Flightfall Read Online Free Page B

something.”
    “That hot-tempered, huh?”
    “She could be.”
    “Why didn’t Clayton just fire her then?”
    “It’s complicated. To tell you the truth, I think he was afraid of her.”
    “So he hired you to take the heat.”
    “My specialty.”
    We rode on in silence for a minute or two. Then Nicole said, “This what you do now, Jake, strong-arm people for a living?”
    I felt her eyes on both of us. “Once in a blue moon,” Toronto said. “If the price is right. Pays the bills.”
    “Doesn’t exactly fit, you know, the back-to nature image.”
    “Uh-huh.”
    We were winding down a grade above a fast-flowing stream. The sky was bluer today, with cotton-ball clouds, and the air was less humid. The reprieve was only temporary, however. The weather people had predicted a typical summer afternoon buildup of heat with a chance of thunderstorms. A great day to be anywhere but here. Like at the beach.
    We steered into another curve.
    “So what are we hoping to learn from Dr. Clayton, then?” I asked.
    “The chef didn’t exactly leave me a forwarding address. I’ll bet Clayton’s sent her severance.”
    “When was she fired?”
    “Two, maybe three months ago.”
    “She would have to be pretty peeved to take out your bird after all that time.”
    “Unless she’s been planning it for a while... never should’ve let Jazzy get so far away from me, not this time of year anyway when we’re not even hunting. We were only doing some lure training. Never thought he’d rake out on me like that.”
    “At least you had the transmitter on him. Otherwise, you might never have found him.”
    “Yeah,” Nicole said. “But if Jake’s right, the telemetry could have been what the shooter used to zero in on him too.”
    We all thought about that for a moment.
    “Jesting hidden behind gravity,” I said.
    “Huh?” Jake said.
    “Nothing. Something I read once . . . Guy was talking about irony.”
    “Whatever you say.” He took the next right. We followed a long fence line until we came to a dead end, and then turned right again.
    “This isn’t the main entrance, is it?”
    “No,” he said. “That’s about a half mile farther up the highway. But this is where we go in. Don’t worry. The security people all know me.”
    We drove through a grove of birches, one or two of which sported closed circuit TV cameras. Around a curve we came to a guardhouse made of concrete and fieldstone beside an imposing wrought iron gate flanked by stone columns. We pulled up to the gate and Toronto rolled down his window. A man dressed in black wearing a headset came out. His face bore a wary look.
    That changed when he saw it was Toronto. “Oh, it’s you, Mr.T.”
    “Hey, Mike. Dr. Clayton home this morning?” “
    “Sure is. He and the Missus went out riding earlier, but they never go for long. Ought to be back up to the house by now.”
    “You mind announcing us?”
    “All right. Who’re your friends?”
    “Frank and Nicole Pavlicek. Private investigators from Charlottesville.”
    “You here on business, Mr. T?”
    “Always.” Toronto never fraternized with clients. It was a hard and fast rule with him.
    The guard nodded, then wrote something on his clipboard before reaching down and turning a key in a console that caused the black metal gate to swing open. “Have a nice day,” he said.

8
     
    “Mr. T?” I gave Toronto a look.
    He rolled his eyes and we drove on through the open gate, winding our way into dark forest again. The trees here were giant oak with the occasional bush and pachysandra as ground cover. I spotted a few more cameras discreetly tucked into the foliage.
    “The main house is straight ahead,” Toronto said. “We’ll be coming into the employee parking lot behind the kitchen. The stables are around the other side of the main house. So are the tennis court, swimming pool, and sauna... You’ll get to see the helipad though.”
    “No self-respecting country manor should be without one,”