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“It’s not going to fly off.”
“Is it yours? Do you own it?”
He shook his head. “I’m only a flyer for hire.”
“I see.”
“No, you don’t, but it doesn’t matter.” He continued without a segue. “If the fog clears, I’ll get somebody to bring me out here tomorrow. I have to take pictures to include in my report.”
“To?”
“The nearest FAA office. Depending on whether or not the agent I draw is a real hard-ass, this probably won’t be investigated. No deaths, no injuries. Very little to report, right?”
Again she got the feeling that he was fishing and was curious to hear how she would answer. She fiddled with her phone to avoid looking directly at him. “I don’t know anything about FAA regulations.”
“I know everything.”
She dropped the phone back into her pocket, then gave him a slow once-over, starting at his uncombed hair and working all the way down to his scuffed boots. His jaw was bristly. He wasn’t wearing a uniform, only jeans and a battered bomber jacket. The shirt underneath it looked slept in.
There was a nickname for his sort of cargo pilot, but she couldn’t recall it offhand.
Meeting his cool gaze again, she said, “I rather imagine you also know how to get around FAA regulations, Mr. Mallett.”
“Lucky for you. Nobody else would’ve risked flying here tonight.”
“Why did you?”
He just looked at her, his face a mask. Then, “About that lift?”
“Yes. If we can find our way back to my car.”
“I charted the layout of the airfield. The road you were on dead-ends at the southeast corner of the property.”
He turned away from her and walked back toward the airplane. He disappeared around the tree into which it had nosed and reappeared with a leather duffel bag slung over his shoulder and a padlocked black box. He gave her back her flashlight, then handed her the box. “Delivered.”
She hugged the box against her chest. “Thank you. Truly.”
“We’ll complete the paperwork when we get to the airfield office. And I accept gratuities. Truly.”
He returned the gun to its zippered compartment in his bag, then took a flashlight from it and switched it on. He motioned with his chin. “Back the way you came.” He went past her, assuming the role of leader. Over his shoulder, he said, “Stick close. If you fall behind and get lost in the fog, you’re on your own. I won’t come looking.”
She believed him.
2:16 a.m.
The two men who were hunkered down in the underbrush a few yards away from the wreckage waited until the pilot and doctor were swallowed up by the fog. The cold haze had helped conceal them, but it was also making a complicated situation just that much more difficult.
When it should have been so easy.
That’s what the boss was going to say when Goliad called in to report this royal fuckup.
“What now?” his partner whispered.
“Plan B.”
“What’s plan B?”
“For me to know. Come on.” As Goliad stood up, he looked down with loathing at the man beside him, whom he would gladly throttle here and now. The boss had told him to bring someone with him, someone disposable, to be the fall guy if something should go wrong. Timmy had been suggested.
