#26: ONCE IS AN ANOMALY. TWICE IS A COINCIDENCE. THREE TIMES IS A PATTERN.


AND AS WE KNOW …

There is no such thing as coincidence.

The mattress buzzed, startling him. Nando’s cell phone. Will retrieved it, then stepped into the bathroom and shut the door.

“They’re at Oxnard Airport, man,” said Nando when Will answered. “They drove straight down here from your house. Pulled right onto the runway. They’re loading up a private jet with the stuff from the house.”

“Where are you?” asked Will.

“Parked across the street, watching through the fence. It’s a twin-engine jet … looks like it seats seven or eight?”

“Can you see the tail numbers?”

A moment later Nando said, “N-four-niner-seven-T-F.”

“Who’s on board?” asked Will.

“The lady and that dude with the beard …”

Mom and Dad.

“And the bald dude just went inside with ’em. They’re closing up the stairs. Rest of the Caps are back in the cars. Driving away, like in formation.”

“Don’t let ’em see you,” said Will.

“They won’t, bro. Taxis are invisible, especially near airports. The plane’s moving now, ready for takeoff. You want me to stick with the Caps?”

“I can’t ask you to do that, Nando—”

“Get real, man. I can haul Mr. and Mrs. Richie Rich and their potty-mouthed kids to LAX any day. You kidding me? Any hack in the world would kill for a thrill like this.”

“I just don’t know how to thank you,” said Will.

“Give your pops a hug, man. We’re good—Hey, here come the Caps on the frontage road. Gotta jam. Later.”

Will called National Directory Assistance looking for private air charter companies that offered noncommercial flights out of Oxnard. On the third call, he got a hit on the tail numbers. The secretary who answered told him their company owned that plane: a Bombardier Challenger 600 twin-engine jet.

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