The Aspen Account (34 page)

58

MICHAEL SAW THE police checkpoint outside the Aspen/Pitkin County Airport at the last moment. A car was idling in front of him, its driver speaking to the lone officer. He couldn’t escape. He waited until the officer had let the other car go and waved him over. He inched the Range Rover forward and stopped a few feet short of the checkpoint, forcing the officer to walk towards him. He lowered the window as the man raised a flashlight and aimed it inside the vehicle.

“Sorry to bother you this evening, but we’re having a little activity in the area at the moment. We’re checking everyone’s identity as they enter the airport. All departing flights have been grounded indefinitely.”

“Really?” Michael said, trying to act surprised.

“Sir, could I please see some identification?” the officer asked.

“Yep, just a sec.” Michael slid his hand into his pocket and tapped nervously on the mace canister Hopkins had given him before he left the Seaton estate. “What’s all the hubbub?” he asked.

“We’re looking for a fugitive we believe is in the area.”

“Just one?” he said with a disarming smile.

“Just one. Identification, please.”

Michael looked into the officer’s eyes, desperately searching for a way out. He could tell that the man was getting suspicious—his fumbling hesitation was too obvious.

“Sir, could I ask you to step out of the car?”

Michael tightened his grip on the canister in his pocket. Looking at the officer, he nodded reassuringly, then whipped the mace from his pocket and sprayed him in the face.

The officer yelled, dropping the flashlight and raising both hands to his burning eyes and throat. He stumbled backward into a snowdrift off the road. Michael jumped from the car and moved toward the man to grab the shoulder radio, but he stopped dead in his tracks when he saw the man reaching for his gun. The blinded officer managed to draw his gun and was waving it wildly in the air. Michael took a step back toward the car. At the sound of the crunching snow, the officer fired two shots that flew past him and pierced the steel doors of the Range Rover. Michael dived into the vehicle as two more shots rang out and the passenger window exploded. Stomping on the accelerator, he sent the Rover lurching forward through the snow. Five more shots cracked behind him as the vehicle raced toward the airport.

Jason Kano was driving the big Yukon away from the estate when the call came over the radio: “Officer down! All patrols, we have a ten thirty-three at the Aspen airport. The officer down on the scene sighted the fugitive, Michael Chapman, fleeing in a black Range Rover. I repeat: we have a ten thirty-three at the Aspen airport. Officer down. All patrols respond to the location. Over.”

Kano pushed the floor emergency break with his left foot, forcing the vehicle into a 180-degree slide on the snowy road before popping the release and accelerating in the direction of the airport. What the hell are you doing, Chapman? Kano thought to himself. You’re drawing too much attention. You’ll never get out now. His eyes flipped up to check his rearview mirror. I thought you were smarter than that. 

Within five minutes, the Yukon had caught up with six patrol jeeps, their blue and red strobes flashing as they weaved through the outskirts of Aspen.

Michael flipped off his lights and turned toward the single runway that ran the length of the airport. The Rover’s tires churned through the snow, and it plowed into the chain-link fence. The fence gave, and the big SUV rolled over it, bouncing violently over the uneven ground. Reaching the runway, Michael turned onto it, racing with his lights out toward the far end of the airport. As green airport lights flashed through the snow flurries, he was too focused on making it to the hangar to notice the flickering train of blue and red lights rolling up out of the distance behind him, toward the terminal.

He parked in back of the third hangar. Inside he found Seaton’s pilot, Captain Steiner, walking around the corporate jet. He shook Steiner’s hand and then fidgeted while the man continued to walk around the jet, finishing the preflight check. The pilot seemed to examine every rivet and hinge pin. Finally he turned to Michael and gave a brisk nod. “Ready to go,” he said.

Michael jogged toward the platform stairway. “I want you to turn off all the lights to the hangar and the jet. Do it before you open the door.”

“I can’t do that,” Steiner protested. “It’s against FAA regulations, not to mention bloody dangerous.” 

“And you can’t radio the tower for clearance,” Michael said. “This will have to be a blind takeoff. Because of the angle of the airport’s location between the mountains, I’m told the runway has only one direction for landings and one for takeoffs, so you don’t need the tower’s radar for takeoff.”

“Wait a second! What you’re asking is ridiculous—I can’t do it.”

Michael had assumed he would encounter some problems with the pilot. “Read this, please,” he said, handing Steiner an envelope that Seaton had given him this morning before leaving for Vail.

The pilot opened the envelope and read the short handwritten note. Then, folding it in half and tucking it into his pocket, he exhaled slowly. “I’ll lose my license for this,” he said, “maybe even go to jail.”

“You won’t go to jail,” Michael promised him.

The captain nodded reluctantly. “So what exactly do you want me to do?”

“I want you to get me out of Aspen. We need to get this jet off the ground in the next very few minutes—before the police discover that Mr. Seaton has a jet here. Once they find out about this jet, they’ll surround the hangar to prevent us from taking off. There isn’t much time.”

“It may already be too late,” Captain Steiner said, looking through the cracked hangar doors at an approaching police jeep.

“Damn it!” Michael growled. “Start up the jet and get ready to taxi out of the hangar. Leave the fuselage door open so I can get into the cabin. I’ll stay here to open the hangar doors and make sure no one from the jeep comes over here. I’ll let you know when we need to take off.”

But the moment he finished speaking, all the runway lights went out, casting the open stretch in front of the hangar in darkness. At the same time, two medium-size maintenance trucks lumbered onto the field and parked in the middle of the runway. After stopping, the drivers jumped out of the vehicles and ran back through the snow toward the terminal. 

“Dear God!” Captain Steiner exclaimed. “Now it’s impossible. I can’t take off with those trucks parked in our path.”

Michael looked into the sky and saw a small light approaching the airport four thousand feet above. “There’s a plane up there,” he said.

“Yes,” the pilot confirmed, looking at the blurred light faintly visible through the thinning clouds above. “And they’re landing. No one’s taken off from this airport in over twenty-four hours. That’s someone else up there, coming into Aspen. They’re landing here for sure.”

“If they’re landing here, then the tower will be forced to turn the runway lights back on and move the trucks,” Michael said, a note of hope creeping into his voice.

“Yes, but they’ll only move them for a minute or two, just as the plane is landing. They’ll want to keep the airport as locked down as possible because of you.”

“But we will have a small window, right?”

“A
very
small window. I’ll have the jet ready. The moment the runway lights come on and the trucks start to move, we could throw the intake jets to full power. There might just be enough time to accelerate onto the runway and take off before the other plane lands. The timing’s critical. If we don’t get off the ground in time, the other plane’ll hit us from behind as it’s coming in.”

“We can’t put the other plane in danger,” Michael said. “Will it work? I need to know if it’ll work.”

“It’ll work,” Captain Steiner said. “From its airspeed, the other plane looks small. If it doesn’t look like we’ll make it, they’ll have maneuverability during their descent. They won’t be in danger. The biggest danger is that we’ll be exposing ourselves if we can’t take off in time.”

“Okay,” Michael said. “We don’t have much time. That plane will be landing in less than five minutes, and the police could be here any second. Get the jet ready. I’ll open the hangar doors and keep an eye on the jeep that’s coming at us. The moment the lights come on, I’ll jump into the jet and let you know that we’re ready to take off.”

As Captain Steiner jogged back toward the jet, Michael crouched just inside the hangar doors, watching the blurry halos of the approaching jeep’s headlights in the falling snow. From his waistband, he pulled the gun he had taken from the police officer yesterday, and held it low to the ground. Arming himself against law enforcement—how had things come to this awful pass? Forcing himself to breathe deeply and evenly, he counted the seconds, waiting for Captain Steiner to ready the jet, waiting for the incoming flight to circle to its final descent. The patrol jeep was going to arrive at the hangar before he could escape. He prayed that he would have the strength—and the luck—to do what was necessary to escape.

59

THE YUKON SCREECHED to a stop ten feet from the glass doors to the terminal. Jumping out into the packed snow of the parking lot, Kano ran toward a bewildered-looking security guard, who had run outside to meet the wailing sirens.

“Jason Kano, U.S. Marshal’s Office. What’s the situation?” he asked urgently.

“No sight of your man, sir. We’ve double-checked all surveillance footage running for the past twenty minutes. Nothing!”

“Have all your men reported in? The fugitive has already taken out two officers since all this started.”

“Yes, all my men are accounted for. How are the two officers doing?”

Kano looked away from the guard and waved his men to spread out along the entrances. “Both are fine. Chapman seems to have the ability to subdue armed men without severely injuring them.”

“Except for that rich guy he killed,” the guard added.

Kano shot him an annoyed look. “He’s considered armed and extremely dangerous. I don’t want anyone trying to take him down alone. If someone spots him, they are to report to me immediately. I’m the only one that will coordinate Chapman’s apprehension. Understand?”

Kano followed the security officer into the terminal. An intercom interrupted the chaos with another apology for the continued flight delays, falsely blaming the weather to prevent civilian panic. Inside the small terminal, the people in line sat on the floor, leaning against walls, or used their carry-on luggage as uncomfortable pillows. Babies cried, and the air was stale.

“Lot of people,” Kano said.

“All flights for the past twenty-four hours were canceled due to the blizzard. Most of these passengers have been waiting here since yesterday. They were hoping to get out this evening, but just when the weather was looking better, we got word to lock everything down because of Chapman.”

Kano looked at the weary faces of the trapped travelers. “Have those guys start making as many pizzas as they can,” he said, pointing to the pizza stand in the small food court. “Then start passing out the food to everyone.”

“Who’s gonna pay for that?” the security officer asked.

“Don Seaton harbored a fugitive; that’s what caused this problem. Send him the bill—he can afford it.” 

The security officer laughed before giving the order to one of his men. 

Kano turned his focus back to finding Chapman. “You’ve passed out his picture to your men?” he asked.

“Yes. You know, if I may say so, I don’t think there’s much chance that he’s even here. All departing flights have been canceled, and no one’s seen him anywhere on the premises. After he had trouble at the outside checkpoint, he probably hightailed it. I mean, why would he even be here? He would have known that the moment the downed officer reported the encounter, we’d react by halting all takeoffs. If he’s as smart as you say, he’d leave the airport and try to find another way out of the area.”

“No,” said Kano. “He knew there was no other way out. The airport was his only chance. There must be a reason he’d still come here.” He looked around the terminal at the weary travelers. His eyes paused on a businessman leaning into the relative privacy of a pay phone to talk on his cell. The man wore a tan overcoat over an expensive suit.

“A lot of millionaires live in Aspen, right?”

“Quite a lot, I’d say.”

“How many own private jets?” Kano asked, turning toward the officer.

“Jesus! You think Chapman has access to a personal jet?”

“Find out if Don Seaton has a plane here!”

The man spoke into his radio, waited a few seconds, and said to Kano, “No. Nothing.”

“You’re telling me that one of the richest men in the United States doesn’t own a jet?” Kano looked down at the tiled floor; then his eyes shot back up at the security officer. “Wait . . . X-Tronic! See if there’s anything listed under X-Tronic.”

The security officer relayed the question into his radio. Listening, he nodded to the marshal. “Yeah. X-Tronic has a jet registered in hangar twenty-six—that would be on the far side, close to the runway.”

“This is U.S. Marshal Kano,” Kano announced into his police radio. “I need two units to meet me outside the terminal. The fugitive is believed to be inside a hangar and trying to use a private jet to escape. Form a perimeter around all hangars and wait for my arrival. Go! Go! Go!”

60

“OKAY!” MICHAEL SHOUTED toward the cockpit as he climbed into the jet. “Okay, Captain! Let’s get the hell out of here!”

Captain Steiner looked back at the fuselage from the cockpit. “We’re ready to go! The runway lights just came on and the trucks are starting to move out of our path! We can make it if we hit it right now!”

“The deputy in the jeep started to get out after I opened the hangar door, so I had to fire some shots near his jeep. He won’t come any closer, but you can expect the police to be here in force soon. I’m ready! Let’s get out of here!”