this morning,’ Jack said. ‘They had no record of an American with the
name of Franconi, and they categorically denied they’d be transplanting
an American since they have a long waiting list for French citizens.’
‘The information that Immigration has must correlate with the flight
plan filed with both the FAA and the European equivalent,’ Lou said. ‘At
least that’s how I understand it.’
‘Do you think your friend in Immigration has a contact in France?’ Jack
asked.
‘It wouldn’t surprise me,’ Lou said. ‘Those upper-echelon guys have to
cooperate with each other. I can ask him. Why would you like to know?’
‘If Franconi was in France I’d like to find out the day he arrived,’
Jack said. ‘And I’d like to know any other information the French might
have on where he went in the country. They keep close tabs on most
non-European foreigners through their hotels.’
‘Okay, let me see what I can do,’ Lou said. ‘Let me call him, and I’ll
call you back.’
‘One other thing,’ Jack said. ‘How can we find out who owns N69SU?’
‘That’s easy,’ Lou said. ‘All you have to do is call the FAA Control
Aviation Center in Oklahoma City. Anybody can do it, but I’ve got a
friend there, too.’
‘Jeez, you have friends in all the convenient places,’ Jack remarked.
‘It comes with the territory,’ Lou said. ‘We do favors for each other
all the time. If you have to wait for everything to go through channels,
nothing gets done.’
‘It’s certainly convenient for me to take advantage of your web of
contacts,’ Jack said.
‘So you want me to call my friend at the FAA?’ Lou asked.
‘I’ll be much obliged,’ Jack said.
‘Hey, it’s my pleasure,’ Lou said. ‘I have a feeling that the more I
help you the more I’m helping myself. I’d like nothing better than to
have this case solved. It might save my job.’
‘I’m leaving my office to run over to the University Hospital,’ Jack
said. ‘What if I call you back in a half hour or so?’
‘Perfect,’ Lou said before disconnecting.
Jack shook his head. Like everything else with this case, the
information he’d gotten from Lou was both surprising and confusing.
France probably was the last country Jack suspected Franconi to have
visited.
After donning his coat for the second time, Jack left his office. Given
the proximity of the University Hospital, he didn’t bother with his
bike. It only took ten minutes by foot.
Inside the busy medical center, Jack took the elevator up to the
pathology department. He was hoping that Dr. Malovar would be available.
Peter Malovar was a giant in the field, and even at the age of
eighty-two he was one of the sharpest pathologists Jack had ever met.
Jack made it a point to go to seminars Dr. Malovar offered once a month.
So when Jack had a question about pathology, he didn’t go to Bingham
because Bingham’s strong point was forensics, not general pathology.
Instead, Jack went to Dr. Malovar.
‘The professor’s in his lab as usual,’ the harried pathology department
secretary said. ‘You know where it is?’
Jack nodded and walked down to the aged, frosted-glass door which led to
what was known as ‘Malovar’s lair.’ Jack knocked. When there was no
response, he tried the door. It was unlocked. Inside, he found Dr.
Malovar bent over his beloved microscope. The elderly man looked a
little like Einstein with wild gray hair and a full mustache. He also
had kyphotic posture as if his body had been specifically designed to
bend over and peer into a microscope. Of his five senses only his
hearing had deteriorated over the years.
The professor greeted Jack cursorily while hungrily eyeing the slide in
his hand. He loved people to bring him problematic cases, a fact that
Jack had taken advantage of on many occasion.
Jack tried to give a little history of the case as he passed the slide
to the professor, but Dr. Malovar lifted his hand to quiet him. Dr.
Malovar was a true detective who didn’t want anyone else’s impressions
to influence his own. The aged professor replaced the slide he’d been