“You can’t keep a fedora on while fleeing on a motorcycle,” Stone said, “and he looked skinnier to me than last time.”
“It’s all that running,” Dino said.
Four hours later, they set down at Georgetown.
50
They had a rental car waiting in Georgetown, and the three of them piled in.
“Maybe we should have three rentals,” Dino said.
“Herb is the only one who’s had a clear look at the guy from close up,” Stone said. “One car is best. Start looking, Herb.”
They were heading down a sort of main drag, and Herbie’s head was swiveling. “Every other building here is a bank,” he said.
“Look for a guy in a business suit and a hat,” Stone said.
“I thought the hat would have blown away,” Dino chipped in, “on the motorcycle.”
“I know it’s hard to believe,” Stone said, “but he might still have the hat.”
“Herb,” Dino said. “Did the glasses look to you like a disguise, or something he needed to see?”
“No idea,” Herbie said, “but there’s a guy in a suit, no hat.”
“Herb,” Stone said. “He’s black, and it doesn’t look like a disguise.”
“There is that,” Herbie said, and went back to swiveling.
They reached the end of the street, made a U-turn, and started back the other way. Herbie nodded toward the sidewalk. “That looks kind of like him,” he said, pointing at a man walking into a bank, “except for the Hawaiian shirt.”
“Let’s get in there,” Stone said, pulling into a handicapped parking space.
“You can’t park here,” Dino said.
“Stop sounding like a cop. You see any other parking spaces?”
“Not really.”
They got out of the car and crossed the street. “Don’t go peering through the window,” Dino said. “He’ll spot us from inside.”
“I’ll go in,” Herbie said, handing Stone his suit jacket and tie. He walked into the bank and came out ten seconds later.
“The guy in the Hawaiian shirt is sitting at a desk, talking to somebody who looks like a banker, but his back is to me. “He’s wearing a straw hat.”
Stone handed Herbie back his clothing and peered through the window. “Could be him,” he said.
“So, what are we going to do about it?” Herbie asked. “Dino, do you have any authority here?”
“Nothing but a badge and my native sense of command,” Dino replied.
“That’ll have to do,” Stone said. “What’s our plan?”
“Let’s let him see us,” Dino said, “and see how he reacts. If he runs, he’s our guy. Probably.”
Dino motioned for them to spread out a little when they entered the bank. As they did, the man stood up and shook the banker’s hand. He was holding a briefcase, something Stone hadn’t noticed before.
“Hi, Sig,” Stone said.
The man didn’t turn, but froze instead. He said something to the banker, and the man indicated the rear of the bank.
“Restroom,” Stone said.
“Back door,” Dino replied. They watched as the man went into the restroom, then they crowded into the hallway behind him. Dino tried the door. “Locked,” he whispered. “We’ll have to wait him out or kick in the door. What’s your preference?”
“My preference is not being arrested for kicking in the door,” Stone replied. “Be patient.”
Dino took a step back and kicked in the door. It flew back, banged into the wall. Dino stepped in with his gun in his hand. “Freeze!” he yelled.
“Window,” Stone said. It stood open, flapping a little in the breeze. “Nice window, big.”
Dino hopped up onto the toilet and looked both ways out the window. “Alley,” he said. “I don’t see him. We’ll have to split up.”
They ran to the rear door and opened it. “Stone, you and Herb go right. I’ll go left, and we’ll meet back at the car.” He turned left and started to run.
Stone and Herbie ran, dodging a garbage truck coming from the other way.
Herbie stopped and yelled, “Stone!”
Stone looked back at him. “What’s wrong?”
“He’s driving the garbage truck!” Herbie yelled, watching as the truck made a turn at the end of the block.
Stone, panting in the heat, got out his phone and called Dino. He took three rings to answer. “What?”
“Sig is driving the garbage truck!” Stone yelled into the phone.
“What garbage truck?” Dino yelled back.
“The one that’s about to run over you!” He wasn’t sure about that, because he couldn’t see it, but he thought it was the safe thing to say.
A torrent of bad language issued from the phone. “Dammit!” Dino yelled. “He nearly got me, and I can’t get a shot at him from behind.” He fired a shot anyway.
“Let’s keep going this way,” Stone said to Herbie, and they ran. They made it to the main street in concert with Dino, who was coming from the other direction, and they all piled into their car.
“Back the way we came,” Dino said. “Toward the airport!”
They made the airport, which was secured by a chain-link fence. The garbage truck was inside, parked on the ramp, and a twin-engine Piper, a Navaho painted yellow, was starting up. “He’s in the Navaho,” Stone shouted, “but the gate’s locked.” They drove around to the FBO, abandoned the car and ran for the G-500. Faith, Stone’s pilot, was standing by the airplane and saw them coming. She yelled something inside the airplane, and an engine could be heard to start turning. She waved the three of them aboard, locked the door behind them, and dove into the cockpit.
“Let’s go!” Stone yelled. “Follow the Navaho!”
“We can’t move without a clearance,” she said, donning her headset.
“The Navaho didn’t seem to have one.”
“Or he did it all in advance,” she replied, pressing the push-to-talk switch and requesting taxi and takeoff clearances. “Five-minute delay,” she said to Stone, who was hovering over her.
“Go anyway,” he replied.
“We’ll just get arrested, and they’ll get away. Open the door and see if you can tell which way the Navaho is going.”
Stone ran back, opened the door, and stood there scanning the skies.
Dino joined him. “Is that it?” he asked, pointing aloft.
“Is it yellow?” Stone asked. “I think the Navaho was yellow.”
Dino ducked back inside and came back with a pair of binoculars. “It’s yellow,” he said. “Which way is it headed?”
Stone looked around to orient himself. “North,” he said. He shut and locked the door and went back to the cockpit. “Request a departure to the north,” he said to Faith. “It looks like it’s headed for the Bahamas.”
Faith did so, then she released the brakes and started to taxi. “We’re cleared for takeoff,” she said.
“We’re a lot faster than the Navaho,” Stone said. “Try to avoid running past it.”
“It could turn for Florida,” she said.
“I want to see it do that before we head that way,” Stone said.
Faith shoved the throttles forward and started her takeoff roll.
51
They were halfway to the Bahamas before Faith’s copilot spotted the yellow Navaho. “Ten o’clock and maybe twelve thousand feet,” she said.
Faith retarded the throttles, and tried to keep the smaller airplane in sight. The Bahamas loomed ahead. She got on the radio and requested twelve thousand feet, then turned toward Stone, who was occupying the jump seat behind her. “We don’t have a clearance to land,” she said, “because of the hurricane.”
Stone had forgotten about the recent hurricane. He ran back to where Dino was sitting. “Get on the satphone to the head of your aviation department and tell him to call somebody at the FAA and get us permission to land, which is being denied, because of the recent hurricane. Tell them it’s a pursuit of a dangerous fugitive.”