Private Moscow

Chapter 103

I needn’t have worried. Hector was there waiting in a gray Jeep Grand Cherokee and drove across the airfield to meet us the moment the airstairs touched the asphalt. Hector Lopez had a high forehead, chiseled cheekbones, and narrow eyes that exuded intelligence. He was an approachable man with a strong sense of honor, and I’d warmed to him the instant he’d arrived for his interview. He stepped out of the jeep, wearing a light blue bomber jacket, a navy shirt and black jeans.

“Good to see you, boss,” he said as we hurried over to the SUV. “Wish it was under better circumstances.”

After the freezing cold of Moscow and New York, the sweet, cool breeze of a mild Nevada winter seemed almost tropical. I jumped in the passenger seat, and Dinara climbed in the back. The dashboard clock said 10:51 a.m.

“How did you get on the field?” I asked as he started driving toward the small terminal building.

“I flashed my old Bureau ID,” Hector explained. “I know, I know, it’s a felony to impersonate an FBI agent, but I used to be one, so it’s kind of a gray area. At least in my mind. I told the airport manager that no matter what he heard, this plane was Bureau and it was not to be interfered with.”

I was impressed with Hector’s resourcefulness.

“Hector Lopez, this is Dinara Orlova,” I said. “Hector runs Private Vegas. Dinara is head of Private Moscow.”

“Good to meet you,” Hector said.

“You also,” Dinara replied.

“So where are we going?” Hector asked.

“Naval Air Station Fallon,” I replied. “We need to get inside.”

Hector puffed out his cheeks and exhaled slowly, and a look of disbelief swept across his face. “I don’t think my old Bureau ID will work on those fellas.”

“Leave it to me,” I said. “I’ll get us in.”

Hector didn’t look convinced, but he nodded. He flashed his Bureau ID at the airport gate guard, and moments later we were gathering speed on Rio Vista Drive.