Then the man went up to the truck, where the driver was waiting for him. He signaled for the driver to come down out of the truck and help him load something, and when the driver did as instructed, the man shot him through the head.
The man dragged the driver’s body a few feet to the open mine, and pushed it over the edge. He listened, until he could hear the body strike bottom, though the drop was so long that the sound was barely audible.
The man then climbed into the truck, drove half a mile, and then took out his cell phone, and dialed a number. It was a number that was prearranged six months ago, and it set off the explosives that had been planted at the same time.
The explosion was enormous, and the man could see and hear it from his distant vantage point. He knew that it had forced the mine to cave in on itself. Of the nine dead bodies that were in there, the driver was the only one not to have been buried alive.
And then the man drove away.
There is one report in the file that I haven’t read multiple times.
It’s not even a report, but rather the travel documents and records that Gail Lockman had provided to us. I had read it, and noted that it confirmed Laurie’s report of where Gail’s husband Steven had traveled in the period before the fire, just before he went missing.
I will never understand how people, me in particular, can see something one time and not another, when looking at the same thing each time. But it happens to me all the time, and I assume I’m not the only one.
Laurie and I had asked for the information for the purpose of learning where Steven Lockman had gone on his business trips before the fire. That made sense, and it led us to believe that Texas was the place to focus on. That may or may not prove to be a good decision.
But what we didn’t notice were Steven Lockman’s return flights. On the two non-Texas trips he flew back to Newark Airport, which was logical, since he lived not far from there. On the two Texas trips, however, he didn’t fly to Newark.
He flew to Philadelphia.
I call Gail Lockman, and catch a break when she is there and answers the phone. I tell her I have just one more question about Steven, and I can hear the apprehension in her voice. It’s a wound that I keep opening.
“In the weeks before Steven’s death, he flew back to Philadelphia rather than New Jersey. Do you have any idea why?”
“That can’t be right,” she says.
“Why do you say that?”
“Because he would have told me. And we had a thing, call it a superstition, that I always picked him up at the airport. The company would have paid for a cab, but I picked him up every time.”
“And never in Philadelphia?” I ask.
“Never.”
“Did he know anyone there?”
“Not that I know of.”
There seems to be a real possibility that Steven landed in Philadelphia, did whatever business he had there, and then drove to Newark and pretended to his wife that he had flown there. The chance of an affair comes to mind, but it was only twice, and apparently for very short stays.
I think I know the real reason.
“Did Steven have any business dealings with people or companies in Philadelphia?”
She’s becoming annoyed with my questions. “Mr. Carpenter, Steven was an assayer. His job was to tell his company what was under the ground that they owned. There are sewers under Philadelphia.”
I thank her and apologize for bothering her. I start to dial Mulcahy’s number when I see that Laurie is calling me on the other line. I stop dialing and take her call.
“Andy, the world down here just exploded.”
“What are you talking about?”
“There was a huge explosion, maybe five miles from here. We could see the cloud go up, and our car shook.”
“What was it?”
“I can’t be sure, but it happened out here in the middle of nowhere, and it was on Milgram land. I don’t believe in coincidences; it might have been the place we’re looking for.”
“Okay, let me think for a minute,” I say, but then only use up ten seconds of my requested time. “We have to assume that they took whatever they needed to out of the ground, and the explosion was to destroy the mine and cover their tracks.”
“So it’s got to be on a truck,” she says. “There are no train tracks out here, and I haven’t seen any planes take off.”
“Right, and it’s got to be going south.”
“Why?”
“Because there’s a foreign connection here; that’s what Mulcahy said. Assuming it’s too large to get on a plane, then it’s going to leave by boat, and the nearest water is south. You should at least start heading in that direction.”
“Marcus and San are three hours south of us right now. They were driving around the Milgram land down there.”
“Then call them and tell them to head south, and wait for further instructions, in case we figure something out.”
Laurie promises to do so, and I call Mulcahy. He’s not there, so I tell them to have him call me, that’s it’s a matter of life and death.
There’s nothing I can do except wait for him to call, so I turn on the television and see that the first reports about the explosion are coming in. They are saying that a mine blew up, possibly from leaking natural gas, but that no people were believed to have been in the mine.
I have my doubts about the lack of casualties; starting with Loney, people with knowledge of the operation are being wiped out. But I have more than doubts about the “leaking natural gas.” That is pure bullshit.
It takes forty of the longest minutes I’ve ever experienced until Mulcahy calls me, and I don’t waste any time. “The mine explosion is what we were watching for. They’ve taken out what they need, and are covering up the evidence. Unless I’m wrong, they’ve covered up a bunch of people in the process.”
“Shit,” he says. “Do you have any idea where they’re going with it?”
“No, but they’ve got to get it out of the country, and…” It hits me as I’m talking, and I’m immediately angry with myself for not seeing it earlier. “Hold on a minute. I’ve got an idea.”
I put the phone down and grab the case files. I search for Sam’s report on Loney’s phone records, scanning down the list of files until I find what I’m looking for.
I grab the phone again and say, “Galveston. He’s heading for Galveston.”
“How do you know that?”
“One of the people on Loney’s phone records is a guy named Jason Young. He’s a customs official in Galveston. It all fits; they must be blackmailing Young to get him to do something for them. And that something is to pave the way for this shipment to get on a boat and out of the country.”
“I’m on it.”
“You want to know who you’re looking for?” I ask.
“Who’s that?”
“Unless I’m wrong, it’s Alex Bauer.”
“He’s dead,” Mulcahy points out.
“He might not be as dead as we think.”
I check the files again, and then call Sam to update him.
“We’re only about a half hour from Galveston,” he says. “But we’re going to die before we get there. Marcus is driving about four hundred miles an hour.”
“I’m pretty sure you’re ahead of Bauer,” I say. “And you both might be ahead of the FBI. Head for the port; I was there a bunch of years ago; I think there’s one main road in.”
“What are we looking for?”
