She looked up at Ken, who had turned back to the panel and was adjusting the flight computer.
"I'm doing my best, Ken."
"I know it," he said, more sharply than he'd intended.
Kat sighed and picked up the cellular phone, flipping it open. "I was hoping Matson would call--"
There was a characteristic rapid beeping on the phone.
"Damn!"
"What?"
"I'm out of signal range."
"We're about thirty minutes from Phoenix, Kat, and I'm just going to circle until we get something resolved."
"It would be--" she began, then paused, unsure of his reaction.
"I know," he answered. "It would be easier if we were on the ground, especially if I let everyone off. But it's not going to happen, Kat. I'm not throwing everything on the table only to walk away before the game's over."
"Ken, have you thought about the fact that Bostich's cellular telephone record may be enough to convince that judge?"
"I thought about it, and I'm sure it's not, because that stupid judge would have all sorts of questions first, and Bostich would have time to raise the possibility that it was manipulated."
"Was it?"
He snorted. "Hell, no. But it won't reinstate the warrant right now, today. Only Bostich can do that."
"Then there's got to be another key," she responded.
"Meaning that Bostich isn't going to crack, right?"
She shrugged as she turned to him. "Ken, did you really think a guy with that much legal experience was just going to admit he'd perjured himself?"
He glanced at her, then back to the windscreen. "I had hope, Kat, not hard expectations."
"He's a hardened prosecutor, and the last thing he's going to do is actually put his neck in a noose and admit a criminal act."
Ken turned to Kat with a look of desperation, triggering a cold, hard knot of apprehension in her stomach.
"Let me ask you a question."
"Okay."
"Suppose Bostich was hauled in front of a firing squad. The rifles are cocked and loaded and pointed at his chest, and then someone provides him one last chance to admit he lied. Would he? Would he tell the truth at last to save his life?"
"Ken, even a moment before execution with salvation resting on that one admission, Rudy Bostich would probably stay with his lie."
He smiled slightly and nodded. "You're very good, Kat. You think very fast, but I can see in your eyes that's not an honest answer. Bostich is a coward, and cowards blink. I just have to find what it takes to make him blink, and I'm running out of time."
She took a deep breath. "If I can get back in touch with Matson in a few minutes--"
"I'm going to have to do something far more threatening to crack him,"
Ken said. "I'm going to have to put a gun to his head, literally."
"Ken, that's not a wise idea. If he calls your bluff, are you prepared to commit murder?"
"You mean, as if one capital crime isn't enough?"
"What I mean is--"
"Kat, I'm not worried about me, don't you get it? I'm finished. I'm dead. I just want to get Lumin off the streets. Now, thanks to you, I think maybe Bostich is finished professionally. But this was about Lumin, and without a confession from Bostich, Lumin continues to kill."
"The Gulfstream!" she said suddenly.
He turned. "What?"
"I forgot they're back there. Which radio can I use?"
"That same frequency is still up on number two." He reached over and pressed the appropriate button on her audio panel, and she called the name of N5LL.
"Right here, Kat. This is Dane."
She asked for a relay on the satellite phone and passed Roger Mat- son's number.
When the connection was made, Matson was audibly relieved. "I kept trying that cellular and it wasn't working. You could say I've been slightly frantic."
"I'm sorry about that. We're on a satellite phone now through a private jet sitting alongside us here in Telluride. The owner, Bill North, or his crew, will relay for us."
"Ah, who did you say?"
"Bill North. Don't worry about it. What do you have for us?" she asked.
She could hear him pause on the other end before replying. "Ah, quite a bit, Kat. Okay, first, I tracked the Internet provider on the other end of that 'SHRDLU2' address. The provider is fairly small, and scared they've done something wrong, so they were more than willing to help. They say this address has been active for about three years, and they don't track anything but the time usage. I've got their records coming off by e-mail and printing as we speak. Now. As I suspected, the name of whoever has been using SHRDLU2 is an alias that leads nowhere.
The address is a post office box that they say changes about every three months. Not just the box number, but the city and state, though mostly East Coast. They're sending that information, too."
"So, we're shot down trying to find this Mr. X without staking out a post office?"
"I was afraid that was the end result, but we may have had a stroke of luck."
"Tell me."
"SHRDLU2's payments for the account are made in cash sent in an envelope two weeks early every time. A new one had just arrived. I asked a friend in the Rochester Police Department--that's where this provider is located--I asked for an emergency fingerprint check. They rolled the portable crime lab out there, dusted, found a couple of excellent prints, and hopefully are getting ready to scan them into your FBI computer through a modem for an emergency ID check."
"I'm very impressed, Roger. Wonderful work."
"Wonderful cooperation. Everyone's aware what's happening up there, Kat.
They want to help."
"I know how long a fingerprint scan takes with the new equipment," Kat said. "We'll know inside fifteen minutes if it's an easy match with anyone."
"Kat, SHRDLU2 is almost certainly owned by Mr. X."
"I squeezed Bostich a while ago up here. I squeezed him hard, and he in effect confirmed he knew about the files being on his computer and having been erased. I also tricked him regarding Mr. X and said we had him in custody ready to roll over on Bostich for a deal. He hasn't admitted he lied to the judge yet, but he's thinking it over back there."
"Good. What'd you use?"
"Melinda's picture, for one. Instead of describing what's really there, I made up some pretty horrible additions which he knew weren't there, and he couldn't resist letting me know the picture on his machine was different."
She briefly outlined the discoveries involving Rudy Bostich and her suspicions regarding the existence of a Mr. X.
"What's the bottom line, Agent Bronsky? What are you requesting?"
"We need search warrants for Bostich's office, home, and car, executed as fast as possible, with special emphasis on computer files and anything that might identify payments made to, or through, the individual behind the e-mail address I mentioned."
There was an extended silence before Clark Roberts replied. "I assume these are the hijacker's demands, Agent Bronsky?"
She felt her face begin to redden. "No, these are my considered recommendations."
"You're off the case, Agent Bronsky. I thought we made that clear."
"I still have a badge and a commission and I'm still functional, so, no, that wasn't clear, and I'm not about to go back and sit down in coach and shut my eyes when I'm right in the middle of all this."
"This conversation is serving no purpose, Agent Bronsky. Unless you have something to relay from the captain, we might as well terminate this."
"Who's making the decisions on this case?"
"As I said, you're not on this case. You're a hostage. Drop it!"
Ken was raising his right hand to stop her as he punched the transmit button.
"Mr. Roberts? This is the hijacker, Captain Wolfe. Can you hear me?"
"Loud and clear, Captain. What can I do for you?"
"A while ago I talked with the Acting Attorney General, Martin Springfield. I want
to speak with Mr. Springfield again immediately."
"Stand by, Captain. I'll work on it."
Less than two minutes later the voice of Martin Springfield came on the channel.
"Okay, Mr. Springfield. Here's the deal. The FBI is refusing to listen to Agent Bronsky up here, who is doing a damn good job to try to satisfy my demands and end this. I'm going to put her on. You're going to listen to what she's recommended to her agency, and whatever they refuse to do, you're going to make happen. Understand?"
"Depends entirely on what it is, Captain. You know you almost killed everyone back there at Telluride."
"Excellent, Kat. I'm sure he has every detail memorized as well, even the trees outside the window."
She nodded. "I'm sure that's true."
Ken's voice interrupted. "We've got company again."
Kat looked at him in alarm. "Where? What do you see?"
Ken shook his head, a thin smile on his lips. "Well, I guess I should feel honored."
"What?"
"I've drawn an Air Force AWACS and they're trying to be unobtrusive.''
He inclined his head toward the captain's side window where she could see the telltale saucer-shaped radar antenna on top of the four-engine turbojet in the distance.
"I'm sure he's no threat, Ken," Kat began.
He laughed. "You can say that again. They just don't want me slipping away this time."
"Kat? You still there?" Roger Matson's voice coursed through the headset as relayed by the Gulfstream.
"Right here, Roger."
"Two things. First, the Bill North you mentioned, is that the chairman of NorthLight Industries out of Salt Lake?"
"Yes. He and his crew have been invaluable. You know him?"
There was a hesitation on Matson's end.
"By reputation only, Kat. Ah, let me ask you to call me back in about ten minutes. I'm expecting a call any minute regarding the fingerprints, and I'm working this with a single phone line from my home."
"Okay," she replied.
"Kat, one more thing. You're FBI and I'm just a state cop. Couldn't you get a federal warrant to look at Bostich, both his home and office?
I mean, considering what you've discovered up there, at least all his computer files and materials should be impounded."
She agreed immediately and asked Dane Bailey to break the connection and dial Clark Roberts at FBI headquarters.
"Stand by, Kat," Dane responded.
Roberts's voice followed a minute later, cold, distant, and suspicious.
"What do you require, Agent Bronsky?"
She briefly outlined the discoveries involving Rudy Bostich and her suspicions regarding the existence of a Mr. X.
"What's the bottom line, Agent Bronsky? What are you requesting?"
"We need search warrants for Bostich's office, home, and car, executed as fast as possible, with special emphasis on computer files and anything that might identify payments made to, or through, the individual behind the e-mail address I mentioned."
There was an extended silence before Clark Roberts replied. "I assume these are the hijacker's demands, Agent Bronsky?"
She felt her face begin to redden. "No, these are my considered recommendations."
"You're off the case, Agent Bronsky. I thought we made that clear."
"I still have a badge and a commission and I'm still functional, so, no, that wasn't clear, and I'm not about to go back and sit down in coach and shut my eyes when I'm right in the middle of all this."
"This conversation is serving no purpose, Agent Bronsky. Unless you have something to relay from the captain, we might as well terminate this."
"Who's making the decisions on this case?"
"As I said, you're not on this case. You're a hostage. Drop it!"
Ken was raising his right hand to stop her as he punched the transmit button.
"Mr. Roberts? This is the hijacker, Captain Wolfe. Can you hear me?"
"Loud and clear, Captain. What can I do for you?"
"A while ago I talked with the Acting Attorney General, Martin Springfield. I want to speak with Mr. Springfield again immediately."
"Stand by, Captain. I'll work on it."
Less than two minutes later the voice of Martin Springfield came on the channel.
"Okay, Mr. Springfield. Here's the deal. The FBI is refusing to listen to Agent Bronsky up here, who is doing a damn good job to try to satisfy my demands and end this. I'm going to put her on. You're going to listen to what she's recommended to her agency, and whatever they refuse to do, you're going to make happen. Understand?"
"Depends entirely on what it is, Captain. You know you almost killed everyone back there at Telluride."
"We're not discussing that right now, Mr. Springfield. Here's Agent Bronsky."
He nodded to Kat and she pressed the button and repeated the same plea for search warrants.
Springfield's voice came back incredulous.
"You've got to be kidding me, Agent Bronsky! You want me to believe that Rudolph Bostich is in possession of criminal child pornography?
Bullshit!"
"It's here, I've seen it, I have not contaminated the evidence, it will be admissible, and it's real and in substantial quantity, and Mr. Bostich is on tape essentially admitting it."
"On tape?"
"I Mirandized him and interrogated him on tape, on his own personal tape recorder, in his sight, with his knowledge."
"And he admitted this?"
"Not directly, sir. But what he did say on the record would get an indictment."
There were a few seconds of silence and Kat jabbed the button again.
"Look, Mr. Springfield, you mentioned Telluride. We're still airborne here, the captain is the only pilot aboard who can fly a Boeing and land us safely, he's got a weapon, we've still got a lot of hostages, and this is a damned desperate situation, the successful conclusion of which all depends on satisfying Captain Wolfe's demands before something tragic does happen. I know what we've found. For God's sake, trust me! Get those warrants and execute them. If I'm wrong, and I'm not, but if somehow I was, all we'd do is exonerate Bostich."
Ken punched the transmit button. "And don't forget, Springfield, I've got my finger barely holding down the trigger of a bomb. Comply, or all these good people go up in smoke."
Kat snapped her head to the left, her eyebrows raised, her eyes large as she searched the slight smile on his face.
Ken gestured toward the radio, then held a finger to his lips, and Kat diverted her gaze to the instrument panel as her mind furiously battled with the ethical obligation she knew she'd already decided to ignore.
Her finger was poised on the transmit button, but she couldn't bring herself to push it.
There was a disgusted sigh on the other end. "In all my years in the law and law enforcement, I have never experienced a situation even remotely similar to this. A captive FBI agent dictating to the acting Attorney General of the United States. Christ! The answer is not only no, but hell, no!"
"Sir--" Kat began.
Another voice cut in on the frequency.
"Ah, Kat, this is Bill North. I've been listening in, and I'm going to suspend the radio link here for a minute and talk to the A.G. I'll be right back."
"All right," Kat managed, expecting the transmitter to go off. Instead, the owner of the Gulfstream kept the channel open as his voice coursed through the line, identifying himself and his extensive connections with the current occupant of the White House--facts Kat had not known. Bill summarized his involvement, the radio relay, the use of the Gulfstream, and their present position.
"Mr. North, while I appreciate your good citizenship, I fail to see the reason for this interruption."
"Very simple, Mr. Springfield. I'd like to ask you if you've lost your alleged mind?" The words were spoken with great calm.
"What?" Springfield asked.
"Listen carefully, Mr. Springfield. The FBI agent in that hijacked airplane out there has saved those pe
ople at least twice today by fast thinking, fast action, and pure bravery. While you sit back there in the Beltway and pontificate about how to respond to hijackers, your front- line troop, Kat Bronsky, is doing this by herself with virtually no support from her superiors in what is perhaps the most scandalous and politically inexcusable example of bureaucratic stupidity I've ever observed.
John J Nance - The Last Hostage Page 37
