“What are you talking about?”
“We’re going to see Samuel Rider, Esquire.”
“And who is Samuel Rider, Esquire?”
“Rufus Harms’s attorney. George Barker called back with the name. I looked Rider up. He practices outside of Blacksburg, only a couple hours east of the prison. I tried his office, but there was no answer. His home phone’s unlisted.”
“So why are we flying out there then?”
“We have his office address. It’ll be late by the time we get there, so it’s a long shot he’ll be in his office. But it’s also not a big town: We should be able to find somebody there who can give us his home address or at least his phone number. And if we’re right about his involvement, he could be in danger. If something happens to him, we may never find out the truth.”
“So you really think he’s the one who called the Court? The one who filed the appeal?”
“I wouldn’t bet against it.”
CHAPTER FORTY-THREE
* * *
Twenty-five minutes later Fiske and Sara arrived at National Airport, and Sara pulled into one of the parking garages. After that they made their way to the general aviation terminal. “Are you sure we can get a flight out?” Fiske asked.
“I chartered a private plane to take us there.”
“You did what? Do you know how much that costs?”
“Do you know how much it costs?”
Fiske looked sheepish. “No, I mean it’s not like I ever chartered a friggin’ plane before. But it can’t be cheap.”
“It’s about twenty-two hundred dollars for a round-trip flight to Blacksburg. I maxed out my credit card.”
“Then I’ll pay you back somehow.”
“You don’t have to do that.”
“I don’t like owing people.”
“Fine, I’m sure I can figure out lots of ways for you to pay it off.” She smiled.
A few minutes later they approached a small twin-engine jet sitting on the tarmac. Fiske watched as a boxy 737 lumbered down the main runway and then lifted gracefully into the air. Everywhere was the nauseating smell of jet fuel and the irritating whine of engines.
Sara and Fiske headed up the steps of the sleek jet, where they were met by a man in his fifties with short white hair and a wiry build. He introduced himself as the pilot, Chuck Herman.
Herman looked up at the skies. “I got the flight plan filed okay, but we’re a little behind in the takeoff schedule. They had some delays earlier because of a software glitch in the control tower and everybody’s paying for it.”
“We’re on a short time fuse, Chuck,” Sara said. The later they arrived at Rider’s office, the less likely it was that they’d find someone to help them. In addition, she couldn’t be late for work again.
Herman looked proudly at his aircraft. “Not to worry. We’re only talking a seventy-minute trip, and I can step on the gas if need be.”
They all moved into the cabin and Herman indicated chairs for them to sit in.
“I’m sorry, but I couldn’t get a cabin steward in here on such short notice. Do you two want anything?”
“A glass of white wine,” Sara said.
“How about you, John? Can I get you anything?” Fiske declined. “The fridge is fully stocked with food. Please help yourself.”
Ten minutes after takeoff, the flight became very smooth, like gliding on a calm pond in a canoe. Sara unstrapped her belt and looked over at Fiske. He stared out the window at the sinking sun.
“How about I fix up something to eat? And I’ve got some interesting things to tell you.”
“Same here.” Fiske unstrapped himself, followed her back and sat down at the table, where he watched Sara make up some sandwiches.
“Coffee?”
Fiske nodded. “Something tells me it’s going to be a long night.”
Sara finished making the food and poured out two cups of coffee. She sat down across from Fiske and looked at her watch. “The flight is so short we don’t have all that much time. There aren’t any rental car places at the airport in Blacksburg. We can take a cab to a rental place in town and get a car there, though.”