The Hawker was refueled now, but surrounded by policemen, and Thomas’s posturing and pleading was not having the desired effect.
“You know,” Stone said to the others, “I don’t think I want to be questioned by a new generation of cops on this island. What do you say we get on the airplane and make a run for it?”
“They’d just shoot out our tires, Ken Smith said. “Let’s let your friend keep talking to them.”
Then something odd happened: the cop who appeared in charge began listening to his handheld radio, then talking into it. Stone strained to hear the conversation, but couldn’t. The cop walked over to Thomas and waved an arm.
Thomas smiled and walked back to the group. “The police say they have arrested the assassin,” he said. “You’re free to go.”
Stone heaved a big sigh of relief. “Who do you think they arrested?”
“I have no idea,” Thomas replied.
Stone gave Thomas a big hug. “It was a great stay, Thomas, and we thank you for your hospitality.”
“It was a pleasure having you,” Thomas replied.
A moment later, they had said their good-byes, boarded the airplane and closed the door. The pilots ran through their checklist, started the engines and began to taxi.
Holly grabbed Stone’s hand. “Something else is going to happen, I can feel it. We aren’t out of here yet.”
Stone squeezed her hand. “Shut up, Holly.”
The airplane reached the end of the runway, turned and began to roll. A few seconds later they were climbing through the overcast.
As they climbed on top of the clouds, Stone looked out the window and thought he saw an airplane below them. “Look at that,” he said to Holly.
They both looked out the window.
“What? I don’t see anything.”
“I thought I saw a small airplane, heading south,” Stone said. “But it’s not there anymore.”
“I’m glad I didn’t see it,” Holly said.
Late in the afternoon they landed at the little airport in Manassas, Virginia. As they taxied to the ramp, Holly looked out the window and saw Lance standing next to a car. Behind that was another car, a black Lincoln.
Holly was first off the airplane, with Daisy, and she walked over to where Lance stood.
“You landed the airplane in Florida for that animal?” he asked.
“I have nothing to say on that subject,” she said.
The fuel truck arrived and began its work. Holly went over to Stone. “I think we’re out of here,” she said. “You’ll be in Teterboro in an hour.”
“And I’ll be glad to see it,” Stone said.
“So will we,” Dino chimed in.
Holly gave everybody hugs and saw them onto the airplane, then it began to taxi out.
“Let’s get out of here,” Lance said. “We have to talk.”
The Peppers got into the waiting Lincoln and were driven away, then Holly put Daisy into the rear seat of Lance’s car and got in.
Lance started the car and drove out of the airport. “Let me bring you up to date on what’s happened since you left the island,” he said. “The St. Marks police arrested an unidentified man. He was taken to the police station where, an hour or so later, he signed a confession to the murders of Croft, duBois and the prime minister. Half an hour after that, he was shot—‘while trying to escape,’ as the official announcement put it.”
“He was innocent,” Holly said.
“He confessed, and he probably doesn’t exist.” Lance replied. “Let it lie.”
“Did Teddy make it to another island in his contraption?”
“Two other things,” Lance said. “Harold Pitts’s yacht sank in three hundred feet of water off the eastern end of St. Martin, shortly after Harold got off an SOS. A search was conducted, but no sign of Harold. A life raft was found, empty.”
“What’s the other thing?”
“The other thing is something that didn’t happen,” Lance said. “Teddy didn’t make it to Nevis, where he didn’t elude two police cars and didn’t fly off the island in a Cessna he didn’t have stashed in a hangar there. Do I make myself perfectly clear?”
“You’re buying into all of that?” Holly asked.
“Yes, I am,” Lance said, “and you would be wise to accept it, too. You and I have other work to do, and we’ve already devoted too much time to Teddy Fay.”
Holly thought it impolitic to mention Stone’s sighting of the small airplane when they took off from St. Marks. “What work do we have to do?”
“I’m making you my assistant at Langley; you won’t have a title for a while. There’ll be some carping among the people there about your not having enough training or experience.”
“Both true,” Holly said.
“You have lots of training and experience, just not what Agency personnel think of in that regard. After a time, when you’ve had an opportunity to win over some folks, and they’ve decided we’re not sleeping together, we’ll see what work we can find for you to do.”
“Working at Langley sounds very restful,” Holly said, leaning back in her seat. “Shall I sell my New York apartment?”
“I wouldn’t do that just yet; you never know when you might need it. For the time being, we’re housing you in an old inn near Langley, where we sometimes keep visitors.”
Holly glanced at Daisy.
“The inn is dog-friendly,” Lance said.
“You think of everything, Lance.”
“I try.”
Holly put her head back on the seat and began to doze.
“Oh,” Lance said, “something else happened in St. Marks while you were in the air: a woman was attacked and partly eaten by a big hammerhead shark on a sandbar just off the beach of the English Harbour Inn. Her companion lost an arm trying to rescue her.”
Holly stayed awake all the way to her new quarters.
That night, Stone and Dino were having dinner at Elaine’s.
“Holly called,” Stone said. He told Dino about the loss of Harold Pitts and his yacht, and about the nonexistent ultralight.
“Figures,” Dino said.
“Yeah.”
Dino pointed at the television, which was tuned to CNN but with no sound. “Look at the crawl,” he said.
Stone looked up. “WHITE HOUSE SOURCES SAY THAT PRESIDENT LEE WILL ANNOUNCE HIS CANDIDACY FOR REELECTION TOMORROW MORNING,” the crawl read.
Stone smiled. “I think I’ll sleep well tonight.”
END