“Ahhh,” Lance said. “Maybe they’re really moving him.”
The van turned north on Route 17.
“Yep,” Stone said.
A few miles along, the van turned right at the airport sign.
“Okay, which FBO?” Lance asked.
“The big ones are Atlantic, Millionaire, First, and Signature,” Stone said. “They’re all on the west side of the field.”
“They’re turning into Millionaire,” Lance said.
“Better stop here. They’ll check IDs at the gate. Driver, continue on to Atlantic Aviation.”
“Why?” Lance asked.
“Because I can get us onto the field there,” Stone said. He got out his NYPD badge and his Teterboro ID card, and in a moment they were being buzzed through the gate to the ramp. “Turn off your lights, turn right, and drive slowly south until you get to the Millionaire ramp.”
They drove on for a hundred yards.
“Stop,” Lance said, pointing. “Only one airplane ready for takeoff.” He dug a pair of small binoculars out of the glove compartment and trained them on the airplane. “Can’t see the registration number.”
“Just wait,” Stone said. “The airplane will turn right as it leaves the ramp, and you’ll be able to see it.”
The door to the jet closed, and it began to taxi. As Stone had predicted, it turned right.
“Got it,” Lance said, jotting down the number. “Don’t move the car, just let them taxi right past us.” He got out his cell phone and pressed a speed-dial number. “This is Echo 4141,” he said. “I need the current flight plan for the following aircraft registration number.” He read out the tail number. “It will be activated at Teterboro, New Jersey, momentarily. I need the destination and any stops in between.” He put a hand over the phone. “They’re logging on the FAA’s Air Traffic Control computer now,” he said to the backseat. “Yes? Thank you. I’d like a trace on the aircraft in case it changes destinations, and I’d like to know what time it is projected to land. Right.” He hung up. “Their destination is Santa Fe, New Mexico,” he said.
“I wonder why Santa Fe?” Holly asked.
“Trini will blend in with the large Hispanic population there. It sounds like a final destination, too. If they were going to put him on a commercial flight, they’d go to Albuquerque. Santa Fe has few commercial flights, and none late at night.”
“Can you get someone to cover the arrival and follow them to their destination?” Stone asked.
“I’m afraid I can’t stretch my authority that far, since I’m based in New York. I’m not even sure we have anybody on the ground in Santa Fe. Maybe Albuquerque, though.”
They watched as the jet took off and turned to the southwest.
“We may as well go home,” Lance said.
“Did they give you an ETA for Santa Fe?” Stone asked.
“They’ve flight-planned for four hours and ten minutes,” Lance replied.
Stone looked at his watch.
“It’s two hours earlier in Santa Fe. You know somebody out there?” Holly asked.
“I used to, but it’s been a long time,” Stone said.
“It’s worth a try,” Holly said.
“What the hell, I’ll try,” Stone said, getting out his cell phone. “I did some work once with a lawyer out there. If he remembers me, maybe he’ll help.” He dialed information. “A number in Santa Fe, New Mexico, for the residence of Ed Eagle,” he said. “Please connect me.” While the number rang, he turned to Holly. “You really want to chase him down?”
“More than anything.”
“Hello,” a deep voice said at the other end of the phone.