Nelson Demille - The Lion's Game

"Right." I played with my computer, but aside from a good recipe for chocolate chip cookies, I wasn't getting much. I really prefer the telephone.

Kate kept bugging me to call the Counterterrorism office in D.C., and I kept putting it off because I knew it would be an hour conversation, followed by me on the shuttle to Washington. And in truth, with only one target still standing for Khalil, it was more important that I find Wiggins before Khalil did.

There are lots of ways to find a missing Joe Citizen in America-land of record-keeping, credit cards, driver's licenses, and all that. I've found people in less than an hour, though sometimes it can take a day or two. But sometimes you never find a person, even if that person was once Mr. Happy Homeowner with a wife and kids.

All I had on this guy was a nickname, a last name, a last known address, and the fact that he'd served in the Air Force.

I called the California Department of Motor Vehicles, and an unusually helpful civil servant gave me the name of an Elwood Wiggins in Burbank with the same last known address plus the date of birth. Voild! Now I had a name, and a DoB that fit. I was getting a picture of this guy Chip, and I pictured a jerk-off who was totally irresponsible about keeping the world informed as to his whereabouts. On the other hand, that might be keeping him alive.

I said to Kate, "Try Elwood from now on. That's on his driver's license." I added, "DoB for Elwood is right for Chip-nineteen sixty. Not a son, not a father."

"Okay." She banged away at her computer, scanning telephone directories.

I called the Los Angeles County Coroner's Office to see if a Mr. Elwood "Chip" Wiggins had done me the favor of dying naturally. A clerk there informed me that a number of Wigginses had passed on in the last year, but not Elwood.

I said to Kate, "Coroner's office doesn't have a record of him."

She said, "You know, he could be out of L.A. County, out of the state, and out of the country. Try the Social Security Administration."

"I'd rather look for him on foot." I added, "Anyway, they'll want his Social Security number."

"Try the Veterans Administration, John."

"You try. But I'll tell you, this character probably doesn't keep anyone informed. I wish we had a hometown for him. Notify Air Force Personnel that we have the name Elwood, and date of birth. That may help their computer."

So, we worked the phones and computers for the next half hour. I called LAPD Missing Persons again and gave them Elwood and the date of birth, and did the same with my colleagues at the FBI L.A. office. But I was running out of clueless people to call. Finally, I had a thought and called Mrs. Rose Hambrecht.

She answered the telephone, and I re-introduced myself.

She informed me, "I've given all the information I had to a General Anderson from Wright-Patterson." i

"Yes, ma'am. I don't have that information yet. But I have other information about the eight men on that Al Azziziyah mission, and I wanted to confirm some of it with you."

"Don't you people work in concert?"

No. "Yes, ma'am, but it takes a while, and I'm trying to do my job as quickly-"

"What do you want?"

"Well, I'm focusing on one person, a man named Chip Wiggins."

"Oh, Chip. He's a real character."

"Yes, ma'am. Would you know if his first name is Elwood?"

"I never knew his real first name. Only Chip."

"Okay, I have a Burbank, California, address for him." I read her the address and asked, "Is that what you have?"

"Let me get my phone book."

I held on while Mrs. Hambrecht went to find her phone book. I said to Kate, "How're we doing there?"

"Nothing. John, it's time we turned this problem over to the whole ICC. We've already delayed too long."

"I don't need fifty agents to call back the same people and agencies we've already called. If you need help, then you go ahead and put out an e-mail or however you alert all the troops. Meanwhile, I know how to find a fucking missing person."

"Excuse me?" said Mrs. Hambrecht, who was back on the line. "What did you say?"

"Uh… just clearing my throat." I cleared my throat. She said, "I have the same address you have." "Okay… would you know Mr. Wiggins' hometown?" "No. I don't know much about him. I only remember him from Lakenheath on our first tour of duty there in the nineteen eighties. He's a very irresponsible officer."

"Yes, ma'am. But did Colonel Hambrecht keep in touch with him?"

"Yes. But not often. I know that they spoke last April, on the anniversary of…" "Al Azziziyah." "Yes."

I asked her a few more questions, but she didn't know anything, or like most people, she didn't think she knew anything. But you had to ask the right question. Unfortunately, I didn't know the right question.

Kate was listening on the line now and discovered that I was starting to run out of even stupid questions, and she covered the phone and said to me, "Ask her if she knows if he's married?"

Who cares? But I asked, "Do you know if he was married?"

"I don't think so. But he could have been. I've really told you all I know about him." "Okay… well…"

Kate said, "What did he or does he do for a living?" I asked Mrs. Hambrecht, "What did he or does he do for a living?"

"I don't… well. Actually, I do recall that my husband said Chip took flying lessons and became a pilot."

"He took flying lessons after he went on the bombing raid? Isn't that a little late? I mean-"

"Chip Wiggins was not a pilot," Mrs. Hambrecht informed me coolly. "He was a weapons officer. He dropped the bombs. And he navigated."

"I see… so-"

"He took flying lessons after he left the Air Force and became a cargo pilot, I believe. Yes, he couldn't get a job with an airline, so he flew cargo. I remember that now."

"Do you know what company he flew for?"

"No."

"Like FedEx, or UPS, or one of the big ones?"

"I don't think so. That's all I know."

"Well, thank you again, Mrs. Hambrecht. You've been very helpful. If you think of anything else regarding Chip Wiggins, please call me immediately." I again gave her my phone number.

She asked me, "What is this all about?"

"What do you think?"

"I think someone is trying to kill the pilots who flew that mission, and they started with my husband."

"Yes, ma'am."

"My God…"

"I'm… well, again, my condolences."

I heard her say softly, "This isn't right… this isn't fair… oh, poor William…"

"Please be cautious yourself. Just in case. Call the police and the FBI office closest to you."

She didn't reply, but I could hear her crying. I didn't know what to say, so I hung up.

Kate was already on another line, and she said to me, "I'm on with the FAA. They'll have a record of his pilot's license."

"Right. I hope he updated that, at least."

"He'd better, or he'd be in trouble with them, too."

I was glad it was still civil service business hours all over America, or we'd be sitting there playing computer games.

Kate said into the phone, "Yes, I'm still here. Okay…" She picked up a pen, which was hopeful, and wrote on a pad. She said, "As of when? Okay. That's very helpful. Thank you."

She hung up and said, " Ventura. That's a little north of Burbank. He sent a change-of-address about four weeks ago, but no phone number." She got online and announced to me, "He's not in the Ventura directory. I'll try an operator for directory assistance."

She called directory assistance and gave them the name Elwood Wiggins. She hung up and said, "Unlisted – number." She added, "I'll have our office there get the number."

I looked at my watch. This had taken about an hour and fifteen minutes. If I'd gotten on the phone with Washington, I'd still be talking. I said to Kate, "Where's the closest FBI office to Ventura?"