Capital Crimes

51

THE G-III TOUCHED down exactly on schedule and taxied to Dulles Aviation. The engines were shut down, and the copilot opened the airstair door.

Kinney and Smith were out of the airplane in a hurry, jogging toward the FBO. The lights were on inside, and a man sat at the main desk, staring at a television set.

Kinney flashed his ID. “FBI. How long before people start coming into this facility?”

“Usually not until after five A.M.,” the man said, “but occasionally somebody will land or turn up for a departure. You guys want fuel?”

“Check with one of the pilots,” Kinney said. “We’re going to be conducting an operation on this airport shortly.” He pointed to the west. “Do you know who owns or rents that big hangar behind the T-hangars?”

“That’s Mr. Zane,” the man replied. “He bought it a long time ago, I think, but he doesn’t seem to have an airplane. At least, we’ve never sold him any fuel.”

“Do you know what he uses it for?”

“A garage, I think. I’ve seen an RV come and go.”

“What kind of RV?”

“Big, white, stripes down the side.”

“That sounds like every RV. Do you know the make?”

“No, sir. I don’t know anything about RVs, just airplanes.”

“All right, now listen to me: I’m going to put a man with a radio in here with you. If anybody arrives, you tell them the airport is closed for an hour or two, and they’ll have to wait to go to their aircraft. Then, when we start the operation, I want you and anyone else who arrives to lie on the floor behind your desk. I don’t want anybody to catch a stray bullet.”

“Yes, sir,” the man said.

“Do you have a large plan of the airport?”

The man pointed to a wall, where a framed map about four-by-six feet hung.

Kinney went through the main entrance of the building into the parking lot, where two black vans sat idling. He tapped on the window of one of them, and it slid down.

“I’m Kinney, this is Smith,” he said. “Get your men out of there and all of you come inside. Kerry, get the people from the second van.”

A MOMENT LATER, they were inside the FBO, gathered around the map.

Kinney borrowed a weapon from an agent and used its laser sight as a pointer. “This is our objective,” he said, pointing to the large hangar. “We’re looking for one man, Theodore Fay, inside, probably in an RV, certainly heavily armed and a fine shot. We have to do this with the greatest care. I want two men to take some listening equipment and go over there on foot. I want you to attach the equipment to the two side walls, the ones with no doors, and radio back what you hear. You are not, repeat, not, to try to detain this man if you see him. If he sees you and runs, you are authorized to fire at him, but aim low. We want him alive, if possible. Any questions?”

Nobody said anything.

Kinney pointed to the SWAT team leader. “Pick two men and get them on their way,” He borrowed a two-way radio. “What channel do we use?”

“Three,” the team leader said.

“Right”

Kinney paced around the large lounge while he waited for the report.

“Base, this is recce,” a voice said.

“This is base,” Kinney replied. “Report.”

“The building is dark, and there are no sounds from inside. If he has an RV, he could be asleep.”

“Hold your positions and wait for backup,” Kinney said. He turned to the team leader. “Let’s go. Everybody on foot. You can have two men drive your vehicles around to the other side of the airport, but keep your lights off, and stay well back from the hangar. I don’t want our man to hear any vehicles coming. When everybody is in place, wait for my command to go in.”

“Yes, sir.” The team leader barked instructions, and everybody started to carry out his orders. Kinney and Smith followed a few paces behind the main group as they trotted across the runway toward the T-hangars.

“I wish we had body armor,” Smith said.

“So do I,” Kinney replied.

As they went around the T-hangars, the group began to move with more stealth. Then they were in place.

Smith caught up to the SWAT team leader. “We can’t open the big hangar doors from outside, so that”-he pointed to a door in one wall of the hangar-“is going to be the only way in. I want the door opened very quietly, and your men in there with night-vision goggles. Nobody turns on the interior lights until I say so.

“If there’s an RV inside, I want it taken without incident, so be very careful how you open the door. I want men on only one side of it-the door side-so that if you shoot through it nobody on the other side will catch a round. Clear?”

“Yes, sir.”

“Go.”

Using hand signals, the leader ordered his men to don their night-vision goggles and to go in.

Kinney and Smith stood around the corner of the hangar from the door, waiting for it to be opened. It was done in less than thirty seconds, and the men filed through it silently, weapons at the ready. Kinney peeked around the corner through the door, but he could see nothing but dark. A minute passed, then suddenly, all the lights came on in the hangar, and the bifold door began to rise.

“What the hell?” Kinney said. He stepped into the hangar, weapon raised, and looked around. It was empty.

“Everybody hold your place!” Kinney shouted.

The men all froze.

“One man, open the door of the office, over there.”

One man did so. “Clear!” he shouted.

Kinney trotted over to the office and went inside. There was some furniture and a big TV set, and there was an empty workbench in one corner. “Put some gloves on,” he said, donning a pair himself. “Now, call headquarters and get a criminalist team out here. I want prints, if there are any.”

Smith produced a cell phone and made the call.

Kinney walked around the office, looking for any obvious evidence of the man who had been there. He could see nothing.

TEN MINUTES BEFORE Kinney’s first men had arrived, Ted had driven out the back gate of the airport in the RV, towing the Mercedes. He was headed toward Washington and a rendezvous with the speaker of the House.