Читать книгу The Last Flight of the Ariel - Joseph Dylan Dylan - Страница 4

The wind picked up and a fine drizzle began, an overture to the nastier storm that was gathering over the Eastern Seaboard. When it hit, it seemed to come from all directions at once. Palm fronds blew across the tarmac as if they were late for a business meeting, and then the tethered planes began to rock. It had started the minute he began to unlock his car. He ran back inside the hangar. Skeeter was already working on the motor. “The gods seem to want us together,” said Skeeter.

“Then it would have to be Saint Jude, the patron saint of lost causes.”

“I was speaking of gods, not saints,” said Davis looking up. A hard rain now pummelled the corrugated metal shell of the hangar. It made the air inside seem to hum. Both Hewlett and Skeeter had to yell to be heard by each other.

“And I just cleaned the Ariel.”

“Let’s pull her inside.”

“You’ll get wet.”

“I’m already wet. This will just cool me down.”

They ran out to the Ariel. Skeeter steered from the tail wheel while Hewlett pushed on the port side strut. Together they maneuvered the plane back into the hangar. Ignoring their soaked clothes, Davis went into his office, returning with two metal coffee cups and a bottle of Johnny Walker Red Label. He poured a couple of fingers of whisky into each mug. “Here’s to something,” Davis said.

“Soft landings and happy endings?” Hewlett offered.

“Nothing wrong with that. It’s just that Goddamned cousin and partner of yours is like a rock in my shoe. When I see you, I think of him.”

“You’ve got to get over that. He’s not part of this equation. Think of him as an X on a chalkboard that just got erased.” And so they toasted.

Skeeter grabbed some dry rags and plastic buckets. “In Miami, rust never sleeps; it doesn’t even rest. I’m going to clean this beast off while it’s still wet. And if you want to be useful,” he pointed to the buckets, “put these where they’ll do the most good.”

Hewlett had a lot of choices. The leaks far out numbered the buckets. He put them where the water rushed through the hardest. Then went over and took some rags from Davis and helped him with the Ariel

“You know, there’s a few things I don’t get. Women would be number one. But how your cousin hasn’t been popped is sure up there. He’s too flashy and careless for this. And all this short-changing people will get you is a short lifespan.”

“That’s one reason I’m trying to get out. The thrill of the deal died in me a long time ago. But Jake’s addicted to dealing. Most people buy or use drugs to get high. But selling is what gets him off.”

“Why haven’t you stepped away?”

“I had one foot out the door when a man appeared and dissuaded me.”

“He must have been a good talker.”

“Extremely. It wasn’t so much what he knew, which was pretty well everything, but the way he explained it all. Just so matter of fact. A little guy but like a logo on the front of a semi. There was something huge in back of him. He did promise to let me go when he found a man to replace me. I told him I’d stay a year.”

“How’d that work out?”

“This is year two. I don’t think he’s looking all that hard for the new me. He’s got me where he wants me. I keep working on an angle. Something to get me out from under, but nothing’s hit me yet. The last thing I want is to be an old drug dealer. Every day moves you up on the endangered species list. What would you do?”

“They haven’t given you a lot of choice, have they? You’re dancing on a very small pin.”

“Jake is just a chip on the table. They’d kill him just to remind me not even to think of moving on. When I bring up retirement, they promise me soon. But right now I’m evidently too valuable. It’s because I’m everything Jake’s not — reliable, trustworthy, cautious. The only way I ended up on their radar was because of Jake and his stupidity.”

“Why does that not surprise me?”

Hewlett sighed.

“Give me your clothes. I’ll throw them in the dryer.”

Hewlett took a deep pull from the scotch and pulled off his polo shirt, his khaki pants and his cotton boxers. Putting on a terrycloth robe, he handed the wet clothes to Davis. Looking out the window of the office in the hangar, Hewlett said, “Maybe I should be going before I see Noah and his ark float by.”

“Wait it out. It will be gone in a minute. Besides Noah isn’t going to let you on anyway. He only does couples.”

“Spoken from experience?”

“Right on.”

Hewlett snorted at the joke. “The mob probably has some people on it anyway. They’re taking over everyone’s operation. Even Scruffy is talking about getting out of the business. After Davis disrobed he wrapped a towel around his waist. There was a large scar that ran across his chest. He caught Hewlett looking at it. “Sometimes you’re lucky. Sometimes you’re not.”

“Looks nasty.”

“You might as well call me Skeeter. You’ve earned that at least. I think we’ll be all right. You’re a long way from being your cousin. I just can’t tolerate fools.”

“I understand.”

“Do you?”

“I don’t suffer fools gladly, either,” said Hewlett. “Unfortunately, the world is full of them. You know, I could use another beer. I’ve also got the specs on the strip in Colombia and a sectional you can look at.”

“I don’t need them. I know that countryside like I know the faces of my children. I have the sectionals in the drawer down there,” he said pointing down at the desk. “More importantly, though, I have them etched in up here.” He pointed at his temple. “God knows I’ve flown into it enough to know. You ever been married Mr. Hewlett?”

“Unfortunately. Divorced. Once was enough. She was a lawyer. She took off one day and married another associate partner in the firm.”

“That must have hurt.”

“Did at the time. That was a long time ago.”

“How long?”

“A little over a year.”

“And you think that’s a long time?”

“Seems like a lifetime.”

“Being a lawyer, she must have taken everything you had. Did she?”

“Close to it. She put me through hell.”

“Never trust a man who hasn’t been married.”

“Why?”

“Never trust a man who has never been through hell.” Hewlett let out a low chuckle, but Davis just responded by taking another drink of his beer.

“Did she know about your dealing?”

“Only at the end. That was the kiss of death for the marriage. She held it over my head like a Damascus sword. She said that if I didn’t cooperate with her, if she didn’t get everything she wanted out, she’d go to the authorities. I barely have visiting rights for the dog.”

“As I said: Never trust a man who hasn’t been through hell, Mr. Hewlett. Never. That’s got to be one spoiled, pampered dog.”

“Hell, he was a rescue. Some sort of retriever. I found him down at the pound. Can you believe that?”

“Every marriage is different; every divorce is the same. Every divorce nails you to the cross. At least that’s been my experience. Now, you’re the rescue.”

“Once cured me.”

“I’ve done it three times. I guess that makes me a romantic.”

“Or a slow learner.”

“There’s that too. So where’d you do your undergraduate studies? You’re a college boy, Mr. Hewlett. Isn’t that so?”

“I’m afraid it is. Dartmouth.”

“Ivy League, huh? What’s an Ivy League boy doing dealing drugs?”

“Like I said, it was the thrill.”

“Let me guess: It was Jake who introduced you to drugs and dealing.”

“Everything I did was my choice. I can’t blame anyone but myself.”

“All the same, it’s the Townsends of the world you have to watch out for.”

“That your opinion?”

“No, it’s the truth. Townsend is one of those careless people in the world who doesn’t know luck has a shelf life. It’s the ones who care, the ones who give a damn, that always end up at the short end of the stick.”

“You make it sound like he’s irresponsible.”

“That’s exactly what I mean to imply. Did you ever stop to think what the SEC would do to your stockbroker’s license if they caught you? Did Townsend? Who stands to lose more if you get busted? You or him? Ask yourself that.”

“All the time. That’s one reason why I was planning to make this my last job. I’m through after this.”

“Do you think that the mob is going to give you a choice?”

“I might just run. I’ve got a considerable amount of money saved up. I’ve got it somewhere they can’t touch it.”

“Where’s that?”

“Banks in various places: the Caymans, the Isle of Wight, Geneva.”

“You just bolt on them, and they’ll track you down. Trust me. It happened to a friend of mine. Another pilot. His name was Dick Downey. He washed up on the beach somewhere on the north of the Everglades. Rumor has it that he refused to fly anymore for the mob. He even faked his own death. They still found him. It was in the Miami Herald about a year ago. Before I take on this job with the Sicilians, I plan to write down all the names and features of the members of the mob so that if something untoward happens to me, it will go to the authorities. Make that explicitly clear to your boss in the mob. Having told you all this, Mr. Hewlett, just how precious is this cargo to you?”

“That’s an interesting question. Everything and nothing. It means everything and nothing.” Davis, sitting as he did before, took another gulp, set the bottle down on the desktop.

“That’s an honest answer I suppose. Time to see if our clothes are dry.” Davis stood up and walked out to the dryer.

Having taken the clothes out of the dryer, Davis walked over to the refrigerator and took out two more bottles of beer. “Want another beer? It’ll take the edge off the headache. You look like it’s coming back.”

“How can you tell?”

“Tess, my daughter squints when they are bothering her.”

“Sure.” Usually alcohol just made Hewlett’s migraines worse, but sometimes they made them better. He felt so emotionally wrung out by the mob’s demands that he felt he could use one. “I want to hear the story of the thousand dollars.”

“I’d offer you a glass, but wife no. 5 broke all the glasses I had in the place when I served her with divorce papers.”

“Mine took all the glasswork along with everything else. Even my air miles.”

“Now about the thousand dollars. I had just delivered a load of coke to one of your partner’s associates in the Glades. I still had several ounces of the stuff as I took off for home. The fellow that owns and runs the FBO is a friend of mine. We have a set of codes worked out. If the DEA is out at the FBO, if there’s any chance of them searching a plane, he says on the FBO channel that ‘there’s a chance of rain despite clear skies.’ When I called into the FBO, he said just that: ‘there’s a chance of rain despite clear skies.’ I took it to mean that the DEA might be at the hangar waiting to check the plane. That’s just what I needed to make my day. Finding that the feds were searching the planes that were landing, I made a critical decision. I dumped your cousin’s marijuana. As it turned out, the feds were gone by the time I landed, and it was just so much lost weed. Your brother refused to pay me the entire sum that we had agreed on before I left the field to maker the haul. I even had to eat the cost of the aviation fuel. I tried to explain what happened, but the more I talked, the more irate he became. Now you tell me. What you would have done?”

“I would have done the same thing,” said Hewlett. “Any fool would have.” His headache was getting worse. “Look, I’m going to have to excuse myself for a minute. I’m really sorry. I’ve got quite a migraine. My neurologist has me on Imitrex and Tylenol and Codeine. Reaching down to his backpack, he took out a small nylon case where he kept a few of his pills. Taking a couple of the tablets, he swallowed with a long pull from his Michelob.

“Look Skeeter. This is all pretty upsetting. Not only did Jake short you the money, he moved on this project without telling me. I’m the senior partner in this business endeavor. I don’t think he even ok’d it with the mob. I am supposed to know about anything illicit or illegal that he does before he does it. I was more than a little upset when I returned from my trip and found out about all of it.”

Davis smiled. “That story — that make your headache any worse?”

“Sure doesn’t make it any better.

“It’s been quite a stressful week. We can talk about it if you want. I know these people. Townsend’s like that old Excedrin commercial. Excedrin Headache #103. He didn’t tell anyone what was going down. Typical.”

“Just who is this man from the mob?”

“It’s best if you didn’t know. If you insist on it, I’ll tell you when we fly down to Colombia. Just remember a name by any other name is still a just a name.”

“You should run while you still have time. The thought of doing business with them one more time again doesn’t do anything to warm my heart right now. You understand. I don’t work for people I don’t know. At least their names.”

“In this case, you’ve got to make an exception. It won’t help or mean anything. Do you mind if I lie down on your army cot for just a bit. This headache’s a nasty beast. ”

“Of course not,” said Davis, holding a cat that Hewlett hadn’t noticed until he looked over at the cot. It was the black and white tabby. “You might just have to let Oscar there share your bed. I keep him to keep the mice population down.”

“No, I’ll be okay. They usually come and go within a half hour or so. Besides, I’m going to take a few more T#3s.”

“Yeah, why don’t you. You don’t look so good. Your face is the same hue as the belly of a trout.” Anytime he had a migraine, he looked pale. Then he drifted off to sleep on the old cot. Within minutes, he was sound asleep. He awoke with the headache nearly gone.

“Sorry to be out like that.” He rose from the bed and put his Top-siders back on. From his watch, it looked like almost an hour had passed while he was asleep. He got up from the cot and slowly walked to where Skeeter was working on the motor.

“Well, I wasn’t going anywhere. How’s the head.” Davis was still working on the motor at the other end of the hangar.

“Better.”

“I made some coffee.”

“Thanks. Caffeine seems to help these little bastards.” Hewlett paused and yawned. “Just where were we?”

“I said I want my money up front.”

“I’ll be sure to convey that.”

“The way I see it, this man from the mob has got no choice. This bird is about the only one that can get into and out of that strip. I’m about the only pilot who’s been to the airstrip in Colombia before.” Davis sat down in his swivel chair, letting it swirl back and forth, gazing at just how Hewlett would take his proposition once he had a chance for it to sink in.

“Look you know it, and I know it, but these boys from Sicily live in their own little world. And it’s a dark world.”

“That’s another thing. I want a percentage of what you make from this. I want to be treated like a full partner when it comes time to sell it.”

“If it were up to me, I’d be fine with it. The mob will never go for it, though.”

“And what’s keeping the mob from doing the two of you in?”

“Jake and I have the connections to sell a lot of the product. Otherwise, I wouldn’t be surprised to be at the wrong end of a gun. For all I know, they still might find a reason to do us anyway. Like I’ve told you, Jake and I are just too far in to get out now.”

“If that’s the case, and either you or Jake fuck up, all of us — you and me — will be running for the rest of our lives. Another reason I want five percent of the gross.”

“Never happen. You’ll end up floating up on the beach just like that other dealer. I can assure you of that.”

“But I was told...”

“Well, whatever. Whatever it takes for you to get the job done.”

“Well then, I guess we’re in business then.”

“Depends on what the men in black have to say,” replied Hewlett. “What are you going to tell you the people at the FBO?”

“You mean that scarecrow of a woman who chain smokes, has creases on her face like a fifteen year old Shar-Pei?”

“That would be the one. I’ll just tell her I’m going to the Primitive Area of Idaho.”

“Outside Boise?”

“The primitive area is north and east of Boise. Most of it is wilderness. No roads, nothing. They have more backcountry strips than anywhere else in the Lower Forty-eight. Each year some rich customer from Florida wants to go elk hunting up there. I can tell people that I just took the client up there to look at the campsite and look for any elk.”

Outside, it was nauseatingly warm. The migraine that started when he arrived at Skeeter’s hanger had gone away, only to fully flower again. When they got this bad, light bothered his eyes, and he became nauseous. With his current migraine, the bright sunlight stung his eyes, and he squinted as he walked over to his antiquated BMW. On the dashboard were his sunglasses. They did little to assuage his headache. The heat and the bright light of the punishing sun made his headache more intense, and the more intense it grew, the more nauseated he became. After driving twenty or thirty feet in Davis’ parking lot, it all became too much. He stopped the BMW in the parking lot, opened the door and promptly vomited. He dabbed at his mouth and chin with his handkerchief. On the radio, they were playing Menudo. How appropriate. All that summer, all one heard each hour, was Menudo.