to make a night landing in Kavak.” She reminded him, “There are no runway lights.”
“Okay… then let’s plan the flight to land at dawn. I need to be in Kavak early to catch the yellow-bellied Worleys.” He added, “They hide during the day.”
Taylor said to him, “You’re cuckoo.”
Ms. Muller said, “All right… let me see if I can contact Captain Collins, and see if we can accommodate you.”
“Do what has to be done, Ms. Muller.”
“Yes, sir.” She recapped: “You will want the pilot to stay overnight and return to Caracas the next day with the same two passengers. Correct?”
“As far as I know.”
“I ask about the number of passengers because of the short airstrip and the takeoff weight.”
Should he mention that they might have a two-hundred-pound former Delta Force soldier stuffed in the luggage hold in cuffs? Probably not. “Okay.”
“Depending on the aircraft and the weight onboard, and other factors, the captain will have to decide if and when he needs to refuel in order to meet required fuel reserves.”
“Whatever.”
“I can give you an estimate of the cost, but there are some variables, including fuel cost, actual flight time—which is dependent on wind and weather—and the cost of the overnight lodging for the pilot, and—”
“What’s the bottom line?”
“About three thousand to thirty-five hundred dollars.”
“You take cash?”
“No, sir. I need a credit card number to secure the booking.”
“This sounds like a legitimate operation.”
“Sir?”
“Let me give you my wife’s credit card.” He motioned to Taylor, who pulled her card out of her wallet and gave it to him. He said to Ms. Muller, “She uses her maiden name. Taylor.” He spelled it. “First name—what…?” He looked at her. “Magnolia? What the hell kind of cracker name is that?”
Taylor looked embarrassed, then recovered and gave him the finger.
“Sir?”
“First name Magnolia. It’s an Amex.” Brodie recited the card number and expiration date.
“Thank you, sir. And may I have a phone number to contact you?”
Brodie gave her his and Taylor’s cell phone numbers so that they didn’t have to stand on the balcony waiting for a call on their sat phone.
“Thank you, Mr. Bowman. I’ll call you as soon as I reach Captain Collins.”
“Call me within the hour either way.”
“Yes, sir.”
“We really need to get out of here. This is the mating season.”
“Sir…? Oh, the birds.”
“Yes, the birds, Ms. Muller.”
“I will do my best.” She added, “Also, I should have mentioned that fuel and other fees at Tomás de Heres will be put on that card.”
Brodie stood motionless, then said, “Say that name again.”
“Tomás de Heres. That’s the airport in Ciudad Bolívar. Where you will probably land to refuel.”
Brodie stayed silent.
“Sir? Is that—?”
“That’s fine, Ms. Muller. Thank you for your assistance.”
“Thank you for choosing Apex.”
Brodie hung up and looked at Taylor.
She asked, “Everything okay?”
He nodded. “We just got the answer to a question.”
“What’s the question?”
“Who is Tomás de Heres?”
“I told you who he was.”
“Well, your research was interesting, but not pertinent.” He wanted to add, “As with most of your research,” but he said, “Tomás de Heres is the name of the airport in Ciudad Bolívar.”
She looked at him. “Okay… so Worley and his friend Ted may have been talking about the airport.”
“You think?” There are coincidences, thought Brodie, and there are signs. To Brodie, this was a sign that his paranoia and suspicions were not unfounded—that Brendan Worley might be a little more knowledgeable about Kyle Mercer’s whereabouts than he’d let on. And maybe all the Intel they had just risked their lives getting was already known by Worley and his friends, who were supposed to be on their side. He shared these thoughts with his partner and asked, “What do you think?”
She thought about that and replied, “It’s a stretch.”
“According to Luis, Worley’s car ride with Ted was about three weeks ago. That was a week before Al Simpson’s sighting, and more than two weeks before the Army even knew that Kyle Mercer was in Venezuela.”
Taylor replied, “You’re engaging in leaps of logic. Even if Worley and Ted were talking about the airport in Ciudad Bolívar, that does not mean they were on the trail of Kyle Mercer.” She added, “You’re trying to make a fact fit your suspicion—whatever it is.”
“My suspicion is that the spooks are running their own manhunt for Kyle Mercer, and I think the spooks are a few steps ahead of the cops.”
“Scott… focus on the mission. Not on Brendan Worley.”
“Brendan Worley has become part of my mission.”
“Not mine.” She went back into the living room and Brodie followed.
They