“It’s not funny.”
“Sure, it is,” Dino said. He swung onto the drive to the international terminal and screeched to a halt. Andy Anderson came running to meet them.
“I’ve alerted airport security,” he said. “Here comes their chief, now.”
A man in a dark suit approached. “Lieutenant Bacchetti? I’m Sam Warren, head of airport security. Tell me what I can do to help.”
“You’ve seen the pictures?”
Warren nodded. “They’re being distributed to my people now, but from what I’ve heard of the timing, these two guys are already past security and into the departure area. We’re talking about twenty-five gates, and there’s at least one flight leaving from every one of them between now and midnight.”
“Shut them down,” Dino said.
“Beg pardon?”
“No flight leaves until we’ve searched it.”
“Jesus, Lieutenant, I can’t put a hold on twenty-five flights. Do you have any idea what that would do the system? People will be missing connecting flights all over Europe. It can’t be done.”
“Yeah, what happens when it snows?”
“Well, there are flight delays, of course.”
Dino pointed to a window. “Man, look at that snow! It’s a regular blizzard!”
“Lieutenant…”
“Listen, Sam, we’ve got two murderers on the loose in your airport, with six killings between them. Are you going to be responsible for letting them get out of the country?”
Warren said nothing; he was thinking about it.
“Andy,” Dino said, “how many people we got here?”
“About a dozen; there are fifty more on the way, but the traffic…”
“Yeah, yeah, tell me about it. Let’s do the flights to Germany first. Have you checked the reservations?”
“There’s no Menzies or Hausman on any departing flight,” Anderson said.
“So they’ve got backup passports; that makes it harder.”
“Andy,” Stone said, “check for the initials H.M.; start with the flights to Germany.”
“Good idea,” Dino said. “Do it, Andy. Call me when you’ve got an answer.”
“All right,” Warren said. “I’ll do it.” He spoke into a handheld radio. “Base, this is Warren.”
“Yes, chief?”
“I want a code red on all departing international flights. Nothing moves from a gate until I say so.”
“Roger, chief; what about taxiing aircraft?”
“Stop and hold everything international on my authority. I’ll get back to you.”
“Follow me,” he said to Dino.
The four men began jogging toward the security gates.
Anderson peeled off and picked up an emergency phone.
“Where are the rest of my people?” Dino asked Warren.
“They’re combing the departure lounges, trying to get a match on the pictures.”
Warren got them through the security barriers, and they ran toward the departure areas.
“Let’s go directly to the airplanes, Dino,” Stone said.
“I’ve already got people at the security barriers,” Warren said. “If they’re in here, they can’t get out, except on an airplane, and we’ve fixed that. The flights to Germany leave from the next four gates; if they haven’t boarded yet, then we should check the lounges.”
They entered the first lounge, where boarding was being announced. Warren took the microphone from a uniformed woman and announced that boarding would be delayed for five minutes.
“Dino,” Stone said, “give me your backup piece.”
Dino reached down to an ankle holster and handed Stone a snub-nosed.38 revolver; Stone tucked it into his belt. They began walking rapidly up and down the rows of waiting travelers. Stone looked at every male face, looked for short-haired young men, looked for Herbert Mitteldorfer.
Andy Anderson ran up to them, breathless. “Lieutenant,” he said, “there’s a Heinz Müller on the flight two gates down. He’s the only male with those initials on a flight to Germany.”
Dino grabbed Sam Warren and beckoned to Stone. “Let’s go!” he yelled.
63
THE FOUR MEN RAN DOWN THE HALLWAY, shoving travelers out of the way, and burst into the second departure lounge. It was empty, except for a young woman at the ticket counter.
Warren ran up to her. “How long has the flight been gone?” he demanded, flashing a badge.
She looked at her watch. “Twenty minutes,” she said.
“Oh, no.” Stone groaned.
Warren grabbed a telephone and punched in a number. “Tower? This is Sam Warren, head of security; let me speak to a supervisor.” He waited for a moment. “This is Sam Warren in security; I’m at Gate Eighteen; Flight 104 to Berlin taxied from the Gate Twenty minutes ago. Is it still on the ground?” He waited again. “Great! Have it return to the gate; tell the pilot to announce a mechanical problem that will take only a few minutes to fix; tell the passengers they’ll have to get off the airplane, but they can leave their belongings.” He hung up. “It’s on the way back to the gate,” he said to the group. “I’m going to have all the passengers deplane, and we can check them as they get off.” He turned to the woman at the desk. “I want you to check them off the manifest as they leave the airplane. Don’t let anybody get past you.”
“Yes, sir,” she replied.
The four men caught their breath while they waited for the airplane to return to the gate. Dino dispatched Andy Anderson to have his other men check the other German flights.
“I hope to God this is the flight,” Dino said, pacing up and down the lounge.
“He’s stuck with his initials so far; why should he change now?” Stone said.
More minutes passed. “Here comes the airplane,” Sam Warren said, pointing out the window.
Anderson came back. “The other German flights are clean,” he said. “If this isn’t the one, then well have to search all the international flights.”
Warren got on his radio. “Base, this is Warren; you can release all the flights to Germany, except 104; we’re checking that now.”
Other cops arrived and took up positions at the gate. Stone and Dino walked down the flexible ramp and were waiting at the aircraft door when it was opened from inside by a flight attendant.
Stone and Dino took up positions on each of the two aisles and searched the faces of the passengers making their way toward the exit.
Stone emptied his mind of all the faces except those of young men with very short hair and small middle-aged men. He had the feeling he was very close to Mitteldorfer, and he watched each passenger’s face for signs of tension or recognition. Mostly, he saw fatigue and annoyance; then he locked eyes momentarily with a young man. He was short, stocky, wearing baggy black clothing, and, disappointingly, he had long hair. He looked away from Stone and continued up the aisle.
Stone had shifted his attention to passengers farther down the aisle when he heard a woman scream and a scuffle behind him. He was turning to see what the matter was when he experienced a hard blow to his left shoulder. His initial reaction was surprise at how much pain the blow was causing. He continued turning to find the young man in black with his fist raised above his head. He tried to raise his left arm to ward off the blow and, to his shock, could not. Everything was happening in slow motion.
He saw now that the young man held a small knife in his raised fist, and he was bringing it down toward Stone’s face. As he did, the young man suddenly jerked and fell sideways, as if someone had yanked him. Blood spurted from his neck, and only then did Stone hear the gunshot. He turned to see Dino, his arm outstretched, a pistol in his hand.
Passengers were screaming; some threw themselves to the floor, others rushed past or over them, trying desperately to get off the airplane. Dino fought his way across the cabin, gun in hand, pointed down at the prostrate figure of the young man, who was twitching and grimacing. Beside him, in the aisle, Stone saw a bloody kitchen knife with a four-inch blade.