the ramp and quickly loaded their things into it, then Teddy put the car into the hangar, wiped it down, and closed and locked the door. Nobody would bother to look in it for at least another month, when the rent hadn’t been paid. If he had had more time he could have sold it, but what the hell? He could eat the loss.
Teddy had a good look around the field and saw nothing moving. The tower was closed, as takeoffs were discouraged between eleven-thirty P.M. and six A.M. He ran through the checklist quickly, then started the engine, waiting only a moment before moving to be sure it was running smoothly. He taxied across the ramp and straight onto the short runway, 28 Left, at a point that left him 2,000 of its 3,400 feet, more than the airplane needed to get off the ground. Leaving the airplane’s lights and transponder off, he pushed the throttle to the firewall, waited for seventy knots, then rotated. He leveled off at 200 feet, then turned inland.
He had recently installed a Garmin flat screen that was capable of Synthetic Vision, a GPS-generated map of the world that displayed high terrain and obstacles. When he was well inland, he began to climb, so as to clear the Santa Monica Mountains east of Los Angeles. When they had crossed the peaks, he turned north over the desert, avoiding the restricted area surrounding Edwards Air Force Base, on a dry lake bed.
Teddy finally spoke for the first time. “How does San Francisco sound?” he asked.
“Sounds good,” Lauren said. “Do you think you were right about your feeling?”
“I think so,” Teddy said. He altered course, but something still nagged at him. “No,” he said, “not San Francisco. They’ll work {ey>“I thintheir way up the coast, checking every general aviation airport, and they’ll find the airplane.”
“But it has a new paint job and a new legal registration number.”
“They’ll be looking for a new paint job,” Teddy replied.
“Then where will we go?”
“East,” Teddy said, looking at his planning chart. “We’ll overnight somewhere in the Midwest, then tomorrow, into the belly of the beast.
“Washington, D.C.?” she asked, incredulous.
“Near enough,” he said. “Clinton, Maryland, Washington Executive Airport. As close to D.C. as we can get. They’ll never think of that.”
14
THE TEAM OF SIX MEN LET THEIR VEHICLES ROLL SILENTLY down the hill, nearly to the house, then they got out and trotted the last thirty yards. Todd Bacon gave them the hand signal that told them to take the positions worked out during their planning session at the motel, none of them on Teddy’s property, which Todd knew would have motion sensors.
When enough time had passed, Todd walked up the front walk at a normal pace, crouched before the front door, and used a professional lockpick to open it, then he unslung his light machine gun and spoke one word into his handheld radio: “GO!”
They came into the house from all sides, kicking doors open. One minute later, Todd spoke again on the radio. “They’re gone,” he said. He was disappointed but not terribly surprised.
“All right,” he said into the radio, “let’s take this place apart. Bag anything that might be remotely of use.”
The team went to work. Two hours later, they had three garbage bags full of what Todd knew was nearly all garbage. Still, there might be that one thing.
“All right,” he said. “I want you to pull out all stops, yank in as many bodies and phones as you can get your hands on. I want a survey of every general aviation airport—nothing is too small—that has had land today a stranger in a Cessna 182 RG with a fresh paint job, and do callbacks from a month ago to now.” Todd clapped his hands together. “Let’s get to work, people.” He got into his vehicle and drove back to the very nice motel that had been home for the past twelve days.
TODD DUMPED HIS BAG in his suite, dug out his satphone, and walked out to the pool. It was
Teddy had a good look around the field and saw nothing moving. The tower was closed, as takeoffs were discouraged between eleven-thirty P.M. and six A.M. He ran through the checklist quickly, then started the engine, waiting only a moment before moving to be sure it was running smoothly. He taxied across the ramp and straight onto the short runway, 28 Left, at a point that left him 2,000 of its 3,400 feet, more than the airplane needed to get off the ground. Leaving the airplane’s lights and transponder off, he pushed the throttle to the firewall, waited for seventy knots, then rotated. He leveled off at 200 feet, then turned inland.
He had recently installed a Garmin flat screen that was capable of Synthetic Vision, a GPS-generated map of the world that displayed high terrain and obstacles. When he was well inland, he began to climb, so as to clear the Santa Monica Mountains east of Los Angeles. When they had crossed the peaks, he turned north over the desert, avoiding the restricted area surrounding Edwards Air Force Base, on a dry lake bed.
Teddy finally spoke for the first time. “How does San Francisco sound?” he asked.
“Sounds good,” Lauren said. “Do you think you were right about your feeling?”
“I think so,” Teddy said. He altered course, but something still nagged at him. “No,” he said, “not San Francisco. They’ll work {ey>“I thintheir way up the coast, checking every general aviation airport, and they’ll find the airplane.”
“But it has a new paint job and a new legal registration number.”
“They’ll be looking for a new paint job,” Teddy replied.
“Then where will we go?”
“East,” Teddy said, looking at his planning chart. “We’ll overnight somewhere in the Midwest, then tomorrow, into the belly of the beast.
“Washington, D.C.?” she asked, incredulous.
“Near enough,” he said. “Clinton, Maryland, Washington Executive Airport. As close to D.C. as we can get. They’ll never think of that.”
14
THE TEAM OF SIX MEN LET THEIR VEHICLES ROLL SILENTLY down the hill, nearly to the house, then they got out and trotted the last thirty yards. Todd Bacon gave them the hand signal that told them to take the positions worked out during their planning session at the motel, none of them on Teddy’s property, which Todd knew would have motion sensors.
When enough time had passed, Todd walked up the front walk at a normal pace, crouched before the front door, and used a professional lockpick to open it, then he unslung his light machine gun and spoke one word into his handheld radio: “GO!”
They came into the house from all sides, kicking doors open. One minute later, Todd spoke again on the radio. “They’re gone,” he said. He was disappointed but not terribly surprised.
“All right,” he said into the radio, “let’s take this place apart. Bag anything that might be remotely of use.”
The team went to work. Two hours later, they had three garbage bags full of what Todd knew was nearly all garbage. Still, there might be that one thing.
“All right,” he said. “I want you to pull out all stops, yank in as many bodies and phones as you can get your hands on. I want a survey of every general aviation airport—nothing is too small—that has had land today a stranger in a Cessna 182 RG with a fresh paint job, and do callbacks from a month ago to now.” Todd clapped his hands together. “Let’s get to work, people.” He got into his vehicle and drove back to the very nice motel that had been home for the past twelve days.
TODD DUMPED HIS BAG in his suite, dug out his satphone, and walked out to the pool. It was
Similar Books
