Desperate Measures (22 page)

“What about any other local airports, LaGuardia, Newark Liberty?”

“Working on it but nothing so far, Tomas, hold on.” Two seconds later Rich shouted into the phone. “Holy shit, Tomas! I’ve got to go, something serious just broke. I’ll call you back from Yates’s New York apartment.”

“Wait a damn minute! What happened?”

“Yates just showed up at his apartment, supposedly he’s been in Maine for the past two weeks. An agent’s questioning him now. I’ll call you back. Gotta go.”

“Jesus Christ! Maine came up twice in that short conversation.”

“What about Maine?” Scott asked.

* * * *

Following the morning weather update, Jack didn’t hesitate to make two plane reservations for the first flight to Atlanta, scheduled for the next morning, for his son and wife. He’d just hung up the phone when Dean came out of the shower.

Constance called them both into the kitchen for breakfast.

Jack announced the schedule. “I called the airline and you both are booked on the 8:00 a.m. flight for Atlanta tomorrow. I’ll finish putting up our shutters and check Caitlin’s house before I leave on the 5:00 p.m. flight.”

“That’s silly, Jack. Why aren’t we flying together?” Constance questioned.

“Because, I got you and Dean the last two seats on the morning flight, and was lucky to get the five o’clock for myself.”

Jack ignored his wife’s suspicious gaze. He couldn’t look at her. His facial expression would betray him. He had no intention of flying to Atlanta.

* * * *

The short walk across the tarmac from the plane to Lukas’s waiting limo seemed an eternity to Barry. The Caribbean summer sun and humidity bore down on him with a vengeance and sweat drenched his thin cotton shirt. He charged past the driver, who held the rear door open, sat down in the back seat, and got straight to his immediate priority before shaking the hand of his host. “Lukas, I hope you have the air conditioner full blast. Damn this island’s hot! Every time I come here, it feels like the sun’s hovering two feet above my head.”

Lukas laughed, extended his hand and replied to his guest. “Quit your bitching, Barry. The AC’s cranked all the way up. Yes, it’s hot here. We’re only thirteen degrees north of the equator, thus the feeling of the sun on top of your head. You had a comfortable flight I assume?”

“Perfect until I walked into this furnace. Got anything to drink in this buggy?” Barry asked.

“Full bar, help yourself.”

“Water will be fine then an ice cold beer.”

“The driver’s taking us back to the villa. You can drop off your bags, change, and then we’ll have a quick lunch. I have a tee time set up for 2:00 this afternoon,” Lukas stated and left no opportunity for discussion or debate.

“Forget
a
beer. I need several to cool my system down before standing in this heat on a golf course.”

Lukas pointed to the gun holstered on Barry’s hip. “You’re packing heat? This is a pleasure trip.”

“Yup, never go anywhere without one gun on my hip and the other in my briefcase,” Barry answered.

He studied Lukas to assess his demeanor. The old man’s question was odd. Lukas knew he never went anywhere without his weapons. When Lukas gleaned a satisfactory look, he sensed an ulterior motive behind the original inquiry regarding firearms. He decided to table the serious business talk for later when he cooled down, if that was possible in this inferno.

* * * *

The passenger that had checked in as Mackenzie Zegar sat on American Airlines flight 1255 proceeding to its final destination of Robert L. Bradshaw Airport, St. Kitts. A Mr. Zegar certainly had not boarded the plane but Mabel Thompson did and occupied window seat C, row eighteen. Mabel looked out the window as they flew through a bank of clouds, with a grin on his face, thinking,
This was the most difficult and risky part of the final execution of my plan. All I need to do is get through customs before they find her unconscious, then I’ll be home free.
He patted the purse in his lap with Mabel’s passport.
With no ID, she won’t be identified until she regains consciousness, which should give me plenty of time. The old bird shouldn’t waken for at least twelve hours with the dose I gave her. Now that I’m on this plane, what I’ve accomplished is ingenious! Once I hacked into the American Airlines flight roster, it was easy to find an elderly woman traveling alone. A single male passenger, the FBI would’ve had under the microscope immediately.

Surely they caught onto the Zegar ruse by this time. Too late, oops, shame on you, FBI! Who would ever question little old Mabel, age eighty-two? From there it was simple, do a search on her, driver’s license info, height was perfect, tall at five foot ten, not a little old lady at all, and thin. The rest was a piece of cake after the phone calls, providing I could befriend her in the airport.
A sneer of satisfaction formed on his face, the recollection vivid in his mind.

“Hello, Mrs. Thompson?”

“Yes, who’s this?” Mabel squeaked in a low, surprised voice.

“I’m a customer service representative with American Airlines. I want to make sure you know where to go when you arrive at the airport to get an attendant with a wheelchair.”

“Well aren’t you sweet! Yes, I do know where to go. No one has ever personally called me like this before.”
Perfect opening.

“They don’t? Well I’m glad I did! Do you travel much, dear?” Mackenzie Zegar asked.

“Oh some, I visit my sister in St. Kitts a few times a year.”

“I hear St. Kitts is beautiful but that’s a long flight all by yourself,.” Mackenzie probed further, trying to coax the conversation along.

“Oh, it goes by pretty quickly. Traveling alone isn’t that bad. My husband and I used to go together but he passed away three years ago, six months before my brother-in-law died. My sister and I are both alone now and like to visit each other as much as we can.”
Bingo! The obituaries will list the family of the deceased and he could figure out the sister’s name.

“Well, you have a wonderful trip, Mrs. Thompson.”

Rich Gilbert entered Ian Yates’s apartment. He heard the question being asked by the interrogating agent.

“Mr. Yates, did anyone see you while you were in Maine at this isolated cabin?”

“Yes. At the beginning of my vacation I ran into someone I used to work with, Michael Holmes. I don’t have his number but I’m sure you have the resources to track him down. He’ll confirm he saw me.” The bewildered Ian Yates answered with caution.

“Hold on a minute.” Rich grabbed the investigator’s arm and dragged him into the kitchen where he couldn’t be overheard. “Fill me in quick. I need to get Tomas on the phone to talk to this guy.” After a brief summary, Rich had Tomas on the line. “I’ll put you on speaker phone in a minute but his alibi is Michael Holmes. Ian’s been on vacation for two and a half weeks and says he hasn’t been to Nevis or St. Kitts in a month.”

“Hurry!” Tomas commanded.

“Mr. Yates, this is FBI Senior Special Agent in charge, Tomas Medina. I’m going to ask you some of the same questions you’ve already been asked. If you don’t cooperate the agent with you will take you into custody.”

“I’ll cooperate. I have no idea where all of these questions are leading. I just got back from Maine and have done nothing wrong.”

“We have the last two weeks of flight and hotel records charged to the resort that you consult for in Nevis. How do you explain that?” Tomas challenged.

“It wasn’t me. I notified the hotel that I’d be on vacation and I would be back in four weeks to upgrade their new accounting software.”

“Several hotel managers verify you were indeed present and working a few days last week and the week before.”

“I don’t know what more I can tell you, it wasn’t me,” Ian said in his own defense.

“Do you know a Mackenzie Zegar?” Tomas asked.

“Mackenzie? I haven’t seen him in years. We used to work at the same company. I didn’t know him very well.”

Rich guessed Tomas had thrown the name out as a diversion tactic. He hadn’t anticipated Ian’s response. More perplexed by the minute, Rich pinched the bridge of his nose in frustration.

Tomas forged on in the questioning process. “Tell me what you remember about him.”

“Quiet guy, didn’t seem to have many friends, wasn’t married, and didn’t have any children. The last time I heard from him, he was injured in the fire that destroyed the company. I resigned about four months before the incident and started my own computer consulting business. I talked to him on the phone after the fire while he was still in the hospital. His voice was hoarse from smoke inhalation. I think he got a settlement from the company in the range of a couple million dollars.”

“Mr. Yates, did you see Mackenzie after that?” Tomas continued.

“No. I just talked to him on the phone that one time.”

“Describe what you remember of his physical appearance the last time you saw him.”

“Not too tall, average looking like me. We computer geeks have an image to uphold, dark hair, thin, lanky guy.”

“Sounds like you just described yourself and Michael Holmes,” Tomas stated.

“Sort of. I told you we nerds look alike but Michael Holmes has unique blue eyes. My eyes are blue but not like his.”

“Did Michael look any different when you saw him in Maine?”

“No, he looked the same. The years have been kind to Michael. His hair was still thick and dark brown. Very few wrinkles lined his face. He looked a lot younger than he really is.”

“Please give your passport to Agent Gilbert. I’ll stay on the line.”

“Hold on I have it in my desk, I’ll be right back,” Ian stated and left the room.

When Ian exited, Rich picked up the phone, disconnected the speaker, and whispered. “Tomas, I’m on it and will run a check on Zegar’s medical and financial history but I’ve been observing this Ian guy’s every move and gesture. I’m not getting any guilty vibes off him. He appears to be as confused and in the dark as we are.”

Tomas agreed with Rich’s assessment. “I know. Bet he comes back with no passport.”

Rich turned on the speaker again. Ian’s voice, getting louder and more panicked, verified the prediction Tomas had just made. “My passport’s missing. I know it was there before I left. I always put it in the same spot so it’s readily available, since I have to travel out of the country so often. What happened to it?”

“Someone stole it and used it to impersonate you. We’ll have a lot more questions for you. Do not leave the state of New York and make sure you give the agents accurate contact information. One other thing, what size shoes do you wear?”

“Size nine.”

* * * *

Scott glanced toward Caitlin and knew she was thinking the same thing. It wouldn’t be long before the kids got bored with the Wii game. The clear, sunny skies gave no indication of a hurricane.

“Dad,” Chad complained, “I want to go swimming.”

Scott looked over to the others. “Sure, kiddo, why don’t we go down to the pool and swim. It’s a little late in the day to drive to any of our favorite beach spots over the mountain. That okay with you and your sister?”

Chad shrugged, the gesture indicated the boy wasn’t enthused.

“Go get your bathing suit on and I’ll change Alexandra.” Caitlin stood, picked up her daughter, and strode toward the bathroom. She threw a worried look over her shoulder at her husband. Scott forced a smile.

While the kids changed, Scott called hotel security to notify them that the family would be leaving for the pool area in a few minutes. The head of security assured him that he’d notify the staff.

Scott was anxious to hear what Tomas had learned. A quick glance around the room confirmed privacy. “Well?” Scott asked.

“Nothing, the Nevis plane landed, Ian’s seat vacant. The only passenger who raised any flags was Zegar on the St. Kitts flight, and he’s still missing. All other passengers who checked in boarded. Another dead end, he won’t be on the plane that lands today.”

“So now what?” Scott questioned. “We know this guy got here as Ian Yates but he also left as Ian Yates. How’s he getting back?”

“I don’t know.” Tomas rubbed his forehead. “I thought for sure we’d catch him today. Tomorrow’s Sunday and the only flight coming here is from Miami. No one stands out from the roster. San Juan isn’t even running the Nevis flight. Where the hell is he and when is he going to show up?”

* * * *

They walked down the broad stone steps leading to the sprawling pool and recreation area. Caitlin slackened her step and the children raced ahead with Pam and Chris. She lingered back with Scott and Tomas, forced them to stop with a demanding question. “Okay, so what the hell happens now? Tomas, last night you said you were sure you’d catch this guy today. Once again he fell under the radar, right?”

Both men stood facing Caitlin. Tomas spoke first. “Caitlin, I know this is frustrating but yes, you’re right. This guy is very clever and slipped by our trap.”

“But who the hell is he, dammit?” Caitlin commanded. “Last night you said it was Ian Yates who is really Michael Holmes. Now you’re searching for a Mackenzie Zegar, while Ian Yates sits in New York. Is Ian Michael or what, and what do any of these men have to do with me? I’ve never heard of any of them! Lastly, what have you stirred up with the Bucklins?”

Caitlin’s eyes darted from Scott to Tomas. They looked uncomfortable. Scott broke the silence and spoke. “Lukas and James Bucklin’s lawyer is still running interference, insufficient and no physical evidence. Certainly nothing that any judge in his right mind would issue a warrant to grant DNA tests for. With their fortune, they have paternity claims out the ass, ranging from the woman that James smiled at last week at one of his shindigs to one of the clerks who worked in Lukas’s original grocery store. There’s some connection between Ian, Michael, Max, and Bucklin Enterprises that ties into the fire. We just don’t know what the link or motivation is yet.”

“You don’t know yet? These are three computer whizzes and a multi-billionaire. Where do I and DNA fit in, I ask again?”