Page 47 of Ground Truth

Hedinger tapped his index finger on the highly polished mahogany table like a metronome. “How do they plan to conduct this flyover?”

“Helicopter. They’re both trained pilots. Already organized the flight. Picking up the rental in Sarasota. Returning the bird after they complete their tour.”

Hedinger smiled. “Helicopters go down all the time.”

“Yes,” Cade agreed. “And when they do, all passengers are often lost.”

“True. True.” Hedingertsk-tsked a few times. “Let me know when it’s done.”

“Copy that,” Cade said before Hedinger hung up.

He was pleased with the plan. The Atlanta PD detective was dead. These two private investigators would be dispatched. The matter would lie forgotten once more.

Of course, Hedinger could simply eliminate Dr. Brand and put an end to the matter.

But the organ-selling operation had become very lucrative.

It was also a perfect source of business opportunities.

Hedinger was somewhat surprised how many of his rich and powerful contacts were willing and able to pay for Dr. Brand’s organs.

Since the buying and selling of human organs was illegal in most countries, not to mention how many people found it morally reprehensible, Brand’s patients were also easy to blackmail.

The blackmail possibilities were a secondary benefit that Hedinger had exploited several times and planned to exploit more in the future.

Yes, he could close down the organ business. But he simply preferred not to.

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Chapter 24

Sarasota

Aside from the usual annoyances of commercial air travel, the trip from Atlanta to Sarasota Gaspar had booked was uneventful.

Flint and Drake had dropped off their handguns to a Scarlett Investigations storage locker designed for exactly this purpose, as instructed. Traveling with guns was nothing but an exercise in frustration. Flint refused to get bogged down in government red tape and Gaspar agreed.

They’d chosen first-class tickets, seats 1A and 1B, for easy on and off, to avoid the inevitable boarding and deplaning bottlenecks. As soon as the door was opened, Flint made a beeline for the exit and Drake followed close behind.

Gaspar had arranged a car service. They didn’t need a personal vehicle here.

Neither Flint nor Drake felt comfortable without a sidearm. After a short ride from the main terminal, they made a brief stop to pick up two handguns and other equipment Gaspar had provided.

Less than an hour after landing in Sarasota, Drake and Flint reached the hangar where the helicopter Gaspar reserved was waiting. The weather felt like Houston. Hot and humid. But Flint didn’t take off his jacket. Concealed weapons were a normal thing to Flint, but not everybody felt good about having them around. The last thing he needed was some apoplectic tourist calling 911. Easier just to keep his jacket on and avoid the conversation when dealing with civilians.

The hangar floor was polished concrete, the sunlight so bright it seemed blindingly white, even behind his dark glasses. He supposed the sun seemed painfully brilliant due to his concussion. But whatever the cause, the piercing light didn’t help his headache at all.

The rental manager, a man named Tony, had a face that seemed larger than his body. He waved toward the helo. “There’s your bird. All ready to go, as promised.”

Flint stared at the old beast. It was a Robinson R44. He’d agreed to pay a small fortune to use it, but now that he’d seen it, he was willing to pay more for something better.

“Is this the best helo you have?”

Tony shrugged. “We got better if you want to wait until tomorrow. This is what we have available today.”

Flint looked around the hangar. Apart from a Piper Super Cub in the far corner, Tony was right. The Piper had the range and would have been faster and more comfortable, but the helicopter offered more options for improvised landings.

On balance, fast and comfortable were important but landings won out.

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