The Last Hostage (36 page)

"Cot it Dane. Stand by."

Ken was fishing for something in his map case, a small black plastic box with wires that he plugged in overhead. He replugged his headset into the box, connected it to a cellular flip-phone, and handed it to her.

"What's this?" Kat asked, apprehension in her voice.

"Allows us to talk on a cell phone through our headsets and the transmit button on the yoke."

Ken opened the phone and punched in the number, then sat it on the glareshield as the number began ringing in her earpiece and a voice she didn't recognize answered from FBI headquarters.

"This is Agent Katherine Bronsky aboard AirBridge Ninety. I... we... had an urgent message to call you."

There was a pause and several background voices before the man returned.

"Ah, Bronsky, we need to talk to Captain Wolfe."

She shook her head in puzzlement. "Look, I'm the negotiator here, and the captain is listening."

"Agent Bronsky, you are a hostage, right?"

"That's right. Her stomach tightened even further, knowing instinctively what was coming.

"Then you're off the case. Take care of yourself, but pass this line to the captain."

Kat looked at Ken and raised her eyebrows, fighting down the embarrassment of being summarily dismissed from the loop.

He nodded and punched the transmit button. "This is Wolfe."

"Captain, would you please stand by to speak with the Acting Attorney General, Martin Springfield?"

"If he's got something useful to tell me, like you're complying with my demands."

"I know he does, Captain. Stand by."

There were a few clicks on the other end. Ken could envision the sophisticated recording gear hooked up to the line as they opened the line to an office at the Justice Department, where, undoubtedly, a group of people were huddled around Springfield getting ready to prompt him on what to say.

"Is this Captain Ken Wolfe?" a new voice asked.

"Mr. Springfield, I presume?" Ken replied.

"That's right. Look, Captain, let's get right to it. You've demanded we arrest Bradley Lumin. The FBI didn't find him at his home, but we now have a track on him and should have him in custody within ten minutes."

"Meaning?"

"Meaning he's surrounded in a K-mart in Ft. Collins, and we're simply trying to make sure we don't alert him before we nab him, so we can protect innocent bystanders."

"How about the grand jury and the federal indictment?"

"That's the interesting part, Captain. Obviously what you're doing is hijacking, and a capital crime. Normally we would never deal with the demands of a hijacker, but you've triggered an interesting investigation regarding our U.S. Attorney in Connecticut, Mr. Bostich, who I guess is on the airplane with you?"

"Yes, he is."

"And Mr. Bostich is... still okay?"

"Yes, Mr. Springfield, I'm not about to kill the man before he confesses that he lied. Are you about to tell me the government now believes Bostich lied?"

"No. I'll be frank with you, Captain. We have virtually no reason to believe Rudy Bostich lied in that Connecticut court or anywhere else, but we're quite concerned why federal charges weren't filed against Lumin. That's why we've convened an emergency session of a sitting federal grand jury, and they're in the federal building in Manhattan as we speak looking at the evidence. I can't guarantee they'll indict Lumin, but there's a good chance they will."

Ken took a deep breath and stared at the instrument panel for a few seconds before punching the transmit button again.

"Mr. Springfield, I'm trained in the standard delaying tactics for hijackings. I know all your tricks. Promise the hijacker anything, don't actually lie, but keep dangling hope out there and keep him in one place. I'm also aware the FBI has some sort of force on the way here.

Now here's the deal. When Lumin has already been arrested, and that grand jury has returned an indictment, and finally, when Rudy Bostich has confessed here on this aircraft, I'll end this and deliver everyone safely. Until then, all the promises and the assurances in the world will not suffice, and if there's any attempt to block me or take this aircraft, I'll detonate the bomb."

"Okay, Captain, but here's our deal. We do want you to stay on the ground there in... where the hell are you?"

"Telluride, Colorado."

"Okay. I don't know the area. Keep everyone, including Bostich, safe, stay on the ground, we'll leave you alone until we can report back that the things you've demanded are done."

"Mr. Springfield, are you aware that I have Rudy Bostich's phone records that prove he made the call he claimed under oath he never made?"

There was no answer for nearly thirty seconds, and Ken could imagine the hurried, whispered conference taking place in Springfield's office.

Martin Springfield's voice returned with a surprised tone. "I've reviewed that case against Lumin, and Mr. Bostich's testimony. You're sitting out there telling me that you somehow have possession of his personal telephone records, and that those records, if examined minutely, would prove that a call was made to that detective when and where the detective claimed it was?"

Ken was nodding to the instrument panel. "That, Mr. Springfield, is precisely what I'm confirming to you."

"Well, where the hell did you get those records? How do I know they aren't forged?"

"I won't tell you how I got them, but I will tell you they are a telephone company internal record of his telephone calls."

"We'll check immediately, Captain."

"If you find anything different at the phone company, Mr. Springfield, someone's altered them, and that is exactly what I suspect. If so, I've preserved a certified copy of the original computer tape."

"Where? Is it with you?"

"It's safely salted away where the FBI would never find it. Anything happens to me, though, it will be made public, and it has a perfect chain of possession that will hold up in court. That was done just in case someone in the government tried to rewrite the evidence at phone company level."

"Come on, Captain, we don't do things like that."

"Yeah, right. Look, no one's listened to me, Springfield, because everyone assumes a federal prosecutor is perfectly honest. Especially this one. He's too highly placed, he's too politically connected, he's too respected to be human, right? Wrong. He lied. Hard as that might be for you to believe, he in fact lied under oath. I don't know why the man lied, but he did pass that tip to an honest detective, then ruined the murder case against Lumin and the detective's reputation when he perjured himself about the call. I have the proof. It's available to you, too. The whole world's going to see it after this."

"When did you get those records, Captain?"

"A month ago."

"Jesus, Captain. You're throwing away your life here and you could just as easily have called the FBI with those records? Why didn't you just fly to D.C. and present it to us?"

Ken looked over at Kat and shook his head slowly before responding.

"Are you not aware, Mr. Springfield, that I did exactly that?"

"What do you mean, you did? There's no record of our having known about any phone records."

"Does the name Julian White ring a bell?"

"Of course. Julian is head of the criminal division here at the Justice Department," Springfield replied.

"That's right. I'd suggest you start by calling Mr. White in for a quick polygraph, with a court recorder present."

There was a long hesitation on the other end.

"I'm not following something here, Captain. What the hell are you talking about? Are you saying I should administer a polygraph to Mr. White? Why?"

"Because three weeks ago, Mr. Acting Attorney General, I did fly to Washington, and by appointment met with Mr. White. I gave him copies of the smoking gun records in the presence of a senior FBI official named Campbell. An assistant director, I think."

"I had no knowledge of this. But too often, what civilians like you think are 'smoking guns' very often are so flawed they can't be used as evidence at all."

"I hardly think irrefutable proof of a call like this is flawed. Of course, there's a strong possibility the Justice Department and the Administration want it covered up."

"All right, Captain. What proof do you have that anyone here, let alone Julian White, would participate in a coverup, and of what?"

"Consider the evidence, Mr. Springfield. Mr. White was outraged when I showed him Bostich's phone records. He promised to investigate immediately. He also pledged to be available to me by phone at any time and report back. The very next morning, however, the White House announced Rudy Bostich is the front-runner for Attorney General, something I'm quite sure Mr. White didn't know when we talked.

I tried for ten days after to reach him, but despite his promises, every phone call was refused, and faxed requests for a meeting were never answered. Finally, three days ago, I was told by White's office that the United States Department of Justice had looked into my allegations and found them groundless, and that nothing more would be done.

That's a ridiculous lie, of course. I demanded to know whether anyone had checked the phone company's records. The underling I talked to wouldn't tell me, but I'm convinced now that the records have probably been altered, possibly by the FBI itself."

"Another wild accusation that's going to be very difficult for you to prove, Captain."

"Well, what no one knew is the fact that even if the phone company records have been falsified, more than two complete, verifiable, intact copies are available, each of them providing irrefutable evidence that Bostich lied... and now, apparently, providing circumstantial evidence of a Justice Department coverup as well."

There was a long silence from Washington.

"That's quite an allegation."

"But it's true, and you're not going to weasel out of it. Now, Mr. Springfield, when you've got something substantive to tell me, call me back."

"How?"

Ken passed the number of his cellular phone, then paused. "One more thing, Mr. Springfield."

"Go ahead."

"Tell the FBI they've got a perfectly good representative aboard whom I'm comfortable negotiating with. They want to talk to me, they can talk to Agent Bronsky. Her intervention is the only reason these people are still alive, the only reason people were allowed off here in Telluride, and the only reason we're still talking. They said she was off the case? I just put her back on."

He punched the disconnect button, aware that Kat was staring at him.

"I... guess I never expected a recommendation from, ah..."

"From the criminal?"

She snorted softly and shrugged. "Yeah, I guess. Thank you for that, I think."

He nodded as he looked down at the computer screen that had been waiting for additional commands, then looked up to scan the sky to the west, north, and east.

"I've got to look behind us."

He handed Kat the computer, moved his seat forward, and released the parking brake as he pushed the throttles up and brought the steering tiller full right, pivoting the 737 through a full 360-degree turn.

"I don't see anyone yet, but they'll be here shortly."

"Ken, I told them not to."

He shook his head. "They wouldn't have been listening to you by that point, Kat."

With the 737 sideways on the end of the runway once again, Ken set the parking brake, repositioned his seat, and put Bostich's computer back on his lap.

Kat watched from the copilot's seat in silence for a minute. The screen was a blank from her angle, and she struggled with the question of whether she should even be watching what he was doing.

If I'm not directing the search in any way, it will probably not affect admissibility, she concluded, then immediately upbraided herself. This is foolish! You're buying into his fantasy that he's going to find something substantive on there. Bostich may have lied, but he's not a fool. He wouldn't carry a smoking gun around on his laptop. Ken glanced at her. "You can't see the screen, can you?"

She shook her head no.

He raised his left hand to show the trigger once more. "You do remember I'm holding onto this, right?"

She nodded. "How can I forget? One heart palpitation away from disaster? Of course I remember."

"Okay. You can unstrap and sit behind me to watch if you'd like."

Kat thought it over quickly and unsnapped the seatbelt. She sat sideways on the tiny jumpseat behind him, aware of how easy it would be to disable him from such an angle--and how potentially fatal with the presence of a dead man's trigger in his hand.

Ken had opened a long list of files and was darting in and out of them, looking at various documents, most of them legal forms, memos, letters, and a financial program. With a series of staccato keystrokes he fired various search requests into the database, using the name "Lumin" in various spellings, "Matson," "Connecticut," and other potential links to the case.