Primary Target

9

The dark cumulus clouds were turning an angry greenish black when Scott and Jackie finally arrived at the airport. Running late, they had been delayed by a mix-up in arrangements for their ground transportation.

“You go ahead,” Scott said as they neared a set of rest rooms. “I’ll catch up with you at the gate.”

“We don’t have much time.”

“I’ll be right behind you.”

Suppressing a growing concern about the weather, Jackie quickly made her way to their gate. With the exception of a few stragglers, including Ed Hockaday, most of the passengers had boarded American Airlines Flight 1684 to Washington, D.C. Jackie and Ed saw each other at the same moment.

“Jackay,” exclaimed the robust, jolly giant.

“Hi, Eddy,” she exclaimed, hurrying to greet him.

Sporting a green-and-white polka-dot bow tie and a thatch of hair best described as fire-engine red, Hockaday’s bulldog features invited a cheery smile. “I daresay you’ve given me a bit of a fright.” He beamed as he opened his arms to hug her. “I just knew I was going to miss the pleasure of your company.”

“Well, we made it — barely.” Jackie laughed as she squeezed the friendly bear of a man. “It’s so good to see you.”

“Likewise, my dear.”

Scott walked up as she and Hockaday were reminiscing and Jackie introduced the two men.

Turning to Scott, she smoothly slid an arm under and around Hockaday’s forearm.” ‘E’s honest, ‘e’s loyal, but ‘e can be bought for a pint or two.”

Hockaday belly-laughed and hugged her around the shoulder. “For a Beefeater martini, I’d even do your windows.”

Scott smiled and started to speak when he was interrupted by the ring of Jackie’s cell phone. She plucked it out of a pocket on the leg of her jumpsuit and snapped it open. “Sullivan,” she answered tersely, then gave Scott a concerned look.

“We’re about to board our flight,” she challenged the caller, then changed the tone of her voice. “I understand,” she said in a mild state of surprise as she absently closed the phone.

“Scott,” she said with a sudden intensity. “Hartwell has an urgent message for us, but he won’t discuss it over a cell phone. We have to find a pay phone, call him at the White House, then wait for a return call in about ten minutes.”

“The White House?”

“Yes.”

Dalton nodded, but remained quiet. I wonder if we’ve squared off against the Iranians?

A gate agent with a flattop haircut lifted a microphone. “All passengers holding confirmed seats on American Airlines Flight 1684 nonstop service to Ronald Reagan Washington National should now be onboard.”

Jackie gave Hockaday a sad look. “Eddy, we’re going to have to take a later flight. I’ll give you a call when we get to D.C.”

Hockaday glanced at the airline agent who was about to close the door to the jetway passenger boarding bridge. “Sounds good,” he said cheerfully as he started toward the door. “Give me a ring when you get settled in.”

“I’ll do it,” she said, and waved good-bye, then turned to locate a phone.

“What’s going on?” Scott asked as he fell in step.

“You know as much as I do,” she answered as she spied an empty stall. “If it’s any consolation”—she shrugged indifferently—“they tried your phone first.”

“I never take it on vacation,” Scott said, then quietly waited while Jackie picked up the receiver. When she was sure she would not be overheard by passersby, she called and left their number.

Less than two minutes later Jackie flinched when the phone rang. “It’s for you,” she said without rancor.

Scott reached for the phone and surveyed everyone around him as he quietly spoke to Prost. The conversation was short and tense. When he hung up the receiver, Scott stared at the phone for a moment, then closed his eyes. Farkas is just the opening act.

“Bad news?” Jackie asked, knowing the answer.

“Well…” He hesitated and shook his head. “Are you familiar with a terrorist named Khaliq Farkas?”

For a split second she froze as the line of her mouth became grimly straight. “I sure am,” she said in disgust. “I’d like to get my hands on that—”

Scott’s eyes grew large.

“SOB.” She softened. “What’s he done now?”

“Nothing yet.” Scott’s nerves were suddenly on edge. “He was spotted in Wyoming this morning, but that isn’t the bad news,” Dalton said as his gaze wandered around the immediate area.

“I’m waiting.”

“He was seen flying an A-4 Skyhawk complete with missile racks.”

Jackie drew back. “Missile racks?” she asked, trying to make sense of the fragments of information. “Wyoming?”

“That’s right,” he quietly said. “Hartwell said the attorney general just briefed the president and he wanted us to be on guard.”

“Wait a second,” Jackie queried with a suspicious look. “I think I missed something. Maybe you better start from the beginning.”

With the hair standing up on the back of his neck, Scott glanced around the area. “Some local pilots at the Casper airport took pictures — Prost said videotape — of the plane and pilot when he stopped for fuel early this morning. The people at the airport became suspicious of Farkas and contacted their local FBI office. The agents viewed the tape, and after picking themselves up from the floor, they called Washington.”

“Are they positive it was Farkas?”

“No question about it. He’s clean-shaven now, but Hartwell said that they don’t have any doubt. And, surprise surprise, the Skyhawk didn’t have any registration numbers on it. That’s probably what made the people at the airport suspicious.”

“No markings of any kind?”

“Not a thing, except for a blue-and-gray camouflage paint scheme.”

“Fearless Farkas has surfaced again,” Jackie said with cold frustration, then glanced around the concourse. “This is absolutely crazy. There’s a multimillion-dollar bounty on him, and he’s blissfully flying around our skies in a military jet. Go figure.”

“Yeah,” Scott said as he studied the other travelers, “he’s definitely a gutsy little bastard, but he won’t be able to elude us forever.”

A brilliant flash of lightning caught her eye. “Do they have any idea where he’s headed?”

“All the witnesses at Casper agreed that he initially headed southeast, then turned due east about three miles from the airport.”

The sound of rolling thunder suddenly drifted through the terminal.

Stiff and tense, Jackie stared at Scott. “He’ll do anything, and I mean anything, to complete his mission — whatever it is.”

“Or to escape being captured,” Scott said, pointing to a small reddish scar on his neck under his right ear. “A little souvenir from a recent encounter with Farkas.”

Her eyes opened wide in disbelief. “You’re kidding,” Jackie said as she examined the scar.

“No.”

“I didn’t see anything in your records.”

“That’s because I didn’t say anything about the wound.”

“What happened?”

Scott allowed a lazy smile to touch the corners of his mouth. “I was in Tel Aviv on a tip that Farkas had been spotted in the area. I was checking security systems when we literally bumped into each other at the entrance to a hotel. He fired three or four shots at me, one of which grazed my neck.”

“Were you armed?”

“Yes, but I couldn’t return fire. There were too many people in the way. He grabbed a pedestrian and used her as a shield until his driver pulled up beside them. Farkas shoved her away, then jumped in the car and disappeared in the traffic.”

“I’m amazed that no one recognized him?”

“He was masquerading as an Israeli general.”

“That’s what I mean,” Jackie declared with a shake of her head. “He isn’t afraid of anything, and he gets away with murder — literally.”

“His day is coming,” Scott said mechanically. “He knows I’ve been dogging him ever since our unexpected meeting.”

“Well, he’s here now,” Jackie said, restless with energy. “You may get a chance for a second meeting.”

“I would like nothing better.”

She picked up the solemnity in his expression. “Let’s change our reservations,” she said on a high note. “Then how about a drink?”

“You’ve got a deal.” A thunderbolt of lightning prompted Scott to study the dark clouds. “I hope this weather clears before we take off.”

“That makes two of us.”