Stone Barrington 06-11

agents?”
    “It’s complicated. I’ll explain it when I get there.”
    “You’re coming out, then?”
    “I’ll leave tomorrow morning in my own airplane; probably be there in time for dinner. Can you recommend a hotel?”
    “How many are you?”
    “Myself and a lady cop.”
    “Can you share a room?”
    “You betcha.”
    “Then I insist you stay with me. Call me at your fuel stop and give me an ETA, and I’ll meet you.”
    “Thank you, Ed. If the destination of these parties is not local, then I’ll need to know that. It might cause a change of plan.”
    “I’ll call you by eight tomorrow morning, your time, and give you my man’s report on their destination.”
    “Thank you, Ed. I’ll speak to you then.” He hung up and turned to Holly. “Okay, we’re going to Santa Fe.”
    “Are you sure we shouldn’t fly commercial?”
    “I don’t fly commercial, except overseas.”

38
    T HE FOLLOWING MORNING at 7:45, Stone had just finished packing when the phone rang.
    “Hello?
    “Stone, it’s Ed Eagle.”
    “Good morning, Ed.”
    “My man was at Santa Fe Airport last night when the jet in question landed and was met by a van with federal plates. He followed the group to a house out on the north side of town, in a semi-remote area. After a few minutes, the van left the house with three occupants, which indicates that your fugitive is in the house with at least two agents.”
    “That’s great news, Ed. Thanks very much.”
    “Stone, I don’t know if you’ve considered the ramifications of trying to arrest a fugitive who’s already in federal custody.”
    “I’m just helping out a friend,” Stone replied, “and I’m constantly reminding her of the difficulties involved, but she’s determined to take this guy back to Florida for trial.”
    “We’ll talk some more when you get here,” Eagle said.
    “Okay. We’re refueling in Saint Louis, and I’ll call you from there with an ETA.”
    “A word of advice. If you can stretch your fuel for landing at Wichita, it’s a faster in-and-out.”
    “I’ll keep that in mind. We’ll have to see how the actual, as opposed to forecast, headwinds work out.”
    “See you tonight then.”
    “Thanks again, Ed.”
    Holly came into the room. “What’s up?”
    “They’re in Santa Fe, and Ed’s guy followed them to a house there, so it may be Trini’s final destination.”
    “I’m ready to go when you are.”
    “Then let’s do it.”
    Joan drove them to Teterboro, where Stone did a preflight inspection and got a clearance. They were rolling by nine o’clock.
    Their route took them over Pennsylvania, Ohio, Indiana, and Illinois, and the headwinds proved light enough for Stone to make Wichita for refueling. He called Ed Eagle from there and gave him an ETA of nine p.m., Santa Fe time.

    Ed Eagle was standing on the ramp when Stone taxied up to the Santa Fe Jet Center, and ten minutes later they were headed to Eagle’s house.
    “I’ve had a man watching the house all day,” Ed said, “and nobody has left the place.”

    “Where is it?”
    “It’s about five miles north of the center of town, off Tano Road, on Tano Norte. The area has some new houses, but it’s not all built up yet. There’s a lot of empty land around it. I know the house, because I knew the guy who built it, and I went to a couple of dinner parties there.”
    “Can you describe it to me?”
    “A single story—there are restrictions on building height out there—three bedrooms, a library, living room, dining room, kitchen, garage—about six thousand square feet. A subsequent owner built an elaborate wall along the road, so you can’t see the house from the road.”
    “Does the wall go all the way around the house?”
    “No. You could approach it on foot, but the terrain is a little rough—arroyos and ravines on the property. I did the closing when the original owner bought the property, and as I recall, he bought half of a twenty-five-acre tract. There are no other houses within, say, five hundred feet. There’s also a swimming pool and cabana, a tennis court, and a guest house.”
    “Sounds pretty elaborate for somebody in the Witness Protection Program.”
    “I thought the same thing. It may just be a way point on the way to his final destination.”
    “Sounds pretty elaborate for an FBI property, too.”
    “Yeah. My guess is it’s owned by somebody friendly to the Bureau—I’ll have to check the property records to find out who—and that