The time differential was strange since bodies rarely stayed at the morgue more than a couple of days, so Laurie keyed Frank Gleason’s accession number into her computer terminal. His was the body picked up by the Spoletto Funeral Home.

What popped up on the screen surprised her.

“Good grief!” Laurie exclaimed.

Lou was having a great time. Contrary to the general public’s romantic image of detective work, actual gumshoeing was an exhausting, thankless task. What Lou was doing now, namely sitting in the comfort of his office and making productive telephone calls, was both entertaining and fulfilling. It was also nice to say hello to old acquaintances.

“My word, Soldano!” Mark Servert commented. Mark was Lou’s contact at the FAA in Oklahoma City. “I don’t hear from you for a year and then twice in the same day. This must be some case.”

“It’s a corker,” Lou said. “And I have a follow-up question. We found out that the G4 plane I called you about earlier had flown from Lyon, France, to Teterboro, New Jersey, on January twenty-ninth. However, the guy we’re interested in didn’t pass through French Immigration. So, we’re wondering if it’s possible to find out where N69SU came from before it landed in Lyon.”

“Now that’s a tricky question,” Mark said. “I know the ICAO…”

“Wait a second,” Lou interrupted. “Keep the acronyms to a minimum. What’s the ICAO?”

“International Civil Aviation Organization,” Mark said. “I know they file all flight plans in and out of Europe.”

“Perfect,” Lou said. “Anybody there you can call?”

“There’s someone I can call,” Mark said. “But it wouldn’t do you much good. The ICAO shreds all their files after fifteen days. It’s not stored.”

“Wonderful,” Lou commented sarcastically.

“The same goes for the European Air Traffic Control Center in Brussels,” Mark said. “There’s just too much material, considering all the commercial flights.”

“So, there’s no way,” Lou remarked.

“I’m thinking,” Mark said.

“You want to call me back?” Lou said. “I’ll be here for another hour or so.”

“Yeah, let me do that,” Mark said.

Lou was about to hang up when he heard Mark yell his name.

“I just thought of something else,” Mark said. “There’s an organization called Central Flow Management with offices in both Paris and Brussels. They’re the ones who provide the slot times for takeoffs and landings. They handle all of Europe except for Austria and Slovenia. Who knows why those countries aren’t involved? So, if N69SU came from anyplace other than Austria or Slovenia, their flight plan should be on file.”

“Do you know anybody in that organization?” Lou asked.

“No, but I know somebody who does,” Mark said. “Let me see if I can find out for you.”

“Hey, I appreciate it,” Lou said.

“No problem,” Mark said.

Lou hung up the phone and then drummed his pencil on the surface of his scarred and battle-worn gray-metal desk. There were innumerable burn marks where he’d left smoldering cigarette butts. He was thinking about Alpha Aviation and wondering how to run down the organization.

First, he tried telephone information in Reno. There was no listing for Alpha Aviation. Lou wasn’t surprised. Next, he called the Reno police department. He explained who he was and asked to be connected to his equivalent, the head of Homicide. His name was Paul Hersey.

After a few minutes of friendly banter, Lou gave Paul a thumbnail sketch of the Franconi case. Then he asked about Alpha Aviation.

“Never heard of them,” Paul said.

“The FAA said it was out of Reno, Nevada,” Lou said.

“That’s because Nevada’s an easy state to incorporate in,” Paul explained. “And here in Reno we’ve got a slew of high-priced law firms who spend their time doing nothing else.”

“What’s your suggestion about getting the lowdown on the organization?” Lou asked.

“Call the Office of the Nevada Secretary of State in Carson City,” Paul said. “If Alpha Aviation is incorporated in Nevada, it will be on public record. Want us to call for you?”

“I’ll call,” Lou said. “At this point, I’m not even sure what I want to know.”

“We can at least give you the number,” Paul said. He went off the line for a moment, and Lou could hear him bark an order to an underling. A moment later, he was back and gave Lou the telephone number. Then he added: “They should be helpful, but if you have any trouble, call me back. And if you need any assistance in Carson City for whatever reason call Todd Arronson. He’s head of Homicide down there, and he’s a good guy.”

A few minutes later Lou was on the line with the Office of the Nevada Secretary of State. An operator connected him to a clerk, who couldn’t have been nicer or more cooperative. Her name was Brenda Whitehall.

Lou explained that he was interested to find out all he could about Alpha Aviation out of Reno, Nevada.

“Just a moment, please,” Brenda said. Lou could hear the woman typing the name onto a keyboard. “Okay, here it is,” she added. “Hang on and let me pull the folder.”

Lou lifted his feet up onto his desk and leaned back in his chair. He felt an almost irresistible urge to light up, but he fought it.

“I’m back,” Brenda said. Lou could hear the rustle of papers. “Now what is it that you want to know?”

“What do you have?” Lou asked.

“I have the Articles of Incorporation,” Brenda said. There was a short period of silence while she read, then she added: “It’s a limited partnership and the general partner is Alpha Management.”

“What does that mean in plain English?” Lou asked. “I’m not a lawyer or a businessman.”

“It simply means that Alpha Management is the corporation that runs the limited partnership,” Brenda said patiently.

“Does it have any people’s names?” Lou asked.

“Of course,” Brenda said. “The Articles of Incorporation have to have the names and addresses of the directors, the registered agent for service of process, and the officers of the corporation.”

“That sounds encouraging,” Lou said. “Could you give them to me?”

Lou could hear the sound of rustling papers.

“Hmmmm,” Brenda commented. “Actually, in this instance there’s only one name and address.”

“One person is wearing all those hats?”

“According to this document,” Brenda said.

“What’s the name and address?” Lou asked. He reached for a piece of paper.

“It’s Samuel Hartman of the firm, Wheeler, Hartman, Gottlieb, and Sawyer. Their address is Eight Rodeo Drive, Reno.”

“That sounds like a law firm,” Lou said.

“It is,” Brenda said. “I recognize the name.”

“That’s no help!” Lou said. He knew that the chances of getting any information out of a law firm were unlikely.

“A lot of Nevada corporations are set up like this,” Brenda explained. “But let’s see if there are any amendments.”

Lou was already thinking of calling Paul back to get the rundown on Samuel Hartman, when Brenda made a murmur of discovery.

“There are amendments,” she said. “At the first board meeting of Alpha Management, Mr. Hartman resigned as president and secretary. In his place Frederick Rouse was appointed.”

“Is there an address for Mr. Rouse?” Lou asked.

“There is,” Brenda said. “His title is Chief Financial Officer of the GenSys Corporation. The address is 150 Kendall Square, Cambridge, Massachusetts.”

Lou got all the information written down and thanked Brenda. He was particularly appreciative because he couldn’t imagine getting the same service from his own Secretary of State’s Office in Albany.

Lou was about to call Jack to give him the information about the ownership of the plane, when the phone literally rang under his hand. It was Mark Servert calling back already.

“You are in luck,” Mark said. “The fellow I’m acquainted with who knows people in the Central Flow Management organization in Europe happened to be on the job when I called him. In fact, he’s in your neck of the woods. He’s out at Kennedy Airport, helping direct air traffic across the north Atlantic. He talks to these Central Flow Management people all the time, so he slipped in a query about N69SU on January twenty-ninth. Apparently, it popped right up on the screen. N69SU flew into Lyon from Bata, Equatorial Guinea.”