asking for help and not addressed to anyone in particular. He was always receiving junk mail and that’s why that particular one didn’t mean a thing and was deleted with many others.
The first time he was in Chicago after receiving his friend’s e-mail, Austin called the number that was given to him and before he had a chance to introduce himself as having a friend in common, the woman started talking.
“Are you calling about the job I advertised for and can you do it?” she asked immediately.
“Describe the job,” said Austin, wondering what advertisement she was talking about.
To Austin’s surprise, she went into details about how a very famous man had raped her and beaten her within inches of her life. She did say, however, that the situation did not start as a rape. She said that originally the attraction was mutual. She had accepted his invitation to his room at the theatre, without mentioning which one, and later it got out of hand. She could have called the police but she knew she wouldn’t and thought he suspected the same. It would certainly have ruined her reputation and her business if the incident made it to the papers but she could not forget. She wanted revenge and she was willing to pay a lot of money for it.
“Does anyone know?” asked Austin.
“I was staying at a friend’s flat in London. I had to tell her something when she came home but I left a lot out. Matter of fact, I left almost everything out. She works for Scotland Yard and she would have had to take some kind of action of course, so I just left and came back to the U.S. and that was not easy. That was several months ago but I have thought of little else.”
“So, what do you want me to do?”
“I want the guy hurt, just like he hurt me. I don’t want him to get away with this. I want to send him a message. He must have done this many times before. I want him hurt and I want him stopped. I want him to feel how much it hurts when someone is beating the crap out of you. I want him to feel more pain than he thought possible because that’s what I felt before he was finished with me.”
She was telling Austin all this with such passion that made him realize this guy must have done a real job on her.
“Are you sure you want this done?”
“I never thought I would want anyone hurt, but I want this bastard to feel pain. From his actions, I am positive he has done this to other women, and someone has to stop him. Besides, I am taking a great risk by advertising what I want on the Net. God only knows how many people received my e-mail for help and how much trouble I can get myself into by doing so, but I really don’t care. I just want the bastard stopped, no matter what happens to me.”
“How much are you willing to pay for the job if I can accomplish it?”
“I have a lot of money. Name your price,” she said after what Austin was sure was a tone of hesitation.
After a few moments he said, “I don’t want you to pay me anything. However, when you hear that the job is done, I would like you to anonymously donate a substantial amount to a battered women’s shelter in your town, and please do not disappoint me. I’ll be watching the papers for the news of your generous contribution. Now, where can I find this bastard and who is he?”
After she gave him all the particulars she wanted to know why he was doing this.
“I have my reasons,” he said and hung up the phone.
Now that the job was done and Austin was pulling into the hotel’s parking lot, he wondered if the woman would keep her part of the bargain. By this time it was approaching 4:00 a.m. and he had to take a very quick shower, shave, change clothes and get to his flight. He would have to explain being late, but he was sure his colleagues would understand. He did, however, call his company and inform them of his tardiness.
The next morning, every newspaper and broadcast station in the world, including the Chicago papers, carried the story of the conductor being beaten beyond recognition and left for dead in London. Some even went into detail describing what they suspected must have happened to him, mentioning that only a maniac with extreme hatred could have done such a thing. The reports said an investigation would follow but also mentioned that the police had no clues as to who might have committed the crime.
Two days later, the same newspapers in Chicago announced a donation of half a million dollars to a local women’s shelter from an anonymous source. The two reports were never linked.
When Scotland Yard found Margaret almost dead in the theatre the next morning, and after clearing her husband of any wrongdoing, they were out of suspects and put the case in the unsolved murders file. One American agent, however, was sure he knew who did it even though he had no evidence whatsoever to link Austin to the case. Agent Hamilton had been watching Austin and following his every move but he had not seen him “remove” the conductor.
By this time Hamilton knew that this guy was damned good and he would have to discuss him with his boss and see what had to be done.
CHAPTER TWO
“OK, let’s get this baby ready and get the hell out of here.”
As a mission statement, it was terse, but Captain Bill Murdock was a little tense, and was never noted for being full of the joys of spring early in the day. The crew of the Boeing 747 was preparing the plane for a crack-of-dawn, 6 a.m. departure, every pilot’s favorite! Usually there was three crew members: captain, first officer and flight engineer. Today, however, there was to be an unwelcome addition, a check airman giving them a check ride. This was an annual event in the working life of every pilot, a necessary evil, so they were working hard to ensure that everything ran smoothly. In particular, they were intent on achieving an on-time departure, and here the frustrating thing was that there was no sign of the confounded check airman, who should have been present at the crew’s briefing. Murdock knew Austin Hunter from way back, and his failure to show was out of character. He didn’t want to draw attention to Austin’s tardiness, but finally he had to contact the dispatch office in the States. He was told that they had spoken to Captain Hunter and he should be arriving at the aircraft before their departure, but go ahead and depart if he did not show. The crew had no option but to get on with their jobs in the vague hope that he would show before they had to depart. The 747 and its load of one hundred and twenty tons of freight were precious assets, and Global Freight’s operations manager would go ballistic if the flight did not run on time.
So at 5:30, Andy Cole, the first officer, was tapping waypoints into the Inertial Navigation System. John Seymore, the engineer, was fussing over a broken fuel gauge that demanded a time-consuming double-check of the tank’s contents, and Murdock was agonizing over the late appearance of the de-icing truck and Hunter’s absence. It was a chilly morning, and the plane was covered in ice. Planes covered in ice had been demonstrated to fly like penguins, so no need to do that again.
“Ground to flight deck.”
“Go-ahead ground.”
“We’re ready with the de-ice when you are, and you have a visitor coming up.”
“Great, well, as soon as he’s on board and we get the load sheet and the doors shut, we’ll give you the go-ahead for the spray.”
“Roger that, standing by.”
Just then, not one but two arrivals crowded into the already cramped flight deck. One was a tired-looking and flustered Hunter, the other, the ground agent waving a sheaf of load sheet papers. Hunter was wise enough to keep in the background while Captain Murdock perused the list of noxious substances the shipping agent had determined were safe enough to be loaded and bounced through the stratosphere to Chicago. Shipping agents never flew on cargo flights! Really, Murdock hadn’t the least idea whether what he was being offered was either correct or safe, but rules decreed that his signature appear on the load sheet, so he gave the printout some close attention, scribbled his name at the bottom, and passed the clipboard back to the ground agent, who clunked off down the ladder from the upper deck. Austin, having hung his leather coat at the rear of the flight deck, now slipped into the jump-seat