Page 20 of Identity Unknown
She shows us into an empty pilots’ lounge overlooking the ramp parked with private aircraft shining in the sun. Lucy shuts the door behind us, the lenses of her glasses changing to shades of gray in the low lighting.
“Now we can talk safely,” she explains. “In case you haven’t noticed, there are cameras everywhere.”
“Yeah, I noticed.” Marino stares out the windows at a red Jet Ranger helicopter taking off, the expression on his face transmitting how much he dreads our flight.
“There are surveillance devices that you won’t have noticed, and I’ve temporarily jammed the ones in here. I’m not happy about the confrontation you just had in the parking lot.” Lucy is telling us that she’s hacked Briley Flight Service’s cameras, and I think of the candy-coated peanuts in my briefcase.
“I’m surprised the Secret Service would use any joint belonging to Ryder Briley.” Marino has a way of making remarks to her that sound like a challenge.
“He owns a lot of private terminals in Virginia,” Lucy says. “The choices are limited.”
“And now we’re headed to a theme park that belongs to the same asshole. I don’t trust it.” Marino hands her the manila envelope from Ryder Briley.
“I’m accustomed to not trusting anyplace, and assume someone’s watching unless I make sure they can’t. And maybe we’re watching him as much as he’s watching us.” Lucy slides out the document. “Clearly, he’s on the offensive. Which means he’s feeling defensive. When did you notice someone was tailing you?”
“Once we hit the airport this silver Suburban suddenly appeared behind us,” Marino says. “Obviously, I couldn’t run the tag, but I’m betting it’s not registered to Norm Duffy.”
“The SUV belongs to Briley Enterprises, and Norm started working there within weeks of you firing him last November.” Lucy says this to me.
“Did you know that before now?” Marino asks her. “The jerkoff practically gets the doc killed, and here he is in our faces again?”
“I didn’t know,” Lucy says. “The woman with him is security officer Mira Tang, thirty-six years old. Convicted of fraud and tax evasion five years ago and spent eighteen months in the women’s prison near Richmond. Since getting out she’s worked security for Briley, her rap sheet making her all the easier to manipulate.”
“How can you know all that from a tag number?” Marino asks Lucy.
“Facial recognition technology.”
“Jesus, what else do your fancy computer glasses see that the rest of us don’t know about?”
“Live as if others are watching. Because they are,” Lucy replies. “Ryder Briley certainly is, and there’s no question that he was tipped off. Be careful what you say outside this room. If you need to hit the loo, do it now. The restrooms at the theme park haven’t been used in years. There’s no running water and plenty of rats as big as Munchkins, I’m told.”
“Anybody mention what a bad idea this is?” Marino replies as he opens the door. “Maybe you forgot to check the weather report.”
“I didn’t, and nothing to worry about unless we spend time here arguing about it.” Lucy isn’t going to let him get a rise out of her.
“I’m hitting the men’s room.” He stalks out of the pilots’ lounge.
“You okay?” She looks at me.
“Trying to keep my attention on what’s important,” I reply, and she can see it in my eyes.
“I’d been around Sal, but not like you had.” She’s aware that he and I were old friends, but I’ve never told her much more than that.
“You appear to be by yourself.” I change the subject. “Where’s Tron?”
“I left her at the scene to supervise,” she says of her investigative partner. “She’ll be with us on the return flight.”
“To what location?” I’ll see if Lucy divulges where I’m being taken for the autopsy.
“You’ve talked to Benton?”
“Yes.”
“Then you know I can’t tell you.” She’s not taking the bait. “But for now, it looks like you get to copilot.”
What that means is I sit in the left seat and help with the avionics as I’ve been doing since she started taking flying lessons while still in her teens. Beyond that, I’m not well trained, certainly not in the beast of a helicopter she pilots these days. Although I suppose with assistance I could get it safely to the ground in an emergency. But it wouldn’t be pretty.
Marino returns from the men’s room, picking up the two scene cases by their handles. The woman at the desk releases the lock to the door leading outside to the ramp, the sharp fumes of jet fuel making my eyes water. We walk through rows of private jets and prop planes, careful not to trip over tiedown rings and ropes.