Nelson Demille - The Lion's Game

Satherwaite glanced at his driver, then at the global positioning display on the dashboard. He said, "Gotcha." He dialed the unlock code, then dialed Jim McCoy's home number.

Khalil heard the phone ringing over the speaker. On the third ring, a woman's voice answered, "Hello."

"Betty, this is Bill Satherwaite."

"Oh… hello, Bill. How are you?"

"I'm great. How are the kids?"

"Fine."

"Hey, is Jim there?" Before she could reply, Bill Satherwaite, who was used to people not being in for him, added quickly, "I have to speak to him for a minute. Kind of important."

"Oh… okay, let me see if he's off his other call."

"Thanks. I have a surprise for him. Tell him that."

"Just a moment."

The telephone went on hold.

Khalil understood the subtext of this conversation, and wanted to congratulate Mr. Satherwaite for using the correct words, but he just drove and smiled.

They were on an expressway now, heading west, toward Nassau County where the museum was located, and where Jim McCoy lived, and where he would die.

A voice came over the speaker. "Hey, Bill. What's up?"

Satherwaite smiled wide and said, "You're not going to believe this. Guess where I am?"

There was a silence on the phone, then Jim McCoy asked, "Where?"

"I just landed at MacArthur. Remember that Philly charter? Well, the guy had a change of plans, and I'm here."

"Great."

"Jim, I have to fly out first thing tomorrow, so I thought maybe I could stop by the house, or maybe meet you at the museum."

"Well… I have-"

"Just for half an hour or so. We're on the road now. I'm calling from the car. I really want to see the F-111. We can pick you up."

"Who's with you?"

"Just a friend. A guy who flew up with me from South Carolina. He really wants to see some of the old stuff. We got a surprise for you. We won't keep you long, if you're busy." He added, "I know this is last-minute, but you said-"

"Yeah… okay, why don't we meet at the museum? Can you find it?"

"Yeah. We got GPS in the car."

"Where are you?"

Satherwaite glanced at Khalil, who said into the remote microphone, "We are on Interstate 495, sir. We have just passed the exit for the Veterans Memorial Highway."

McCoy said, "Okay, you're on the Long Island Expressway, and you're about thirty minutes away with no traffic. I'll meet you at the main entrance to the museum. Look for a big fountain. Give me your cell phone number."

Satherwaite read the number off the telephone.

McCoy said, "If we somehow miss, I'll call you, or you call me. Here's my cell phone number." He gave his number and asked, "What are you driving?"

Satherwaite replied, "A big black Lincoln."

"Okay… Maybe I'll have a guard meet you at the entrance." He added in a lighter tone, "Rendezvous time, approximately twenty-one hundred hours, rendezvous point as instructed, commo established between all craft. See you later, Karma Five-Seven. Over."

"Roger, Elton Three-Eight Out," said Satherwaite with a big grin. He pressed End and looked at Khalil. "No problem." He added, "Wait until you offer him two thousand yards of canvas for free. He'll buy us a drink."

"Meters."

"Right."

A few minutes passed in silence, then Bill Satherwaite said, "Uh… no rush, but I might go out later, and I could use a little extra cash."

"Oh, yes. Of course." Khalil reached into his breast pocket, extracted his billfold, and handed it to Satherwaite. "Take five hundred dollars."

"It might be better if you counted it."

"I am driving. I trust you."

Satherwaite shrugged, turned on the courtesy light, and opened the billfold. He took out a wad of bills and counted out five hundred dollars, or five hundred twenty, he couldn't be sure in the bad light. He said, "Hey, this leaves you about tapped out."

"I will go to a cash machine later."

Satherwaite handed Khalil his billfold and said, "You sure?"

"I am sure." He put the billfold back in his pocket as Satherwaite put the money in his wallet.

They drove west on the Expressway, and Khalil programmed the Satellite Navigator for the Cradle of Aviation Museum.

Within twenty minutes, they exited onto a southbound parkway, then got off the parkway at Exit M4, which said

CRADLE OF AVIATION MUSEUM.

They followed the signs to Charles Lindbergh Boulevard, then turned right into a wide, tree-lined entrance drive. Ahead was a blue- and red-lighted fountain, beyond which was a massive glass and steel structure with a dome rising up behind it.

Khalil steered around the fountain and drove toward the main entrance.

A uniformed guard stood outside. Khalil stopped the car, and the guard said, "You can leave it right here."

Khalil shut off the ignition and exited the Lincoln. He retrieved his black bag from the rear.

Satherwaite, too, exited, but left his overnight bag in the Lincoln.

Khalil locked the car with the remote switch, and the guard said, "Welcome to the Cradle of Aviation Museum." He looked at Khalil and at Satherwaite. He said, "Mr. McCoy is waiting for you in his office. I'll take you in." He said to Khalil, "Do you need that bag, sir?"

"Yes, I have a gift for Mr. McCoy, and a camera." "Fine."

Satherwaite looked around at the huge complex. To the right, attached to the modern building in front of them, were two vintage 1930s hangars, restored and repainted. "Hey, look at that."

The guard said, "This is the old Mitchel Army Air Force Base, which served as a training and air defense base from the thirties through the middle-sixties. These hangars have been left in place and restored to their original condition, and they hold most of our vintage aircraft. This new building in front of us houses the Visitor Center and the Grumman Imax Dome Theater. To the left is the Museum of Science and Technology and the TekSpace Astronautics Hall. Please follow me."

Khalil and Satherwaite followed the guard to the entrance doors. Khalil noted that the guard was unarmed.

They entered the building, which held a four-story-high atrium, and the guard said, "This is the Visitor Center, which, as you can see, has exhibit space, a museum shop over there, and the Red Planet Cafe right ahead."

Khalil and Satherwaite looked around the soaring atrium as the guard continued, "There's a Gyrodyne Rotorcycle, an experimental one-man Marine helicopter, vintage nineteen fifty-nine, and there's a Merlin hang glider, and a Veligdons sailplane built here on Long Island in nineteen eighty-one."

The guard continued his guided tour as they walked through the vast space. Their footsteps echoed off the granite floor. Khalil noted that most of the lighting was turned on, and he commented, "We are your only guests this evening?"

"Yes, sir. In fact, the museum is not officially opened yet, but we take small groups of potential donors through, plus we have a reception now and then for the fat cats." He laughed and added, "We'll be open in about six or eight months."

Satherwaite said, "So, we're getting a private tour."

"Yes, sir."

Satherwaite glanced at Khalil and winked.

They continued on and passed through a door that said

PRIVATE-STAFF ONLY.

Beyond the door was a corridor, off which were office doors. The guard stopped at a door marked DIRECTOR, knocked, and opened the door. He said, "Have a good visit."

Satherwaite and Khalil stepped into a small reception area. Jim McCoy was sitting at the receptionist's desk, looking through some papers, which he put down. He stood and came around the desk, smiling, his hand extended. He said, "Bill, how the hell are you?"

"I'm fucking terrific."

Bill Satherwaite took his squadron mate's hand, and they stood looking at each other, smiling.

Khalil watched as the two men seemed to be attempting great joy. Khalil noticed that McCoy did not look as fit as General Waycliff or Lieutenant Grey, but he looked much better than Satherwaite. McCoy, he noticed, was dressed in a suit, which highlighted the contrast between him and Satherwaite.