Читать книгу Dark Savior - Don Pendleton - Страница 12

4

Modesto, California

The storm chased Jack Grimaldi back to town, whipping his rented Cessna 207 all the way. He landed none the worse for wear and set about refueling before he tied the aircraft down. The blizzard’s trailing edge was rattling shrubbery around the airport terminal, but snow was limited to tiny flakes, like dandruff, which vanished on contact with the pavement.

The guy who’d checked Grimaldi’s license and his rental paperwork came out to meet him, flicking nervous glances at the clouds. “Did she treat you all right?”

“Sweet as candy,” Grimaldi replied.”

“Think you’ll be going up again?”

Grimaldi deflected with a question of his own. “I’ve got it through tomorrow, right?”

“Right, right. I only wondered, with the storm and all—”

“I’m waiting on a call,” Grimaldi said. “It comes, I go. Till then, she’s battened down.”

“Yessir. Okay.”

The guy veered off and left him, doubtless going to inspect the plane. Grimaldi had already signed off on insurance that would reimburse the owner with a new plane if he wrecked it, whether he survived or not. Still, he understood the natural, paternal feeling the man had for the machine that earned his living for him.