Charlie crept from his rooftop aerie, where the dormer windows paralleled the chimney on the house next door. The giant live oak that dominated the view out the garage apartment’s rear window had one limb that extended almost to his bedroom balcony. The limb was so stable he could walk it without using his hands. Firing on this team would have been an invitation to be blown into kitty litter. So Charlie remained crouched behind the chimney until they fully deployed, then used Gabriella’s cell phone, called his neighbors across the street, and asked them to go outside and tell him if his house was on fire. It was all he could think of at the moment.
He watched as the group of men filed out. Each bore the standard FBI patch on the front and back of their SWAT-style uniforms. One of them tossed the neighbors a quick salute and hustled over. The man exchanged a few words with Charlie’s concerned neighbors, then retreated to the two SUVs and drove away. Just another day in vacation land.
Charlie eased back through the neighborhood, slipped into the van, and told Donovan, “Two teams in standard Delta deploy. One of them I recognize from my meeting at Harbor Petroleum.”
Donovan eased the van into gear. “Back to the airport?”
“Right. Sure you won’t come with us?”
“Not a chance. What’s more, you don’t want me.”
Charlie started to mention how that was the one anomaly to everything Gabriella had said. Then it hit him that the ticket might not have been meant for Donovan at all.
Donovan was saying, “I’ve got friends who are as worried about these Combine folks as I am. You get into a sticky situation, you get me word, I’ll see what I can do.”
Charlie asked, “Could you make a side trip before going back home?”
“Probably. You got a plan, son?”
“Maybe.”
Before Charlie finished explaining, the colonel was already nodding. “That could work.”
“You think he’ll come?”
The colonel pulled up in front of the airport terminal. “I think he’s been waiting all his life for your phone call.”