Read Alien Hunter (Flynn Carroll) for Free Online Page A

shirts or blouses, two pairs of pants.”
    “Interesting,” Mike commented.
    “Damn interesting,” Diana said.
    “I wish we could access Behavioral Science resources, Diana.”
    “Louie, no.”
    “I know—‘until we know what we’re dealing with, no leaks.’”
    Flynn said to Charlie, “You came out of Behavioral, so what can you add?”
    The engines drummed. The plane, now enveloped in grayness, was being steadily buffeted.
    “Charlie?”
    “I gotta fly an airplane,” he said at last.
    Soon the snowy fields below disappeared into a gray gloom. Flynn could hardly see the strobes on the wingtips. He craned his neck, looking up at the instrument cluster and seeing gleaming flat panel displays. An autopilot was operating, the plane banking and changing altitude on its own. Charlie didn’t even have his hands on the stick. The plane, on its own, was navigating its way through the storm.
    These avionics were ten years ahead of the airlines, maybe more.
    Flynn thought he should feel safer, but he really wished that Charlie had his hands on the controls instead of reading files on his own iPad. And what about “I gotta fly this plane?” Apparently what it really meant was, “I decline to answer your question.”
    He watched the wing strobes disappear into the muck. Then the wings.
    He leaned forward. “Shouldn’t you descend into visual?”
    Charlie didn’t react.
    “Hey, Charlie, I can fly a damn airplane well enough to know we need visual.”
    Again no answer. Flynn turned to Diana. “Look, this is dangerous. No general aviation aircraft is up to this kind of flying, no matter what kind of avionics it has. What about deicing equipment? It has to be minimal.”
    “I just did a statistical analysis on the cases,” Charlie called back, “and he’s right. There’s a very fixed pattern to the things that are taken.”
    “We know our perp has a team. He has to,” Diana said. Then, to Flynn, “Just relax, let him do his thing. We wouldn’t be up here if the plane couldn’t do its job.”
    “What the hell is it, a drone with seats?”
    She laughed a little. “The military’s got some very good autopilots, obviously. Look, the computer’s a lot better pilot than he is, right, Charlie?”
    “Right. I’m looking at the site on the looksee. Snow’s really building up around the house.”
    “What’s a looksee?”
    “We have surveillance cameras deployed around the target’s home,” Diana said.
    As he paged through case after case, Flynn wasn’t seeing a single indication that any witness had ever identified any person, vehicle, sound, or light that seemed to them to be unusual during the times the kidnappings had taken place. “My case is the only one with any sort of witness at all?”
    “It is.”
    Flynn tried to relax. He hadn’t slept much and he was tired. Looking at a rough day ahead, probably a stakeout tonight. Stakeout in a blizzard. Lovely. He closed his eyes—and immediately felt a sensation of falling. Then the stall horn howled.
    “Jesus!”
    “No big deal,” Charlie yelled. “I’m on it.”
    The horn warbled a last time, then stopped.
    Flight became steady again, the engines now droning, the wingtip strobes faintly visible. Flynn had not realized until this moment how tired he actually was. Still, though, he clung to the arms of his seat.
    More time passed. Finally, he found himself once again closing his eyes.
    What seemed just a few moments later, he heard Diana saying, “Good morning.”
    “I’ve been asleep?”
    “Deep. Three hours.”
    It felt like three minutes. “I can’t believe that.”
    “Big changes, lotta stress, it’s natural. Healthy.”
    The plane was still deep in the storm system, but flying smoothly, banking gently from time to time.
    He saw that Diana had a readout of the plane’s position on her iPad. “What’s our ETA?”
    “About twenty minutes,” she said.
    “We’ve made good time, then.”
    “The autopilot has an intelligent seek