“Hang on.” Dino put him on hold for a minute, then came back. “He’s still in Virginia, but he’s moved south to a spot not far from the workplace of your buddy Lance Cabot.”
“That sounds like Ed Rawls’s house.”
“Is Ed down there?”
“No, but he’s headed that way. Thanks.” Stone hung up and called Rawls.
Rawls was packing when Stone called. “Hello?”
“Ed, Dino’s got a fix on Macher, and he’s at a location not far from Langley. That sound familiar?”
“You bet your sweet ass, it does. I gotta run.” He called the airport and ordered up their Cessna 182, then finished packing. He called a local cab to take him to the airport.
Stone called Dino.
“Bacchetti.”
“I just got a call from Ed Rawls. Somebody has disconnected the alarm at his house in Virginia. I told him about your hit on Macher’s phone, and he’s on the way down there. I don’t want him to walk in on them. Can you call the cop shop down there and get them to check the house?”
“Listen, I can’t call out the local gendarmerie in some Podunk place in another state, just because Ed Rawls has a hair up his ass. Does he have a security system?”
“Yes, and it went off this morning.”
“If they get an alarm anomaly, somebody’ll check it out. I’m not going to get involved.”
“Do the Arlington police know where Macher is now?”
“He was in his office an hour ago, when they left.”
“Okay, thanks.” Stone hung up and Googled Macher’s company, then called.
“EMServices,” a woman said.
“Erik Macher, please.”
“He’s out at the moment. Who’s calling?”
“A friend. When do you expect him back?”
“It may be a day or two, he said.”
“Thanks.” Stone hung up and called Rawls back.
“Rawls.”
“Macher’s office says he’s gone for a couple of days. Does he know about your house?”
“He certainly does. He had surveillance on it for several days.”
“What’s the nearest airport?”
“I’m flying into Manassas. They’re picking me up in half an hour to go to Islesboro Airport.”
“Tell you what, I’ll fly into Manassas, too. Meet me there.”
“Okay. Whoever lands first can just wait.”
“Right. Are you armed?”
“You bet your ass.”
“I’m not licensed down there.”
“The rural law tends to look kindly on that sort of thing if you’re licensed anywhere at all.”
“Okay, Ed, I’ll see you when I see you.” They hung up.
Stone buzzed Joan.
“Yes, boss?”
“I’ve got to go somewhere. Please call the airport and have the airplane brought up and refueled, pronto, and tell Fred I need a ride.”
“Will do.”
Stone hung up and went upstairs to pack a bag. Fred drove him to the airport, and he filed a flight plan for Manassas on the way. The airplane was on the ramp when he arrived; he did his usual preflight inspection, then ran through the cockpit checklist and got a clearance. That done, he started the engines, finished his checklist, and got permission to taxi. There were a few corporate jets ahead of him, and it took another half hour to get off the ground.
The flight time was a little over an hour, so he stayed fairly low, at 20,000 feet, instead of climbing to 41,000. It burned more fuel down there, but it saved time on ascent and descent. The weather was clear at both ends, so he anticipated no delays.
55
Jake read one of Rawls’s books for a while but felt antsy. It was nice outside, so he went for a little walk. The first nip of autumn was in the air, and there was a hint of color in the trees around the house.
As he strolled around the ample backyard he noticed a pile of dirt behind the garage. Closer inspection revealed a brand-new propane tank set in the hole, and an old, rusty one on the ground beside it. The new tank appeared to be connected, and the heat was on in the house. A backhoe stood beside the hole. Apparently, the tank had been installed and the backhoe operator had left until the plumber arrived to make the connection.
He strolled on until he came to a barbed-wire fence that seemed to separate Rawls’s property from the farm beyond. A few dairy cattle grazed beyond that. He felt a hunger pang and wished Macher would hurry up.
On his way back, he inspected the garage, found it unlocked and an old Mercedes inside. He thought it would be a good idea to get his own car out of sight, so he moved it into the garage and closed the doors.
Macher was nearly to the house when his cell rang.
“Yes?”
It was his secretary. “Someone called for you half an hour ago.”
“Who?”
“He said he was a friend, wouldn’t leave a name.”
“If he calls again, give him my cell number.”
“As you wish.” He hung up. That wouldn’t have been the police, since they had already visited, and a client would have given his name. He considered Barrington as a possibility, but dismissed it as being too far-fetched. He drove on toward his destination.
Stone got the Manassas automated weather: the wind was from the south at ten knots, so he called the tower and requested runway 16 and set the airplane down there. He rolled out and taxied back to the FBO, expecting Rawls to come out to greet him, but he didn’t show. Probably still in the air.
Inside he requested fuel and hangar space and rented a car. Half an hour later a Cessna 182 rolled up to the FBO, cut its engine, and Rawls got out. Stone met him on the ramp and put his bags into the car, along with his own. Rawls headed inside for the head, then came back and got into the car.
“I’ll need directions,” Stone said, and Rawls gave them.
“What’s your plan when we get there, Ed?”
“Don’t have one,” Rawls replied. “I don’t think we’ll just walk in, though. Why don’t we stop for a late lunch, then take our time. I’d rather approach the place after dark. If Herman is there, he’ll have a light on.”
“Makes sense.”
Rawls guided Stone to a country restaurant, and they had a leisurely lunch.
“We could pay Lance Cabot a surprise call,” Rawls said. “The Agency is ten minutes from here, and we go right past it.”
“I don’t think Lance and I have anything in particular to say to each other right now.” He told Rawls about Lance’s disinterest in connecting the CIA explosives to Erik Macher.
“That sounds like Lance,” Rawls said. “There was nothing in it for him, so he said no.”
Macher pulled up to the house in the late afternoon. He didn’t see Jake’s car, so he approached the house with caution. Jake saw him through a window and opened a door to admit him.
“Where’s your car?” Macher asked.
“I put it in the garage.”
“Is there room for mine?”
“No, Rawls’s car is taking up the other space.”
Macher parked next to the house. “Have you had a look around?”
“Yeah,” Jake said, “I took a walk.”
“Anything unusual going on?”
“There’s a backhoe parked behind the garage, waiting to bury a new propane tank, apparently just installed, so tomorrow somebody might turn up to fill the hole. I don’t think he’ll need to speak to us. Did you bring food?”
“Yep, booze, too. I could use a drink.”
“I could use one, too,” Jake said, “and something to eat.”
They went inside the house, collecting Macher’s bag on the way. Jake saw the explosives in the box in the trunk. “Why did you bring the plastique?”
“I wanted to get it out of the office. The cops have searched it once, but I moved it to a dumpster. You never know when they’ll come back.”