"Can I know now who my target is?"
"No, it's better that you don't for the time being."
"If you say so," Ham replied.
"Do you have anything in your pockets that might identify you?"
Ham handed over his wallet and made a show of patting his pockets.
"How about the pen you retrieved? Let's see that."
Ham showed him the pen. It was a stationery store ballpoint, undistinguished.
"You can keep that," John said. "Anything else? Even the smallest thing could identify you."
"John, if I get caught, my fingerprints will identify me," Ham said.
"You're right, of course, but we'll deal with the fingerprint problem. You having any second thoughts about your mission?"
"No," Ham replied.
"Would the identity of your target make a difference?"
"No. I trust you to make that judgment. I think of myself as a tool."
"Good," John said, with some satisfaction. "Excuse me, I have to make a phone call." He flipped a switch on the instrument panel, then dialed a number on what appeared to be a cell phone on his yoke.
Ham realized that the switch had isolated the pilot's intercom from the rest of the airplane. He couldn't hear what John was saying, and he wasn't all that good a lip-reader.
The King Air was taxiing to the terminal at Opa-Locka when the onboard telephone rang, and Harry picked it up. "Yeah? Thanks."
He hung up the phone and leaned back. "John's airplane is in the air, and they've cleared him direct. He'll be here soon."
The airplane came to a stop before the terminal and the pilot shut down the engines.
"Get this thing in a hangar and close the doors," Harry said to the pilot, then he led the way off the airplane. "They'll put the luggage in my car," he said to Holly. "Follow me."
He walked over to the base of the tower and picked up a phone. "This is Harry Crisp, FBI," he said into it, and the door buzzed open. They got into an elevator and rode to the top.
Harry shook hands with the controller supervisor.
"Anything you need?" the man asked.
"Three pairs of the best binoculars you've got," Harry said.
The man produced three large pairs of binoculars, and they sat down to wait.
56
It had started to rain. Harry, Doug, Holly and Daisy sat in the semidarkness of the tower and waited, watching airplanes land on the shiny runways, their landing lights flaring on the streaked windows of the tower.
Then suddenly: "Opa-Locka Tower, November one, two, three, tango foxtrot, with you, descending out of six thousand feet."
"One, two, three, tango foxtrot, this is Opa-Locka Tower, radar contact, enter a right base for twenty-seven right, cleared to land."
"Okay," Harry said to the supervisor, "when he contacts ground, I want you to have the lineman direct him to taxi right there," he said, pointing to a well-lit area in front of the terminal.
"Got that?" the supervisor asked the ground controller.