Garvey looked at the Philly airport cop.
“Sir, I am advising you that you have the right to remain silent . . .”
Garvey, elbows on his knees, buried his face in his hands.
“He said they’d kill my family.”
“. . . you have the right to an attorney . . .”
VII
[ONE]
Philadelphia Northeast Airport
Monday, November 17, 2:35 P.M.
Nesfood International’s twin-engine Learjet—with Vice President (sales/marketing) Chad Nesbitt, Matt Payne, and Amanda Law aboard—had been descending through a thick layer of gray clouds for nearly ten minutes when it finally broke through the bottom.
Matt looked up from the chess game on his laptop computer. He had been repeatedly toggling back and forth, playing the game, then going to the files on Maggie McCain when he thought of something, then going to the game.
Back and forth—but getting nowhere.
He saw that Chad, in a big reclining seat close to the cockpit bulkhead, was yawning and stretching after waking from a nap. Matt glanced at Amanda, who sat beside him on the leather couch reading a medical journal, then turned and looked out his window.
Visibility was getting somewhat better, but the day had a gray winter gloom to it. Even the fresh snow on the ground, reflecting the cloud cover, looked pallid.
Depressing, he thought.
Which is fitting considering why we’re back.
They were coming up the Delaware River, about to overfly the big international airport as they approached Philadelphia. He now could see more of the city than he expected—its sections spreading out in street grids of gray—and his eye automatically started to pick out landmarks.
There were the soaring glass-sheathed skyscrapers of Center City. In their shadow, he saw the statue of Philly’s founder atop City Hall—Billy Penn is probably freezing his bronze balls off—and then he picked up the distinct shape of the Roundhouse near the Ben Franklin Bridge and, in the distance just beyond that, the Hops Haus high-rise condominiums in Northern Liberties.
Farther up he could make out the rougher areas of Kensington and Frankford, their lines of row houses gap-toothed where dilapidated properties had been torn down. The vacant lots, Matt well knew, were thick with trash and dead weeds under the coat of snow.
And very likely a dead body or two.
This is the polar opposite view of the sunny tropics we saw after taking off in the Keys.
How long is it going to take for us to get back?
He felt Amanda, and the warmth of her body, lean into him.
He turned and kissed her lightly on the forehead.
She smiled as she kept looking out the window at the city.
She’s clearly got a lot on her mind.
After a moment he looked back out. He began to make out the long crossed strips of asphalt that were the Northeast Airport’s runways.
As the aircraft slowed and the cabin filled with the hum of the hydraulics lowering the landing gear, he said, “We’re home.”
“I love this city,” he heard her say, her tone wistful, “but I think I liked the view earlier better.”
Matt nodded. “I know exactly what you mean.”