by Stuart Woods
Adele looked at the kitchen clock. “Oh, I’ve got to run; I’m showing a house at eight thirty.” She went back into the bedroom and came back ten minutes later, clothed and made up.
Teddy walked her to the door and gave her a kiss. “Later in the week?”
She got out her calendar. “When’s good for you?”
“Tomorrow night, here? I’ll cook you dinner.”
“You’re on.” She ran for her car.
Teddy went back to the table and finished reading the article about the crimes. It made him angry to think there was some animal hurting women out there. He’d like to get a shot at the guy, he thought.
He read slowly through the paper, getting a sense of the locality, when he saw a familiar face in an ad. It was one of the women he’d seen at the airport: “Ginny Barker, Certified Flight Instructor, Private and Commercial certificates,” and a phone number. She must be related to Holly Barker, he thought.
He went to his computer and Googled Holly, finding news stories about cases she had solved when she had been chief of police in Orchid Beach, a neighbor of Vero. He learned that she had retired from the army after a career as an MP and that her father lived here, too. Ginny Barker was his wife. He wondered how Holly had made the transition to the Agency.
It was interesting to know more about a woman he had once taken to the Metropolitan Opera, in New York, when he had been disguised as an elderly Jewish gentleman, retired from the garment industry. He wondered if she’d ever figured out who he was. Probably so, for she had turned up on the island of St. Marks, where he had also fooled her for a while. Then she had taken that shot at him.
He went into the Agency mainframe, to personnel, and read her file. She was getting good reviews from her superiors, particularly Lance Cabot, and had recently been promoted to assistant deputy director. He was impressed.
He made a mental note to himself not to let his disguise slip while he was in Vero Beach. He might run into her at any time. It occurred to him that his ease in fooling her before might be making him cocky, and he didn’t want to start underestimating her now. He would like to know what she was doing back in this area. She couldn’t be looking for him, because he had picked out this town only a day or two before.
Now he knew that she was a pilot, or studying to be one, taking lessons from her stepmother, who was no older than she. Amazing what you could pick up in the local paper, and it didn’t hurt to have access to the Agency mainframe.
Teddy stacked the dishes in the dishwasher and cleaned up after himself. Then he took his briefcase into the little spare room and began to make it his study. He went online and bought a safe from a local company that promised to deliver it the following day. In the meantime, he found some removal boards behind the sleeper couch and stashed his cash, weapons and other supplies there.
After a couple of hours of work around the place, he had made it livable and had also turned it into a base for himself, with provisions for a quick getaway if necessary. Some people, he reflected, might have been troubled by the stress of constantly watching their backs and planning escapes, but Teddy enjoyed it. He could change towns and his life anytime he chose, and he could invent and produce the IDs and backgrounds necessary to preserve himself. That was fun.
He put on some clothes and went for a drive. It was time he knew more about his new hometown.
20
Holly sat at Ham’s dining table while Ginny filled out her logbook, entering the training exercises she had performed the day before.
“You know,” Holly said, “I sometimes think about buying an airplane.”
“It’s a great time to do it,” Ginny said, “what with the economy the way it is. Prices are depressed. Can you pay cash?”
“Probably,” Holly said.
“Well, what do you want to do with an airplane?” Ginny asked. “Travel long distances or just fly around on Sunday afternoons?”
“I’d like to be able to fly down here whenever I feel like it,” Holly said. “There’s a nice airport at Manassas, Virginia, not far from my house.”
“You want to make the trip nonstop?”
“Yes.”
“Well, there’s the Cessna 450-a turbocharged single-fast, with a good range.”
“Is it pressurized?”
“No. For that you’d want a Piper Malibu Mirage, and that would cost you twice as much.”
“I’ve got a friend who’s got a Mirage,” Holly said, “and I like it. He’s had the engine upgraded to a turboprop.”
“So, start with the Malibu, then do the conversion later if you need it. Right now I happen to know that the Piper factory in Vero has a couple of airplanes that buyers backed out on after the stock market crash. Let me look into it; I might be able to get you a deal.”
“Sounds good,” Holly said.
“You’d need to do the factory training course, which takes five days, but you have enough time to get that done before you go back to work.” Ginny handed her the completed logbook. “There you go; you’ve had your biennial flight review, so you’re good for another year, and your instrument competency check, too.”
“I really like the idea of the Malibu,” Holly said. “It’s the sort of airplane that could go a long distance on a long weekend. Let’s look at it.”
Ginny got up. “I’ll call a guy I know in sales at the Piper factory,” she said. She got up and went into the little office she shared with Ham.
Holly got up and went out on the back porch, where Ham was reading the Wall Street Journal. “Making any money?” she asked.
“Nobody’s making any money,” Ham said. “My portfolio is way down.”
“I’m glad I’m in Treasuries,” Holly said. “I’m thinking about buying an airplane.”
“Good idea. I’m sure Ginny can advise you on that.”
“She already has; she’s looking into it now.”
“Heard anything about your roving rapist/killer?” Ham asked.
“No. He was hot for a few days, now he’s cooled off.”
“Think he’ll get hot again?”
“You can count on it,” Holly said. “He was just getting started when he stopped. I’ll bet he’s already getting antsy again, looking forward to that thrill.”
“You know, I’ve killed a bunch of people in my time-Vietnam gave me that dubious opportunity-and I didn’t find one of those kills thrilling.”
“That means you’re a normal human being, Ham-well, fairly normal-and our guy isn’t. He’s all twisted up inside.”
“You think it’s Jim Bruno, don’t you?”
“Right now, he’s the only suspect, but I haven’t decided he’s the one. He needs to get tied to one of these cases directly, with some hard evidence.”
“You ever miss being a cop?” Ham asked.
“Sometimes; it has the virtue of resolution: you solve a crime and send somebody to prison. The work I do now, the victories take longer, mostly. You get a short-term thrill now and then, when an operation goes just the way you hoped it would, but not very often.”
“I know what you mean,” Ham said. “In Vietnam, you had a good day or a bad day. You couldn’t think a month ahead, because in a month you might be on the other guy’s KIA list.”
Ginny came out back to join them, a sheet of paper in her hand. She handed it to Holly. “They faxed me the specs on an airplane that’s sitting out on the ramp at the airport,” she said. “Take a look. It’s loaded with the latest of just about everything. They took a big deposit on it, but the guy got hurt in the market, and he can’t close the sale.”
Holly read the list carefully, trying to imagine each piece of equipment on the airplane. “Wow,” she breathed. “This is a dream machine. How much?”
“How about a hundred and fifty grand off list?” Ginny asked. “I talked to the seller, and he’s highly motivated; he wants to get his deposit back, and he’s willing to take a loss to do that. The factory wants the rest of their money, too, so they’re chipping in so
mething.”
“Tell them yes,” Holly said. She looked at her watch. “I can get the money wired here today. Do you think we could buy it through your flying school? I don’t want an expensive airplane registered in my name right now. It might raise questions with my employer.”
“Sure, I guess so.” Ginny went and got her checkbook, ripped one out and handed it to Holly. “You can wire the funds to this account.”
Holly made a note of the information, then went inside and called her bank in the Caymans. She entered her account number and two passwords, then tapped in the amount and the receiving account number and routing code. A computerized voice repeated the information to her, she confirmed it, then she was asked to speak a code sentence. She did so, and the computer confirmed her identity and authorized the transaction. Holly returned to the porch. “The money’s on its way.”
“You want to go look at the airplane?” Ginny asked.
“Sure!”
They drove to the airport in two cars, so Holly wouldn’t have to drive Ginny back, and she followed Ginny onto the field to a ramp outside the Piper factory where three airplanes were parked. A man was waiting next to a Malibu Mirage with the keys, and he opened it up for them.
Holly loved the smell of new inside the airplane-all leather seats and wool carpeting. She sat in the pilot’s seat, with Ginny next to her, and examined the big glass panels that displayed all the flight and instrument information.
“By the way,” the Piper man said, “the training class starts Monday morning; by next Friday, you’ll be qualified.”
“I can’t wait,” Holly said. “How about insurance?”
“I’ll put the airplane on my flight school policy,” Ginny said, “and you can reimburse me.”
“Great. When can we close?”
“How about tomorrow morning?” the man sitting behind them asked.
“That’s good for me,” Ginny said. “I’ll stop by the bank on the way in tomorrow and get a cashier’s check.”
They got off the airplane and Holly walked around it. It was painted in a beautiful red and white color scheme. She wiped a finger across the paint and found grit. “It’s dirty,” she said. “How long has it been sitting on the ramp?”
“About seven weeks,” the man said. “I’ll have it washed today.”
“Ginny, will you fly it before we close, make sure there are no maintenance squawks?”
“Sure, I will,” Ginny said.
Holly was more excited than she had been since she had started training at the Agency’s Farm. “Ginny, can we fly her some over the weekend? Do you have the time?”
“Sure, we’ll get a head start on your training.”
Holly drove home, singing to herself. She hadn’t been this excited since she began her training at the Agency.
21
Teddy Fay, now Jack Smithson, had a busy day. First, he went to the Department of Motor Vehicles and exchanged the Georgia driver’s license he had created and planted in the Georgia database for a Florida license. Now he was perfectly legitimate. He had a fixed address and a government-issued picture ID.
He chose a bank near his house and opened a checking account and a savings account with a cashier’s check from a Miami bank that his Cayman bank had arranged. He drove out to the western outskirts of Vero Beach, just past I-95, and found an outlet mall with a Ralph Lauren store. He owned few clothes, so he bought a lightweight suit, a blue blazer and a tweed jacket, plus trousers, underwear, shirts and ties, and a dozen Polo shirts in various colors. He thought of that as Florida camouflage. He found a Publix market near his rented house and stocked up on groceries in some depth, then he went home, put away the groceries and, with a needle and thread, fixed the length on all his new trousers, dress and khakis. He pressed everything and put the things in his drawers and closets, then answered the doorbell.
He let the deliverymen in with his new safe and showed them where to bolt it to the floor in the closet in his study. As soon as they left he changed the delivery combination to one of his own, then removed his cash and equipment from the wall behind the sofa and stowed them, along with a number of weapons, in the large safe.
Holly attended the closing on the sale of her new airplane with Ginny. After she was handed the keys, the logbooks and a nylon briefcase containing all the manuals and instruction books for the airplane and its equipment, she and Ginny went for a test flight.
“I flew it earlier today,” Ginny said, “and all it needed was to have the tires properly inflated.”
“That’s good news,” Holly said. She ran through the checklist and started the airplane, then called the tower and got permission to taxi to a runway. She did her run-up tests before requesting take-off, and she was cleared. She taxied to the centerline of the runway, did her final checks and pushed the throttle forward. The airplane accelerated down the runway and lifted off with a tug of the yoke, and she was flying her very own airplane.
“This is exhilarating!” she cried.
Ginny laughed. “Turn right to two-forty, climb to eight thousand feet and we’ll head out to a practice area.” On reaching the practice area, Holly switched on the autopilot and let it fly the airplane, while she entered a flight plan and an instrument approach into the computer.
They did some slow flight and practiced turns and stalls, then flew a couple of low approaches before landing at Okeechobee Airport, where they refueled and had lunch in the airport’s restaurant. After lunch, they practiced emergency landings and short-field landings, then flew back to Vero and flew another instrument approach to a full stop.
Holly shut down the engine and got out of the airplane. “That was really fun,” she said. “I feel as though I could fly her home right now.”
“You’ve still got a lot to learn about your airplane,” Ginny said. “Now go home and start memorizing the Owner’s Operation Handbook. You’re going to need all that stuff, and you’ll wow them when you show up for training.”
Holly did exactly that, breaking only for dinner for herself and Daisy. She fell asleep that night with the operator’s handbook open on her stomach.
Teddy greeted Adele Mason with a stiff Scotch. “My, what’s that wonderful aroma?” she asked.
“A lamb stew. It’s been cooking for hours.”
“I can’t wait,” she said, sipping her drink. “How have your first days gone?”
“I’m a Florida resident now,” Teddy said. “Driver’s license and all. I bought some new clothes, opened a bank account and made myself at home.”
“The place looks wonderful with somebody living in it. The elderly couple who own the house have outlived their only daughter, and they don’t have any grandchildren, so there was nobody to live in the guesthouse.”
“I like living on the beach,” Teddy said. “I like being able to hear the surf when I go to bed and wake up in the morning. Where do you live, Adele?”
“I rent a tiny condo farther up the island, half a mile from the beach. I was divorced six years ago, and I can’t really afford to buy anything until I sell a lot more houses.”
They had another drink. Then Teddy opened a bottle of California cabernet and served dinner. Adele raved about his cooking, and Teddy was suitably appreciative. He was enjoying himself as much as she was.
They took a brandy to bed and made enthusiastic love for the better part of an hour before falling asleep in each other’s arms.
This time, Adele woke first, shortly after midnight. “I’ve got early showings this morning,” she said.
“Why don’t you get that done then come back and spend the weekend here with me?” Teddy asked.
“I’d love to,” she said. “I could be back here around two o’clock tomorrow afternoon.”
“Perfect,” Teddy said. “We can go for a swim.”
“I’d love that,” she said, kissing him. “See you in the afternoon.”
She left, and Teddy drifted off to sleep again.
Adele got dressed and drove ba
ck to the highway. She turned right and headed north on A-1A, the road that ran up the barrier islands.
Adele was very happy with the way her new relationship with Jack Smithson was going. She hadn’t slept with a man for more than a year, and the last relationship had ended badly. She was looking forward to getting to know this very interesting man better, and she hoped they would last.
A few miles up A-1A she made a left, then a right onto Jungle Trail, a shortcut that would save her a mile or two. Anyway, she liked the dirt roadway and the trees and an occasional glimpse of a raccoon or a deer along the trail.
She had driven a mile or so when the car ran over something and began to pull to the left. She stopped the car and retrieved a small flashlight from the glove compartment, then got out of the car and walked around to the front.
Her right front tire was completely flat. Adele knew how to change a flat, but she hated doing it. Then she looked up and saw a car coming down the trail, behind hers. A flashing blue light on the dashboard came on, dimly illuminating a uniformed figure behind the wheel. Thank God, she thought, a man, and a cop into the bargain.
He got out of his car and turned a very bright flashlight on her. “Got a problem there, ma’am?” he asked, walking toward her.
“Yes, a flat tire.”
“I’ll give you a hand,” he said, coming closer.
“Oh, thank you so much. I’m so lucky you came along.”
He came closer, but the light blinded her. Then she felt a sting on the side of her neck.
“Just take it easy,” he said. “You’re going to get drowsy now.”
“Oh, God, no,” she whispered to herself as she sank to her knees.
22
Lauren Cade got out of her car and walked the forty yards to where the medical examiner’s wagon and an unmarked police car were parked. Detective Jimmy Weathers stood, wearing latex gloves, looking at the front of a Tahoe SUV parked in the middle of the Jungle Trail.
