to the aft side of the bulkhead. Sam and Esther sat two rows behind Qu Min.
“I don’t ever want to see you talking to that whore again,” she said to Sam. She made sure to speak just loud enough for Qu Min to hear.
“I didn’t expect you for another hour,” Sam said.
“It looks as though my timing was impeccable.”
“She’s traveling with . . .”
“Yes, I know. I just met Mr. Radford outside the plane. Buddy is very good looking and quite charming, you know?”
“Buddy? Sam repeated, “thinking that this duo had the potential to put a serious rift into their relationship.
As if on cue, Radford entered the cabin. Qu Min met him at the bulkhead. They kissed. Radford stowed his carry-on in the overhead compartment and took his seat. He didn’t take the trouble to introduce himself to Sam. He was remarkably poised and showed not the slightest uneasiness about being in the company of strangers.
Radford was the tour de force of the racing world. Not only was he a prominent trainer but his family were major breeders. Unlike Sam, who built his fortune on the up and up, Radford was not beyond stooping to questionable practices. Everyone in the business paid him homage, from the local nickel and dimers to the who’s who of Hollywood and Vine. He had horses entered in every big race at every major track in America. Much of his time was spent traveling from track to track, finding soft spots for his mounts in feature races. But his home base was Santa Anita Park in California, where he was the king of the Sport of Kings.
Like Sam, Radford was a risk taker, never reluctant to lay it all on the line. But unlike Sam, Radford was a con who had the power to twist the odds in his favor. His do or die wagers were never quite the acts of heroism he portrayed them to be. Notwithstanding, he was a first rate trainer of racehorses. His trademark was his vibrant white hair, barbered Roman style, and his mirrored sunglasses. He had very rigid Anglo-American features that seemed to be chiseled from stone. He was tall, ruddy complexioned, had a gentle but strong demeanor, and spoke in a low baritone. Sam could tell from his accent that he hailed from the heart of horse country—Kentucky.
“What did you and Mr. Radford speak about?” Sam whispered.
“He asked if I was traveling alone. Well actually, he didn’t put it that way,” Esther whispered back.
“Then how did he put it?” Sam asked again in a whisper.
“Well, he said I was too beautiful to be traveling alone.”
“Maybe we should switch partners somewhere along the line?” Sam teased, knowing he was playing with fire.
“I wouldn’t object,” she replied. Esther was still seething.
The shrill ring of Sam’s cell phone interrupted their conversation. It was Nick Tunney. Sam hoped he had some info on the Pulers.
“Are you in the air yet, Sam?” Nick asked.
“Not yet, we’re still on the runway.”
“I did some digging on that lead in the puzzle you cued me into—the Pulers. The Bureau has a thick file on them. In those days the Bureau kept close tabs on left wing environmental groups. An old buddy of mine faxed me over some interesting facts,” he said, pausing.
“Let’s hear it, Nick,” Sam said.
“ As you know, the Pulers protested the building of nuclear power plants in populated areas. They were started by a handful of sociology majors at the University of Chicago. The Pulers was the name of a newspaper they published and distributed around the country through sociology departments at other Universities. All of this followed the GPU disaster at Three Mile Island, so their demonstrations were well covered in the media. They did succeed in raising public consciousness. The FBI was determined to break them. They viewed the group as a threat to national security. Your friend Lentz was more than happy to paint a negative picture of them in the press. Lentz was a strong proponent of the Neo-Conservative political movement. There’s no doubt that members of the Pulers who may still be alive would likely be hostile towards Lentz.”
“Is there any possible connection between the Pulers and any of the other victims?”
“There are two other connections. Everton Lebraun, the first victim, was a member.”
“And the other,” Sam asked.
“Eleanor Moreau was also a member of the Pulers.”
“Are you sure?”
“Yes. Her name is listed in the FBI files. She headed up a local chapter at LSU. Apparently they had protested the construction of the Nichols Point plant near the Mississippi delta. By the way, it was never built.”
“How about the files of the other victims?” Sam asked.
“Well there is an interesting twist to the Byteman murder. Actually, if the FBI knew he was the intended victim, they might not have moved to stop the murderer. The kid hacked every computer in the Pentagon. He was selling classified information to the highest bidder. The Russians bought the US Naval Code; the Israelis bought the recall codes for the B-1 bomber.”
“How come they didn’t arrest him?”
“They did. But they had to let him go. Not enough evidence to convict.”
“What about Lash Goebel? They must have been following him.”
“For sure. He had a file six inches thick. But nothing to connect him to the others. There was one interesting fact about him, however.”
“What’s that?”
“He was dying. Pancreatic cancer. I guess the killer did him a favor.”
“Keep digging Nick, I’ll get back to you.”
Sam flipped down the earpiece on his iPhone.
“So what’s the poop? C’mon let’s have it,” Esther nagged.
“After you left the Water Club, I dropped in on Tynan Wesley. It turned out to be a very informative visit.”
“What do you mean?”
“Well, in the first place I believe our suspicions were confirmed about Lentz being victim number eight of the crossword murderer. The puzzle unquestionably identifies him.”
“How did you find out?” Esther asked.
“Wesley knew Lentz well from when he worked for Wesley at the American Standard. He positively identified Lentz as the victim in a flash.”
“You’re kidding,” Esther remarked.
“But as we speculated in the Water Club, what’s really bizarre is that Lentz himself must have realized that he was the intended victim. And he also must have known the time and place of his demise.”
“Then I still don’t understand . . . if Lentz knew he was the victim, why didn’t he tell you? Why didn’t he tell the police?”
“I’m not sure. Could be that Lentz thought he could stop the murderer on his own. He may have had some reason for wanting to keep the police out of it. Then there was something else that Wesley brought up.”
“What, Sam?”
“The killer mentioned the Pulers in the puzzle.”
“The Pulers? Sounds familiar.”
“It should. They were a left wing environmentalist group that headed a campaign against the building of nuclear power plants near large urban areas. They were based in Chicago at the time that Lentz was Op-Ed editor of the Chicago Sun Times. Apparently Lentz was a vocal critic of the group. He wrote a series of articles attacking them. What’s more intriguing is that most of the members of the group were killed in a mysterious house fire.”
“Sam, is it possible that a surviving member of the group is killing those who