one thing she knew for fact. He did have a plane. And there was one thing she couldn’t do from a computer.
Taggert had said he was only here for one night. So, if someone wanted to search his plane’s cargo before he left, the window of opportunity was quickly closing.
Not giving herself time to rethink her decision, she took a cab to a discount department store and bought black jeans, a black turtleneck and some black boots. Just what all the trendiest spies were wearing this spring. Hopefully she could hide in Taggert’s plane until he loaded it.
When she returned, Eric had the name and number of a pilot who flew a small one-propeller plane into the Anchorage airport all the time. Once in her room, Serena pulled out her cell and called him. Using her show as an excuse for research, she asked the pilot if he could arrange for temporary clearance as his guest. She winced when he readily agreed, feeling guilty for using him to snoop. But she wasn’t going to harm or steal anything. And real investigative reporters sometimes had to use unconventional ways to gain access to information. Didn’t they?
Since she hadn’t eaten, she ordered room service and tried soaking in the tub to calm her stomach. Failing miserably, she got into her pj’s, laid out the new outfit and then sat down to send an email to Roberta. Then she went over the plan in her head one more time.
Could she really sneak onto someone’s plane and search through their stuff? If she was caught, she could be facing jail time.
She remembered the story her father told of getting dragged into a black Caddy by some goons. It was 1972 and the EPA had been established a couple years earlier. Simon Sandstone had just published his first exposé on a major company dumping toxic waste. The corrupt corporation had tried intimidating him into giving up his secret informant.
He’d come home bloodied and bruised, but he hadn’t revealed his source. If Serena’s mother hadn’t had friends in high places he might not have come home at all.
Her dad had risked his life to help save the environment. Surely she could risk arrest to get the scoop on a drug running operation in Alaska.
If Max was a drug runner.
But if he had nothing to hide, why refuse to give interviews?
Still, he hadn’t seemed the type. Way to be objective, Sandstone. What exactly was the type? Street-corner thugs? Mafia hit men? Slick, rich kids? Just because the guy had a dog and wore a traditional Inuit coat with his jeans didn’t mean he couldn’t have been meeting his supplier tonight.
She bolted up from the bed. Had he thought she was his drug contact? Or had she interrupted his meeting when she’d had that drink in the bar with him? If that were the case, would he have taken her to his room and loaned her his gloves? And kissed her so deliciously?
Running a finger over her lips, she sat back down and closed her eyes. His beard had been soft and his lips had moved over hers with the perfect combination of tenderness and purpose. If she’d met him at some boring celeb party in L.A. would she have still felt that overwhelming attraction?
She didn’t remember falling asleep, but the harsh blare of the alarm jerked her awake. Bleary-eyed, she slammed the snooze button—5:00 a.m.
Within thirty minutes she was dressed and in a cab headed for Anchorage International. She instructed the cabbie to drop her off at the General Aviation Hangar.
Once in the office, there was a desk with a security guard. He looked up as she approached. Through the office window she could see the hangar with a couple of planes inside.
“I’m Serena Sandstone. There should be a clearance badge waiting for me?”
The guard checked a clipboard of papers, then nodded and stood to unlock the door to the hangar for her. “You want to know about a particular plane?”
“Uh, no. I wanted to look at all the different types of prop planes, if that’s okay. Just to get a feel for their size and how they land and take off.”
He stared at her as if she were a ditzy airhead, but he waved her through the door.
“Thanks.” Releasing her pent up breath, she smiled and took her badge. “Is it okay if I look at the planes outside, too?”
The guard shrugged. “Be my guest.”
Faking an air of confidence, she strolled through the door into the hangar, then checking through the window that the guard had returned to his desk and wasn’t looking, she slipped out the door to the tie-down ramp.
Outside, it was still dark and freezing cold. Only one lone light overhead cast shadows around the small aircrafts. And the wind made an eerie sound as it blew over and under their wings and turned propellers. She shivered and hugged her arms.
She spied the weathered white Cessna she’d seen Max Taggert jump out of yesterday and made straight for it. It sat higher than it looked from far away. With one last glance around, she grabbed hold of the pole running between the body of the plane and wing, climbed up onto the foothold and tugged on the door.
It opened.
Jeez, her heart was thudding so hard she could feel it pounding against her rib cage. She hadn’t even considered what she’d do if the door had been locked. Which she should have. What kind of drug runner left his plane unlocked?
She took in a fortifying breath of Arctic air. Just do it.
She climbed in and crawled behind the pilot’s seat into the cargo space. Digging out a flashlight from her purse, she shone the light around and spied a large toolbox, a slatted crate next to it and a wadded-up tarp in the very back. Other than that, the interior was empty.
She rifled through the crate and found a butane lantern, some canned goods and other camping type items. Only tools in the toolbox. Nothing under the tarp. That left hidden compartments in the walls.
She’d finished feeling one side when she heard men’s voices carried on the wind. Someone was out there. The door. She’d left it open. On her hands and knees she scrambled to the pilot’s seat and saw two men talking just outside the hangar entrance. One of them was Max Taggert.
Thankfully, neither man was facing the plane. She slowly closed the door, then crawled back to the cargo area and hid under the tarp, curling into a tight ball.
She didn’t hear anything else until the plane’s door opened. Serena held her breath.
“—talked to the tower and visibility is four miles,” Max said to someone. She’d recognize that deep, smooth voice anywhere. There was a soft thud as the plane bounced under the weight of whatever was being loaded.
“Need to sign your flight plan and you’re ready to go,” the other guy said, and she heard metal clanking on the ground. They were untying it.
Another thud and the plane bounced again. The first item was shoved farther back into the cargo area. Two more heavy items were loaded and Serena feared she might be blocked in.
Finally she heard the plane’s door close and there was silence. Sounded as if she only had a few minutes. She threw off the tarp and turned on her flashlight. Two duct-taped coolers and a couple cardboard boxes sat ominously around her. Before she could rethink her actions, she stuck the flashlight between her teeth, slowly peeled
