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Authors: John R. Maxim

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Whistler's Angel (44 page)

BOOK: Whistler's Angel
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“So we what? Order brunch? Ask if she’ll fill us in?”

“Just go in and swing around so I can see.”

Kaplan did as he was told, but he didn’t like it. He didn’t need Leslie to look up and spot him. She knew his face from all those times at the bar. She’d
certainly
noticed his red Cadillac from all the times he’d pulled up in it. She’d remember how he ducked out last night before the police could show up. It could enter her head to take down his plate number and give it to that cop friend of hers. Not likely, but possible. Why take the chance?

“Which reminds me,” he told Lockwood, “we have to boost another car.”

“What’s the matter with this one?”

“We’re going to hit Crow leaving this parked out front? I also don’t need his blood and fibers in my trunk. You’re sure that you’ve done this before?”

“Don’t get smart.”

“Fine. I’ll shut up. Let’s go boost.”

“You know what we should be boosting? That bar girl, is who.”

“Vernon, I don’t want to hear this.”

“We sweat her a little. Like you said, she fills us in.”

“Then what? No, don’t tell me. That’s two sentences already.”

“If I can’t touch Whistler, you know what we should do?”

“I told you. I don’t want to hear this.”

“We finish with her and we cut off her head. We toss it in the back of Whistler’s boat. We toss it back where they were eating their breakfast. There’s a word for that. What’s the word?”

“Fucking sick?”

“A calling card. That’s it. From me to him. That’s what I think I’ll do before we’re done here.”

“Vernon…”

“Not now, though. You’re right. Let’s find a car.”

 

Harry Whistler was airborne in the Gulfstream 4. His pilot, Erich Bierman, who once flew for Lufthansa, had been with him for more than ten years. The co-pilot, younger, had been with him for five.

Captain Bierman had computed the amount of fuel that would be burned while crossing the Atlantic from Geneva. That fuel, once consumed, would leave the plane light enough to land on Hilton Head Airport’s short runway. Taking off, fully fueled, would not be possible, however. They would have to reroute through Savannah or Charlotte, refuel, and fly back from there.

Just as well, thought Harry. He told the captain that he and the twins would get off the plane on the island. The captain would then take off at once and make at least three additional stops. That way, anyone tracking his plane would find it harder to know whether he was on board and where he seemed to be heading.

He didn’t like the idea of both twins flying with him, but he’d had little choice in this case. He had always preferred that the twins be split up and arrive at different times by different means, but dressed alike. Even Kate had once thought she must be losing her mind when she saw the same little man keep popping up in what seemed to be two places at once.

As the Gulfstream reached altitude, he tried Adam again. And again, he got an answering machine. He said, “Adam, pick up. Is anyone there? Damn it. Okay, listen to me.”

He related, briefly, his discussion with Bannerman. He recounted his realization, or suspicion, that the entries for Recon-JC in Aubrey’s ledger must refer…
might
refer…to Joshua Crow. He said that if so, it must be assumed that Aubrey and Poole were involved in the event.

He said, “They may not have been…they
should
not have been…unless they have both gone out of their minds. But you, for your safety, must assume that they were.”

He said, “As to your claim that you yourself were not involved, I am no longer able to believe you. I don’t know how or why or when this began. I can only assume that, during your travels, you ran into Olivia Torrey. I’m trying to assume that you didn’t know what her husband did for a living. I’m assuming, in short, that you blundered into this because I hope that you wouldn’t be stupid enough to…”

He paused, then added, “Sorry, Adam. I’m a little upset. I know that you’re smarter than that. I’m reminded, however, that your transmitter had an echo ever since…where was it?…Martinique. I’m the stupid one for not realizing before this that a second transmitter would have that effect. If it’s there, then someone has been tracking you, Adam. My guess would be Aubrey, but it could be almost anyone, some unfinished business from your former vocation. Find it, get rid of it, but do so offshore. Get that boat away from the dock.”

He said, “We’re on our way to Hilton Head Island. We’ll arrive between five and six this evening and we’ll do a pass before landing. I’ll expect to see that boat where you’d anchored it this morning. You’ll know my plane, but do not meet my flight. I want you to stay in one place.”

He said, “One more thing, and please do not argue about it. Some of Bannerman’s people are on their way down there. Figure about two and a half hours. I think you’ll know them if you see them, but pretend that you don’t. They’re not coming down to fight anyone’s battles. They’re to look out for you and that’s all.”

H
e closed by giving his son the number through which he could be reached while in flight. Donald asked, “You’re not telling him Kate’s coming?”


I
f he knew that he might go to the airport. Claudia would certainly want to.”

“Except, the thing is, she could have called them already. Maybe that’s why they’re not on the boat. Maybe they already went to get her.”

Harry Whistler shook his head. “Too early by far.” He fished for a note
containing Kate’s flight information. It said that she should just be approaching Atlanta where she’d have to change planes to Savannah. He buzzed Erich and asked him to contact her flight and ask that she be summoned to the cabin.

“By the way,” he said to Donald, “Bannerman thanked me for looking into that business with Carla.”

“With Carla? Oh. That thing in Zurich, you mean?”

“The thing you said was ‘just a for instance.’”


Me and Dennis didn’t think we should bother you with that. She was there for a visit with Lesko and Elena. She went for a walk; two punks tried for her purse, and one of them whacked her in the ear. And it wasn’t a knifing; it was more like a whittling. What Bannerman was afraid of was that she went hunting. You know, like she used to. She’d go out, like, looking lost to see who would take advantage. She doesn’t do that no more. This was random.”


So she claimed?”

D
onald shook his head. “Nah, it’s true. She really doesn’t. Her boyfriend, Viktor, the KGB guy, made her promise she wouldn’t take chances like that. I mean, not just for the hell of it.”

H
arry Whistler threw up his hands. “Yeah, but damn it…”

H
e didn’t finish because the captain had buzzed him. The contact with Kate Geller’s plane had been made. Kate Geller was now on the line.

She spoke first. She said, “Harry, don’t give me any grief. I’m long overdue for a visit.”

“Kate…it’s all right. Do they know that you’re coming?”

“They will now, but I only got their machine. How about you? Did you speak to them?”

He said, “I spoke to Adam early this morning. They’re fine. They were having some friends out for breakfast on the boat. But it got me thinking. It
has
been too long. So, I’m on my way over myself.”

“You’re calling from your plane?”

“Yeah, I thought I’d pop in.”

A brief silence. “From Geneva? That’s what you call popping in?”

“Well, it’s not as if Denver is just down the street. If you can be impulsive, why can’t I?”

A longer silence. “Harry… what’s going on?”

He said, “Okay, I won’t kid you. I’m worried about them. There are things about this I don’t like.”

“But you did speak to Adam? That was the truth?”

“It was, but he hasn’t answered since. However…”

“So you don’t know whether they’re fine or not. Harry…yes or no. Were they in that bar last night?”

“Yeah. I think so, but it could have been strictly by chance. What happened might be part of something much larger and I’m not sure that Adam is aware of it. I’ve no reason to think that they’re in imminent danger, but I’ve taken some measures to protect them all the same until they’re well clear of that
island.”

Another brief silence. “You’re scaring me, Harry.”

“You’re booked through to Hilton Head’s Airport, correct? When you land, I want you to wait in the terminal. A friend of mine, a woman named Molly Farrell, will be flying in a half hour later.”

“What kind of a friend? Like the twins are a friend?”

“This is someone you’ll be more comfortable with, but yes, Molly Farrell is a pro. She’ll have another woman with her, very small, red hair. The other woman’s name is Carla Benedict. Carla is…well, unusual, but these two will protect you. I don’t want you to go anywhere without them.”

“Protect me? Damn it, Harry…why do I need protection?”

“This is nothing new, Kate. You’ve been protected all along. Like it or not,

it comes with knowing me.”

“Then I’m better off not knowing you, aren’t I, Harry?”

“For today? No, you’re not. So you’ll do as I ask. Tomorrow, you can do as you please.”

 

 

TWENTY FIVE

Arnold Kaplan was having serious doubts about hitching his star to Vernon Lockwood. They’d be driving down the road, looking for a car to steal, and Lockwood would be saying, “Let’s get this one or that one.” He’d be pointing at cars that were parked outside stores. It’s like the shopper wouldn’t look out and notice.

Kaplan had picked out the car they would use. He had found it in a lot behind a Bi-Lo Supermarket by a sign that read “Employee Parking Only.” An employee’s car was not likely to be missed before the end of the shift. It was a beat-up green Pontiac, maybe twenty years old that probably belched oil by the quart. On the plus side, it had four doors, a big trunk, and a car this old was low-tech enough that he wouldn’t need tools to hot-wire it.

Lockwood argued, of course. “What, this piece of shit?”

“Vernon…would
you
look for
you
in this car? This is not a car people take notice of.”

BOOK: Whistler's Angel
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