Blue Smoke and Murder

27

SEPTEMBER 15

6:30 A.M.

The small plane took a sudden downward swoop, then settled into a bouncy kind of stability as it cleared the Cajon Pass and rushed toward the high desert country. Below, a freeway unrolled in two wide, curving bands covered with traffic.

Score woke up, rubbed his eyes, and booted up his computer. The first thing he opened was the latest script summary Amy had e-mailed. There were a few more words this time, but paintings still weren’t mentioned. Something about scraps and rags, canvas and belly pack. He switched to the GPS file.

They’re on the move.

The subjects had stopped somewhere outside of Colorado City. Then suddenly they’d started making good time, heading north to Utah, way too straight a travel line for a highway.

He turned on his microphone and asked the pilot, “Is there an airstrip near Colorado City?”

“Yeah. Not much to it, but it’s there.”

“Do you have to file a flight plan for it, coming and going?” Score asked.

“These days if you fart, you file a flight plan. Why?”

Score didn’t answer. He switched to e-mail, sent a blast to his office, and waited.

He didn’t have to wait long. Flight plans, no matter how small the strip, were of interest to Homeland Security and the FAA, and quite available on the public record.

“We need to file a new flight plan,” Score said to the pilot.

“What?”

“We’re going to Snowbird, Utah.”

The pilot started to say something, then shrugged. If the wind cooperated, there was plenty of fuel to make Salt Lake City and still stay within safety regulations. If not, they could refuel in Las Vegas.

She entered the new destination into the onboard computer, filed the change, waited for the okay, and adjusted course.

“The additional cost will be added to your credit card,” the pilot said.

“Just get me to Snowbird.”