Max stood. “We’ll continue this later.” Looking at Renee he said, “I should get back.”
She nodded. He left the house, got in the rental car and drove away, leaving Renee, Jennifer Upton, and the other CIA man at the safe house. Max needed to get back to the air show to meet with Wilkes. While he didn’t trust everything that Jennifer Upton had said, enough of it sounded right to him that he felt Senator Becker should be considered a confirmed target.
Chapter 26
Senator Becker walked up to the grassy area where Karen was busy preflighting her aircraft before the show. Karen walked around the right wing, checking for any popped rivets or loose fasteners. She checked the oil levels and landing gear, the prop and the engine, making sure that there was no foreign object debris anywhere in sight.
“You ready?” asked her father, looking stiff and artificial in his creased button-down shirt.
Her coach was nearby, still within earshot. “Could you give us a moment?”
The coach pointed at his watch. “Two minutes and you gotta start up.”
She nodded, mouthing, “Thanks.”
On the nearby taxiway, people were staring at both Karen and her father as they spoke, close and quiet beside her cockpit. Karen could see at least three security men, watching the crowd through their sunglasses.
“Have you decided what you’ll do?”
Her father nodded. “Yes. I’ve made arrangements to speak to someone representing the group. I think we’ll be able to work something out.”
“How can you trust them after what they’ve done? What makes you think they’ll ever leave you alone?”
“Don’t worry about that now.”
“You made a mistake. But you were trying to do the right thing. People will understand that. You might not be able to run for office again, but you don’t need that. Tell them you’re done, Dad. They’ll just keep coming after you for more.”
“I know, honey. You’re right.” He looked into her eyes, giving her that same warm smile that had soothed her as a child and annoyed her as an adult, when she realized he gave it to everyone on the campaign trail as well. “I’ll end it. Once and for all. Everything will be alright. Why are you crying? Honey… ”
She shook her head. “Dad, I can’t be doing this right now.”
“It’s fine. We’ll talk later.”
Karen nodded. She wiped away a tear and hugged her father.
“Now good luck today.”
Karen smiled and climbed into her plane.
Max walked under the air show entrance gate and towards the VIP tent area. Once there, he saw the other CIA guy, Mike, standing behind a vendor stand that was selling airplane vacation tours in New Zealand. A red “Display Closed” sign sat on the desk in front of him.
“How’s everything going?”
Mike looked up at Max and motioned him to come closer. He pulled out a drawer and handed him an earpiece, which Max promptly put in.
“Trent and Wilkes are both up on our closed circuit. FBI and local police have about twenty personnel doing roaming security, most of them close in to the senator. They’re both on separate comms freqs. They know we’re here. Your father opted not to wear one of these since he’ll be in the VIP tent. Have you heard the news on timing?”
“No, what?”
“Our SIGINT techies said they picked up some chatter. They think Williams has someone on the move right now.”
Max’s eyes went wide. “Shit. Where’s Wilkes?”
Mike pointed towards the grove of trees behind the VIP tent. Max walked over there, tapping his earpiece as he did. “Comms check. Max is up.”
“Trent hears you.”
Max could see Wilkes give him a thumbs-up as he approached. Caleb Wilkes had a pair of binoculars wrapped around his neck but was using them to scan the crowd, not the five aerobatics planes flying in formation above them.
Max filled Wilkes in on what he’d learned from Jennifer Upton.
Wilkes cursed softly. “This is crazy. I don’t care what the guy wants. We should move him. With this and the intel we received earlier, I think it’s now too much. I’ll get on the phone with my contacts at FBI and the Capitol Police. It might take a few minutes, but they’ll put the word out to the security he’s got stationed here. I expect they’ll insist on pulling him out. You and Trent keep your eyes open until that happens.”
Max said, “Trent, you got all that?”
“Copy.”
Max could see his father and the senator through a plastic window of the VIP tent. They were holding drinks and talking with their hands, telling stories to a captivated group around them. The senator looked completely unaware of the danger he was in.
Trent walked along the alleyways and vendor tents of the air show, scanning for anything out of place. It felt weird to be using these skills here. In Middle Eastern and African countries and, during the final years of his Army career, in the streets of Mexico, he had grown used to having to blend in. But operating at an air show in Wisconsin was a first. He’d spent more than half his adult life deployed overseas. Where had the time gone? Just yesterday he and his brother had been teenagers, having pushup contests in the backyard and watching old Rambo movies on the VHS.
The thought of Josh brought a sting of sadness. He missed his brother like hell.
He shook off the thought and continued to walk the air show exhibits near the VIP tent, evaluating each face in the crowd through his sunglasses. This wasn’t the kind of place where he wanted to get into a firefight. Way too many civilians around. He looked for possible IEDs, sniper locations, ambush spots. He profiled everyone he saw, paying particular attention to the younger, fitter men, anyone with Latin or Central Asian features. He also scanned anyone with clothing or bags capable of hiding a weapon.
He took a turn and saw Max walk by, evaluating the crowd in the same fashion. They gave each other barely perceptible nods and kept at it. Max looked tense. Trent had a hard time believing that the cartels would try something here. Especially against a US senator. Trent had worked in Mexico. He knew that the cartels could be brutally violent, but they also had rules. And one of them was not to poke the bear to the north. Assassinating a senator was definitely against the rules.
He checked his watch. Almost time for Karen Becker’s performance. After that, Senator Becker would leave the air show, and protecting him would get a lot easier.
Trent flexed his fingers together against his palms, his eyes darting from one end of the central plaza to the other. Everywhere he looked, there were people. The atmosphere was jovial. Kids licking ice cream cones and holding their grandparents’ hands.
Trent realized that the crowd was now moving en masse, migrating the hundred-yard distance from all the aircraft exhibits toward the sprawling grassy plain situated just next to the runway. People were setting up their lawn chairs and blankets, grabbing the empty spots and looking up at the sky, which was, for the moment, silent.
Today’s highlight was about to begin.
Karen Becker’s show.
A golf cart bumping along in the opposite direction of the crowd caught his eye. Two men wearing gray flight suits with plenty of pockets. Sunglasses and dark blue ball caps. One white guy, one looked… Indian or Pakistani, maybe? Both looked to be in their thirties or forties. Neither spoke, and both looked deadly serious. Their uniforms made them look like they were part of a performance crew — maybe maintenance men or part of the air show admin team? But something seemed off about them. They didn’t have those keycard IDs around their necks, for one. And he hadn’t seen any of the other aircraft maintenance crews driving in pairs, only by themselves.