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Trevor wasn’t surprised. “Okay.” He grabbed his backpack, repacked it, and added a few extras. Then he went through the car and removed all identifying information except the VIN plates, which were already damaged, making them hard to read. Slinging his bag over his shoulder, he followed Andreas and Sam out of the hangar. They jogged to the strip where the sleek aircraft waited, engines still running.
Before they climbed in, Dahl turned to them. “Do either of you fly?” Sam shook her head.
Trevor grimaced. “I was working on my private pilot’s license before I lost the leg, but it’s been years.” He knew the basics, but he’d never flown in Washington State and Dahl’s plane was fancier than a Cessna 152.
Dahl scowled. “You’re in front, then, rust picker.”
Trevor rolled his eyes at the insulting nickname for Navy sailors. But he couldn’t fault Dahl’s protective attitude toward Sam.
Using the small step below the aircraft’s body behind the wing, Dahl opened the door, then stepped down. He held out a hand to Sam. “Foot on the step, then on the wing. A lever sends the seat forward. Sit on the right and buckle your bags into the other seat.”
“Got it.” Sam climbed in, Dahl hovering behind her until she was seated, then he stepped back and tilted his head.
Dahl could shoot him, but he probably knew Sam was armed, too. Trevor placed his left foot on the step and grabbed the door frame, yanking his body up. Tiny steps were not friendly to prosthetics, but he got his right foot safely on the wing, handed his bag to Sam, and climbed into the front seat. Sam’s pistol was hidden between her legs.
By the time Trevor belted in and put the headset on, Dahl had entered and got the plane rolling. “Mills, don’t touch anything unless I tell you to or something happens.” Dahl looked both ways along the airstrip and into the sky beyond, then the comms clicked. “Mazama UNICOM, Cirrus Two Six Five Foxtrot, takeoff Lost River two nine.” Dahl throttled up and the aircraft bumped along the airstrip. He turned the plane at the end, the engines roared, and they surged forward, rising into the air. “I filed a flight plan for Boise, so just north of there, we’ll turn all the electronics off and drop to the deck. Turn your cell phones off and take out the batteries, now.”
Trevor did as Dahl commanded, knowing that was a two-edged sword. Dahl could have disarmed them back in the hangar, but he could have people waiting at the far end, too. As they flew out over the Methow Valley, Trevor tried to think of a good intermediate drop point. Walla Walla was too close to Seattle; Spokane was on their back trail. McCall, Idaho, was a possibility. From there, they could go any direction, including disappearing in the Frank Church River of No Return Wilderness, but they could run into snow and get trapped. Boise would probably be the best choice, but Aviss said to go with Dahl, so they would.
He inspected the comms system, finding the control to speak to Sam alone. But Dahl might have anticipated that; he could probably listen in, no matter what the indicator showed. Rather than worrying, he’d be smarter to take the opportunity to sleep. He’d wake if they descended rapidly. He waited until Dahl set the autopilot. “Hey, I’m going to take a nap. Wake me if you need me.”
“Don’t you want to talk about what’s next?” Dahl’s expression seemed puzzled.
Trevor smirked. “Sure, but right now, I’m too tired to think. If I’d been thinking, you wouldn’t have gotten the drop on us in the hangar. I’ll do a lot better with an hour or two of sleep.” All of that was absolutely true.
Dahl shook his head. “If you say so. But the plan is to drop you at the Hailey airport. I set up a transfer to our Sun Valley house using my name. Once you’re there, you can take my Jeep Wrangler. Last time I was there, it was clean—no trackers, no Wi-Fi-enabled toys. It’s got a rooftop tent and basic camping gear for two. You’ll have to buy food and drinks, and I’d recommend a map book of Idaho.” He looked over his shoulder at Sam. “You should have time for a shower, but I wouldn’t recommend you stay long. Don’t tell me where you’re going, either.” His mouth twisted. “Plausible deniability again.”
Sam leaned forward and squeezed Dahl’s shoulder. “Thanks, Andreas. I really appreciate the save and I won’t forget it.” She let go and sat back. “But are you sure no one will know we’re going there? You’ve set up a transfer, and it’s not ski season.”
Dahl grimaced. “The transfer is a friend. She’s probably going to be pissed, actually, so Mills, I suggest you turn on the charm.” He shot a look at Trevor. “If that’s possible.”
Trevor snorted. “Yeah, I can do that now that I know it’s required.” Was Dahl planning on sharing that tidbit or trying to blindside them?
“What else haven’t you told us?” Sam scowled at the back of Dahl’s head.
“Nothing. Sunny owns the property management company we use. Normally, she’d arrange a transfer, but since it was me coming in, she decided she’d do it herself. I couldn’t tell her it wasn’t me, now could I?”
“No.” Trevor sighed. “But if she’s a drama queen, we’ll be memorable.”
“She’s not going to raise a public fuss.” Dahl shook his head. “But she’ll be surprised, and she’ll ask questions in the car, so come up with a good story for why I couldn’t be there.”
Sam snickered. “Do you want to keep her happy or scare her off for good?”
“I didn’t ask for her personal attention, Sam. I don’t mess around with under—employees.”
Sam’s face went expressionless. “I remember. I’ll just tell her this trip was a gift, and you didn’t have the time to argue with her. Maybe she’ll get the message.” She looked out the window.
Dahl opened his mouth but shut it without saying anything. Trevor knew there was some history between them, but he didn’t ask questions. It wasn’t his business, and if Sam wanted to tell him, he’d listen. Bugging her because he was jealous wouldn’t do him any favors. “Anything else you can, want, or need to tell us, Dahl?”
“No.” He huffed. “You may as well sleep now, both of you. You’ll have a long day of driving, no matter where you’re going.”
“Sorry, Andreas. I really do appreciate this, more than I can say.” Sam shoved a sweatshirt at Trevor. “Here, a pillow.”
“Thanks, Sam.” He balled it up, placing it between his head and the window. Before he took the headset off his right ear, he held out his hand to Dahl. “Thanks. I know this is risky for you in a lot of ways.”
Dahl twisted toward him. “Didn’t do it for you, but you’re welcome.” He shook firmly and let go. “Get some sleep.”
Trevor slid the headset half off and nestled into the sweatshirt. He let Sam’s subtle scent lull him to sleep.
