“I don’t remember.”
“How did you get from the airport to New York?”
“In a limo.”
“Did you go through a tunnel?”
“No, we went over a bridge, the big one.”
“The George Washington Bridge?”
“That’s the one.”
“Did you land at Teterboro?”
“Yes, that’s it!”
“When you got out of the airplane you were at an FBO. Do you remember its name?”
“You mean, like a terminal?”
“Like that, but for private aircraft.”
“What are some FBOs?”
“Jet Aviation, Meridian Aviation, Atlantic Aviation, Furst Avia…”
“Atlantic, that’s it!”
“Is that where he always lands?”
“I guess so.”
“Is there anything else you haven’t told me about how Max travels?”
“I don’t think so.”
“How’s your rehearsal going?”
“We’re just reading through the script right now. Gotta run!” She hung up.
Stone got on his computer and went to the FAA aircraft registry, then typed in “Max Long” in the search engine. Nothing. Must be owned by a corporation. Stone called Cantor.
“Cantor.”
“It’s Stone. Carrie forgot to mention that Max Long owns an airplane, a King Air.”
“I thought he was broke.”
“Me, too. He usually lands at Teterboro, at Atlantic Aviation.”
“Got a tail number?”
“That would be too easy.”
“I’m on it.” Cantor hung up.
Stone was left, tapping his foot. Twenty minutes later, Cantor called back.