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Ollie said, “I was scared out of my mind until I remembered that. We’ll start DNA testing, see if there’s a match in the database. I’ll get back to you on that as soon as I can.
“I’ve got some answers on the Gulfstream, Savich. It’s owned by an LLC incorporated in Maryland, nominally owned by an offshore investment firm. The owners don’t want to be found. And we can’t track the Gulfstream’s location by its tail number—they’ve turned off the automatic tracking signal. All we can do is estimate when they’ll land.”
Savich said, “Keep working on who owns it, Ollie. That’s key.”
Savich punched off, sat back in the plush leather seat. There was only a faint hum from the plane’s engines. It was like flying in a private mansion with no noise from the neighbors. He looked at Mason, seated diagonally from him. He was toying with Elizabeth Beatrice’s wedding ring, focused on it really. What was he thinking?
He said, “Mason, do you know if Shaker owns any other properties close to Las Vegas? Maybe with a private airstrip?”
“I should have thought of that. They might not land at the airport. No, I don’t know if he does. I’ll call Gunther and find out.” He pulled out his cell phone and made the call. “Gunther, I need to know as soon as possible if Rule Shaker has access to any property with a private landing strip anywhere near Las Vegas.” He listened a moment, then, “We’re still in the air. They should be landing at the airport soon. If they don’t, we’ll need to figure out where they landed. Get me the information as quickly as you can.”
Mason pressed the cockpit button. “Ellis, how far are we from Las Vegas?”
“About thirty minutes, give or take. We pushed to maximum air speed, as you asked, and we got some unexpected tailwinds.”
Mason said, “Gunther should get back to me by then. No telling if he can help.”
Ramsey said, “Has the FBI field office in Las Vegas made it to the airport?”
Savich was forced to smile. “It’s a resident office, only one agent. Don’t laugh—his name is Agent Poker. I always wondered if that was why he was assigned to Las Vegas, but no, he requested the assignment. He’s got the local cops involved, and they’ll be at Jet Aeronautics when the plane lands. He won’t approach if there’s a chance that it would turn it into a hostage situation. He’ll wait for us. No one on board knows they’re waiting for them.”
Ramsey excused himself, checked in with Mason’s two bodyguards, who were sandwiching the sleeping twins, both of them reading magazines. He poured cups of coffee and a soda for Emma, grabbed sandwiches and chips to pass around.
Fifteen minutes later, Mason’s cell rang. He listened, frowned. “Thank you, Gunther. I’ll call you back in five minutes.”
He raised his voice, “Rule Shaker owns a Bombardier he keeps hangared in Las Vegas and a number of properties nearby, rents others. None of them near Las Vegas has a private airstrip.”
With luck it would be over soon after they landed in Las Vegas. Sherlock and Molly would be safe. Yet at the back of his mind Savich wondered if it had all been too easy. The kidnappers had to know eventually they’d be tracked to Las Vegas, though not so quickly. Mason hadn’t waited long to call Molly’s phone, and they’d been lucky enough to draw all the right conclusions. Had they planned to have the jet take off again, and see to it they couldn’t be followed from the airport?
Savich heard Mason say to Elizabeth Beatrice, “I’ll wager this isn’t what you expected.”
She lightly rubbed her hand over his thigh. “What I expected, Mason, was that being your wife would mean never being bored. It seems I was right. We’re going to nail this miserable person, you’ll see.”
Savich’s cell phone rang out “Smoke on the Water” again. “Savich, it’s Poker. I’m at airport flight control. The Gulfstream hasn’t even begun an approach yet. It’s not on their radar. They radioed the flight crew to ask if they’ve got any problems, got no answer. They’re saying it means they’re not going to be landing here at all.”
