Edge

Chapter 30

“WHAT’S GOING ON? Where have you been?”

My boss’s voice clattered urgently through my earbud. Irritation and anger-any emotion-always seemed muted when filtered through Chinese plastic and metal but there was no mistaking his mood.

“Loving got a lead to the Kesslers’ daughter. She’s safe. Loving’s wounded.”

Ellis asked, “How bad?”

“We don’t know. Didn’t lose a lot of blood… Aaron, he had a helicopter extraction.”

“He what?”

“Claire’s tracking it down, if she can. You ever hear of a lifter having a chopper on call?”

A thoughtful moment. “No, I never have.”

“Means his primary’s rich or got professional access to choppers you don’t need paperwork on.”

“What’s your next step?”

“I just stashed the daughter in a slammer. It’s safe. She’s under a Jane Doe, a material witness to a drug hit. If Loving’s got anybody inside, I doubt he’ll pay attention and I’ve had the warden cut all outgoing communication for the day. We’re still looking into Kessler’s two main cases to find the primary. Claire’s tracking down doctors off the grid Loving might use to get stitched up.”

Ellis said, “Listen, Corte, I’m doing the best I can-”

“About Westerfield.”

Hence, my boss’s mood, of course.

“About Westerfield. Why didn’t you just ignore him? Why’d you lie about the slammer in D.C.?”

“To buy time. If I’d ignored him, Aaron, he might’ve tried to find me. I was in the field. I can’t afford to be detained when I’ve got principals. Not in a case involving Henry Loving.”

Ellis said, “He could still get you fired.”

“I thought we’d have an answer by now. The primary.”

Or Loving in a body bag. Had he stood up when I’d hoped at the lake house in Loudoun County, the case might well be over.

“But we don’t.”

“No. Please, just keep him off my back for the night, Aaron. Tell him we’ve got a delicate operation going.”

“To find Loving?”

“No. That’s gas on the bonfire. Tell him I’ve got some leads to the primary. Tell him the terrorist connection is panning out.”

“For real?”

A legitimate question, considering how deceptively I’d been running the job so far.

“Yes. There’s money going into the Middle East. Some of it’s ending up in Saudi Arabia, a dozen shell companies.”

“Now that’s interesting.”

“Westerfield’ll love it. A good federal case for his cap.”

“Cap?”

“Feather in his cap. Claire’s checking out some reconnaissance I did at Graham’s place-the Department of Defense guy with the forged check. We’re moving ahead. But I’m keeping the Kesslers. Make me out the heavy. I’m fine with that. But I can’t let them go.”

A sigh. “I’ll do what I can.”

We disconnected and I made the turn to head back to the Great Falls safe house. I’d called Ahmad, briefed him and learned everything was quiet there, though apparently Joanne and her husband had been squabbling. It was over something petty. The fights among principals invariably were, I’d noticed. I spoke to Ryan, who sounded sober, and told him that there’d been an incident at Bill Carter’s but everybody was all right. Amanda and he were in federal protection. I ended the call before an alarmed Joanne could get on the line.

The time was nearly 6:00 p.m. and fatigue was seeping in.

My caller ID announced duBois.

“Me. Go ahead.”

“I’ve got a couple of things. First, the helicopter… One thing I noticed. Women don’t say ‘choppers.’ I’ve talked to six people, three men and three women. The men all say ‘chopper.’ The women say ‘helicopter.’”

DuBois’s observations were back. She’d largely recovered from the Graham ignominy.

“There was no flight plan filed. I was thinking about what that would mean. I assume it wouldn’t be a government helicopter, like fire or police-”

“Not likely.”

“Which means it’s not a charter. Leasing companies’re very buttoned up about flight plans. They could lose their tickets if one doesn’t get filed. So the bird’s privately owned.”

“Bird.”

“Nobody called it a bird. I made that up.”

I said, “Somebody like Pamuk, an investment banker, could have one. Or maybe he’s working with a rich client.”

“And on the Graham situation, I’ve got some results from the ORC analysis.”

“Well, that was fast.”

“You said you wanted it fast. I have addresses.”

“Any in the area?”

“As a matter of fact, yes. DuPont Circle.”

That had been one possibility, I’d speculated. Greenwich Village or Fells Point in Baltimore were others but they would have been more problematic since I’d prefer to go there in person.

“Email them to me. Good job.”

“I’m still looking into doctors. I’m cross-referencing specialties. Where do you think you hit Loving?”

“I couldn’t say.”

“If you hit a bone, that might make a difference.”

“How so?”

“He’d probably try to find somebody with orthopedic training. Narrow the search down, I mean. You can’t remember?”

“No.”

“Oh.” She sounded frustrated. “I wished it was a specialty. I was trying to think of others. Ear, nose and throat.”

“Well, I don’t know where I hit him.”

“Okay. I’ll track it down. I’m texting now.”

We disconnected.

A moment later the information from the Graham case slipped into my mobile. I read through it quickly, then pulled off the road. I cut and pasted one of the addresses into my GPS, hit START ROUTE and obediently followed the synthetic woman’s commands.