He closed the case and helped himself to a pocketful of.223 ammunition from a drawer. He knew the armorer didn’t log ammo use, so he was safe. He relocked the steel door, let himself out of the building and returned to the stables.
He had already checked the shooting schedules for work under way. Nobody would need the sniper’s rifle anytime soon, so he was good through the weekend.
He called a phone number and waited.
“Compton Flying Club,” a woman’s voice said.
“Hey, Sheila, it’s Jack Cato.”
“Hi, Jack. What can I do for you?”
“Is the Bonanza available this weekend?”
“Let me check.”
He could hear her turning the pages of her desk calendar.
“All weekend,” she said.
“Great, I’ll take it Friday evening and have it back by Monday morning. I’m going up to San Francisco this weekend. Can you have it fueled and left on the line after about five on Friday? Leave the key under the nosewheel chock.”
“Sure thing. Have a good flight.”
Cato hung up. Everything was all set now.
38
EAGLE GOT A call from the LAPD a couple of days after his request to the chief.
“Mr. Eagle, this is Detective Barnes; the chief asked me to call you.”
“Yes, Detective.”
“We’ve had a team on Barbara Eagle for two days now, and all we’re seeing is shopping trips in the daytime and restaurants in the evening. Mr. Long seems to work at home as much as he does at the studio. I don’t know how much longer the chief will let us keep this up.”
“Has she met anybody on her shopping trips or in the restaurants?”
“Hasn’t spoken a word to anybody but store clerks and waiters and the diners, but we don’t have the phone tapped, so who knows? Oh, I don’t know if this is important, but she stopped in the Beverly Hills Post Office and mailed a package.”
“What sort of package?”
“Just a manila envelope.”
“She mailed a payoff to the hit man. Were you able to see an address?”
“No, sir, we couldn’t get close enough.”
“Okay, thanks very much, and thank the chief for me. Be sure and tell him about the envelope.” Eagle hung up. The weekend was coming, and he had an idea the hit man was coming, too.
He called Susannah, who was at her house, dealing with a washing-machine repairman. “Hello, there.”
“Hi, what’s happening?”
“Barbara is still in L.A., and the cops are keeping an eye on her.”
“That’s reassuring.”
“Don’t let it be. She was seen at the post office, mailing a package. That has to be the payment for killing Joe Wilen. I have a feeling we’re going to hear from her hit man this weekend, and I’d like you to stay at your house.”
“Not going to happen,” she said. “If the hit man shows up, you’re going to need another gun. You already know I can shoot.”
“Don’t worry, sweetheart, I’ll have help. I want you out of harm’s way. Barbara saw you at the trial, and she may have recognized you from your movies. I hope you understand.”
“I understand, but I don’t like it.”
“After the weekend, you can come home to me.”
“Ed, I don’t think you’ve thought this through.”
“What do you mean?”
“Well, suppose you catch the guy, or kill him. Do you think that’s going to stop Barbara?”
“Probably not,” he admitted.
“I think what you’re going to have to do is stop her before she gets to you.”
“What are you suggesting?”
“I think you should take whatever steps are necessary.”
“I’m not sure I like the sound of that.”
“I don’t like saying it, but you have to protect yourself. If you don’t, she’s going to keep trying until she wins.”
“Right now, we have to think about this weekend, so let’s talk about this another time,” Eagle said. “I’ll call you tomorrow. Bye-bye.”
Eagle called the district attorney.
“Bob Martinez.”
“It’s Ed Eagle, Bob.”
“Hello, Ed.”
“I need your help.”
Martinez chuckled. “In court?”
“Thanks, no. That I can handle by myself.”
“What, then?”
“I think Barbara is going to send a hit man to Santa Fe-the same guy who killed Joe Wilen in Palo Alto-probably this weekend.”
“Why do you think that?”
“You know her history. What would you expect her to do?”
“You have any idea who he is? A description would help.”
“No, no idea.”
Martinez didn’t speak for a moment. “You want some protection, is that it?”
“A couple of men will do, just for the weekend.”
“Let me call the chief. I’ll get back to you.”
“Thanks, Bob.”
DETECTIVE ALEX REESE was driving to Centurion Studios on Friday afternoon for his meeting when his cell phone buzzed.
“Hello?”
“Hi, Alex. It’s Raoul Hernandez.”
“Hi, Raoul.” Hernandez was a New Mexico state trooper who was also a pilot and who often flew state officials.
“Are you still in L.A.?”
'Yep, I’ve got one more interview, then I’ll get a plane home later this afternoon.”
'I’m in L.A., too, and I’ll give you a lift back to Santa Fe, if you can be at Santa Monica Airport in a couple of hours.”
“That would be great, Raoul. I’ll be there.”
“The airplane’s at Supermarine.”
“See you there.” Reese hung up. This was a nice break; now he wouldn’t have to fly to Albuquerque and take the shuttle bus to Santa Fe. He could be home for dinner.
At Centurion he went directly to Jeff Bender’s office. Soledad Rivera was sitting in Bender’s waiting room, and she glared at him as he passed through to Bender’s office. He had summoned her there from the costume department, where she worked with Tina Lopez.
