“No, they just wanted me to find out where he was.” He looked at her quizzically. “Who do you think I am?”
It was a question that she had been trying to solve for all the time that she had known him. She knew how clever he was, she knew he had a genius for manipulation and an experience in black ops that was both dangerous and impressive. She just didn’t know how and in what depth he used those skills. And it wasn’t something she would ever ask him. “Do I really need to say it?”
“Hmm. Well, they had other people standing by for that. Anyway, I found out we were working with some faulty information. He was being set up. I helped him out of a potentially lethal situation. In the end, I helped clear him and broker a deal with the State Department that brought him here. He’s been a grateful friend ever since.”
“His gratitude includes the use of this plane?”
“As long as I bring it back in one piece and gas it up when I’m finished.”
“Nice.”
“Yes, I try not to abuse his generosity, but there are times it’s incredibly convenient. Like tonight.” He shot her a sly glance. “When it enables me to impress a woman who is exceptionally difficult to impress.”
“Who said I was impressed? I’m merely interested in a new experience.”
“New experiences,” he murmured. “I’ll have to remember that’s the way to lure you.”
“And I wouldn’t really worry about abusing your friend’s generosity.” She looked away from him. “Sometimes the debt is so great that you’re willing to put up with anything, do whatever is possible or not possible, just to pay a little toward it.”
“I don’t think we’re still talking about Giancarlo,” he said quietly.
“Sure we are.” She smiled with an effort. “I was just reminding you of something that a master manipulator like you should always keep in mind. I’m surprised that you’re treading so softly where your friend is concerned.”
“The emphasis and key word is friend.” He grinned. “That concept can sometimes mess everything up when you’re trying to rule the world.” He checked a flight map on his tablet computer. “So what do you expect to find in Big Bear?”
She was glad that he had shifted the subject to one that made her feel less vulnerable. “I have no idea. But I know Waldridge was in the area, probably earlier in the day yesterday. He wasn’t pleased when I figured out he’d been there, so that’s pretty much all the reason I need to check the place out. We’ll see what turns up.”
“Sounds reasonable. Only another few minutes.” He glanced at the snow blowing across the windshield. “You’re not dressed for this weather. Look in the closet just outside the cockpit. I think you’ll find something to wear.”
Big Bear City Airport Big Bear Lake, California
Fifteen minutes later, Kendra stepped off the plane wearing a Mackage moto jacket, all leather and zippers. She looked down at the snug-fitting garment. “The snow won’t be kind to this leather, you know.”
“I don’t care. I’m positive that jacket has never looked better.” Lynch smiled and followed her down to the tarmac. He was wearing a long wool coat he’d grabbed from the same closet. They stopped and looked around the small airport. It was quiet and dark. There were no other planes in operation, and the place was obviously working with a skeleton crew. He motioned toward a brightly lit building at the end of a row of hangars. “That’s the administrator’s office. We’ll start there.”
They walked toward the building and glanced through the glass door to see a dimly lit office of three desks. The room’s only occupant was a young man peering intently at a laptop. Kendra tried the door. Locked. Lynch rapped on the glass, and the man stood up and came to the door.
He unlocked it and pushed it open. “May I help you?”
Kendra’s eyes flicked to the name plaque on his desk. “You can if your name is Matt Paulsen.”
“Uh, yeah. That’s me.”
“Good. I was told you could help us.” She pulled out her phone and showed him a photo of Waldridge. “Did you see this man arriving here in the last couple days?”
He squinted at the phone. “I’m not sure. I don’t see everyone who comes through here. You might ask some of the ground crew. There’s no way to know for certain—”
“He was probably on a charter,” she interrupted. “He might have transferred from LAX or another international airport. He has an English accent, and he would have been pulling a brown-and-black rollerboard—”
“Wait.” He studied the photo for another moment. “I do think he was here.”
“And what makes you think that?”
“I remember the accent. Kind of upper-crust. It was the night before last. Somebody met his plane.”
“A limo?” Lynch asked.
“No. It was another English guy, and they seemed like they were friends. The guy picked him up in an SUV.”
“What color?” Kendra asked.
“It was dark. Maybe green.”