was right that he heard his attacker mention the Minotaur?"
He nodded. "Yes, it would seem. At this point, we need to take it seriously. Seriously enough that we need to take a good look at that pen drive."
"I don't get it. Are you saying someone might be killing everyone on that flight just because of some pen drive?"
"The envelope you've just described to me is typical of either a bomb or an imbedded tracking device. Since it did not go off we must assume the latter. Someone must have thought this pen drive well worth tracking, and they must have been very surprised to see that it wound up on that flight instead of where it was supposed to go. There was something on this pen drive that the sender absolutely could not afford to fall in the wrong hands. And that sender was no kid using nicknames."
VII.
Doc Minus Two needed to write some e-mails and so we stopped at a gas station half an hour away from the cabin. When he was done I checked my own account and finally found something from K.
AL,
I KNOW IT WAS YOU WHO KIDNAPPED THEM. YOU'RE PUTTING THEM IN HARM'S WAY. LET US DO OUR JOB. STAY AWAY. ALSO, DON'T ASSOCIATE WITH VIGILANTES. I WILL WRITE MORE WHEN I HAVE NEWS. I THINK WE'RE GETTING CLOSER TO THE BOTTOM OF THIS.
It was not signed. "I think she was referring to you with the vigilante remark," I said. "How did she know? And how did she know it was me who kidnapped my family and not them?"
"She knows nothing, she's shooting in the dark. Full of wind like a corn-eating horse."
There was some doubt creeping in now, and guilt. The FBI was close to cracking this case and here I was standing in their way playing detective with this man whose only reference came from a mentally imbalanced recluse who lived with a bear. In the process I also employed two wanted criminals and may have put my son and ex wife at risk, and caused the disappearance of Mrs. Rossi. I pondered whether I should let Doc Minus Two go. We have done enough damage together. "Do you really think this pen drive has anything to do with the murders? Sounds like a coincidence to me and not an impressive one at that."
He looked at me askew. "It's all we got to go on. I thought you were the one who believed the Minotaur had something to do with it. So what happened?"
"I used to think so, but now I'm thinking, if there was something important on that pen drive, they'd have sent it electronically."
"Just the opposite. They know all traffic on the Internet is tracked. Any e-mail can be read. Haven't you heard of Snowden?"
I tried another approach. "What if it's Al Qaida? They love to target commercial flights."
Minus Two looked at me with more disdain than usual. "Al Qaida? Murdering the passengers one by one in a low key manner so that the public is kept unaware and unafraid? Oh, yes, a very useful tactic for a terror organization. Al, sometimes you're so dumb I think you could throw yourself on the ground and miss."
"So who can it be?"
"If I knew the answer to that I wouldn't be standing here charging you six hundred bucks a day."
I had to say something mean to him. "Will you give me a refund if the FBI gets there first?"
"I never gave a refund in my life. Nor asked for one. You're a self-centered bitcher and complainer like the rest of your generation. Now hop in the Jeep, wuss, and keep quiet before I start charging you by the word."
Wrapped in my new parka and scarf, I sat silently in the Jeep as he made several short cuts through the woods and then brought us to a highway that ended in New York State, not far from Rochester and Buffalo.
"I thought we were going to my place, in Mass, to pick up the pen drive," I yelled over the wind. This was the first time I spoke since I had gotten in the Jeep.
"We are." It was hard to understand him as he would not raise his voice even while doing fifty five miles an hour in an open vehicle. If you wanted to understand Doc Minus Two it was your problem, and he let you know it. "But we have to make a stop first."
"Why?"
"The ground crew."
I remembered now. He wanted to speak to whoever was at the gate when the flight departed, to make sure nothing happened before I arrived on the scene. I did not understand what they would be doing in Upstate New York as the flight took off from Boston.
"She quit. She now lives in Rochester and helping her old pa in his grocery store."
"How do you know all that?"
He pointed to the back of the Jeep, where the bag with his laptop was. Ah, yes, his databases and connections. Though he did not look it, Doc Minus Two always did his homework. We passed by the grocery store five minutes later. It was a shabby building with more paper ads covering its front than paint. Even the dying, reddish sun rays could not bring out any color but grey and faint yellow out of it. The storefront glass was dirty and a large crack went down its right side, nearly cutting it in half. Several cars were parked by the sidewalk. Doc Minus Two approached these and examined each one closely and entered the plate numbers into a tablet PC he had taken out of his jacket pocket, and which I had not seen before.
"This time, I don't want to be Agent Boris if you don't mind," I said.
He nodded his consent. A bell rang when we went into the store, and an old man who stood behind the counter looked at us briefly without moving his head. He was eating apples off a large porcelain plate. The store smelled of dust and a faint sweet odor that must have come from a spill that was recently cleaned up. Doc Minus Two flashed his ATF badge at the old man. "I'm agent Green. This is agent Boris. Is Pauline in?"
"No," the old man barked. He regarded Doc Minus Two with defiance.
"Liar," Doc Minus Two said.
The old man tilted his head as disbelief spread over his face. "What did you just say to me?" He pointed at the door. "Get the fuck outta here."
"Take it easy. I saw her car outside."
"I use it."
"So you arrived here today with two cars? Yours is parked out there, too, Mr. Mogeras."
The old man became very excited now, upset at being caught lying twice. He took a threatening step towards Doc Minus Two and then went around the counter and shook his head a lot and opened his mouth to say something nasty. Then he suddenly gripped his throat and made loud whizzing sounds and fell to the floor.
"Sir, are you alright?" I exclaimed in panic.
Doc Minus Two turned to me slowly. "Does he look alright?" he said sardonically. "No, he doesn't. That's because he is currently in the process of chocking on an apple. Understand?"
The old man's daughter hurried into the room now. She ran and then slid into a position next to her father, on the floor. "Pa, what's going on? Oh, God he's choking."
I squatted down behind the old man and began to administer the Heimlich maneuver. It did not work. "Stand aside," Doc Minus Two ordered us. "You two are as useless as a belly dancer in a naval battle." Then he grabbed an old metal vacuum cleaner that stood behind the counter and dragged it out of there and turned it on and shoved the hose right into the old man's mouth. The man struggled for a moment, and his cheeks caved in and his eyes widened. Doc Minus Two took out the hose with a swift pull a moment later. The old man coughed loudly and waived his arms. Then he began to curse at Doc Minus Two, and we knew that he was going to be alright.
"Now," Doc Minus Two said, "can I speak to your daughter already?"
The old man coughed again and cursed some more. The girl stood up. She did not know whether to thank Doc Minus Two for saving her father's life or be mad at him for disrespectfully shoving a hose into his mouth. "What do you want?" she said with some hostility.
Doc Minus Two showed her his badge. "I'm with the Bureau of Alcohol, Tobacco, Firearms and Explosives. We are investigating reports of criminal activity at airport gates prior to boarding."
"What kind of criminal activities?"
His tone became impatient. "Petty theft, grand larceny, fraud, human traffickin
g, battery, juvenile delinquency, cannabis cultivation, loitering, incest, and dealing cards on a Sunday." Doc Minus Two could not help himself; he had to be mean and sarcastic from time to time, and often at the worst of times. I was glad to discover this flaw in him, a chink in his professional armor.
"You're making fun of me."
"You are very astute, Ma'am, but if I told you the true extent of these crimes I'd be jeopardizing a major operation that has national security implications. I need you to trust me. I need your cooperation. Do I have your cooperation?"
She leaned against the counter and put her hands on her hips. "For now."
"Now is all I need. Think back two years ago if you can. October 12th or thereabouts. A Boston to Dallas flight. Do you recall seeing anything unusual at the gate? Any suspicious or just out-of-the-ordinary activity?"
She smirked. "Surely you don't expect me to remember one workday out of hundreds that far back?"
"If there was something worth remembering, you'd remember. If not, it is not important anyway."
She looked down at the floor as she tried to focus on the request. Behind her, the old man resumed his position behind the counter, but he did not go back to eating the apples. Instead he decided to tune out the unwanted visitors by going over the books with a pen wearing a resentful expression on his face. He did not speak again.
She scratched her nose. "Well, there was one thing. Nothing big, but that's the only thing that stands out. I'm not even sure about the exact date." She looked up from the floor now and gazed at us. "There were those three men in business suits. They sat