Blackout

CHAPTER 5

The security car braked to a halt beneath the tail of Meridian Flight 5. Kat got out and glanced up, oblivious to the smell of jet fuel, and wholly unprepared for the monstrous, looming bulk of the Boeing 747–400 that was poised to fly her and nearly three hundred others across a quarter of the planet’s surface to Los Angeles by way of Honolulu.

“Good Lord!” she managed, as Robert MacCabe joined her, bag in hand.

“Can I at least quote you on that?” he asked, craning his neck as well.

“This thing is incredible!” she added, momentarily forgetting the two officers who had picked them up at the appointed rendezvous. “I’ve flown on seven-forty-sevens for years, but I’ve never seen one from ground level.”

“I know. We’re always walking in through a jetway twenty feet above ground. Passengers never really understand how huge they are, or how heavy. We’ll take off tonight weighing over three quarters of a million pounds.”

The officers guided them into the back of a large catering truck parked by the right, front door of the aircraft. It raised itself on huge hydraulic arms thirty-four feet to the main floor level where lead flight attendant Britta Franz was waiting for them. A tall, well-proportioned blond with a pronounced German accent and twenty years as an American citizen, Britta exuded authority. The Chinese customs official who had been waiting with her hurried through the formalities of a passport check before bowing and leaving.

“Now that you’re entirely legal,” Britta said, “let me escort you both to the upper deck first-class cabin.”

Robert looked at his ticket, then at Britta. “Ah, I think we’re in coach.”

She smiled. “Not anymore. We upgraded both of you, if you don’t mind.”

“Absolutely, we don’t mind!” Kat replied quickly, with a broad smile.

They had barely settled into the luxurious seats when Britta reappeared, wearing a deadly serious expression. There were two Chinese police officers behind her. “I’m… sorry to bother you, Ms. Bronsky, but these officers insisted on…”

“Katherine Bronsky?” one of the policemen asked in a lightly accented voice.

Kat could sense Robert stiffen beside her as she studied their eyes. Both were in their twenties, immaculately groomed, and humorless.

“I’m Special Agent Katherine Bronsky of the American Federal Bureau of Investigation. What can I do for you?”

“You must come with us, please.”

“I mustn’t miss this flight.” She looked at Britta. “How much time do I have?”

Britta frowned. “Less than five minutes.”

“You must come, please,” one of the officers said. “Bring your bags.”

“Look, the airport security chief brought us aboard,” Kat began, but the closer of the two was shaking his head.

“He is from a different agency,” the officer replied. He gestured toward the stairs at the back of the cabin. “Please.”

“What are you? What agency?”

“Hong Kong Police,” he said.

Kat unsnapped the seat belt and stood. “One second, please. Wait for me back there.”

Both of them bowed and retreated to the top of the upper deck stairs as Kat turned quietly to Robert. “I don’t know what the heck this is all about, Robert, but I’ll find out and be on the next flight. I’ll probably be only twelve hours behind you into D.C.”

“I’m going to wait for you in L.A.,” he said suddenly.

She looked at him for a second, thinking it over. “Okay.”

“There… may be more to tell you.”

Kat watched him scribble something on a business card. He finished and handed it to her. “My nationwide beeper number. When you arrive at LAX, beep me with a phone number and stand by. I won’t be far away. I’m going to lie low in the L.A. area and wait for you.”

“Keep out of sight.” She extended her hand for a correct handshake. Instead, Robert held it gently and squeezed, leaving her slightly off balance.

The 747’s forward door closed behind her as Kat followed the two policemen into the jetway, surprised to find her suitcase waiting for her. She picked it up, fighting rising anger at being yanked from the flight for some stupid bureaucratic reason. Someone higher up had obviously been angered by the security chief’s actions, but it was strange that MacCabe had been allowed to stay. Obviously professional courtesy didn’t extend to the FBI this week in Hong Kong.

Kat extended the bag’s handle and rolled it behind her as she reluctantly followed the two men up the jetway, looking forward to chewing out whoever had screwed up her plans.

At the top of the jetway Kat stopped and put her hands on her hips, leaving both policemen unsure what to do. “Precisely where are you taking me, and why?”

One of the men motioned down the concourse. “This way, please.”

She shook her head. “Not until you tell me where we’re going.”

“We must bring you to our commander’s office.”

“Why?” She saw total confusion cross their faces. She sighed and grabbed the handle of her bag again. “Never mind. Lead the way.”

Less than 200 yards down the concourse, they opened a door and ushered her into a small office populated by several other uniforms and an important-looking man in a business suit who was holding out a telephone receiver.

“Please,” he said. The room reeked of cigarettes, but she tuned that out and took the phone, expecting a higher Chinese official on the other end.

“This is Agent Katherine Bronsky of the United States Federal Bureau of Investigation,” she began, as officially as she could manage. “Who is this?”

There was a familiar chuckle on the other end, which smoothly transitioned to a more official voice. “This is Deputy Director Jacob Rhoades, also of the United States Federal Bureau of Investigation.”

“Jake? What on earth?”

“Sorry, Kat. Change of plans.”

She rolled her eyes before turning her attention fully to Jake. “I was about to snarl at these folks for pulling me off. What’s up?”

“You know we’ve got a consulate there?”

“Of course.”

“Well, they need you. Specifically, they need an FBI agent to deal with a security matter. We were going to send someone next week, but they were insistent.”

“A… security matter?”

“I don’t know the details, but there’s supposed to be a car waiting curbside to take you there, put you up for the night, and get you on the first flight out in the morning after you deal with whatever’s bugging them.”

“Is this usual, Jake?”

“The State Department moves in mysterious ways. Please help us on this.”

“Well, of course. My flight’s probably pushing back as we speak.”

“Just one night.”

“Yeah, but they’d upgraded me to first class. Tomorrow I’ll get steerage.” She stopped herself from mentioning anything about Robert MacCabe on an unsecured line.

“I hear the speech was a real hit. Congratulations.”

“News travels fast.”

“Heck, Kat. We’re the FBI. We’re supposed to know everything.”

“Oh. I didn’t know that.” She chuckled, pleased by his words of praise.

The driver from the U.S. Consulate was waiting, as promised. Kat let him carry her bag as she followed him through the sparkling new airport terminal to the exit. She wondered if the men who had tried to shanghai Robert MacCabe were watching and knew she had been with him.

The whole thing seemed surreal. Had MacCabe not been someone of substance — someone whose reputation she already knew — her diagnosis would be raving paranoia. But wait a minute. What, exactly, DO I know about Robert MacCabe?

The thought was cut short by the sight of two Asian men standing to one side of the exit from the secure area, both wearing dark suits, both watching her. Kat kept her eyes straight ahead as she passed, straining to see with her peripheral vision what they were doing, certain their eyes were tracking her.

A hundred feet away, she stopped and looked over her shoulder at the men, who quickly averted their eyes just as the two young women they had apparently been waiting for emerged from the secure area, waving and smiling. Seconds later, laughing and talking, the two couples walked past Kat without a single glance.

She snorted softly to herself and shook her head. Real good instincts, Kat. MacCabe’s paranoia is rubbing off.

She turned to the driver and gestured him on, wishing she were still on the 747 next to MacCabe in first class.