Capital Crimes

“Will do,” Smith replied and got on the phone, while the lobster boat turned for the dock.

TED LANDED AT Bar Harbor, then he taxied to a remote part of the field and retrieved a roll of plastic sheets from the luggage compartment. He unrolled the two sheets, stripped the paper off the back side and fixed new numbers to both sides of the aircraft. The sheets had been carefully made to blend with the striping on each side, and, except from up close, the numbers looked as if they had been professionally painted on. The new number was November, three, six, six, nine, charlie, and if anybody checked, they’d find a Cessna 182RG registered with that number to a flight school in Atlanta.

He got back into the airplane, started the engine, and took off, then headed toward the northern end of Penobscot Bay at five hundred feet. That lobster boat worried him, and he was going to be very careful.

56

KINNEY WAITED IMPATIENTLY on the road in front of the house at whose dock he had recently landed, sending the lobster boat on to Dark Harbor, to await further instructions. His cell phone rang.

“Jack.”

“It’s Barney. They dropped me off at the ferry, which should be docking in a few minutes. Our car is aboard, and we’ll pick you up in, say, fifteen minutes.”

“You’ll have to drive past the barn on your way. Don’t look like you’re in a hurry.” Ki

TED STAYED AT five hundred feet as he flew around the northern end of Penobscot Bay, enjoying the view. Once, he cut the engine and glided for a minute; he could hear children laughing and a dog barking at a house below. He restarted the engine and began to climb, flying inland past the western shore of the bay, then turning back, so as to look as if he had taken off from Augusta. He climbed to five thousand feet and leveled off as he turned east between Camden and Lincolnsville, and when the GPS told him he was five miles from Islesboro Airport, he pulled the throttle slowly to idle, then pulled out the mixture control until the engine stopped. Finally, he pulled the propeller lever all the way back, feathering the prop and turning the Cessna into a glider. He had done this before, practicing emergency landings, and he was sure he could do it again. The airplane was silent now, and nobody looked up at an airplane that made no noise.

Once over the island, he turned for his final approach to the airport, still three miles out, noting with satisfaction that the lobster boat he had seen was now docked in Dark Harbor. He fixed the short runway at a point in the middle of his windshield and kept it there, adjusting his glide path occasionally to keep his airspeed at ninety knots. The runway remained in the middle of his windshield, meaning that he had the correct combination of descent and airspeed. When he was sure he could make the runway, he dropped the landing gear and put in some flaps, aiming about a third of the way down the runway. He touched down, but did not brake, letting the airplane roll. When he was near the end of the runway, he turned off onto the parking ramp and made a very nice turn into a tiedown. Only then did he use the brakes. Perfect.

He tied down the airplane, then walked a hundred yards to a shed he had rented that belonged to a nearby house. He opened the padlock with the correct combination, unhooked the battery charger, and started the pickup on the first try. Then he drove back to the airplane and unloaded the gear he had brought with him from the airplane into the pickup.

With the heater now blowing warm air, he drove off the airfield to the road, which ran from the ferry past his house, and headed for home. His only other concern now was the campers who had set up a tent near the cottage. He could not see them from the road as he drove past, but he did see a wisp of smoke from their campfire.

He drove past his cottage at an easy thirty miles per hour, checking the place as he passed. Then he drove on down the road for a couple of miles before making a U-turn and starting back. A mile from his place he passed a gray Explorer going the other way with two men in the front seat, both wearing parkas and winter caps. He checked his rearview mirror and saw that the car had Maine plates. At least they were going the right way.

KINNEY WATCHED as the Explorer approached, then jumped in. “Turn up the heater,” he said as the driver turned the car around.

“Did you see the pickup?” Smith asked.

“What pickup?”

“We passed a pickup going the other way, about a mile back. Didn’t you say Fay had a pickup when Rawls saw him on the island?”

“What kind of pickup?”

“Old. Mid-fifties, probably, but in nice shape. A real gem.”

“Drive slower,” Ki

TED TRIED HIS gliding trick with the truck now. He shifted into neutral, switched off the engine, and coasted down a little hill as he approached the cottage. He started pressing the button on the remote control as he coasted, and after two or three tries, the garage door opened. He turned and coasted into the garage, employing the brakes only at the last minute, then he pressed the remote again, and the garage door closed behind him, leaving the overhead light on. He hopped out of the truck, went to a keypad just inside the garage door, and tapped in the security code. The light on the box flashed green, then went out.

Smith saw the house as they came down the hill. “I don’t see anybody. Speed up, and let’s see who was in the pickup. There’s only the one road.”

The driver sped up as they passed the house.

TED WATCHED FROM INSIDE as the Explorer went past; now there were three men inside.

Ki

“Camper here. Did you see the pickup?”

“Yes, we’re checking it out now.”

“How? You’ve already passed it.”

“What are you talking about?”

“The pickup came down the hill with the engine off, the garage door opened, and it coasted right inside. Our Buddy is home.”

“Shit!” Ki

“We’re coming up on the campsite, now,” the driver said.

“Let Smith and me out here. You make a U-turn, go back to the ferry terminal, and wait for the SWAT team. Phone me when you’re on the way back.”

“Roger,” the driver said.

Ki

TED MOVED HIS THINGS from the pickup into the house. He checked the freezer and took out a steak to thaw, then he turned on the furnace to get some heat into the place. He looked around. Everything was exactly as he had left it. He went to the front and kitchen doors and checked the markers he had left there on each door-two inches of cellophane tape, joining them to the jamb. They were undisturbed; no one had entered the house. He began to relax, and he stood over a grate and let the warm air blow up his trousers.

“OUR MAN IS IN the house,” an agent said, holding the earphones more tightly to his head. “The furnace is on, and he opened the fridge once. When do we go in?”

“Not until dark,” Ki