The Meigs Field staff were certain they had never seen Holly Johnson or any of the four kidnappers at any time. Certainly not on Monday, certainly not around one o'clock. They were adamant about it. They weren't overdoing it. They were just sure about it, with the quiet certainty of people who spend their working days being quietly sure about things, like sending small planes up into the busiest air lanes on the planet.
And there were no suspicious takeoffs from Meigs Field, nowhere between noon and, say, three o'clock. That was clear. The paperwork was explicit on the subject. The three agents were out of there as briskly as they had entered. The tower staff nodded to themselves and forgot all about them before they were even back in their cars in the small parking lot.
"OK, square one," McGrath said. "You guys go check out this dentist situation up in Wilmette. I've got things to do. And I've got to put in a call to Webster. They must be climbing the walls down there in D.C."
SEVENTEEN HUNDRED AND two miles from Meigs Field the young man in the woods wanted instructions. He was a good agent, well trained, but as far as undercover work was concerned he was new and relatively inexperienced. Demand for undercover operators was always increasing. The Bureau was hard put to fill all the slots. So people like him got assigned. Inexperienced people. He knew as long as he always remembered he didn't have all the answers, he'd be OK. He had no ego problem with it. He was always willing to ask for guidance. He was careful. And he was realistic. Realistic enough to know he was now in over his head. Things were turning bad in a way which made him sure they were about to explode into something much worse. How, he didn't know. It was just a feeling. But he trusted his feelings. Trusted them enough to stop and turn around before he reached his special tree. He breathed hard and changed his mind and set off strolling back the way he had come.
WEBSTER HAD BEEN waiting for McGrath's call. That was clear. McGrath got him straightaway, like he'd been sitting there in his big office suite just waiting for the phone to ring.
"Progress, Mack?" Webster asked.
"Some," McGrath said. "We know exactly what happened. We got it all on a security video in a dry cleaner's store. She went in there at twelve-ten. Came out at twelve-fifteen. There were four guys. Three on the street, one in a car. They grabbed her."
"Then what?" Webster asked.
"They were in a stolen sedan," McGrath said. "Looks like they killed the owner to get it. Drove her five miles south, torched the sedan. Along with the owner in the trunk. They burned him alive. He was a dentist, name of Rubin. What they did with Holly, we don't know yet."
In Washington, Harland Webster was silent for a long time.
"Is it worth searching the area?" he asked, eventually.
McGrath's turn to be quiet for a second. Unsure of the implications. Did Webster mean search for a hideout, or search for another body?
"My gut says no," he said. "They must know we could search the area. My feeling is they moved her somewhere else. Maybe far away."
There was silence on the line again. McGrath could hear Webster thinking.
"I agree with you, I guess," Webster said. "They moved her out. But how, exactly? By road? By air?"
"Not air," McGrath said. "We covered commercial flights yesterday. We just hit a private field. Nothing doing."
"What about a helicopter?" Webster said. "In and out, secretly?"
"Not in Chicago, chief," McGrath said. "Not right next door to O'Hare. More radar here than the Air Force has got. Any unauthorized choppers in and out of here, we'd know about it."
"OK," Webster said. "But we need to get this under control. Abduction and homicide, Mack, it's not giving me a good feeling. You figure a second stolen vehicle? Rendezvoused with the stolen sedan?"
"Probably," McGrath said. "We're checking now."
"Any ideas who they were?" Webster said.
"No," McGrath told him. "We got pretty good pictures off the video. Computer enhancements. We'll download them to you right away. Four guys, white, somewhere between thirty and forty, three of them kind of alike, ordinary, neat, short hair. The fourth guy is real tall, computer says he's maybe six five. I figure him for the ringleader. He was the one got to her first."
"You got any feeling for a motive yet?" Webster asked.
"No idea at all," McGrath said.
There was silence on the line again.
"OK," Webster said. "You keeping it real tight up there?"
"Tight as I can," McGrath said. "Just three of us."
"Who are you using?" Webster asked.
"Brogan and Milosevic," McGrath said.
"They any good?" Webster asked.
McGrath grunted. Like he would choose them if they weren't?
"They know Holly pretty well," he said. "They're good enough."
"Moaners and groaners?" Webster asked. "Or solid, like people used to be?"
"Never heard them complain," McGrath said. "About anything. They do the work, they do the hours. They don't even bitch about the pay."
Webster laughed.
"Can we clone them?" he said.
The levity peaked and died within a couple of seconds. But McGrath appreciated the attempt at morale.
"So how you doing down there?" he asked.
"In what respect, Mack?" Webster said, serious again.
"The old man," McGrath said. "He giving you any trouble?"
"Which one, Mack?" Webster asked.
"The General?" McGrath said.
"Not yet," Webster said. "He called this morning, but he was polite. That's how it goes. Parents are usually pretty calm, the first day or two. They get worked up later. General Johnson won't be any different. He may be a big shot, but people are all the same underneath, right?"
"Right," McGrath said. "Have him call me, if he wants firsthand reports. Might help his situation."
"OK, Mack, thanks," Webster said. "But I think we should keep this dentist thing away from everybody, just for the moment. Makes the whole deal look worse. Meantime, send me your stuff. I'll get our people working on it. And don't worry. We'll get her back. Bureau looks after its own, right? Never fails."
The two Bureau chiefs let the lie die into silence and hung up their phones together.
THE YOUNG MAN strolled out of the forest and came face-to-face with the commander. He was smart enough to throw a big salute and look nervous, but he kept it down to the sort of nervousness any grunt showed around the commander. Nothing more, nothing suspicious. He stood and waited to be spoken to.
"Job for you," the commander said. "You're young, right? Good with all this technical shit?"
The man nodded cautiously.
"I can usually puzzle stuff out, sir," he said.
The commander nodded back.
"We got a new toy," he said. "Scanner, for radio frequencies. I want a watch kept."
The young man's blood froze hard.
"Why, sir?" he asked. "You think somebody's using a radio transmitter?"
"Possibly," the commander said. "I trust nobody and I suspect everybody. I can't be too careful. Not right now. Got to look after the details. You know what they say? Genius is in the details, right?"
The young man swallowed and nodded.
"So get it set up," the commander said. "Make a duty rota. Two shifts, sixteen hours a day, OK? Constant vigilance is what we need right now."