The airplane was on the ramp with the airstairs door open and inviting. Faith and another woman, both in summer uniform, awaited them at the door, as a lineman unloaded their luggage and stowed it.
“I hadn’t expected anything quite so big,” Vanessa said as they climbed aboard. Dino and Viv were already seated in the cabin, drinking coffee.
Stone got Vanessa settled and poured her coffee, then excused himself and went forward to the cockpit. Faith awaited him in the right seat, and the second pilot was settled in a crew seat.
“We’re at the point in the checklist where it says ‘Start engines,’” she said, passing him the handbook.
Stone started the engines and, while Faith ran the rest of the checklist, looked at their clearance, already programmed into the flight computer and displayed on the pilot’s and copilot’s displays. Faith called ground control for taxi clearance, then Stone began to move the airplane. He was aware of some movement behind him so he turned and found Vanessa being buckled into the jump seat and given a headset.
“This I’ve got to see,” she said.
Stone turned back to his work and taxied to runway one. There was no waiting, as the holidaymakers had mostly departed the previous day. He was cleared for takeoff, then lined up and moved the throttles forward. Shortly, he pulled back on the sidestick, and the airplane rose into the air. Faith was working the radios, like a good copilot, and soon traffic control gave them an altitude of fifteen thousand feet, direct to the Vineyard.
He leveled off at the assigned altitude and reduced power to cruise, then checked the screen before him. ETA was thirty-five minutes.
After leaving the New York air traffic center, he was handed off to Boston Center, then was given a descent to five thousand feet, and the island came into view in the distance. “Cancel IFR,” Stone said. “I want a look at the harbor.”
Faith made the call, canceled their clearance, and they were told to maintain the same squawk code. Stone descended to three thousand feet and slowed. “You watch for traffic,” he said to Faith. He swung wide to his right and made a turn, keeping the harbor on his left wingtip. “There’s Breeze,” he said. “We got a berth.”
He leveled the wings for a moment to get them headed offshore before turning for the airport, and he pointed to an area outside the harbor, where a very large yacht was anchored. “Look at her,” he said. “She’s got to be more than three hundred feet; she’d never fit in the marina and not even in the harbor on a crowded holiday weekend.”
He turned left and descended to fifteen hundred feet. “Vineyard Airport, N123TF, six miles out, left base for two four. Anybody in the pattern?” He was greeted by silence.
“No visible traffic,” Faith said.
Stone turned final for runway twenty-four and aimed at the numbers. The runway was only 5,500 feet, and he didn’t want to use it all. He touched down, reversed the engines, and braked, then turned off the runway with two thousand feet to spare. He taxied to the ramp and shut down, while a tractor met him, ready to tow the Gulfstream 500 to parking elsewhere.
A big SUV drove up with his yacht’s captain, Brett, at the wheel. Linemen stowed their luggage, and they were off for the Edgartown marina, chatting along the way.
“Did you get a look at the superyacht outside the harbor?” Captain Brett asked.
“A good look,” Stone replied.
“Three hundred forty feet! Their captain somehow expected to be accommodated at the marina. I heard some conversation with the harbormaster on the radio about it. They were told to drop anchor outside, but they didn’t like it.”
“What’s her name?” Stone asked.
“Tsarina. I got a look at her stern as they departed the harbor.”
Stone found the name a little unsettling. His phone rang.
“Scramble,” Lance said.
“Scrambled,” Stone replied.
“Bad news,” Lance said. “The party canceled their reservations at the inn.”
“I think I know why,” Stone replied, then told him about Tsarina.
“That sounds like what Chekhov would name a yacht,” Lance said. “I’ll see that we have some people waterborne.”
They drove into the marina parking lot, where two crewmembers from Breeze awaited with luggage carts, and soon they were aboard.
Vanessa stopped as she entered the saloon. “Perfectly beautiful,” she said.
“Come have a look at our cabin.”
She followed him below and was suitably impressed by their quarters.
“Have a seat,” Stone said. “I have something to tell you.”
She did so. “Is this bad?”
“No, not at all. It’s just information. Lance Cabot called me yesterday and told me that Mac and Laura McIntosh had reservations at an inn in Edgartown, along with a guest named Baker. It’s the same inn where they brought Peter three years ago.”
“Then they’re here?”
“Not at the inn. Lance called to say they had canceled. But there’s a huge yacht anchored outside the harbor called Tsarina.”
“I think I’m getting the picture,” Vanessa said. “It’s Chekhov, isn’t it?”
“That’s my best guess. Who else would name his yacht after a dead Russian empress?”
“How can I avoid Mother?” she asked.
“Just stay aboard. We’ll be dining here, anyway, but if you go shopping, you just might run into someone from their party. It’s up to you how you want to handle that.”
“Well, I had counted on buying some things here,” she said. “Do you know when they arrived?”
“They may not even be here yet. I expect that when they are, they’ll go directly to the yacht, just as we did.”
Vanessa stood up. “Then I’d better go shopping now,” she said, “before they start to roam.”
Stone went to his bag and produced a small semiautomatic pistol. “Then take this with you, just in case. You know how to work it?”
Vanessa popped the magazine and ejected the round in the chamber onto the bed, then reloaded, pumped a round into the magazine, and set the safety. “I do,” she said.
“I’ll ask Viv to go along, too. She’s always armed.”
“Under what circumstances should I shoot somebody?”
“Only when it’s absolutely the only way out of whatever predicament you’re in,” Stone replied. “And if you have to, try not to kill anybody. Of course, if they’re shooting at you—or about to—go for the middle of the chest or the head, depending on how close they are.”
Vanessa took a deep breath and exhaled. “Okay,” she said, tossing the pistol into her handbag, “Let’s go.”