Close Up the Sky (4 page)

Leahy started to
say something but she cut him off.

“It’s for a very
good cause. We’re on our way to Boston where we’re sponsoring a relief fund for
the victims of housing discrimination. We need your help in sharing God’s
bounty with the homeless." A smile lit up her pretty face again.

Irritated, Leahy
shifted the raincoat to his other arm and reached into his pocket for some
coins. He had been so intent on watching the girl that he failed to notice the
man and woman who had approached from his left.

The man reached
out, took the girl by the arm, and jerked her around to face him. “Beat it,” he
said in an authoritarian voice, “before I share the bounty of the Albuquerque
jail with you.” He held up a police ID case, jerked his head in the direction
of her companion across the room, and said, “Take your friend over there with
you.”

“I wasn’t doing
anything wrong!” she complained with feigned indignation. She jerked away from
him and stepped back.

The police officer
took a step toward her.

"Damn
cops," Leahy heard her mutter as she hurried away.

When she was gone
the man turned to Leahy. “Sorry about that but it’s hard to keep them out of
public places.” He stuck out his hand. “You’re Lieutenant Leahy.” It was a
statement rather than a question. He was about Leahy's height, red hair,
slightly overweight.

As Leahy shook
hands he glanced toward the departing girl. “No problem. We have them in
Atlanta, too.”

“I’m Ryan Pierce,
Albuquerque P.D. This is Taylor Griffin,” he nodded toward the woman.

Leahy, really
looking at her for the first time, saw that she was strikingly pretty. Her
medium length hair was dark brown, almost black, and swept back behind her
ears. She was tall and slender, just a few inches shorter than Leahy’s six-foot
frame. She wore a dark gray suit that accentuated a well-proportioned figure. Around
her neck was a yellow scarf fastened at the throat by a golden brooch of
unusual design. Small characters that looked like hieroglyphics decorated its
edge. He noticed the scarf accentuated the jade color of her eyes. She returned
his gaze and smiled. He saw with pleasure that she smiled with her eyes as well
as her lips. She held out her hand.

“Welcome to New
Mexico. How was the flight?”

A couple of long
seconds passed before he realized that he was staring at her. When he
recovered, he was gratified to find that his mouth had not been hanging open. Embarrassed,
he took her hand and said, “Fine, just fine. It was a relief to get out of the
rainy weather back home.” They stood gazing at each other, still holding hands.

Pierce finally
broke it up. “Anything you need to pick up before we go?” He nodded in the
direction of the luggage receiving area.

Leahy let go of
her hand and said, “
Uh…..no
….this is everything.” He
patted the raincoat.

“You travel light,
Lieutenant,” Pierce observed.

Taylor came to his
rescue before Pierce could continue. She hooked her arm through Leahy’s and
said, “We’d better be going. Our ride’s waiting.”

"I take it
you're my contact?” he asked.

"Of course. I
hope you don't think I make a habit of picking up strange men in airports,” she
kidded with a mock frown. He laughed, but did not answer.

They walked across
the waiting room and into the main concourse. Like most airports, the wide
walkway was congested with people. Near the exit turnstiles several more
representatives of the Church of World Hope were vainly attempting to solicit
money from travelers. Taylor turned in the opposite direction and guided them
into a side corridor with a metal door at the end. Pierce stepped around them
and inserted a key card into a slot beneath the handle. The door opened onto an
enormous concrete area laced with runways and taxi strips. As they exited, a
big jet roared into the sky, leaving a trail of black exhaust.

Taylor, still
holding Leahy’s arm, leaned close and shouted over the noise, “This way!” She
put her free hand on his forearm and guided him to their right. He had been
keenly aware of her close proximity since she had taken his arm inside the
airport. He thought her feminine demeanor added a very attractive touch to her
already alluring physical appearance. He had long since stopped forming
opinions of people based on first impressions, but having known this woman less
than five minutes he decided he liked her. The feeling took some of the edge
off his apprehension. She pulled him toward an olive-drab helicopter sitting a
few yards away.
MARINES was
painted in large yellow
letters on the fuselage.

The pilot glanced
out the cockpit’s side window as they approached, and started the blades
rotating. Two armed Marine guards dressed in camouflage fatigues stood near the
door. When they reached the chopper, the guards slid it open and stepped aside.
The blades picked up speed, creating
a turbulence
that
blew their hair and clothes tight against their bodies.

Pierce tapped
Leahy on the shoulder and reached for his hand. “This is where I leave you,
Lieutenant,” he shouted above the noise. “Anything I can do for you while
you’re here, just call me.” He stuck a business card into Leahy’s hand.

“Goodbye, Ryan,”
Taylor shouted over the noise. “Thanks for everything.” She disengaged from
Leahy’s arm and kissed Pierce on the cheek.

He grinned and
shoved his hands into his pockets. “Anytime, sweetie,” he replied in mock
embarrassment.

Years of police
experience had taught Leahy to read people by their body language. Though
Pierce’s use of the term ‘sweetie’ was obviously intended as metaphor, there
was something unusual about the way he reacted when she kissed him. It
indicated that there was more than just a casual relationship between them. He
felt a twinge of jealousy,
then
dismissed it as being
ridiculous. There had to be many men who admired Taylor Griffin.

One of the guards
helped her into the helicopter,
then
Leahy pulled
himself up. The other guard took a final look around outside, got in and closed
the door. Pierce retreated to a safe position near the building and stood
watching as the pilot increased engine power and prepared for takeoff.

Leahy sat down on
the webbed bench seat beside Taylor and fastened his lap belt. One of the
guards climbed into the co-pilot’s seat and put on a white flight helmet. The
other man strapped himself into a small swivel seat near the door. An inverted
L-shaped stand that supported a multi-barreled machinegun was bolted to the
floor near him. The stand was fixed to a narrow track that ran lengthways
across the floor at the bottom of the door. When the door was open, the gunner
could move the weapon back and forth across the doorway to cover a wide angle
of fire. Leahy recognized it as a minigun, one of the most deadly air-to-ground
weapons ever built. From his military days he knew it was capable of firing
thousands of rounds per minute. He guessed that a similar gun was mounted in
the nose of the aircraft.

They lifted off
and banked steeply to the right, moving away from the cluster of airport
buildings. Through a small oblong window located behind his head Leahy caught a
glimpse of Pierce, hands still in pockets, looking upward. He seemed small and
lonely as the turbulence from the helicopter’s blades lashed his hair and
clothes. He was lost from view as the chopper leveled and headed out over the
city.

Taylor had been
watching him since their takeoff. “First time in a helicopter?”

Her question broke
his reverie. He shook his head. “I had a little flight time when I was in the
service. Are you with the police department or the NSA?”

It was a blunt
question, and caused the guard sitting across from them to look up and give
Taylor a questioning look. She nodded slightly. He unfastened his seat belt and
walked forward, taking up a position behind the pilots.

“Actually, neither,”
she responded. “I’m a scientist. I work at the Apache Point research facility. Dr.
Durant was going to meet you personally, but something came up at the last
minute and he asked me to come. I hope you don’t mind.”

Leahy decided to
ignore the reference to Dr. Durant, whoever he might be. “I’m not the least bit
disappointed,” he said with a smile. “I thought you might be connected with the
Albuquerque police because of the detective.”

“With Ryan? No,
he’s just an old friend. His sister used to work at the facility.” Her
expression became blank and she looked down at the floor. She was quiet for
several seconds, occupied with private thoughts.

Her rapid mood
swing led Leahy to believe he may have been right about Pierce. There did
appear to be
more than just a casual
relationship between them. In any event, it was none of his business and he
felt bad about having mentioned it. He tactfully changed the subject. “The men
who contacted me in Atlanta didn’t tell me much. Why would a federal facility
need a city detective, especially one from out of town?”

The question broke
her pensiveness and she looked up. “I know you have a thousand questions,” she
answered, “and you’ll get answers to all of them soon. It’s complicated and
very sensitive. It would be better if you waited until we reach the facility
and give Dr. Durant an opportunity to explain things personally.”

“Miss Griffin,
could you come forward please?” The pilot’s voice came over a small speaker
above their heads.

She unfastened her
seat belt. “Excuse me for a minute, Lieutenant.”

“I will if you
promise to call me Matt.”

She stood up and
smiled, showing a row of white teeth. “Okay, Matt. I’ll be right back.”

He watched her
walk to the cockpit, using the wall as support. Walking in a helicopter was
like walking on the deck of a boat; it took practice before you got your sea
legs. The high-heel shoes were not helping either, except to accentuate the
shapely curve of her calves. Things were definitely beginning to look up. He
felt an emotional rush and it bothered him somewhat.
Jesus
,
Matt
, he thought,
take it easy
.
You don’t even know this woman
.
Just
remember
,
you swore you
would never allow yourself to become
vulnerable again.
With an effort he looked away and began a visual
examination of the helicopter’s interior.

When Taylor
reached the cockpit the guard standing behind the pilot handed her a headset
with a curved microphone attached to the left ear cup. She placed it against
her head and said, “This is Dragonfly.”

“This is
Stopwatch,” a tinny voice replied from the headset. “Do you have the package?”

She turned and
glanced at Leahy, who was looking out the window. “Affirmative,” she answered.

“Any problems?”
asked the voice.

“Negative.”

“What is your
ETA?”

She looked
inquiringly at the pilot, who was listening to the conversation over his own
headphones. He put his hand over his mike and gave her the information.

“Approximately
forty minutes,” Taylor relayed the estimate.

“Good. There will
be a slight delay meeting you. Suggest you use the time to provide our guest
with an aerial tour of the facility before landing.”

“Any problems?” She
sounded apprehensive.

“Negative. Just
handling some technicalities.”

“Received and
understood.”

“Stopwatch out,”
said the voice.

She handed the
headset back to the guard and returned to her seat. As she sat down and twisted
to fasten her seat belt, a beam of sunlight came through the window and glinted
off the gold brooch at her throat. It caught Leahy’s attention, and for the
first time he noticed the strange character in the center. On close examination
it appeared to be a fat, oval-shaped insect with its legs pulled tight against
its sides. The head sprouted a set of serrated mandibles, and tiny rubies had
been embedded on each side for eyes. The insect’s head was crafted in slightly
darker gold than the rest of the brooch, giving it a bold contrast. A finely
tooled rope encircled the edge of the piece. There was just enough imperfection
in the workmanship to indicate that it was handmade; but in any case, it was
the most unusual piece of jewelry he had ever seen. The shape of the insect was
familiar, but he was unable to place it. His brows knitted as he searched his
memory. He made a mental note to ask her about it.

“Anything wrong?”
he inquired.

“No, they were
just anxious to know if you were aboard and asked our ETA.” She crossed her
legs and leaned back.

“I was just
admiring your pin.” He touched it with a fingertip and said, “It’s very
beautiful.”

She reached up and
took the brooch between her fingers, tilting it so he could get a better view.

“It was a gift
from someone I knew a long time ago,” she said. “Sort of a going-away present.”
For a moment her mood seemed pensive, then the warm smile returned.

“It has an unusual
design. It seems as though I’ve seen something like it before, but I can’t
quite place it.”

“It’s a scarab,”
she explained. “You’ve probably seen the symbol of the sacred beetle in
magazine articles or books dealing with Egyptian artifacts.”

Her explanation
jogged his recalcitrant memory. The fabulous treasures of Tutankhamen! The
discovery of the ancient king’s tomb by Howard Carter in 1922 had touched off
worldwide publicity. Later, when the contents of the tomb had been organized
and cataloged, photographs of the relics had appeared in magazines and newspapers
in almost every civilized country on earth. Color layouts in magazines like
National Geographic and Smithsonian periodically resurrected Carter’s
discovery, keeping its treasures before the public eye. The scarab, or sacred
beetle, was depicted on jewelry and other items recovered from the tomb.