Just what one would expect on the calendar of an efficient executive secretary along with a careful note of the boss's absences. On the Saturday a week earlier, Bolan read, "FC dep." Two days from the present, "FC ret." That was the outline. Within the pages of the leather-bound appointment diary, Bolan found chapter and verse.

On the previous Saturday, Charon had had reservations on Swissair, leaving Boston's Logan International Airport at four in the afternoon, arriving at Cointrin Airport in Geneva at 8:20 the next morning, local time. Beneath that was a memo: "European appointments by private arrangement, next eight days through Monday. No contact except per emer. procedure. Query FRANCOFILE, stand. acc. cod every." Bolan paged quickly through the next week. There was no further indication of Charon's activities or whereabouts until the page for the next Monday, little more than twenty-four hours from now. At 9:40 Monday morning, Charon was scheduled to depart Cointrin for Heathrow Airport via British Airways, arriving 10:10 London time.

Exactly one hour and twenty minutes later, Charon was supposed to hop a TWA flight back home to Logan.

On the same page of the appointment book, Bolan's penlight beam picked out the reminder, "Brunch with Sir Philip at airport, 10:25, vip lounge." For a guy headed from Switzerland to Massachusetts, London was a hell of a sidetrip for the sake of quick meal.

Bolan scanned the page again, committed every word and number to memory, then flipped the book closed and positioned it exactly where he had found it.

"Sarge!" Gadgets called softly from across the room.

Bolan's chronometer read 0139:10.

Gadgets had clipped one end of a jumper wire to the third terminal from the top of the left row. He held the other end in a steady hand. "Which one does it connect to?" Bolan asked reaching for it.