Free First to Kill by Andrew Peterson Page B

They’d arrived well after dark. Then, early this morning, they met with the Ortegas at a coffee shop in Mission Valley and given them a complete update on the Freedom’s Echo raid, including their latest phone updates from Gifford. Although disappointment was evident in their voices and body language, they seemed encouraged by the new assignment Nathan and Harv had accepted.
    After the Ortegas, they again went their separate ways and agreed to meet back at Montgomery Field at 1800 hours for the return flight to Sacramento. Harv told Nathan he needed to make a brief stop at the office to follow up on some potential contracts before heading home to say happy birthday to his oldest son, Lucas.
    Nathan needed sleep. He could barely concentrate. One rule he’d taken to heart while in the Marines: Sleep when you can. He’d had less than six hours of shut-eye in the last two days and he faced another long night of flying. He needed to call Mara and find out if Toby had caused any additional problems. He dialed her cell number from memory.
    “Any sign of our problem child?”
    “No, nothing at all. I really think he’s gone for good this time. Karen said to say thank-you for the money. A handyman’s there now, fixing the walls and replacing the sliding glass door. Karen said she wants you to upgrade the security system with that new mobile link stuff.”
    “That’s a good idea. Tell Karen we’ll hook her up.”
    “You’re a gem.”
    “Take care, Mara.”
    “Bye, Nathan.”
    Maybe he’d read Toby right after all. A few miles later, his phone rang. It was Harv. “What’s up?”
    “I just had the damnedest conversation with the office.”
    “And?”
    “Gavin said a big guy came in and applied for a job yesterday. I believe she used the word gorilla . She said his right arm was in a cast, and he looked like he’d gone ten rounds with George Foreman. You know anything about him?”
    “I might.”
    “You didn’t…”
    “I did.” Nathan listened to the sigh on the other end.
    “Think he can pass a background check?”
    “I have no idea, probably not.”
    “You must really hate me.”
    “Consider it a personal challenge.”
    “I’ll run the check myself. You could’ve told me.”
    “Must have slipped my mind.”
    “Do me a favor and get some sleep. I don’t want you nodding off at the stick tonight. Waking your ass up is hazardous business, especially in a helicopter.”
    “It’s called a cyclic, not a stick.”
    “Whatever.”
    “How was your son’s birthday party?”
    “I missed it. I was tied up with a national security issue up north in Lassen County.”
    “You know what I mean.”
    “Well, let’s see. You want the long or short version?”
    “Short.”
    “No surprise there,” Harv muttered. “I spent an hour removing toilet paper from my trees in the front yard. After that, I drained the pool. The water had mysteriously turned pink. But you know what the worst thing was?”
    “Do tell.”
    “His friends wrote Happy Birthday Lucas with gasoline on the front lawn and lit it on fire. Can you believe that? It wasn’t dangerous, but honestly. Today’s youth.”
    “Well, he is a teenager.”
    “Don’t remind me. I’m making him replace all the burned grass. A pallet of sod’s coming tomorrow morning. Should keep him busy for most of the day. Candace grounded him for a month.”
    Nathan chuckled.
    “Oh that’s right, laugh it up. This is what happens when I turn my back for a few days.”
    “If that’s worst thing he ever does, consider yourself lucky.”
    “That’s not very reassuring.”
    “What, you never did anything like that during your formative years?”
    “Point taken.”
    “See you at eighteen-hundred.”
    * * *
    At close to midnight, Nathan set the helicopter down at Sacramento Executive Airport in the exact same spot where they’d landed before. They were both suffering from major cases of flight fatigue and needed head call. A plain four-door sedan was parked