Vegas Moon

34.

When I land at the private airstrip in San Francisco, I assemble my gun, load it, and put it in my shoulder holster. I tape a strip of Velcro to the silencer, and tape two companion pieces to my left calf, under my pants leg. Then I attach the silencer to the strips. Later, I’ll bring another strip of Velcro material to tape to my left arm, because if all goes right, this silencer will spend time in at least three different places over the next two hours.

I climb into the waiting cab and catch a ride to the airport. Once there, I find a quiet place to sit. Then I take off my jacket, spread it over my lap, and use it as a shield to hide my actions as I remove the silencer from my calf, and trust the Velcro to hold it in place underneath the chair.

Next I go to security, identify myself, and present my Connor Payne ID and security clearance papers. The folks at airport security escort me to the US Marshall’s lounge, and give me the information I require, which is nothing more than telling me which luggage carousel the 10:19 plane will use to unload its baggage.

Carousel #6.

After I’m thoroughly patted down, vetted, and scanned, I request anonymity, explaining I’m on special assignment, testing baggage handling security. I tell them I don’t want to be seen with any employees of the airport, or members of its security force. They have no problem with my requests, since my security clearance outranks all of them put together. They give me a special plastic security badge to wear around my neck in case someone tries to stop me, and a universal key card that allows access to the baggage handling areas. Then I start heading back to the seat where my silencer is hiding, and notice a kid jumping up and down on it. His mother is sitting across from him, completely oblivious. I’ve got the credentials to put a scare into both of them, but don’t want to draw attention to the area, since I’ll soon have a use for that silencer.

I work my way behind the scenes where the luggage to Carousel #6 will be unloaded in a couple of hours for the 10:19 pm flight. What I’m really looking for is an escape vehicle. I can’t find one, so I call Lou Kelly and ask him to have a car and driver stationed behind the loading area to Carousel #6 at 10:15 tonight. When I come out, that car needs to be ready to go. I also need a military helicopter, and someone at the entrance gate who can make sure the gate opens when I’m ready to leave.

Twenty minutes later, Lou tells me the car, driver, and gate person will all be in place. The helicopter is a problem, since the area outside baggage service is a no-fly zone, as is the entire airport.

“It’s an airport,” I say. “How can it be a no-fly zone?”

“Only scheduled flights,” he says. “You can’t not know this.”

“Well, schedule a flight.”

“You can’t schedule a helicopter flight to land in an airport baggage claim area. Why do you want one?”

“I want to create a diversion.”

“Well, it won’t be with a helicopter. But think it through. Do you really need a diversion? You’ve got the getaway car, the gate guy, and your private jet is less than a mile away.”

“I need a diversion.”

Lou sighs. “I’m open to suggestions.”

“What about a bomb?”

“Excuse me?”

“A bomb is perfect,” I say. “Much better than a chopper.”

“A bomb.”

“It’s perfect, don’t you see? Bombs freak people out. Especially in airports.”

“You want me to find someone who’s willing to bring a bomb into an airport. And then detonate it?”

“Yes, of course. And can you have him here within the hour?”

“You’re joking.”

“How long have we known each other?”

“What kind of bomb?”

“A loud one.”

“A loud one,” he says.

“Right. No damage, just noise.”

“I’ll let you know.”

“Let me know before nine. That’s when my phone goes dark.”