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Casey glanced at Hutch. He knew that look. She was about to test the waters. “Is Paul Everett on a plane en route to JFK?” she asked.
Another brief chuckle. “I’m impressed. I had no idea you’d come so far. The answer is, yes, Paul is due back in New York at 4:00 p.m. on Flight 117 from Kuwait City. Now, let me lay out my stipulations. The first one is that I want SSA Hutchinson to be part of the operation I’m about to initiate. You and I both trust him, so it’s a win-win situation. Agreed?”
Casey shot Hutch a quick smile. “Agreed.”
“Good. Now here’s the rest—after which, I’ll need every shred of information you have on Lyle Fenton.”
“And John Morano?” Casey asked.
“No. John is one of ours.”
A long pause.
Abruptly, awareness exploded in Casey’s brain. “As is Paul Everett,” she realized aloud.
“Precisely,” came Patricia’s confirmation. “Paul is most definitely one of ours. Oh, and by the way, so is attorney Frederick Wilkenson. We added him to the equation to divert you. So you can tell Mr. McKay he isn’t losing his touch.”
Casey nodded, even though Patricia Carey couldn’t see her. “Tell me what you need of us. And then I’ll tell you everything you don’t already know. It’s more than enough for a conviction—and not just for Lyle Fenton. For key members of the Vizzini family.”
“That’s what I’m counting on, Ms. Woods.”
CHAPTER TWENTY-NINE
The plane landed smoothly at JFK’s International Terminal.
Paul leaned under the seat and grabbed his carry-on bag, which was his only form of luggage. He was frustrated enough that he had to endure the time necessary to pass through customs. He’d be damned if he’d stand in a baggage claim area, watching a stupid carousel go round forever before it spit out his bags.
The plane was still taxiing to the gate when Paul’s cell phone rang.
He stared at the “unknown” caller ID, weighing his options. It had to be the Bureau. There was no doubt they intended to stop him. And they’d had hours to fine-tune their plans.
Answering the phone was his best bet. Any clue he could get about how they were going to go about this might help him circumvent the obstacles. But, the truth was, he didn’t care if he had to report a bomb scare and evacuate the whole airport. He was getting to Sloane Kettering.
He punched on his phone. “Yes?”
“This is Casey Woods, Mr. Evans.” Casey rushed on, getting in the crucial words before Paul could decide to hang up on her. “Amanda Gleason hired me to find you.”
A pause. “How do I know that?”
“Because you saw the YouTube video. That toll-free number was set up by my company, Forensic Instincts. You can dial it yourself and ask if you don’t believe me.”
“Actually, I can’t. My phone seems to have been deactivated.”
“It was. But it’s been reactivated. Again, if you don’t believe me, you can check for yourself after we hang up. But we’re in a time crunch. So right now, I need to give you instructions so we can get you to Amanda and your son as soon as possible.”
Paul did a double take. “Let me get this straight.” He spoke quietly, so as not to be overheard. “Obviously, if you know about my travel plans and my cell phone, you’ve been in touch with the Bureau. You’re telling me that they’re just allowing you to usher me out of the airport and straight to Sloane Kettering?”
“They’re working with me to make it happen and to protect your anonymity. But we have a certain protocol we need to follow. So please listen to me now and ask questions later. You’re almost at your gate. I need to talk fast so you’ll be ready to proceed as soon as that door opens.”
* * *
The ambulance pulled directly up to the plane the instant it came to a complete halt and was safe to do so. The captain had already advised the passengers to stay in their seats until further advised. The information given was that a fellow passenger was suffering what appeared to be a heart attack, and would be escorted directly to a waiting ambulance before everyone else could deplane.
Everyone, including Paul, stayed in their seats, although all eyes were on him and the doctor who was examining him.
“We should start oxygen therapy,” the doctor said, forehead creased in concern as Paul clutched his chest and left arm, his breathing short and uneven.
“We’ll do that, Doctor.” Two paramedics burst onto the plane, rushing directly over to Paul. He was quickly examined.
