Inside Out

39

Friday morning

The sound of Archer's voice roused Winter abruptly from his nap.

“Deputy Massey, I need to talk to both of you.”

Light from outside filled the room. Sean Devlin was curled up, her head still on his leg, sound asleep.

Opening her eyes, she sat up and stretched, running her fingers through her hair, sweeping it back.

“I'm just going to say this outright,” Archer said. “The plane carrying Inspector Nations and his team vanished below radar four minutes after takeoff. The assumption was that the jet had gone down in the Atlantic. After the search started, we got word of what happened here.”

“You knew that when you got here,” Winter said. Anger flooded his mind.

“The Coast Guard and Navy started a search, and I came to see what had happened here. We assumed both events were connected. When we found the plane, we were certain of it. It was discovered at an abandoned military base in Virginia, a hundred miles inland from where it dropped off the radar screen.”

“Emergency landing?” Winter wondered aloud. Despite Archer's unemotional delivery of the information, Winter knew this was going to be very bad news.

“The plane was hijacked, flown to the old base, then blown up.”

“Hijacked?” Winter repeated incredulously. “How do you know that?”

“The two Justice Department pilots who flew Avery Whitehead to Cherry Point to meet your detail were found there murdered and stripped of their uniforms. Someone took their places. There is sufficient physical evidence at the Virginia base to conclude there were multiple fatalities. Based on the way these people operated here and at Cherry Point, I think we can assume that the seven people on that jet were murdered and the hijackers escaped.”

The idea that Greg was dead would not fit into Winter's brain. Archer was saying something about transportation, but Winter was incapable of listening. He turned his attention to Sean, who sat expressionless. He expected her to ask questions, to at least be curious about her husband, but she merely sat there, numbly silent, as though she was listening to a mechanic explain what was wrong with her car.

“Killing Mr. Devlin,” Archer continued, “was the whole purpose of both operations. Looks like there were two independent teams to ensure success even if there were last-minute changes.”

“Maybe they aren't all dead.” Winter felt as though he had been drugged.

“I am going to the scene, Deputy Massey,” Archer told him. “Your director is there. I am taking you with me.”

“What about me?” Sean asked.

“You will be going on to D.C., Mrs. Devlin.”

“I'd prefer to stay with Deputy Massey.”

“We'll make whatever arrangements we feel are appropriate. You'll be informed as those decisions are formalized.”

“You just said that you're in charge,” Sean said coldly. “As next of kin, I should be able to visit the place where my husband died. If you can't okay that, please ask for permission. I'd like a chance to speak to the head of the marshals. Perhaps I have no choice but to be passed around between marshals and the FBI, but I will not be led about by a ring in my nose without protest.”

“We wouldn't dream of having you think of us as bullies, Mrs. Devlin,” Archer responded, perhaps not wanting to look like a tyrant in front of such a beautiful woman. “I'd be happy to allow you to accompany the deputy here to Virginia and hand you over to the marshals. You have thirty minutes, if you'd like to freshen up. We've moved your things to the cook's quarters.”

As he packed, Winter could hear Sean running water in Jet's bathroom. As he exited his bedroom he saw that Jet's door was standing open. Sean didn't see him when she placed Martinez's suitcase outside and closed the door. Bureau technicians had used yellow evidence tape to seal the battered Samsonite case, making it look like a gift.