Free Airtight by David Rosenfelt Page A

suite at the Bellagio.
    The windows on the main floor were unlocked, as Tommy expected they would be. He opened one and climbed inside, signaling Frankie to stay outside and watch for intruders. Tommy did not wear gloves, and was not concerned about fingerprints.
    Once inside, he entered an interior room and took out his small flashlight, shining it into the bag he was carrying. He emptied the contents, and spent the next twenty minutes positioning the explosives strategically around the house.
    The army training had served him well; Tommy operated with an expertise that was instinctive, and a complete confidence that he was doing things correctly. The fact that there was no basement in the house made it easier, though only marginally.
    Once he was finished, he did a check of his work, to make sure everything was in good condition. There was no hurry; he was not going to be detected. The only reason for moving quickly was that there was a basketball game on television later that night that he was anxious to see. He had a bet on the game, for an amount of money that in the future he wouldn’t be wasting his time on.
    Tommy left through the front door, closing it and all the windows behind him. He didn’t want there to be anywhere for the air to escape, though that was just him being more cautious than necessary. He took pride in his work, and even though there was no chance of failure, he still wanted to do it exactly right.
    “All good?” Frankie asked softly once Tommy was outside.
    “All good.”
    Thirty feet in front of the guesthouse, they stopped and Tommy took out the remaining items in the bag that he was carrying. They were a can of red paint and a brush, and he slowly and methodically painted letters on the driveway. It was difficult because of the darkness and the small light given off by the flashlight.
    Once he was finished, he took his time to make sure the message was legible.
You will not hurt our children.
    Satisfied with his work, Tommy took the now empty bag with him. He jogged back to the street, not because he was fearful of being caught but simply so he could get to his television and basketball game sooner. Frankie, not being a basketball fan, was not pleased, but since Tommy had the keys to the car, he was obliged to jog as well.
    Once in the car, they drove about a half a mile, and then stopped. It would be close enough to confirm that the operation was a success, but far enough to ensure an easy getaway.
    Tommy opened the window and dialed a number on his cell phone. Within two seconds of his pressing the last digit, he saw the flash of light in the distance, and then heard the explosion.
    “All good?” Frankie asked.
    “All good.”
    If Richard Carlton was going to have guests any time soon, they’d be staying in a hotel.

 
    Michael Oliver had a very important job.
    It didn’t make him famous; it didn’t make him stand out at all. He could walk down the streets of Tulsa, Oklahoma, as he did every day on the way to and from work, and never be recognized.
    Oliver was chief engineer of Hanson Oil and Gas. They didn’t have traditional titles there, but if they did, he probably would have been a Senior Vice President, or maybe an Executive Vice President. Which made him pretty high up the ladder.
    But his significance was even greater than it appeared. As the head of a very small department, Oliver’s job was to analyze land for its potential to provide energy, be it oil or natural gas. Once this was completed, a cost-benefit analysis was done to determine how expensive it would be to extract that energy, versus how much it could be sold for.
    Hanson was a middle level player in the industry, but it still had a market capitalization of over six billion dollars. It didn’t get that big by making mistakes, and Michael Oliver was the mistake preventer in chief.
    When Oliver gave the go-ahead on a find, Hanson literally would take it to the bank. And if Oliver said the potential was not there,