Heat (24 page)

J
esse sweated National airport, even though he had told Kip he was leaving from Dulles. He turned in his rent-a-car and, with Carrie in tow, went to the airline counter and bought her a one-way ticket to Spokane, all the while sweeping the area with his eyes. The ticket bought, he went to a phone and called Jenny.

“Hi, everything's fine; I'm making the plane all right.”

“Good, I'll meet you in Spokane.”

“How's Carey?”

“She's just fine, and she's looking forward to…seeing you. No problems at all?”

“Not a one; I think I sold some major plywood this morning.”

“See you tonight.”

Jesse had a few minutes before the flight, so he made a tour of the airport shops with Carrie, checking each window for the reflection of a tail. By the time they reached their gate, Jesse's heart was pounding. The boarding call asked for people with small children first, so he was able to sit on the plane and scan the
face of each person who passed them. Any one of half a dozen businessmen fit the type he was looking for, but none of them showed the slightest interest in a man and a little girl.

Carrie was asleep before the airplane left the ground, and as soon as the seatbelt sign went off, Jesse ordered a double bourbon. He needed it. He stroked the little head on a pillow in his lap and tried not to think of the future. For the next few days he must live entirely in the present and not be distracted by dreams of yet another new life.

 

Halfway home, Carrie woke up. She stared into her father's eyes. “Where have you been?” she asked. “If you weren't in heaven, why didn't you come get me?”

“Rabbit, believe me, I came the first minute I could. When Uncle Kip and Aunt Arlene took you to Washington, they didn't tell me, so I had to look for you for a real long time.”

“Oh,” she said.

“Were they nice to you?”

“Oh, yes; they gave me lots of toys and things, but I wouldn't call Aunt Arlene mommy, and she didn't like that.”

“You did the right thing, sweetheart,” he said. “Now I have some wonderful news for you.”

“Oh, tell me, tell me!”

“You remember I told you I had found you a sister?”

“Yes, where is she?”

“We're going to a town called St. Clair, and she's waiting for you there. It'll be real late when we get home, and she'll be asleep, but you'll meet her in the morning.”

“Is her mommy in heaven, too?”

“No, her mommy is meeting us at the airport, and I think you're going to love her a lot. She's going to be your new mommy.”

Carrie's eyes widened. “I didn't know you could have two mommies.”

“When your first mommy goes to heaven, then your daddy can find you a new mommy.”

“And you found me a new one?”

“I sure did, and she's wonderful.”

“What's her name?”

“Her name is Jenny.”

“Do I have to call her mommy?”

“Not unless you want to. It would make her very happy if you did, though.”

“Did you and Jenny get married?”

“Yes, we did.”

“Well, I guess she's my new mommy, then, isn't she?”

“Yes, she is.”

“And I won't live with Aunt Arlene and Uncle Kip anymore?”

“No, you'll live with your new family.”

“Will I ever see Aunt Arlene and Uncle Kip again?”

“Maybe, but not for a long, long time.”

“Will it make them sad?”

“Yes, they'll miss you a lot, but they have the new baby to love.”

“That's true,” Carrie said, nodding gravely. “They won't be all by themselves.” Soon she was asleep again.

 

Jesse carried the little girl, still sleeping, off the airplane, and Jenny was at the gate to meet them.

“I'll introduce you to your new daughter,” he said, “if she ever wakes up.”

“Plenty of time for that,” Jenny said. “What have you told her?”

“I've told her about you and Carey.”

“What are we going to do about the names? They sound just alike.”

“I haven't a clue.”

When they had left the airport and were driving toward St. Clair Jesse asked, “What did you tell Carey about us?”

“I've told her that you had a daughter by your first marriage. She immediately asked if all your daughters weren't killed in the car wreck, but I told her one of them wasn't in the car with you, and she had been living with friends in another town until you were ready to bring her to St. Clair.”

“Do you think she'll tell anyone at school?”

“I've told her it's a big secret for the time being, and when she asked me why, I told her that was a secret, too. She seemed to accept that.”

“Do you think she'll turn us in at school?”

“The school has warped some of Carey's attitudes, and we're going to have to work to help her get over that. But she and I have a bond that the school hasn't been able to penetrate, and if she tells me she'll keep the secret, then she will. You can depend on that.”

Jesse hoped she was right.

 

They arrived at home in St. Clair after two in the morning, and Jesse carried the luggage into the house first, making sure they were not being watched.

They tucked Carrie into bed, and then Jesse spent another two hours going over the whole house, looking for bugs. It was after four when he finally went to bed.

“Did you find anything?” Jenny asked.

“There were two: one in the living room and one in the kitchen. I've disabled the one in the kitchen, so be sure and keep Carrie out of the living room when I'm away from the house.”

Jenny snuggled up close. “She's a beautiful child. I'm going to love her, I know it.”

“And she's going to love you,” Jesse said.

J
esse arrived at the office the following morning to find a fax from Nashua Building Supply waiting, placing a large order for plywood. It was good cover, and he was grateful to Kip for that. He waited until everyone had left for lunch before calling Kip.

“How's Carrie?” Kip asked immediately, and there was pain in his voice.

“She's very well. She slept through most of the flight and all of the ride from the airport. She met her new mother and sister this morning, and she seemed very happy with them. But I don't want to talk about Carrie again.”

Kip was suddenly all business. “All right. What's up?”

“You remember how you got the Zippo camera to me?”

“Yes.”

“Can the same man deliver another package to me?”

“Sure; what do you want?”

“A list of things; got a pencil?”

“Shoot.”

“I want a pound of plastic explosive and half a dozen detonators and timers, and an explosives mat about four feet square.”

“What are you going to do with all that?”

“You're just going to have to trust me, Kip.”

“All right, what else?”

“A couple of hand grenades; something incendiary. I also want a light machine gun and half a dozen clips of ammunition. And I want some night goggles, the lightest you can find.”

“When do you need it?”

“Tomorrow night.”

“I think I can do that. Where do you want it delivered?”

“On the road going east from St. Clair, just beyond the Wood Products plant, there's a bridge over a creek. Have him use duct tape to fix the package in the supports under the bridge. Tell him to make sure it can't be seen, except from underneath. Tell him after he makes the delivery to fix a twelve-inch strip of duct tape to the northwest end of the bridge, so that it can be easily seen from the road, as a signal that the goods are there.”

“I'll get right on it. You sure you don't want to tell me what's going on?”

“I'm sure; do you have a date for your entry into St. Clair yet?”

“The army delivered a preliminary plan this morning, and we're still going over it. My best guess would be that the earliest possible time would be seven days; the latest, ten days.”

“I'm going to try to make it easier for them,” Jesse said.

“I'll tell them.”

“I'll try to call you every day from now until you go in,” Jesse said. “It's critically important that I know
exactly what the plan is and when it begins. I can't be of any help to you unless I know that.”

“I'll see that you're fully briefed. Do you think you could make a meet with somebody to go over the details?”

Jesse thought for a minute. “I doubt it; it could be too dangerous at this stage of the game. I'll think about it, though, and let you know.”

“As you wish; I just want you to know everything we know.”

“Thanks, but we'll probably have to do it on the phone.” He said goodbye and broke the connection, and not a moment too soon. An instant after he had concealed the phone in his lunchbox, Pat Casey appeared in the reception room, carrying a red zippered briefcase.

Jesse left his office and greeted the police chief.

“Hear you've been out of town,” Casey said.

“Just overnight; we had a call from a big building supply company in Maryland who'd heard about us, so I went out there and made my pitch. Come on in the office.” He led Casey inside, closed the door and handed him the fax from Nashua. “Here's the result.”

“Hey, good going,” Casey said. “Jack Gene will be pleased to hear it. You making any progress on getting into Muller's computer ledgers?”

“Not yet, but I've hardly been in the office since we discussed it. I think the best way is for me just to ask Muller if I can see the books.”

“Is there no other way?”

“His computer password is in his head; I don't know how else to get it.”

“Use your own judgment, then; all he can say is no.”

“The other way is to try to figure out what the password is, but that's a real long shot.”

“I agree. I'll leave it in your hands,” Casey replied.
He held up the red briefcase. “Oh, here's why I dropped by; it's your flight training materials.”

Jesse accepted the case, opened it and shook out its contents on his desk. There were a large red-covered instruction book, a logbook, a book of sample test questions and a manual flight computer. He had seen them all when he had taken his first lessons years before.

“I'd like you to read the first four chapters before our lesson on Sunday,” Casey said. “Since you've already been through most of the course once, we should be able to move fast.”

“Okay, I'll start on it tonight.”

“By the way, you remember the group Jack Gene had visiting last week?”

“That fellow Bottoms and the others?”

“Right; he's having them back next Wednesday for another meeting, plus a few others representing other groups in the Northwest. He'd like you to be there.”

“What time?”

“There's a dinner at seven that evening, followed by an important business meeting. Jack Gene's going to be making a big pitch to sell them some weapons. We've got good sources, and we can make an outstanding profit.”

“I'll be there.”

Casey got up. “I'll see you Sunday afternoon at two.”

“I'll be there, too.”

When Casey had gone, Jesse looked at his watch. In ten minutes, people would be back from lunch. He got out the phone and called Kip again.

“You forget something?” Kip asked.

“No, I just heard something. You're going to have to go in next Wednesday night.”

“Jesus, Jesse, today's Friday.”

“You said you might be able to do it in seven days; that gives you six.”

“Why Wednesday night?”

“Because there are going to be a bunch of people here from other white supremacist groups to hear a weapons sales pitch from Coldwater. I'll be a witness to the meeting, so you can bag them all for arms dealing. Casey and Ruger will no doubt be there, too.”

“Well, that's a terrific idea; I'll bring it up with the planning group and push them to make it.”

“You do that; I've got to hang up before somebody comes in. Oh, and you can give your man until Sunday night to deliver my package.”

“The extra time will help. See you.”

Jesse put the phone away. He had a lot to do before next Wednesday.

S
aturday was Jesse's first whole day with Carrie in more than two years, and he relished every moment of it. The two little girls took to each other immediately, and both reacted soberly when the rules of Carrie's stay—that she remain inside and out of the living room at all times and that Carey tell no one of her presence—were explained to them. Jesse spent nearly every minute of the day with the two girls, and after supper, when it was time for bed, he tucked them both into their beds in Carey's room.

He kissed Jenny, then sat down in an easy chair in the living room and began to study. Before he went to bed at 2
A.M.
he had read not just the four chapters that Casey had assigned, but the entire flight manual.

 

Jesse arrived at St. Clair Airport half an hour early for his flying lesson. He nodded to the fuel attendant, then took a stroll around the big hangar, peering through the windows of small airplanes. Pat Casey's Cessna 182 was parked in the premier position in the
hangar; no aircraft had to be moved in order to get the Cessna out onto the apron. He noted that two huge sliding doors secured the hangar, and he paid particular attention to a combination padlock hanging open on its hasp. Whoever had set the combination into the lock had done it the easy way; 1234 opened the lock.

Next, Jesse strolled into the little flight office and looked around. A large map of the United States hung on one wall, and Jesse spent several minutes locating St. Clair and measuring distances to various other airports. He looked, too, at a rack of air charts on a counter, picked up one and noted which charts covered which areas of the country. Finally, he found an airport directory and flipped through it, making mental notes. Then he saw Casey's patrol car coming and stepped out of the building to meet the chief of police.

“How you doing, Jesse?” Casey asked.

“Fine, and looking forward to my lesson.”

“Great, but first we do ground school.”

“Of course.”

Casey sat down on an old sofa in the flight office and motioned Jesse to join him. He then took his pupil methodically through the first four chapters of the flight manual, asking and answering questions as he went. When he was satisfied that Jesse was familiar with the material, he got up and headed for the hangar.

“Let's do a preflight inspection,” Casey said. He opened the airplane door with a key, got out a fuel tester, then led Jesse around the airplane, following a checklist. When he was satisfied that the airplane was flightworthy and the two men had pushed the airplane out onto the apron, he handed Jesse the key. “Okay, hop into the left seat, and let's get going.”

Soon they were in the air. Casey instructed Jesse to head a few miles south of town, then climb to six thousand feet. “We're going to be performing some maneuvers, and we want plenty of altitude,” he explained.

While Jesse flew, he took in the landscape surrounding the airport. The principal obstruction was the mountain that rose above the town, and that was to the west of the airport, plus the low mountains to the north. Anyone taking off from St. Clair could fly in a southerly direction and easily avoid obstacles while climbing.

Casey had him perform shallow and steep turns, then do some stalls. Jesse found his old experience coming back to him, and he performed well. On one occasion, Casey reached forward and pulled the red mixture knob all the way out. The engine died.

“Okay, what are you going to do?” Casey asked.

“Find a place to land the damned thing, I guess,” Jesse replied.

“First, establish eighty-eight knots of airspeed—that's your best gliding range. Good, now where you going to put it?”

Jesse looked around, then pointed. “There's a straight stretch of road.”

“Yeah, and it's also got a straight stretch of telephone poles right alongside it. Telephone wires are a no-no.”

The airplane had lost a thousand feet of altitude when Jesse spotted a green pasture. “How about over there?”

“Head for it, and we'll take a look,” Casey said.

Jesse pointed the airplane at the field, and, keeping his airspeed steady, allowed the machine to descend. He had lined up for the field and was down to six hundred feet of altitude when he saw the cattle.

Casey pushed in the mixture control and the engine leapt to life. “Better get out of here,” he said. “Both you and the cows are hamburger. You're dead.” He laughed. “Got to watch out for everything in an emergency landing. Let's go home; you're tired, or you wouldn't have made that mistake. Know where the airport is?”

“Afraid not,” Jesse said. “All this maneuvering has confused me.”

“Put the identifier into the GPS,” Casey said, pointing at the instrument. “That'll give you a heading.”

Following Casey's instructions, Jesse dialed in the correct identifier, pressed a button twice, and a heading popped onto the little screen. “There it is; we're six and a half miles out, and the heading is three-three-zero.”

“Exactly right. Now engage the autopilot. First, put the arrow on the instrument in front of you on three-three-zero, then press the alt and nav buttons, then the on button.”

Jesse did as he was told, and he felt the autopilot take charge of the airplane.

“Now the autopilot will maintain our present altitude, and it will navigate us directly to the airport.”

“How do you find out an airport's identifier?” Jesse asked.

Casey reached between the seats and held up a little book. “This has all the information about every airport in the West. Or, you can simply enter the name of the city into the GPS, and it will give you the identifier. Simple, huh?”

“Dead simple.” Jesse saw the field ahead. “Pat, what's the range of this airplane?”

“About six hundred and fifty miles at maximum cruise in a no-wind situation. Of course, you almost never get a no-wind situation. Generally, the winds are westerly—higher at high altitudes and lower at lower ones, but you can get an anomaly in the weather and get the opposite. The airspeed indicator gives you your speed through the air, once you've set in your altitude and the temperature, and the GPS gives you your actual speed over the ground. It also give you your ETA at your current ground speed. Over there on your left is the fuel flow computer, which gives you the hours and
minutes of flight time available on the fuel you have remaining; it's accurate to within a gallon. You compare the flight time remaining on the fuel flow computer to the ETA on the GPS. Allow yourself an hour's fuel for safety, and you know at any moment if you have enough fuel to reach the airport.”

“And what sort of cruise speed do you get?”

“Standard is about a hundred and forty knots, but I've got a lot of speed equipment—fancy wheel skirts, aileron gap seals, etcetera, so I get closer to one fifty-five.”

Jesse nodded and flew over the field to get a look at the windsock. He selected a runway and turned downwind. Soon, they were pushing the airplane back into the hangar.

“Top her off,” Casey called to the fuel attendant. Then he shook Jesse's hand. “You did good. We'll have you a private license in a couple of months.”

“Thanks for your time, Pat. Next Sunday?”

“For sure.” Casey got into his car and drove away.

Jesse went into the flight office and bought some charts and an airport directory.

As soon as the girls were in bed, he went to work. He spread out the charts on the dining room table and began measuring distances to various destinations.