Santa Fe Edge

22

Todd Bacon landed the B-36TC Bonanza at Santa Fe Airport late in the afternoon and taxied to the Santa Fe Jetcenter, a mock-adobe building with a large ramp. An assortment of aircraft populated the place, from large corporate jets and turboprops to his own turbocharged piston Bonanza.

Todd lost no time in questioning the young woman on the desk. She checked her computer. “No, Paul Janzen, the man who flew the 182 RG, is no longer here. He turned in his rental car yesterday and flew away. He said something about selling his airplane to somebody in Texas,” she said.

“And he’s not returning?”

“Didn’t seem like it,” she said.

“Do you know if he was selling the airplane through a broker?”

“No, sir.”

“Or what town in Texas? It’s a big state.”

“Nope. I only saw him twice, the day he arrived and the day he left.”

“Was there a woman with him either time?”

She looked thoughtful. “There was a woman in here on the day he arrived, but it didn’t look like she was with him. He came in and signed the paperwork for his rental, then he went out to the ramp, got in the car and drove away.”

“Without the woman?”

“Yes. Like I said, she didn’t appear to be with him. There were several airplanes unloading that afternoon, and she could have been on any of them.”

“Can you give me a physical description of the man?”

“I guess he was in his early fifties, dark hair, going a little gray around the ears.”

“Anything else you can remember?”

“No. He was just like anybody else.”

“Do you remember what kind of car he rented?”

She went to her computer, looked it up and told him.

“Thanks,” Todd said, then got into his own rental car, took a good look at the map and drove into Santa Fe. As he got into the city it looked to him like the sort of place he’d like to live himself, and he couldn’t blame Teddy if he’d picked it. He drove to the Plaza and found La Fonda, the big old hotel that had served visitors to the town for decades. It had been nicely updated, and he was given a small suite on the top floor. He opened his bags and got out his computer, then logged on to the Agency mainframe and sent an e-mail to Holly Barker.

Checked out Vero Beach and discovered that Lauren Cade had left some boxes in storage there and that they had been shipped to Santa Fe, but the company had nothing under her name. Arrived Santa Fe an hour ago and checked for 182 RG at Santa Fe Jetcenter, but owner had turned in his rent-a-car and left yesterday. Appeared to be alone on both arrival and departure. Description by woman at the desk vague, could fit hundreds of people. Said he was going to Texas to sell his airplane, no mention of what city.

I’ll follow every lead in Santa Fe tomorrow and report on anything I find. I tried to find a photograph of Lauren Cade in the records of the Florida State Police and motor vehicles department, to no avail. I guess you were right about our friend’s ability to scrub items on databases.

Todd

HOLLY, WORKING LATE at her desk as usual, read the e-mail, and it was nothing less than she had expected. Teddy was a chameleon with endless bags of tricks, and she wasn’t entirely sure that Todd understood who he was up against. Still, he was a resourceful young man who wanted to further impress Lance Cabot, so he was highly motivated.

TODD GREW HUNGRY around dusk, so he showered and changed and stopped at the concierge’s desk in the lobby.

“May I help you, sir?” the young woman said.

“Yes. Can you recommend a very good restaurant for dinner outside the hotel? Something with local color?”

“I’d recommend either Santacafé or Geronimo,” she said. “I suppose Geronimo has more local color.”

“Can you book me a table for one, please?”

She called the restaurant and spoke to them, then turned to Todd. “They have no tables, but you can dine in the bar; you won’t need a reservation there.”

“All right. Thanks.” Todd turned toward the garage, then turned back.

“Can you give me directions?”

“It’s very easy. Turn right out of the parking lot, then drive toward the cathedral and take your next right. Go straight at the traffic light, then take your first left onto Canyon Road. Geronimo is about halfway to the top, and they have valet parking.”

TEDDY AND LAUREN were seated at a corner table at Geronimo, Teddy in his preferred gunfighter’s seat with his back to the corner. He saw a young man enter the restaurant and walk straight through the dining room toward the bar. Bells went off in Teddy’s head. He never forgot a face, but where had he seen this one?

A waitress approached with menus and asked if they’d like drinks. Lauren ordered and waited for Teddy to place his order, but he seemed lost in thought. “Teddy?”

“Oh, sorry. A margarita, please, straight up with salt.” The waitress left.

“Give me just a minute,” he said to Lauren. “I have to think about something.”

“Sure,” Lauren said. She watched as he seemed to go almost into a trance: eyes closed, face expressionless.

Teddy reversed the video recorder in his brain and watched the young man enter the restaurant again, then again. Now he had the face fixed in his mind. Panama City. He had been on his motorcycle and he had just shot the Agency station chief on the street outside the American Embassy, when he’d looked up at the windows of their offices. The young man had been standing at a window. Teddy had seen him before in a local bar. He was Agency. Teddy opened his eyes.

“Everything okay, Teddy?” Lauren asked.

“No,” Teddy said. “Not entirely. There’s someone from the Agency in this restaurant right now.”

“Someone you worked with before?”

“No, he’s much younger than I. He worked in the Panama station only a couple of months ago, and he turned up on Cumberland Island when I was dealing with a problem. There was something of a chase, but I took off from the beach. He put a couple of holes in the airplane that I had to fix later, before I went to Orchid Beach.”

“Is he here looking for us?” she asked.

“Very possibly,” Teddy said.

“But there’s no way he could have traced us here.”

“There’s always a way. I could have made a mistake.”

“Do you want to leave? Should we run?”

“No,” Teddy said. “I have a better idea. Let’s just relax and enjoy our dinner.” They ordered, then Teddy excused himself to go to the men’s room.

TODD BACON SAT at the bar, sipping a margarita. There was a couple at a table near the bar, and it occurred to him that they were a fit for Teddy Fay and Lauren Cade. He was sixtyish and slim and wore an obvious toupee. She was much younger, blond and attractive. He summoned the bartender and lowered his voice. “Do you know the couple to my left?”

“Yes,” the man replied. “They’re the Hamptons, regular customers.”

“For how long?”

“Ever since I’ve been here, and that’s two years.”

Todd nodded. Well, that would have been too easy. A man walked past him and into the men’s room. A couple of minutes later he walked out and past Todd again. He appeared to be in his early fifties, dark hair, gray at the temples. That matched the description of the man in the 182 RG that was given to him by the young woman at the airport.

Todd shook his head. Now he was getting paranoid. Everybody was looking like Teddy Fay.

TEDDY TOOK HIS SEAT in the dining room.

“Everything all right?” Lauren asked.

“Suspicions confirmed,” he replied.