“Yes, Melanie.”
“Tucker Case on the phone, Mary Jean. He’s been calling all day. I’ve tried to put him off, but he says that people are going to die if you don’t talk to him.”
“Does he sound drunk?”
“No, Ma’am. He sounds serious.”
Mary Jean took a deep breath and looked up at the Monet hanging on the far wall. Twenty million dollars, depreciated as office furnishings, ap-preciated to twice its value and donated to a museum as a donation write-off at full value, with no capital gains, and there
it would hang until the day of her death when it would go to the museum.
And it also matched the couch.
“Put him through,” she said.
“Mary Jean, it’s Tucker.”
“I was just thinking of you. How are you, sweetie?”
“Mary Jean, I’m stone sober and I need you to listen.”
“Go on, Tucker. I got more ears than a cornfield in June.”
“First, I know that there were never any criminal charges filed, and I don’t blame you for trying to get me out of the way. But I could really use some help.”
Mary Jean blanched. “Can you hold one second, darlin? Thanks.” She pushed the hold button and then the intercom. “Melanie, dear, would you mind bringing me a couple of number five Valiums and a little glass of juice? Thank you.” She clicked back to Tuck. “Go on, honey.”
And Tuck did, for fifteen minutes, and when he finished, Mary Jean said, “Well, that’s just not right. That’s just terrible.”
“Yes, it is, Mary Jean.”
“We just can’t have that,” she said. “You give Melanie your number there. I’ll see what I can do.”
“Mary Jean, I really appreciate this. If I could go to anyone else, I would.”
“And hurt my feelings? No, you wouldn’t. Tucker Case, I’ve been selling the power to change yourself for forty years. Now, if I don’t believe in the power of redemption, then I’m guilty of false advertising, aren’t I? You sit tight, now. Bye.”
She clicked the intercom. “Melanie, get me Jake Skye on the line, please. Thank you, dear.”
61
Roundhouse Aloha
Tuck stood at the arrival gate amid a group of Hawaiian college students wearing grass skirts and sarongs and festooned with leis they were draping on tourists as they came out of the tunnel from the 747. Tuck spotted Jake Skye well before he came out of the tunnel. He was a head taller than most of the tourists and one of the few who had a tan. Tuck waved to him and Jake tossed his head to show he’d seen him. He came out grinning with his hand extended.
Tuck smiled and hit Jake with a roundhouse to the jaw that knocked him back into a group of pseudo hula girls. Jake apologized to the girls and rubbed his jaw as he turned to Tuck.
“We done?”
“I guess so,” Tucker said. He knew that Jake would never apologize for selling him out.
Jake fell in beside Tuck and they walked through the terminal. “I didn’t see that coming. You’ve changed, buddy.”
“I guess so,” said Tuck. “Thanks for coming.”
“I’m just here to take you home.” Jake pulled two airline ticket folders out of his shirt pocket. “Mary Jean says you can bring your new girlfriend.”
“I’m not going home, Jake.”
“You’re not?”
“No. I need your help, but I’m not going back to Houston.”
“There’s a stop in San Francisco. You can get off there.”
“No. I’ve got some things I need to do.”
“Buy me a drink.” Jake turned and walked into an open cocktail lounge where a twenty-foot waterfall fell over black lava rock among
a forest of bromeliads and orchids. “Cool airport,” Jake said, pulling a stool up to the bar. “You ever think about living in the tropics?”
Tuck whipped around on his stool and Jake held up his hands in surrender.
“Just kidding. Okay, what’s the story?”
This time Tuck told the story leaving out none of the details, and to his credit, Jake did not call him crazy at the end. “So what do you think you can do?”
“Well, first, I thought you could hack the doctor’s computer and erase the database. It might slow up the process if he has to do all the tissue types again.”
Jake was shaking his head, “Can’t do it, buddy. Even if I wanted to.”
“Why not? I’ve got the password.”
Jake drained off the last of his third Mai Tai. “He’s on a satellite uplink net. The connection only goes two ways if he wants it to. I won’t be able to get in. Besides, it’s not in the mission parameters. I’m supposed to come here, get you, and take you home. Period.”
Tuck dug a slip of paper from his back pocket and unfolded it. “I’ve got these. Maybe they can help.”
Jake was still shaking his head, but he stopped when he saw the numbers written on the paper. “Where did you get those numbers?”
“They were on the bottom of a desk drawer in Curtis’s clinic.”
“They’re not computer codes, Tuck. You see those letters at the end? BSI? You know what that is?”
Tuck shook his head.
“Banc Suisse Italiano. Those are Swiss bank account numbers.” Jake tried to snatch the paper and Tuck pulled it out of his reach.
“You willing to expand the mission parameters?” Tuck said.
Jake was staring at the paper in Tuck’s hand. “How much?”
“Half.”
Jake scratched his three-day growth of beard. “And they were getting how much per kidney?”
“Half a mil.”
Jake cringed, then relaxed and put his hand on Tuck’s shoulder. “What did you have in mind, partner?”
“I want to get the Shark People off the island.”
“How many? Three hundred and change? Hire a ship.”
“I want to go sooner. I want to fly them off.”
Jake smiled. The wheels were working now. “It’s going to take a big plane: 747 or L-1011. That island got enough runway for something
that size?”
“Can we get something that size?”
“Not legally,” Jake said.
“I’m not worried about legally. I’m worried about logistically.”
Jake stood up. “I’m not flying it. I get you a plane, I get half. Deal?”
“I’ll give you one of the account numbers as soon as we get the plane. You take your chances whether there’s money in it or not. If I don’t make it, and the money’s in my account, you’re screwed.”
Jake considered it, then nodded. “I can live with that. Let’s go watch the big planes take off.”
Tuck was amazed at the way Jake’s mind worked. The second he’d accepted that they were going to steal a 747, it became a problem, and when it came to solving problems, Jake was the best. They stood on an open walkway that overlooked the tarmac, watching the 747s taxiing into the terminal.
“The best thing,” Jake said, “about stealing a 747 is that no one assumes that anyone is crazy enough to try it.”
“I thought people tried to steal them all the time. It’s a league sport in the Middle East, isn’t it?”
“They hijack, they don’t steal. With hijacking, you have to take a pilot with you.” Jake pointed to a row of planes docked at the terminal by rolling walkways. “These guys? Out of the question,” he said.
“Why?”
“Because they’ve just come in and they’re low on fuel or they’re being fueled to take off again, and most of the time, if you can get in them, there’s a crew on board.” He pointed to some jets parked near hangars at the far side of the airfield. “Those are our babies. They’ve got fuel, but they’re waiting for a crew and passengers. After midnight nothing goes out of this airport except FedEx. The advantage of a vacation destination. Nobody wants to fly in our out at night.”
The planes were a good half a mile away. “That’s a long way to go across an airfield without the tower seeing us and calling security. And we have to drive a ramp over to it to get inside.”
“No, we don’t. There’s an emergency escape hatch for the pilots in the roof over the cockpit.”
“That’s four stories up. How are you going to get up to it?”