Close Up the Sky Read Online Free Page B

mental
note of the tag number.
    Linda Moore, his
neighbor from across the hall, was just getting home from her midnight-to-seven
nursing job at the hospital. She came through the door and shook rain off her
umbrella, slinging water across the carpeted hallway.
    “Rain’s been going
on all night,” she complained to Leahy.
    “Yeah, it’s been
quite a morning, too,” he responded. He said goodbye to the woman and returned
to his apartment. He picked up the phone, and dialed the number of the police
department’s crime information center. Dottie Fitzgerald, one of the dayshift
clerks, answered.
    “Hi, Dottie, this
is Matt Leahy.”
    “Well hey, honey
child! How’s the hero today?” she kidded.
    Leahy grinned. “Thinking
of you, as usual,” he answered.
    “Yeah, I’ll bet,”
she laughed. “What can I do for you, Matt?”
    “Can you run a tag
registration for me?”
    “Sure, what is
it?”
    He gave her the
tag number from the NSA car and waited. He could hear her punching data into
the computer. A few seconds later she came back on the line.
    “Sorry, Matt, but
it’s not in the registration files. Do you want me to call DMV and get them to
do a manual search?”
    “No, that’s okay,
Dottie. Thanks.” He hung up and walked over to the coffee table where the
airline ticket lay. He picked it up and slipped it out of its paper jacket. DELTA
FLIGHT 207 ATLANTA TO ALBUQUERQUE was printed across the boarding pass in bold
letters. Outside, a flash of lightning lit up the darkening sky immediately
followed by thunder. Storm’s getting closer, he thought. He glanced once more
at the ticket.
    The section
reserved for return flight information was stamped ONE WAY.

Chapter 3
    T he engines of the big jet dropped in pitch as it rolled to a
stop at the arrival gate. The passengers stood and began pulling packages and
carrying cases from the storage bins along the top of the cabin. Muted
conversations filled the confined space as people reached across each other for
their belongings and crowded into the narrow aisle. Late afternoon sunshine
slanted through the oval windows, its yellow glow contrasting with the sterile
white of the cabin lights.
    Leahy kept his
seat while the other passengers filed down the aisle and began exiting the
plane. He had spent most of the flight mentally examining them for anything
that might indicate they were NSA agents or other federal operatives. He
finally decided he was being paranoid and gave it up. When the aisle cleared,
he rose and followed the last of the passengers to the front of the plane. As
instructed, the only luggage he carried was the raincoat he was wearing when he
departed Atlanta. Two pretty flight attendants with frozen smiles nodded
mechanically as he exited the aircraft.
    The covered ramp
led into a large waiting room crowded with people. Leahy stopped just outside
the entrance and scanned the crowd, looking for the unidentified contact that
was to meet him. Everything appeared normal. The usual variety of people were
scattered around the waiting room, most of them looking bored and sleepy. A
young soldier sat slumped in one of the seats, legs extended before him. He
turned from looking out a large window over the tarmac long enough to give
Leahy a blank stare. Leahy smiled and nodded. The soldier ignored the courtesy
and resumed his vigilance of the concrete expanse beyond the window. Two men in
business suits were sitting against the wall to his left. Both were reading
newspapers and showed no interest in the milling crowd. If his contact was
waiting for him, he or she was not obvious.
    Across the room a
young woman wearing a buckskin jacket and jeans caught his eye. Her long blonde
hair was braided and held back by a red headband. They made eye contact and he
waited while she worked her way through the crowd toward him. As she
approached, Leahy noted the worn out moccasins on her feet and the leather
thong holding up her tight jeans. A young man, similarly dressed,