The Last Hostage (52 page)

"No."

"Well, if they need you, I'm sure they'll call."

"Door's opening on the seven-thirty-seven," the teenage boy named Jim observed.

"Opening on the Gulfstream, too." The older man turned to his companion.

"Say, Don... you don't suppose--"

"Suppose what?"

"Wasn't that an AirBridge flight hijacked earlier today?"

There was a brief hesitation before the mechanic named Don nodded with wide eyes.

"What do we do?"

"Call the sheriff for starters. Do it, Jim! Quick!"

Aboard AirBridge Flight 90, San Carlos Apache Airport, Globe, Arizona. 5:30 P.M.

Ken silently ran through the items on the shutdown checklist before turning to Kat.

"Wait in the seat just a second."

She saw him deftly remove the.44 from his briefcase and slip it in his waistband again as he got to his feet and opened the cockpit door.

She felt the pressure change as he opened the front entry door and heard the whine of the self-contained stairs as they began powering the steps out.

And she could hear Ken adjusting the PA. microphone in his hand.

"Okay, folks. This is where it all ends. I'm sorry to leave you in Globe instead of Phoenix, but I know transportation will be arranged shortly.

Other than that, I've said all I can say. I'm truly sorry. Please wait until I enter the other aircraft. Then you may depart, all but Rudy Bostich, that is. Mr. Bostich is under arrest, and any attempt to free him is a crime."

Ken replaced the microphone and leaned into the cockpit. "Okay, Kat, come on out."

She complied, surprised when his left arm encircled her shoulders and neck from behind as they stood at the top of the stairs.

"Forgive this one last show, but just in case he's harboring sharpshooters over there, I've got to look appropriately dangerous. The gun isn't cocked, as you know."

"But you're going to aim it at my head, aren't you?"

He nodded, a grim expression on his face as he moved her gently into the daylight at the top of the stairs and looked in all directions, the muzzle held to the back of her head.

"Take it easy, Kat. One step at a time. Together."

They moved smoothly to the bottom of the steps, Ken's eyes darting all around as Kat prayed the sudden diversion to Globe had been unanticipated by her agency or anyone else with guns and the power to create a disaster.

The Gulfstream sat less than a hundred feet away, its left side facing the Boeing's left side. The entry doorway was empty, and they climbed the steps slowly.

"Who up there is closest to the door?" Ken yelled.

A face popped into the entryway, and Kat recognized the captain.

"That's Dane Bailey," she said over her shoulder. "The captain."

"I'm unarmed, Captain Wolfe," Dane said as he put his hands up and backed into the aircraft.

"Where's Mr. North?"

Dane inclined his head toward the passenger cabin.

"And your copilot?"

"Still strapped into the right seat."

Ken nodded as he moved Kat through the door and to the right.

"Any sudden moves, Dane, and I'll have to shoot her."

"No one's moving suddenly, Captain! Mr. North is waiting for you.

He's unarmed."

"He'd better be. Where are you planning to be?"

Dane shrugged. "Anywhere you want me. We're just trying not to get in the way."

Ken nodded. "Understood. Stay in the cockpit."

"Yes, sir."

As Ken Wolfe and Kat Bronsky disappeared in the door of the Gulfstream, Annette began the exodus of passengers from AirBridge 90 with a quick P.A. announcement, unsure what to expect.

"Please leave the aircraft, and move away from it immediately. Bev and Kevin will be in the lead. Follow them, and follow their instructions.

I'll bring up the rear. Please leave all your carry-on items here.

You'll get them later."

She expected quick compliance.

Except for Blenheim --who almost knocked Bev and Kevin over in his rush to get off the aircraft--most of the passengers began moving up the aisle in slow motion, as if they weren't supposed to leave so soon, each of them shaking Annette's hand, or hugging her, or squeezing her shoulder--most asking where Ken Wolfe had gone, and what would happen to him now.

Suddenly Elvira Gates materialized in front of her, followed by all of her fear-of-flying group.

"You've won our hearts, my dear," Elvira said. "You acted magnificently.''

"Thank you, Elvira. Are your people okay?"

She glanced around, then nodded. "I'm amazed. Some of them may take the bus from now on, but they've earned their PhD in this course." She patted Annette's hand and headed down the steps.

Mike Clark, the retired detective, brought up the rear, stopping in front of Annette and searching her face. "Should I try to go over to that business jet and help?"

She shook her head. "Stay out of it. I have no idea what's transpiring, but my main concern is getting all of you to safety."

He looked at her thoughtfully for several moments before arching his thumb in the direction of the empty captain's chair.

"The question is, Annette, who's going to get that poor guy to safety?"

Aboard Gulfstream N5LL, San Carlos Apache Airport, Globe, Arizona.5:38 P.M.

Bill North was on his feet when Ken and Kat entered the plush cabin of Gulfstream N5LL. His eyes followed Ken carefully as the airline captain dropped his arm from Kat's shoulders. Kat moved toward the chair North had occupied at the rear of the cabin, relieved to see her purse still sitting alongside on the carpet.

"Why don't we sit over here, Captain Wolfe?" Bill North said, indicating the couch running along the right side of the cabin between the two swivel chairs.

"Let's drop the 'captain' bit, okay? Call me Ken. And sit over there."

Ken motioned toward the forward swivel chair.

"Whatever you say."

"I've jerked those poor people over there around long enough. They can't help me anymore. You, however, can."

North smiled a thin smile and shrugged. "That's what I promised.

What can I do for you?"

Ken glanced toward Kat. "You have the name of that Chicago company?''

She nodded as he repeated the details of Josed Taurus's involvement, watching Bill North's face as it contorted ever so slightly. When Ken was through, North shook his head energetically.

"I own many companies that own other companies in turn, Ken. I can't keep track of all of them. In fact, I don't even know the name of this one. Elysian, did you say?"

He nodded. "Owned by your Swiss outfit."

Bill nodded. "Okay. Let me get my corporate head of the Geneva division on the phone and get some answers quickly." He hesitated, watching Ken's eyes. "Can I get up and use the phone?"

"Where is it?"

"Near Kat, over there."

"Go ahead."

He leapt from the chair and crossed to the end of the couch, where he reached for the elaborate desk phone Kat had used. She watched as his hand closed around the handset.

Kat looked back at Ken and smiled a thin, unconvincing smile.

Kat forced her heart rate down and looked around at Bill North, who was standing with a hand on his hip, barking orders into the phone in French, demanding an immediate midnight connection with his managing director. North smiled at her briefly, his concentration returning to the call. She let her eyes follow the contour of his custom- made suit against the backdrop of his thirty-nine-million-dollar jet, and wondered what other things North's money had bought.

She replayed the mental image of Melinda in the picture.

North hung up the phone and stalked back to the other chair, where he plunked down heavily.

"He'll call me back in three minutes. Bear with me, Ken. We'll get some rapid answers."

Kat Bronsky forced herself to stand up and calmly move toward North's chair.

"Bill, things have been developing pretty fast in the last hour. Not all of it came over the satellite phone, so I doubt you've heard everything."

Bill North shrugged and gestured palms up. "I haven't been trying to catalogue things, Kat. I was just trying to keep relaying for you."

She nodded and smiled. "I appreciate that, Bill. I appreciate all your help since Salt Lake."

"Glad to."

"Now, however, I want to tell you where we are in this investigation.

As Ken has said, we need your help getting information from one of your companies, but while we're waiting for that, maybe you can help me untangle some of these conflicting facts."

He leaned forward, looking slightly relieved. "Sure. What?"

There was a sturdy, hand-carved walnut coffee table in front of the couch and she sat on it carefully as she folded her hands and looked him in the eye. Ken stood quietly against the left wall of the cabin, the gun still leveled in the direction of North.

"First, Bill, Bradley Lumin probably did not kill Melinda Wolfe."

There was a flicker on North's face which progressed to a frown and a quick glance at Ken.

"I heard that exchange, and I was stunned. But I wonder if the conclusion isn't premature."

She nodded. "We were stunned, too, but there's no question that if Bradley Lumin didn't take that picture--and he couldn't have--then he didn't kill Melinda. In fact, he may not even have been involved."

North sat back, looking off balance. "But, there was a picture of Melinda on his computer, wasn't there?"

"Planted," Kat shot back. "Lumin was never there. Somebody purposely framed Lumin."

Bill North looked carefully at Ken Wolfe, then back at Kat. She could almost feel the herculean effort he was making to stay calm.

"Well, who, then?" North asked. "You think someone working for one of my companies knows the answer?"

She shook her head. "No, Bill. I think you know the answer personally."

She could hear Ken shift position to her left and almost feel his puzzlement.

North was shaking his head. "Me? I told you, I own a lot of companies-''

She raised her hand to stop him. "There's a cabin in Maine that's been used for some time as a sort of studio for kiddie porn films. We have independent evidence already of that, discovered in Lumin's trailer in Colorado. That's the same cabin Melinda was held in and raped in. Lumin made sex videos there. Of course, that Maine cabin hasn't been used since Melinda's death, but it was a filthy porno studio, and Bill, it was feeding one of your enterprises."

He snorted and looked around as if in awe of her naivete. "Certainly you can't believe the chairman of a distant holding company would have any direct knowledge of such activities, even if that were true?"

"Not only do you know about that cabin, Bill, you own it, albeit indirectly. See, we never knew where to look for that cabin before.

Maine's a big place. Now that you're involved, we know where to find it."

Bill North smiled suddenly and shook his head. "Kat, you've got this all tragically wrong. If someone's been doing illegal things in one of my companies, or even if someone bought and misused an insignificant piece of property I happen to own somewhere, I wouldn't have any notification.

I'm just the overall owner of a holding company.''

"Oh, it gets far worse, Bill, and much closer to your doorstep. Your company in Chicago will eventually tell us how close your contacts were, and we know they maintained the e-mail address called SHRDLU2, which was later used to place a horrible picture taken during Melinda's captivity on Bradley Lumin's computer to frame him, and another one on Rudolph Bostich's computer to warn him to keep quiet, and that was after Bostich had been tipped about Lumin.

When we get to the end of that corporate chain, we find Bill North himself, and not as just the distant CEO."

North had been sitting with his mouth open and an expression of outraged alarm. He stood suddenly with an air of bravado and shook his head.

"I've had about enough of this irresponsible nonsense. Get the hell off my airplane!"

Ken raised the.44 toward his head.

"Sit down, North! Now! You're going to answer our questions fully, or you're going to die. I've heard more than enough to justify killing you already."

Bill North looked down the barrel of the.44 and swallowed hard, then looked at Kat, who nodded and gestured toward the swivel chair.

He sank into it again, his face a study in fury. He shook his head and snorted. "I can see why they don't trust you at the FBI, Bronsky. You're an amateur! You're trying to incite a hijacker by personally connecting an investor with supposed misdeeds of employees of subsidiary companies light-years distant. No prosecutor would listen for a minute to such garbage. And what's worse, you're torturing this poor guy for nothing!" he gestured to Ken.