things that men sitting across a conference table from one another rarely

  bring up, or are reluctant to discuss. I felt that you might be able to

  help me."

  Chance could hardly believe what she was hearing. Either the man was a

  raging idiot or he thought she was. "Like who is sleeping with whom?"

  For an instant Yamagata looked startled, but then he threw back his head

  and laughed, the gesture without guile. He'd heard something funny, and

  he'd responded.

  "My dear lady, what do you take me for?" he asked, when he recovered.

  Chance was confused. "I know nothing about you. Nothing at all, except

  that by your own admission you're some sort of a spy."

  "That's exactly what I am. And let me tell you the kind of information

  I'm looking for. Great corporations, like great nations, often rise and

  fall not only because of economics but because of an esprit de corps,

  some inner drive or purpose. If its leaders and its workers are excited

  then good things usually follow. Strength. Clearmindedness. Fairness."

  Yamagata lowered his eyes for a moment. "If the esprit de corps is lost,

  for whatever reason, the future of a great corporation such as Guerin may

  not be so clear." Chance did understand. She nodded. "I know."

  "It's hardly a subject I could bring up at a Guerin board meeting, you

  know. 'Gentlemen, accept my condolences for your recent loss at Dulles

  Airport, but can you tell me if your mood has been permanently damaged?

  Are you crying tears of sadness? Has the joy gone out of your soul?"'

  370 DAVID HAGOERG

  Chance could not envision Al Vasilanti shedding tears about anything.

  She'd attended his wife's funeral four years ago, and the old bastard had

  sat through the entire ceremony at the church and at the cemetery

  completely dry-eyed. As if he were attending a stranger's funeral. "Do you catch my meaning?"

  "Yes, I certainly do. But so far as I can tell it's business as usual.

  It's the new airplane everybody's been talking about. It's the holy grail

  for all of them-my husband included. And it's the same with every new

  project. They're in their own little worlds. It's a wonder to a lot of

  us why the divorce rate'among airplane executives isn't higher than it

  is."

  Yamagata shook his head wanly. "Forgive me for saying this, Chance, but

  if Western men could have the feminine quality of understand ing-just

  that one characteristic-America would be a million times greater than it

  already is."

  "It's called empathy," Chance said, and she felt stupid. The man was

  obviously using her. It was so flagrant she almost wanted to laugh. And

  yet there was a quality about him, about his face, the way he held

  himself, about his eyes, and the set of his mouth, his lips, that was

  intriguing.

  "That's a good word," Yamagata said, studying her face.

  She raised her eyes and looked frankly into his. "Do you think so?"

  SEVENTEEN

  He came through the fence at West Thirteen," Guerin's chief of security William Lisch told the Portland Police detective. "But like I said we didn't catch it until first light this morning."

  HIGH FLIGHT 371

  "Camera troubles out there?" Lieutenant Peter Geiger asked. He was just

  going through the motions until the feds showed up.

  "We maintain sixty-seven miles of fence line, some of it through pretty

  rough terrain. We always have troubles somewhere. But he was a pro, I can

  tell you that much. He didn't take any unnecessary chances. The camera was

  moved a quarter-inch, which gave him about fifteen feet of dead zone to

  work in, and he shunted the outer fence before cutting a hole in it so

  nothing showed up on our monitors. When he was done he closed the hole,

  removed the shunt, and took off. Our first team didn't catch it last night.

  We had to wait till daybreak."

  The Oregon Bureau of Criminal Investigation van had arrived the first thing

  this morning, along with the medical examiner and a team of forensics

  experts. It was their responsibility to secure the crime scene, making sure

  no one inadvertently trampled over some evidence.

  "So, he's through the fence. How do you see it from there?" Geiger asked.

  "It's about three-quarters of a mile, as the crow flies, from there to

  Hangar One. I'm guessing he came behind us, across to the operations

  building, then into One. Would have kept him in the shadows." "Anything missing? Sabotaged?"

  "There's a hundred million dollars worth of parts and equipment lying

  around here that could be easily sold on the open market. It'll take time

  to inventory it all." "He carried it out himself, if he was alone."

  "Any one of a half-million sensitive parts would bring that bird down. It's

  going to take an even longer time to complete that inventory. After Dulles

  we're all gun-shy."

  Geiger looked up, his interest suddenly piqued. "Are you saying that the

  two incidents are related?"

  They stepped into Lisch's office to look at the perimeter map on the wall.

  The security officer closed the door.

  "A lot of strange things have happened around here in the past six months

  or so, Geiger. You've heard the rumors ... everyone in Portland has ...

  about what the Japanese are trying to do to us. One of our foremen

  372 DAVID HAGBERG

  was killed in Portland a few weeks ago. We had the Dulles crash. And now this." "Anyone have a grudge against your man?"

  Lisch'shook his head. "So far as I know he was well liked. With us for

  thirteen years. Wife, three kids. Helped run our softball league. Perfect

  record." "Gambling, drinking, another woman?"

  "I don't think a jealous husband would have broken in here to kill him."

  "Unless it was one of your security people. Could have covered his tracks

  with the trick in the fence."

  "Not a chance. Whoever it was came here looking for something, or looking

  to do something to us."

  "And they were willing to kill for it," Geiger replied. "Who? If you had

  to guess. The Japanese?"

  Lisch's eyebrows narrowed. "That'd be my guess," he said. "But if you

  claim I told you that, I'll call you a liar to your face." "The Bureau will ask the same questions." "Don't I know it," Lisch said heavily.

  Special agents Albert McLaren and Phillip Joyce arrived from Washington at six sharp at the Air National Guard hangar, where they were met by the FBI's Portland field office A-S-A-C Edward Judge. The weather had turned mild, but they did not linger on the apron, instead they hurried directly to the waiting automobile and headed into the city. During the twenty-minute drive McLaren and Joyce flipped through the package of material assembled for them.

  "Anything new since this was put together?" McLaren asked when he was

  finished.

  "The coroner's report came over just as I was leaving for the airport,

  but nothing's changed. A broad hematoma at the right temple area might

  have caused unconsciousness. But what killed him was respiratory failure

  due to massive injuries to his trachea."

  "The perp hit him on the head with something, and when the man was down

  he stomped him on the throat," Joyce commented dryly. "Nice."

  HIGH FLIGHT 373

  "That's how it looks," Judp said. He was a big man, In his thirties, with

  wide, serious eyes.

  "Anything missing or tampered with9" McLaren asked.

  "To this point the Guerin people have found nothing, but it'll take a few

  days. It's a big place." "Nobody saw or heard a thing?" "No. Whoever it was knew his way around."

  McLaren looked up at that. "Are you saying it was an inside job? A Guerin

  employee?"

  "Probably not. What I mean to say is that whoever got through the fence

  and killed the guard was a pro. He had the layout of the place down pat.

  But that's easy information to come by."

  "He did his homework, gained entry to the hangar, for whatever reason,

  and left," McLaren summed it up. "Killing the guard was happenstance. It

  wasn't planned."

  "No argument," Judge said. "The question is, did he accomplish what he

  set out to do? Could be the guard interrupted him before he got to it.

  Might have shaken him enough to make him run."

  Joyce shook his head. "If he was on the run he wouldn't have taken the

  time to put the fence back together. He would have just shagged ass."

  "Right," Judge agreed. "So what words of wisdom are you bringing from

  Washington? Or are you just here to help out?"

  "Neither, actually. We're following up a murder investigation in

  Washington and several more in the San Francisco area that might be

  related to what happened here." "Anything to do with the Dulles crash last week?"

  "Not so far as we know," McLaren said. "Have you come up with something?"

  "The Portland cop who was the investigating officer in charge out there

  until we showed up said that Guerin's chief of security mentioned the two

  incidents along with another, apparently an accidental death recently." "What's the connection?"

  374 DAVID HAGBERG

  "Guerin has been having trouble with a Japanese group gearing up for some

  sort of a hostile takeover attempt. Off the record the chief of security

  thinks the Japanese might be involved with the crash, with the accidental

  death, and with last night's incident." "That's not the company's official position?" "No.,,

  "Can we bring this chief of security in for an interview tonight?"

  "His name is Bill Lisch, and he'll cooperate to a point. But we're told

  that he'll deny ever saying anything about the Japanese." "I think we can get it on the table," McLaren said.

  They parked behind the Federal Building and went upstairs. Special Agent

  in Charge Jack Franson was waiting for them in his office. He was ten

  years older than Judge and fifty pounds lighter. His hair was already

  starting to go gray. He looked like a banker, or a college professor.

  "Your boss wasn't very specific about what you're looking for, but he

  asked for my complete cooperation," Franson told them. "You have it."

  "Thank you, sir," McLaren replied. "What we need is the short course on

  Guerin Airplane Company so that when we go out there in the morning we

  won't be going blind."

  "Are you taking over this investigation of last night's murder?"

  "No, sir. That's still in your ball park. But we'd like to tag along and

  maybe point you in some directions you might not have come up with on

  your own." "I told them what Geiger told us," Judge said.

  "There are a lot of rumors floating around Portland just now," Franson

  said, clearly not happy with his number two. "That statement might have

  been made in the heat of the moment. First lesson about Guerin: The

  company is very big, the biggest thing in Portland. So whatever happens

  over there affects the entire region. It's just like Boeing up in

  Seattle."

  HIGH FLIGHT 375

  "Yes, sir, we understand. But last night's incident may have some

  connection to our investigation." "I'm listening."

  "We've brought a summary file for you, but very briefly we started out

  on an industrial espionage case involving a man named Benjamin Tallerico.

  In the middle of our investigation he was murdered. The two men we think

  did it-they're still at large-are Bruno Mueller, who was, until '89, a

  colonel in the East German Secret Service, and an environmental terrorist

  by the name of Glen Zerkel."

  "That Idaho ski resort incident-what, five years ago?" Judge said.

  "He's on the hit list," McLaren confirmed. "Glen Zerkel's brother, Louis,

  worked for'a company in San Francisco called InterTech, which among other

  things designs and manufactures electronic subassemblies for Guerin. By

  the time we got out there to ask him about his brother, he'd skipped. But

  not before murdering his psychologist and raping her corpse."

  "Quite the pair," Franson said. "Are you saying that Louis Zerkel might

  have sabotaged something InterTech was supplying Guerin?"

  "That was our first thought. But as it turns out Zerkel never worked on

  anything even remotely connected with the devices InterTech built for

  Guerin."

  "I'm assuming that in any event InterTech has been checked out."

  "Top to bottom, and they come out clean. Zerkel's behavior is just as big

  a mystery to them. According to them he might have a grudge against the

  company. Last week there was a fire in the shipping and receiving area.

  One of the night watchmen was killed. That same night, Louis Zerkel's

  supervisor and his wife and children were also killed." "Anything missing from InterTech?" Judge asked. "The company says no," McLaren answered.

  "If I'm following you the only connection you've come up with between

  your case and last night's incident

  376 DAVID HAGBERG

  is the fact that InterTech is a Guerin subcontractor," Franson said. "That's thin."

  "Yes, sir, it is. But the break-in and murder last night do have some

  similarities with what happened at InterTech. We're just trying to cover

  all our bases."

  Assistant FBI Director Kenneth Wood looked up from his reading when John Whitman showed up at his door. "Come in, John."

  "I think I might be getting in over my head," Whitman said. "if you have

  a minute I'd like to bounce this off YOU." "Is it the InterTech case?"

  "That's the one. I'm going around in circles, but I keep coming up with

  the same two names: Kirk McGarvey and Edward R. Reid."

  "Close the door, will you, John?" Wood said. He dialed his secretary. "No

  calls until John and I are finished. And if the director has already left

  for the day, have Marjorie pencil me in with him for tomorrow, eight

  sharp."

  Whitman sat down across from his boss, his ears still ringing from the

  conversation he'd had with Colonel Marquand. The man was insistent.

  "I'm going to tell you right off that your surveillance request on Reid

  will be denied," Wood said. "So unless you've come up with something rock

  solid to nail him with, don't even ask."

  "I don't know what I've got, Ken, but it's big. What's the deal with

  Reid?" "Is he crucial to your case?" "He could be."

  "Are you talking about the French thing? Has the SDECE been pressing?"

  "I talked with Marquand a half-hour ago," Whitman said. "He made his

  position clear. He says he's talked to the CIA as Well."

  "Reid has been agitating a lot of people about the Japanese with his

  newsletter. The State Department

  HIGH FLIGHT 377

  asked us to back off for the moment because of the Tokyo Summit. And from what I understand, that has the backing of the White House."

  "Back off from what?" Whitman asked. "Who said anything about

  investigating Reid?"

  "I don't know, John. I'm guessing a leak somewhere. Reid knows everyone

  in Washington, including Director Harding. So unless you've come up with

  something very big there's nothing I can or will do for you, except put

  Internal Affairs on it if you want to make waves."

  "We'll keep IA out of it for the moment, but without Reid I don't know

  where I'm at."

  Wood leaned forward. "Let me make something perfectly clear, John. I'm

  saying that if you can come up with probable cause, a strong probability

  of cause, then we'll go after him no matter what State tells us."

  "Four points, not necessarily in any order," Whitman said. "The crash at

  Dulles last week. That flight was returning from Moscow, where we believe

  Guerin Airplane Company brass were trying to sell the Russians on some

  sort of a joint project. Best word I've got is that it involves a

  significant amount of money that would have to be given to Russia in the

  form of loan guarantees. The man at the middle is Kirk McGarvey, who

  Guerin hired to check out a rumor that a Japanese consortium might be

  trying to buy out Guerin." "Where'd that come from?"

  "An old friend over at Langley. But some of that is guesswork." "Was the crash an accident?"

  "NTSB is still working on it, but there are some similarities to a crash

  in 1990, same type of Guerin airplane, same type of malfunction. Nothing

  was found at that time." "Go on.,,

  "A night watchman was killed last night at Guerin's research and

  development facility outside Portland. The chief of security for the

  company thinks the Japanese might have had something to do. with it."

  378 DAVID HAGBERG

  :'The Japanese again," Wood said.

  'The French have asked for help finding Bruno Mueller and Karl Schey,

  both of whom probably worked for the East German Secret ~Service. There

  is a possible connection between them and Reid, and a definite connection

  between Mueller and McGarvey."

  Wood was silent for a moment. "Our initial pass showed Reid was clean."

  "Except that he may have been seen having drinks and dinner with Benjamin

  Tallerico before Tallerico was murdered." "Where's that connection, John?"

 

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