Iron Orchid

FOURTEEN

HOLLY WAS TOSSING A STICK for Daisy on the lawn in the late afternoon when she looked up and saw Lance coming. She had not seen him for a while.

“Good afternoon,” Lance said, strolling up to her and scratching Daisy behind the ears.

“Good afternoon.”

“How’s your training going?”

“I’m sure you know better than I,” she replied.

“Well, yes, I suppose I do. Let me say that I’m very pleased. Your performance on the firing range stunned the training staff; they’re unaccustomed to trainees who are dead shots.”

“Sarge has been very nice; I’ve been instructing some of the beginners.”

“And to good results, I hear.”

She thought she’d broach the subject before he did. “Are they going to throw me out for hitting Whitey?”

“Certainly not,” Lance replied. “I watched a videotape of the incident earlier today, and a lot of other people have seen it since and have been greatly entertained. Whitey Thompson was a pain in the ass, and nobody liked him.”

“Then my first judgment of him was accurate.”

“Whitey has left us, but he lives in the neighborhood, and I would not like you to encounter him out in the world.”

“I didn’t know I was allowed out in the world.”

“This weekend,” Lance said. “There’s a roadhouse about five miles west of here on the main road called Buster’s; some of the trainees sometimes drink there. I want you to avoid it, because Whitey drinks there every night.”

“Doesn’t sound like my sort of place, anyway,” Holly said. “Should I just stay on the reservation, then?”

“It’s a free country, more or less, so go wherever you feel comfortable. But you must remember that Whitey is probably as good a street fighter as anyone alive, and he knows lots of ways to maim and kill. If you should come face to face with him, and he looks like making a move, my advice is to shoot him.”

Holly laughed, but Lance didn’t. “I’ll keep that in mind. Am I authorized to go about Virginia armed?”

“Your I.D. card will work with the local and state police. Of course, when your training is over you’ll be given I.D. that specifically authorizes you to carry anywhere in the United States and its possessions.”

“Can I have my nine-millimeter back?”

“I’ll tell Sarge to give it to you, but don’t let the other trainees know; they’ll feel left out. It’s only because I trust your judgment that you’re getting the gun back.”

“Thank you, Lance.”

“Sarge was impressed with the gun.”

“My dad built it. You’ll have to meet him sometime.”

“I’ve read his army service record and his record with us in Vietnam. I wish he were working for me.”

“Not much chance of that while there are still fish to catch.”

Lance looked at his watch. “You must excuse me; I have a meeting. By the way, the deputy director for Operations saw the tape of your interaction with Whitey; he told me to be sure and hang on to you.” He gave her a little wave and walked back toward the main house.

Holly was aglow from the praise.

TEDDY DROVE HIS RENTAL CAR down to Manassas Airport, a small Virginia general aviation airfield, and drove slowly along the chain-link fence at its perimeter. He passed a series of hangars and paid particular attention to two of them: one that the FBI had learned about when they were pursuing him and one that they still didn’t know about, he hoped. He had kept the ill-fated Cessna there, and when he had flown it away, he’d left his RV there. Now he wanted it back.

There was only one way to find out the status of his second hangar, and that was to drive right up to it. He let himself in through the back gate, using the keypad code, and drove to the hangar. He took a remote control from his pocket and pressed the button with one hand while holding a pistol in the other. The bi-fold door rose, and the interior lights came on. The RV was still there, and the hangar was deserted. He drove inside and closed the door.

A cursory inspection of the hangar revealed that no one had entered it since he had left. He unlocked the RV and stepped inside. It was in disarray, since he had loaded as much of his equipment as possible into it from the other hangar. He spent an hour tidying it up, then he hitched the rental car to the RV and drove out of the hangar, towing the car, closing the door behind him.

He drove all the way back to New York, turned in his rental car and found a garage near his workshop. He would transfer much of his equipment from the RV to the workshop over the next few days, so as not to attract attention, then he would be fully set up and ready to go to work. All he needed now was his first target.

He went back to his apartment and fell into bed, exhausted. He had some catching up on his sleep to do.