Free No Mercy by John Gilstrap Page B

evidence that they were even on the right track, she would soon have to regroup and start over from scratch.
    "I think you're right," Gail said to Jesse as they walked from the civil aviation terminal toward Gail's official unmarked vehicle. "They borrowed instead of renting."
    "Or they could own their own," Jesse offered. "But, I know, we're stipulating that they're from too far out of town for that. I want to show you something." They reached the vehicle and he used the hood as an impromptu desk. From his briefcase, he produced a black imitation-leather portfolio from which papers sprouted in all directions. As he searched for the flight plan the aircraft was invisible. They inquired via the telephone whether the radar record could be resurrected to show where they traveled, but the answer, much to Gail's and Jesse's surprise, was negative. A helicopter without a flight plan could literally fly under the radar and disappear into the vast American airspace.
    The Gulfstream jet, however, was traceable. It was registered to Perseus Foods Corporation, headquartered in Rockville, Maryland. Gail started making phone calls. Thus far, she'd had no luck whatsoever getting through to anyone at the corporate headquarters who could answer any questions.
    Back at the office, after an hour in the car on the way back to Samson, Gail completed her third call into the bowels of Perseus Foods, and found herself not a single step closer to an answer. After someone named Lakisha had promised to "ask around" to see who might know something, Gail could feel her blood pressure rising. She hung up the phone aggressively enough to bring Jesse's head up from the pile of reports that had flooded into the office while they were at the airport. With the blinds closed to protect them from the eyes of the media outside, the atmosphere inside the office was positively funereal.
    "I hate people sometimes," she said in reply to Jesse's quizzical expression. "No one knows anything, and the Maryland State Police isn't anxious to push people's buttons for us. They don't think we have enough to justify the dedication of manpower."
    Jesse didn't seem surprised. "Want me to grab a flight out there and talk to someone? It's easy to stonewall when all you have to do is press a hold button. It gets a little more complicated when you have to look people in the eye."
    Gail stood and stretched. "It might come to that."
    Jesse turned to a page in his pile of reports. "I have an interesting lead here," he said. "Day before yesterday, outside of Muncie, a pharmacist called the local cops to report what he thought might be a runaway. The report here says he was a kid, a teenager or maybe very early twenties, and he was filthy and clearly distraught. He waited there a long time for the bus to Chicago."
    Gail cocked her head. "How is that a lead for us?"
    Jesse sensed disapproval and his shoulders slumped a little. "The timing works. As far as I'm concerned, wherever the stars align, there's a potential lead. On the morning of the attack, there's a kid waiting for a bus to the same place where our Gulf Stream headed. All things considered, it's a pretty close match."
    The sheriff didn't get it. "If they were going to Chicago, why not just fly him to Chicago? What's the bus thing all about?"
    Jesse gave that some thought. "I can't say for sure, but a bus doesn't go right to a location, does it? Maybe he intended to get off somewhere in between."
    Gail looked at her deputy. For the first time since she'd taken office, she saw why this man was so popular among the troops. His mind was suited perfectly for this line of work. "Do we have a name?" she asked.
    Jesse nodded, and quickly scanned the page. "We've got two, actually. We've got a name for the pharmacist, and we've got a name for the kid."
    Gail's jaw dropped.
    Jesse chuckled. "Yeah, that sort of surprised me, too. Apparently the kid gave his name as Hughes, either Thomas or
    "And anybody that rich can certainly afford the