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She returned to her laptop and got to work.
Justine pulled a U-turn and glanced in her rear-view mirror to see Tate and his team being forced into the back of police vehicles while the Chinese diplomats were released.
Mo-bot worked furiously as Justine drove toward the Expressway. They could see the southbound lanes starting to slow as the airport traffic backed up with travelers trying to make rush-hour flights. The northbound carriageway looked pretty clear, so if they had to go to JFK or LaGuardia they would have a reasonable run until they hit the city.
“Turn around again,” Mo-bot instructed. “Call Carver. Tell him to stop flight PY 984, leaving from Linden Airport.”
Sci took out his phone while Justine did exactly as instructed and turned south.
“There are three private jets leaving for China this evening. Two from JFK and one from LaGuardia. Both airports are on the other side of the river, which puts them at least two hours away at this time of day, but this fourth plane is heading for Seattle. No big deal except in the past six months it’s made fifteen Seattle-to-Beijing flights and back. And Linden Airport is only twenty minutes from here.” She typed another command and her eyes widened. “The aircraft is owned by Golden Journeys Aviation, which in turn is owned by Liu Investments. This is the one.”
“Secretary Carver,” Sci said. “Seymour Kloppenberg, sir … No, sir … Your friends ran into trouble. They were picked up by airport police. It seems the man we want pulled a switch and is leaving from Linden Airport. Flight PY 984. Our resident computer nerd wants you to stop it … Yes, sir.”
Mo-bot was glaring when Sci hung up.
“Computer nerd?” Her tone was frosty.
“I didn’t want to use any names.”
“You used your own,” she noted.
“I didn’t want to put you at risk,” he said with a cheeky smile.
“You just wanted to tell the Secretary of Defense I’m a nerd.” Mo-bot grunted her displeasure but said no more.
Justine took less-travelled back roads south and was soon on Edgar Road, cutting through the small town of Linden. The rush-hour traffic slowed to a crawl as they passed the stores and malls that lined both side of their route. The parking lots were filling up with vehicles and people crowded into stores. Justine found every minute they had to wait sheer torture.
Finally, they turned left onto the airport approach road.
“There!” Mo-bot announced, pointing.
Justine pulled over and the three of them got out to see a green Jeep Cherokee parked beside a Gulfstream jet. Three police vehicles surrounded the aircraft and Angel was being held down on the hood of one of them by two very large officers. He was about one hundred yards away, sufficiently close to register Justine, Sci, and Mo-bot watching him through the chain-link fence.
He frowned when his eyes met Justine’s, but she didn’t feel triumphant, just satisfied there was a chance Lewis’s killer would now face justice. There was a roar as a small commercial jet came in to land.
As its wheels touched the runway, Angel broke free of his captors and tried to make a run for it. One of the cops pulled his Taser and shot the big man in the back. He went down,convulsing. The other officer walked over, removed the barbs and handcuffed him.
“Well, I’m glad I got to see it,” Sci remarked with an unmistakable air of satisfaction.
“You did more than see it,” Justine replied. “This wouldn’t have happened without the two of you.”
“I think she’s right,” he observed.
“We just did what any good citizens would have done,” Mo-bot replied, and Justine got the distinct impression the two of them were mocking her.
“Well, if you can’t take a compliment,” she countered.
“That was a compliment?” Sci asked.
Exasperated, Justine turned away and headed for the Nissan.
“Did you know that was a compliment?” Sci asked Mo-bot.
“Quit it, Kloppenberg,” Mo-bot told him. “She’s taking it to heart. Come on, Justine, we were just fooling around. We love you, kid.”
“I know,” she replied, turning back with a big smile on her face.
“She suckered us,” Mo-bot said to Sci.
