“Your name is Orville Rhodes?” they heard Ben’s voice ask.

“Sure. But nobody calls me that. Dusty, as in Dusty Rhodes, get it? And also, PS, I’ve told you all this a couple of times already — so how’s about you telling me just what the hell I am doing here? Or even who you are. All I know is the FBI dragged me here without a word of explanation. I have my rights.”

Dusty was young, strong, angry — good-looking. And he knew it too, a girl’s dream the way he brushed his big blond mustache with the back of his hand, tossed his hair back with a quick motion of his head.

“I’ll explain it all in a moment, Dusty. A few simple questions first. You are the helicopter pilot employed by SkyHigh Ltd.?”

“You’ve asked me that too.”

“And in January and February of this year you were aiding in the construction of some buildings in Guatay, California.”

“About that time, yes, I was working there.”

“Good. Tell me about one specific day, Wednesday February 8. You remember that day?”

“Come on mister, whatever the hell your name is, how could I remember any one day in particular all these months later?” Dusty said it with anger — but he moved his eyes about quickly, no longer completely at ease.

“I’m sure you can remember that day. It was one of the three days you were not able to fly because of a sprained wrist.”

“Oh, then, of course I remember it, why the hell didn’t you say so in the first place? I was home drinking beer because the doc said I couldn’t fly.”

He said it quite sincerely — but a beading of sweat on his forehead could be clearly seen in the harsh lights.

“Who took your place for those three days?”

“Another pilot, company hired him. Why don’t you ask them about it?”

“We did. They say that you knew this pilot, Ben Sawbridge, that you recommended him.”

“They say that? Maybe they’re right. It was a long time ago.” He muttered the words, blinked into the lights. He was no longer brushing his sagging mustache. When Ben spoke again his voice was arctic cold.

“Listen to what I have to say, Dusty, before you answer my next question. The doctor’s certificate about your sprained wrist was on file with the company. It is a forgery. It is also on record that over the weeks before and after the date in question you cleared up all the overdue payments on your car and made some large deposits in your checking account. These were traced to an out-of-state checking account where a deposit of twenty-five thousand dollars had been made on January 20. Although the account is in a different name the handwriting on the check matches yours. Now, two important questions — who gave you the bribe money and who was the pilot you recommended to take your place those three days?”

“I don’t know from any bribery. And that was gambling money, from the off track betting in Tijuana. I sort of didn’t want the IRS involved, you know. And the pilot — I already told you. Name of Ben Sawbridge.”

“No flying license has ever been issued to a Ben Sawbridge. I want the truth about where the money came from. And I want to know who the pilot is — and you had better think carefully before you answer. This is not a criminal matter yet and no charges have been filed. If charges are filed you are in a very distressful position. That chopper was used in a very serious crime. There have been deaths. You will be indicted for complicity. At best you will be convicted of accepting bribes, lying, endangering life. You will lose your flying license, you will be fined and you will go to prison. That is the least that will happen to you. But if you refuse to cooperate I will see to it that you stand trial for murder as well.”

“I don’t know anything about any murder!”

“It doesn’t matter. You were a willing accessory. But that is a worst-case scenario. If you will help me I will help you. If you cooperate completely there is a good chance that this matter might be dropped — if you can lead us to the people who bribed you. Again before you answer — think of this. They made no attempt to hide the bribe or the forged documents. Because they didn’t care about you. They knew that this connection would be made sometime — and knew also that the trail would run cold with you.”

Dusty’s hair was plastered to his wet skin and he rubbed distractedly at his mustache, crumpling and disarraying it. “Can you really get me off?” he finally blurted out.

“Yes, a lesser charge — or perhaps no charge — in exchange for your full cooperation. This can be done. But only if you can tell us anything that could help us in this investigation.”

Dusty grinned widely and sat back in his chair. “Well, I can do that for you, do that for certain. I didn’t like the little shit who arranged the whole thing. I never met him but he had the smell of real dirty work. Called me and said the money would be deposited in this bank account if I helped him out. I didn’t like it but I was but broke. The money was there, I got a signature card in the mail so I could get it out. Once I started using the money he was all over me and there was no way of getting out of it.”

“Did he identify himself? Say what this was all about?”

“No. Just told me to follow instructions and not ask questions and the money was mine. One thing I can tell you about him though. He’s Canadian.”

“How do you know?”

“Christ — how the hell do you think I know? I worked two years in Canada and I know what a goddamned Canuck sounds like.”

“Calm down,” Benicoff said, an ominous grumble in his voice. “We’ll get back to this man later. Now tell me about the pilot.”

“You know I didn’t want to get involved. I only went along with this whole thing because I really needed the cash. I had a lot of debts and my alimony was really killing me. So you help me — and I’ll help you. Get me outta this thing whole and I’ll tell you something that they didn’t know, what I didn’t even know myself until this pilot walked in. I was told to vouch for him and I did just as I had been told. He was a big arrogant old sonofabitoh, had gray hair — what was left of it. He had flown in Nam or the Gulf War, you could tell that just by the way that he walked. He looked at me, right through me, but at the same time making believe that he knew me so he could get to fly the chopper. That was the arrangement. I was to say I knew him, to recommend him. And I went along with the whole thing, I was really happy about it then.”

Dusty smirked and stretched, touched his knuckle to his mustache. “We made believe that we knew each other because that was part of the deal. But I’ll tell you something, the old fart had forgotten, but I had seen him once before. And I even remember his name because one of the guys afterwards was bullshitting my ear off about what a hotshot this old guy had been in the old days.”

“You know his real name?”

“Yup. But we got to make a deal…”

Ben’s chair crashed to the floor and he strode forward into the camera’s view, seized the pilot by the collar and dragged him to his feet. “Listen you miserable piece of crap — the only deal I make is to send you to jail for life if you don’t shout that name out loud — now!”

“You can’t.”

“I can — and I will!” The pilot’s toes were dragging on the floor as Ben shook him like a great rag doll. “The name.”

“Let me go — I’ll help. A screwball foreign name, that’s what it was. Sounded like Doth — or Both.”

Ben dropped him slowly back into the chair, leaned forward until their faces were almost touching. Spoke with quiet menace.

“Could it have been Toth?”

“Yes — that’s it! Do you know the guy? Toth. A funny name.”

The tape ended, and when his recorded voice died away Benicoff spoke aloud.

“Toth. Arpad Toth was head of security here at Megalobe when the events occurred. I checked the Pentagon records at once.

“It appears that he has a brother, by the name of Alex Toth. A helicopter pilot who flew in Vietnam.”