55
Carl Atkins called. “We have intruders on the estate,” he said. “I have a party out searching for them now.”
“Carl,” Stone said, “please send somebody down to the airstrip and make sure the airplane is safe and fully fueled. Take the fuel caps off and look inside—they should be full right up to the top.”
Atkins got on his radio and gave orders. Five minutes later he got a call back. “The airplane is secure and already fully fueled,” he said, “and I’ve posted two men to guard it. Are you leaving immediately?”
“No, but we’ll go at dawn tomorrow. We’ll be there before first light to do a preflight and get the airplane positioned at the end of the runway.”
“And what will be your destination?”
“Santa Maria in the Azores. We’ll refuel there, then fly to St. John’s, in Newfoundland, refuel, then to Teterboro. We’ll be there late afternoon, eastern time.”
“Got it. Everything will be ready before sunup.”
Stone explained the plan to Meg.
“How far is it to the Azores?” she asked.
“Fifteen hundred nautical miles,” he replied.
“Do we have that much range? It will be upwind, won’t it?”
“We can always divert to Lisbon halfway if the range doesn’t work. It will depend on the winds. I have at least two thousand miles of range, maybe considerably more, because of new winglets I had installed a couple of months ago.”
“Okay, whatever you say.”
THEY HAD a candlelit dinner in the library then packed and got to bed early. They were up at four AM and at the airstrip half an hour later. They stowed the luggage, then Stone did his preflight inspection by flashlight; they got aboard and were towed to the end of the runway, where Stone completed his checklists, then started the engines. As the first rays of the sun showed, he pushed the throttles forward and they began to roll down the runway.
Halfway down the strip, Stone saw some sort of commotion near the hangar, and there was the flash of gunfire. He gulped and kept rolling, his reasoning being that if he stopped, the airplane would surely be fired on, but if they took off he had a better chance of making it unscathed. If the airplane was hit and failed to pressurize, they could fly to Southampton, a short distance away, and land there.
Stone eased back on the yoke, and the nosewheel left the ground, followed shortly by the main landing gear. He flew southeast, checking the cabin pressure gauge until they were at ten thousand feet, along the way calling air traffic control for a clearance. They were cleared to flight level 400 and turned on course. Twenty minutes later, Stone leveled off, set the throttles for cruise, and let the airspeed climb. When they were at 400 knots, he checked the range ring, which showed they would reach Santa Maria with a 150-mile reserve of fuel.
“We’re going to be fine on fuel,” he said to Meg.
“Is there any way Owaki can find out where we’re going?”
“Yes, but we’ll be in Santa Maria, refueled, and off again before he could give chase.”
“What about St. John’s? Could he have us met there?”
“Half an hour out of St. John’s I’ll change our destination to Gander. We’ll be in and out of there in half an hour, and he wouldn’t dare try to pull anything at Teterboro. The police would be all over him. Fred and the Strategic Services people will meet us there, and escort us to the house.”
“Good. My meeting with the co-op board is tomorrow morning.”
THEY ROLLED into Stone’s garage at five PM, tired and happy to be home. Bob was beside himself with joy to have Stone back, and Joan was pretty happy, too.
“I hear you had some aggravation across the pond,” she said. “Don’t worry, nobody’s tried to burn down this house, yet.”
“I’m glad to hear it.”
“Dino called.”
“Call him back and tell him we’re still expecting him and Viv for dinner, and let Helene know they’re coming.”
Joan went to her work.
Stone pulled the drapes in the master bedroom and achieved something like darkness. They fell asleep without further ado—unusual, because they had become accustomed to further ado.
STONE HAD been asleep for an hour when the phone rang. Automatically, he picked up. “What?”
“It’s Dino. I thought you’d like to know that Owaki’s Gulfstream 650 landed at Teterboro about seven PM, and a squadron of customs people greeted them. They took the airplane apart, and in the rear luggage compartment, under the floor panels, they found half a dozen Kalashnikovs and a dozen handguns, plus ammo. They took Owaki in.”
“How long before he’s out?”
“That depends on you.”
“On me?”
“Yeah, there’ll be a bail hearing at eleven tomorrow morning at the federal courthouse, and we need you to testify to your knowledge of Owaki. If customs and the FBI can get the judge to deny bail, he’ll spend the next few months on Rikers Island.”
“I think that might be character-building for him,” Stone said.
“In the big courtroom. Don’t be late.”
“I won’t.” He hung up and went back to sleep.
EARLY THE FOLLOWING MORNING he felt a hand creeping up his thigh. He glanced at the bedside clock: 9:30. “Hold it right there, missy,” he said. “I’m due in federal court at eleven, so if you want to come, get dressed quickly.” He freed himself, leaped out of bed, and thence into a shower. By ten-fifteen, munching on a muffin, he was in the rear seat of the Bentley with Meg and headed downtown.
At a quarter to eleven his phone rang.
“It’s Dino. Where the fuck are you?”
“Enjoying the traffic in your fine city. Why didn’t you give me a motorcycle escort?”
“Get your ass here, pronto!”