Stuart Woods: Capital Crimes

Using a flashlight, he carefully performed a preflight inspection, then got into the airplane and started the engine. He called clearance delivery and got a better clearance than he would have thought possible, up to New York, across LaGuardia, then Connecticut, and on to Manchester. Ten minutes later he was rolling down runway 34 left.

The flight was wonderful, and he felt as if he were leaving one life and finding another. He landed at Manchester, and while the Cessna was being refueled, engaged the girl at the counter in the FBO in conversation long enough to plant in her mind the information that he had flown up from Georgia and was on his way to Canada. Then he took off again, without filing a flight plan and with his transponder off.

He flew north at three thousand feet, until he was sure that no one could see him from Manchester Airport, then he turned northeast and flew toward the Kennebunk VOR, then, after that, direct toward five, seven, bravo-Islesboro Airport. His route took him along the coast in bright sunshine, the last of the autumn color showing bright gold below him. Toward the end of his trip he detoured over Owl’s Head Airport, at Rockland, and had a good look for government helicopters or airplanes. All he saw was a single corporate jet and a lot of light aircraft tied down. He then flew up the coast past Camden, low, at a thousand feet, to Lincolnsville, where he checked out the ferry parking lot for black Suburbans, Humvees, or other government-type vehicles. There were only three vehicles in the lot, all ordinary-looking, and they were waiting for the ferry, which was just leaving Islesboro for Lincolnsville, on its winter half-schedule.

He picked up a little altitude, then flew over to Islesboro at two thousand feet, first checking out the harbor and the coastline for a Coast Guard cutter. There were few boats moored or docked and none that were threatening. He then flew up the eastern coast toward North Islesboro, checking for anything suspicious. There was one lobster boat motoring up the coast, with two men in the cockpit besides the driver, and he took note of that, but wasn’t worried about it. He flew past his house and saw nothing that alarmed him. Somebody was camping in the woods a few hundred yards from the cottage, but, even though it wasn’t the best time of the year for it, it wasn’t all that unusual. He saw no vehicles, which meant they must have hiked over from the ferry.

His inspection completed, he flew away to the northeast toward the Bar Harbor airport.

KINNEY’S CELL PHONE RANG. “This is Jack.”

“Jack, we’re calling from camp. If anybody’s in the barn, he’s sleeping late. We’ve been listening and haven’t heard so much as anybody breathing.”

“Keep listening.”

“Another thing, an airplane, a Cessna, flew over a couple of minutes ago and had a look at our camp.”

“Yeah, I saw him. He had a look at us, too, then he flew away to the northeast. I don’t think it’s anything, unless he comes back.”

“Right. I’ll call you back if we hear anything.”

Kinney hung up the phone and thought about the airplane, then he turned to Kerry Smith. “Call Washington Center at Dulles and find out if any Cessna light airplanes left the D.C. area since yesterday with a flight plan filed for Maine.”

“Will do,” Smith said and got on the phone. He was back in a few minutes. “A Cessna 182RG took off from Manassas at about five-thirty this morning and flew to Manchester, New Hampshire, on an IFR flight plan. I spoke to the FBO there, and she confirmed that they refueled the airplane. The pilot was in his fifties, heavy-set, dark hair and a beard. He said he was flying from Georgia up to Canada, and he paid cash and took off heading north. I talked to the tower there. He didn’t file a flight plan. He didn’t turn on his transponder, either, because Boston Center didn’t track anybody out of Manchester toward Canada. Center is checking to see if any Cessna 182s left any airport in Georgia in the past couple of days, headed north.”

“Did that airplane we saw have retractable gear?” Kinney asked.

“Yes, I think so. Normally, a Cessna 182 straight-leg would be obvious, because it has aerodynamic wheel pants.”

“Did you get a tail number?”

“No, but the aircraft that flew from Manassas had a tail number of November, one, two, three, tango, foxtrot.”

Kinney made a note of the tail number. “I’m going ashore,” he said. “Do we have a vehicle on the island?”

“No, but we have four in Lincolnsville.”

“Where are they parked?”

“In front of a row of stores, across the road from the ferry.”

They were around the northern tip of the island now. “You see that private dock over there, with the shingled house behind it?”

“Yes.”

“I’m going ashore there. Call Lincolnsville and have the gray Explorer take the ferry and meet me there.”

“It could be quite some time,” Smith said. “The ferry is on a winter schedule.”

“If it’s not leaving right away, tell them to identify themselves and press the ferry to return immediately.”

“Will do,” Smith replied and got on the phone, while the lobster boat turned for the dock.

TED LANDED AT Bar Harbor, then he taxied to a remote part of the field and retrieved a roll of plastic sheets from the luggage compartment. He unrolled the two sheets, stripped the paper off the back side and fixed new numbers to both sides of the aircraft. The sheets had been carefully made to blend with the striping on each side, and, except from up close, the numbers looked as if they had been professionally painted on. The new number was November, three, six, six, nine, charlie, and if anybody checked, they’d find a Cessna 182RG registered with that number to a flight school in Atlanta.

He got back into the airplane, started the engine, and took off, then headed toward the northern end of Penobscot Bay at five hundred feet. That lobster boat worried him, and he was going to be very careful.

KINNEY WAITED IMPATIENTLY on the road in front of the house at whose dock he had recently landed, sending the lobster boat on to Dark Harbor, to await further instructions. His cell phone rang.

“Jack.”

“It’s Barney. They dropped me off at the ferry, which should be docking in a few minutes. Our car is aboard, and we’ll pick you up in, say, fifteen minutes.”

“You’ll have to drive past the barn on your way. Don’t look like you’re in a hurry.” Kinney hung up and stamped his feet to warm them.

TED STAYED AT five hundred feet as he flew around the northern end of Penobscot Bay, enjoying the view. Once, he cut the engine and glided for a minute; he could hear children laughing and a dog barking at a house below. He restarted the engine and began to climb, flying inland past the western shore of the bay, then turning back, so as to look as if he had taken off from Augusta. He climbed to five thousand feet and leveled off as he turned east between Camden and Lincolnsville, and when the GPS told him he was five miles from Islesboro Airport, he pulled the throttle slowly to idle, then pulled out the mixture control until the engine stopped. Finally, he pulled the propeller lever all the way back, feathering the prop and turning the Cessna into a glider. He had done this before, practicing emergency landings, and he was sure he could do it again. The airplane was silent now, and nobody looked up at an airplane that made no noise.

Once over the island, he turned for his final approach to the airport, still three miles out, noting with satisfaction that the lobster boat he had seen was now docked in Dark Harbor. He fixed the short runway at a point in the middle of his windshield and kept it there, adjusting his glide path occasionally to keep his airspeed at ninety knots. The runway remained in the middle of his windshield, meaning that he had the correct combination of descent and airspeed. When he was sure he could make the runway, he dropped the landing gear and put in some flaps, aiming about a third of the way down the runway. He touched down, but did not brake, letting the airplane roll. When he was near the end of the runway, he turned off onto the parking ramp and made a very nice turn into a tiedown. Only then did he use the brakes. Perfect.