She drove to the end of the block, made a left turn, and then almost immediately made another into a narrow alley splitting the block.

"It was the fifth house from the far end of the block," she said, and Castillo saw her pointing and counting. She stopped the car.

"And there they are, Mr. Terrence Halloran and his charming wife, Mary-Elizabeth," she said, indicating the Hallorans' backyard.

Each of the row houses had a small backyard, with a fence separating it from its neighbors. The Halloran backyard had a small flower garden and a paved-with-gravel area with a gas charcoal grill, a round metal table, matching chairs, and a two-seater swing.

A stocky man in his fifties with unruly white hair was sitting on the swing with his feet up on one of the chairs. He was holding a can of beer and there was a cooler beside him. A plump woman with startlingly red hair sat at the table with what looked like a glass of iced tea.

Sergeant Schneider stopped the car and got out, and Castillo and Miller followed her.

There was a waist-high, chain-link fence separating the yard from the alley.

"Good afternoon," Betty Schneider called from the gate in the fence. She took her identification folder from her purse and held it up. "I'm Sergeant Schneider."

"What the hell do the cops want now?" Mary-Elizabeth Halloran said, unpleasantly.

"We'd like to talk to you, please," Betty said.

"Go the hell away," Mrs. Halloran said.

Well, Castillo thought, that explains that sarcastic "charming wife. " She's dealt with this woman before.

Terrence Halloran got off the swing and walked to the fence, carrying his beer. He pulled the gate inward and motioned for them to enter.

"What now?" he asked.

"These gentlemen would like to ask a few questions, Mr. Halloran," Betty said.

He took a closer look at them.

"You're not cops, are you?"

"No, sir, we're not," Castillo said.

"I already talked too much to the goddamned FBI," he said.

"We're not the FBI," Castillo said. "We're from the Department of Homeland Security."

He gave Halloran a calling card, taking long enough to read it to confirm Castillo's first impression that Halloran was well into a second six-pack of Budweiser. Then Halloran made a "follow me" gesture and walked to the table, where he handed the card to his wife.

"Homeland Security, he says."

"Talk to them if you haven't learned your lesson," she said. "I won't."

"Okay," Halloran said. "Make it quick. I have a busy schedule."

He sat down on the swing.

"Sir," Miller said. "I don't think Captain MacIlhenny voluntarily disappeared with the missing aircraft."

"The goddamned FBI thinks he put it on autopilot on a course that would take it out to sea and then jumped out the rear door," Halloran said. "Jesus, Mary, and Joseph!"

"I don't think that's the case, sir," Miller said.

"Well, that's what they think, and that's what they told the goddamned insurance company!"

"Who told us they were not going to pay up until 'the matter is settled,' " Mrs. Halloran said. "And then gave us thirty days to find-what was that line, Terry?"

" 'Another carrier,' " Halloran said. "They canceled us, in other words."

"I'm sorry to hear that," Castillo said.

"Why should you be sorry?" Mrs. Halloran asked, unpleasantly.

"Because it's unfair," Castillo said.

"Well, what the hell are you going to do?" Halloran said. "They're the goddamned FBI and I'm a small-time used airplane dealer. Who's the insurance company going to believe?"

"You said," Mrs. Halloran said, pointing a finger six inches from Miller's nose. "What the hell did you say? That you didn't think Alex voluntarily did something or other?"

"I think you're going to have to consider the unpleasant possibility that Captain MacIlhenny was forced to fly that airplane off Quatro de Fevereiro," Miller said.

"Off where?" Mrs. Halloran demanded.

"That's the airport in Luanda," Halloran said and then turned to Miller. "How did you know that?"

"The full name, Mrs. Halloran," Miller said, "is Quatro de Fevereiro Aeroporto Internacional. It means 'the Fourth of February,' the day Luanda got its independence from Portugal."

"So, what the hell?" she replied.

"I was there, ma'am, when the airplane took off," Miller said.

"You were there?" she challenged.

"Yes, ma'am," he said and handed her his Army identification card. "I'm an Army officer. I was the assistant military attache in Luanda."

"I thought you said you was from the Homeland Security?"

"Jesus, Mary-Elizabeth, put a lid on it!" Halloran snapped. He snatched the card from his wife's hand, examined it, and handed it back to Miller.

"Major, huh? You said you was there when it took off?"

"I happened to be at the airport," Miller said. "I saw it take off. And then, when we-the embassy, I mean-learned it had refused orders to return to the field, I was sent to the hotel to see what I could find out about Captain MacIlhenny. The manager let me into Captain MacIlhenny's room. And it was clear that he hadn't taken his luggage with him. Or even packed it:"

"Leading you to believe what?" Halloran interrupted.

"I think somebody made him fly that airplane off," Miller said.

"Like who?"

"Like someone who wanted to use it for parts, maybe," Miller said.

"Yeah," Halloran said. "So what are you doing here, Major?"

"I've been temporarily assigned to Homeland Security to see if I can find out what really happened to that airplane. And Captain MacIlhenny."

"So what's your theory, Mr. Assistant Attache, or whatever you said you are, about what happened to my brother?"

"I just don't know, ma'am," Miller said.

"They got him to fly the airplane where they wanted it and then they killed him," Halloran said.

"How can you even think such a thing?" Mrs. Halloran challenged.

"I'm facing facts, is what I'm doing," Halloran said.

"We just don't know," Miller said.

"What we're wondering is if there's a Philadelphia connection," Castillo said.

"Meaning what?" Mrs. Halloran demanded from behind the handkerchief into which she was sniffing.

"Meaning the airplane was there for over a year," Miller said. "Maybe somebody here-somebody who works for Lease-Aire-knew it was getting ready to fly:"

"Bullshit," Mrs. Halloran said. "You see what he's doing, Terry, I hope? He's trying to get us to say we let somebody know the airplane was there available to get stolen. They stole it and we collect the insurance."

"That's just not true, Mrs. Halloran," Castillo said.

Mrs. Halloran snorted.

"We don't have many employees," Halloran said. "We contract out just about everything. But that's possible, I suppose."

"All it would take would be someone who could overhear something, maybe Captain MacIlhenny saying he was going to Africa, saying when he expected to be back, something like that," Castillo said.

"About the time he was packing up to go over there, we had an MD-10 in the hangar," Halloran said. "Got it from Delta. We were cleaning it up. I mean, we had ACSInc.-that means Aviation Cleaning Services, Inc.'-in the hangar. But what they send us is a bunch of North Philadelphia blacks. You know, minimum wage. It doesn't take a rocket scientist to wash an airplane. I can't believe any of them would be smart enough to get into something like that. No offense, Major."

"None taken," Miller said. "But maybe if the thieves-let's go with the idea there are thieves-maybe they told the airplane cleaners what to look for."

"Yeah," Halloran said, thoughtfully.

"Have you got the payroll records of these people?" Betty asked.

"No," he replied. "ASCInc. does all that. We pay by the body/hour. And ASCInc. handles the security, you know, to get them onto the airport. But they'd have a list of the names."