sebastian gave her a wide, knowing smile. While they waited for the transportation, he had the clerk give him a map of the airport facility, along with the precise hanger location of a certain aircraft. When the cart arrived, they jumped in and drove through the lobby until they found an exit ramp that led to the tarmac.
Several employees gave them a wide birth, stepping away from the rushing Cushman that darted between the parked aircraft. Their anonymity wouldn’t last long. Surely bona fide sightings of two FAA inspectors would soon alert the entire airport. Avy hoped that they were the only FAA officials on the premises that morning. They didn’t need to run into a supervisor who might be keen on who did and didn’t belong to the organization.
They found a bank of hangars that housed several commuter aircraft. Sebastian slowed the cart so Avy could rea
d the tail numbers. She squeezed his thigh when she spotted 599T. He pulled into the hangar and stopped.
Avy took note of two people, one man in overalls stood at a small podium while another stood next to a large Lear jet, applying wax to its fuselage. They dismounted next to the man at the podium who had inserted a doughnut in his mouth that was the size of a small tire. She had a feeling that he was the Mr. Bad Wrench she had spoken to before. Even though his name patch said Ron, she guessed he would trip himself up very fast.
“Ah, customers already,” said Ron. “How can I help you nice folks?”
Avy recognized the voice. This was her guy.
“No help needed,” said Sebastian. “We’re just on a little inspection tour.” He cast disapproving eyes at the floor. “You know, you should watch these oil spots on the deck. It’s a liability issue.”
“Uh.” The words clogged in the man’s throat. Avy could now see Ron staring at their nametags. Mr. Bad Wrench had just blown his first impression with them. Recovery might be impossible. “I’ll get right on that,” said Ron. “Would you like some coffee? Perhaps some pastries? Heck, I didn’t think FAA people got up at this time in the morning.”
Avy scribbled something down on her clipboard, giving the food a dismissive glance. “I’m trying to watch my weight. Coffee makes me nervous. I’m on edge most of the time without it.”
They’d been there for a mere thirty seconds and Ron looked distressed already. Avy looked down the length of the hangar, counting five private jets spaced ten feet apart wingtip to wingtip. Citation 599T sat second in the row on her side of the hangar.
Sebastian glanced at Ron’s ledger. “Mind if I have a look at your paperwork?”
Ron stepped away from the podium with his donuts. “Be my guest.”
Avy took that as her cue and walked off, stepping up to the first plane she came to. She tried to look official. She imagined that real inspectors walked around planes much like a judge would scrutinize a dog at a show—glance up, then down, reach out with a hand, pet it, back off, pull on their chin or scratch their head. She did these things while Ron leaned up against a workbench, looking on with apprehension. Sebastian began to have a quiet but serious chat with him.
Avy looked at the control surface on the wing. Having no clear idea of its function, she touched it—wiggled it. She did the same with the vertical tail fin at the rear of the plane, shoving it back and forth. Satisfied, she moved on to the second plane. This was the one, the plane with the matching tail numbers.
She went through the motions of inspecting it like she had done with the other. The technician, waxing the third plane, stopped what he was doing to watch her. She kicked the nose wheel tire. “Huh, needs air,” she said.
The technician scratched his head. “That’s the way they’re supposed to ride—a little low.”
“I like them a little on the firm side,” said Avy, injecting some authority into her voice.
“I’ll bet you do,” said the technician before he went back to work on the other side of the plane.
Avy rounded the Citation to gain access to the hatch. She worked the latch to open it, finding it locked, no less than she expected. They wouldn’t open it up until they were ready to board. To make a good show of it, she walked to the third plane to check it over. She resisted the urge to touch this plane since the man waxing it might be the owner. She asked him what kind of wax he used. He shot back with, “Mothers.”
“Yes, they can be a pain,” said Avy.
The technician missed an application stroke. “I meant Mothers California Gold Wax,” said the man.
“Oh.” Avy decided right then that she would not offer up any more conversational tidbits that would trip her up. That’s why Sebastian was doing all of the talking, she reminded herself. All she had to do was look official and kill some time while her boyfriend pumped Mr. Bad Wrench for everything he had on the Citation flight.
She walked to the end of the hangar to take a slow stroll around the last plane. She could see the hint of the dawn sky outside, a ribbon of pink peeking over the spine of some hills. The air was fresh, crisp. She imagined how fun it would be to fly somewhere under such conditions. But that nagging feeling in her gut had warned her that this would not be a pleasurable or routine flight. This flight promised disaster—the scope of it had yet to be determined. She had one daring move in mind if things got out of control.
She could see Sebastian walking in her direction, having finished his conversation with Ron. When he reached her, he steered her to the back of a plane and spoke through tight lips. “We were right. The flight is six this morning. Buck Reynolds is the pilot. He’s flown for Cyberflow for the past ten years, in particular, this old Citation. I examined a copy of an airworthiness document on the plane. Everything seems to be in order, but I’m really winging this, Avy. The destination airport is Bermuda International.”
“So Buck is the pilot. That fits with the note. Anything on the passengers?”
“I pumped Ron for the info. You’re never going to believe it.”
“Try me.”
“Drake’s parents are scheduled to be onboard. An Emily Chambers is also on the passenger list.”
“Emily Chambers is my grandmother on my mother’s side. This is unbelievable. Three grandparents on the same flight to Bermuda.”
“How is that important?”
“They’re major stockholders in Cyberflow. Between the three of them, they own thirty percent of the company. They might be silent partners, but they’re entitled to those profits. If Drake was having trouble meeting those outlays, he might want to dump that debt. He would take control of that interest if the grandparents were out of the picture. I’ll bet it’s written in the will that way.”
“Do you think he’s capable of doing that to his own parents?”
“It hasn’t been proven that he’s incapable of doing it. Something is going to happen to this plane. I don’t think we can stop it from the ground. We have no evidence or legal reason to keep it from taking off.”
“Or real authority. If we raise a ruckus it could rouse the police. Then we could get arrested on several charges, which would include impersonating federal officials.”
“Then I’m going on that flight. They have to be caught in the act. I have to stop it.”
“Are you serious?” Sebastian’s voice carried down the hangar.
She hushed him. “I’m more than serious. We talked about the possibility of my boarding the plane.”
“I’ve changed my mind about that. You’re not going on that plane alone. It’s too dangerous.”
“I’ve got to go alone. Hand me that gun.” She wasn’t about to budge.
“No problem. I’ll bring it with me.”
“Yeah, right. What’s our excuse for both of us taking the trip? Because we want to flight-check some pilot who works for some stupid little charter service? Get real. We’ll end up in Bermuda, way off our personal schedule and out of our environment.”
“At least we’ll stop anything from happening. Mission accomplished.”
She took him by the collar to emphasize her next words. “I need every bit of evidence against Drake I can get. This is the only way it’s going to work. Either you give me the gun or I go on without it.”
Sebastian passed her the thirty-eight revolver, looking fed up. “That is the wrong thing to be taking on a plane. You can’t use it.”
“I’m just going to use it for leverage if I see something going down.”
“Yeah, like the plane. I don’t like this—I hate the whole setup. What if this thing is meant to blow up a few minutes after takeoff? Remember that little bomb symbol?”
“That’s way too messy. Drake isn’t very bright. But he is not a moron. I have to be on that flight.” She knew her plan seemed harebrained because Sebastian was having a hard time grappling with it. But she had to commit to a plan of action right now. That meant damning the risk.
“You stay here, honey,” sh
e said, her voice softening. “I’ll bring the plane back, I promise. Now give me a distraction.” She handed him her clipboard, then pushed the gun into her waistband behind her back.
He gave her a firm hug, then a passionate kiss. She could tell his heart still wasn’t in it when he walked down the length of the hangar toward Ron. Soon she heard his raised voice accompanied by the sound of a clipboard hitting the floor.
She walked to the Citation, stepping up to the hatch. After looking both ways, she clenched her teeth and stepped through to the other side.
She found herself in the plane’s cabin. The interior contained a double row of beige leather seats over brown shag carpeting. She pulled a porthole curtain back and peeked out a window. Neither Sebastian nor Ron were in the hangar. She moved down the aisle and opened a thin door on a box-like room—lavatory. It provided the only area she could hide from the passenger cabin. She looked toward the front of the plane. A curtain hung, pinned back to expose the cockpit interior. If that curtain stayed open, she would be able to monitor the pilot’s movements. She looked at her watch—it was five-thirty.
Voices came from outside. She peeked through the window. There were two men rounding the plane, dragging a large ice chest. She felt certain one of them had to be the pilot. She ducked into the lavatory, latching the door behind her. Her panic that she could be discovered if someone happened to test the door or needed to use the facility increased. It was too late for second thoughts. They would have to break the door down if they wanted to gain access.
She heard the boarding door latch click. The floor under her feet wobbled. A few voices reached her, but she couldn’t make out the words. A male voice boomed with laughter. Something scraped across the pavement, followed by a lady’s loud voice, “Pick that up, you old fart.” She seemed just a few yards away, and sounded like an older woman.
Avy hoped that the elderly passengers had already used bathroom facilities and wouldn’t need to enter the one on the aircraft. Seniors were fickle like that anyway. They would take care of business beforehand so they could avoid the awkwardness of using an in-flight facility. But what if someone got airsick? She wondered about that when she sat down on the toilet seat, preparing for a long wait before they were airborne. She tried to listen to pieces of conversation, but there was too much movement going on with the loading. If someone wanted in the lavatory, the pilot would have a passkey to open the lock. She tried not to worry about such things. This was not the time to lose it.
The War Gate Page 16
