Foul Play

Forty-Six

The next morning, Stone was arranging an assignation with Brooke Alley when Joan buzzed. “It’s Shepherd Troutman, on line two.”

“Seven at P. J. Clarke’s?” he asked Brooke.

“Peachy,” she replied. “Bye.” She hung up.

Stone pressed the other button. “Shep?”

“Hi. We’ve figured things out,” he said. “We’d like to fly back to New York the day after tomorrow, where I have to pick up some clothes from the apartment. Then, the day after that, may we stop at the Vineyard for a couple of hours, before continuing to England? I have to look at house plans with the architect; we’re rebuilding all three houses, and we want to start immediately, so that if we spend some time in England, when we return to the Vineyard they’ll have been framed.”

“No, if you did that you’d have to clear out through customs and immigration at an international airport, like Boston Logan, before departing for England. Let me suggest an alternative.”

“Shoot.”

“Fly to Teterboro, as you planned, run your errands, then the following day, I’ll have you flown to the Vineyard in a light jet, where you can have your meeting, then return to Teterboro for your international departure. I need some flight time for my logbook, so I’ll fly you to the island and back myself. After that, you might wait another day before you depart for England, so you won’t arrive late at night.”

“All right, at which airport will we land?”

“At a private field on my property. You’ll be met there and taken to the house.”

“Fine.”

“One other thing. I’m nervous about your being on the Vineyard, for even a short time. Can your architect meet you at the airport and show you the plans there?”

“Yes, there’s a meeting room at the FBO. I’ll book it.”

“Very good. When you land at Windward Hall, which is my house, the property manager, Major Bugg, will meet and orientate you. There are cars on the property you can use, but I’d stay close to home for a week, before venturing to London. Give things enough time to cool down.”

“Of course.”

“My pilot, Faith, will call you about your departure time from Burbank, and she will conduct the subsequent flight to England. By the way, the check for your deal with Kronk has been deposited and was declared good as gold by the bank.”

“Then maybe I can afford to have a suit made in London.”

“Good idea.” They hung up. He called Faith and gave her the drill for Burbank and England, then he freshened up and left for Clarke’s and the company of Brooke.

After dinner they returned to Stone’s house and ran for the bedroom. Later, he told her of the travel plans he had made.

“Can I fly up to the Vineyard with you?” she asked. “I’d like to check in with Phil.”

“I’m just going to fly Shep up there, where he’ll meet with his architect and then return to Teterboro with me. There won’t be any time for visits, and I want to get Shep off the island as soon as possible.”

“But you made a deal with this man, Kronk, didn’t you? We’ll all be safe on the Vineyard.”

“Yes, but I don’t want to trust Kronk to keep the deal. He has a low boiling point, and he was still simmering when we met earlier today.”

“Oh, all right,” she said. Then she started his engine again.

The following day Stone called Mike Freeman, told him of the successful deal with Kronk, and made new security arrangements for Shep’s travel, in both the U.S. and the U.K.

“You’re taking the M2 to the Vineyard?” Mike asked.

“Yes, I’ll fly myself. I need the hours to keep sharp.”

“I think you ought to have a couple of my people on that flight,” he said.

“How about one? It’s a small airplane, compared to the G-500.”

“Okay, as you wish.”

Stone hung up.

Two days passed without further action or noise from Kronk, and Stone began to feel better about the deal he had made. That morning Fred drove Stone out to Teterboro, where he did a preflight inspection of the Citation M2 with the regular pilot.

“Would you like me to fly left seat?” the man asked.

“No, it’s a single-pilot airplane, and I used to own it, so I have a lot of time in type. It’s just a couple of hours over and back, with a little waiting time in between, and I need the time.”

“Okay, enjoy it. It’s a great little airplane.” He walked away, then came back a minute later with four life jackets. “I know you wouldn’t ordinarily wear these for a short over-water flight, but there’s an FAA examiner in the hangar right now doing ramp inspections, so let’s let him see you with these on, and you won’t have to dig out the ones under the seats.”

Shep and Rod arrived, along with their security man. Stone handed out the life jackets and explained why and how to use them, and they all got them on.

An hour later, Stone set down on Martha’s Vineyard, and they all walked into the FBO, where Shep’s architect greeted them. Stone found a flight magazine and made himself comfortable in the pilot’s lounge. He did not order fuel for the flight back, as they had left Teterboro with full tanks, and there was ample fuel for the flight.

An hour and a half later the meeting broke up, and the Troutmen stood in the doorway talking, while Stone went out and did a quick walk-around of the airplane. After that, they put on their life jackets again and boarded; the security man making sure they were buckled in and knew how to inflate their life jackets. Stone started the engines and ran through the cockpit checklist. That done, he requested his IFR clearance from the tower and was given a clearance good for ten minutes.

He taxied to the end of the runway and ran through the pre-takeoff checklist. The tower cleared him for takeoff, and he taxied onto the runway. Then, without stopping, he advanced the throttles full forward and began to roll. He lifted off and reached out his right hand to raise the landing gear.

With that thought in his head, something went terribly wrong. There was a loud noise, and the windshield was gone, and moist air was blowing into the cockpit. Instinctively, Stone operated the landing gear to slow them down, but that didn’t happen. He reached down and yanked his seat belt as tight as he could, while yelling, “Brace for impact!” at the top of his lungs.

The nose of the airplane was rising, and he shoved on the yoke to level it but got no response. Then, in seconds, the aircraft entered an aerodynamic stall, which meant it wasn’t flying anymore, just falling, nose down. He placed a hand on the pull tab of the life jacket and yanked, filling in instantly with the CO2 from the little bottle.

The airplane went into the water and he had the breath knocked out of him as he slammed against his five-point seat harness.

He came awake, floating in his seat and choking on seawater, then he managed to turn the knob on his chest that released his seat harness. The seat fell away from him and he bobbed to the surface, as the full jacket turned him onto his back, with his head supported.

After that he knew nothing until he felt himself being hauled into a rubber dingy. He lasted a minute or so, then passed out again.