As Jerry approached the airport, he worried about the remaining fuel sloshing around inside the plane. One spark and it would burst into flames. He also began hatching up an escape plan if the plane landed safely. From his marijuana days, he’d had experience in running from this airport so he had an idea what to do, though it wouldn’t be easy. After that, things were unclear in his mind.
Just as he feared, he saw the man’s truck at the control tower. He was a man obsessed with aviation and each night after work would arrive and just sit in the tower, not doing much, but probably soaking up the ambience of aviation. He would bring the truck out even before Jerry’s plane rolled to a stop, curious to see, unknowing of the possible danger he could face. Jerry eased down the landing gear, praying there was no incident, no small spark, nothing, relieved when it snapped into place and the wheels touched down smoothly. The first part of the job was accomplished.
He pushed open the door and jumped out, the truck racing down the runway, and began running toward the trees. The last time he had been forced to do this, a plane with a spotlight had been circling overhead and people had been shooting at him, but this time there was only moonlight and no gunfire.
An hour later, he was standing outside a phone booth, wondering which direction he was going to take. The man who loaded the barrels had been his friend for a long time, so he tried the argument that it had just been a mistake. But it wasn’t convincing. There wasn’t just one mistake, but a series of errors that should have led to his death if not for both his skill and a bounty of luck. Still, he thought he would offer the benefit of some doubt.
He was picked up thirty minutes later and taken to the house where the man was staying. He wasn’t home, nor should he be because he would be on his way to south Florida with the cocaine, but as Jerry looked around, what he found was beyond belief. The cocaine was stored in a room.
This made no sense. He might be dumb enough to try to kill Jerry, but to steal from the Colombians was far too stupid, even for him. Yet, there was the cocaine. And what about the other men? Were they a part of it as well? He would not believe that.
He made a few phone calls and let it be known that he was alive and expecting the man to come to him within two hours---or else. Then, he sat back and waited.
(To be continued next post.)
Just as he feared, he saw the man’s truck at the control tower. He was a man obsessed with aviation and each night after work would arrive and just sit in the tower, not doing much, but probably soaking up the ambience of aviation. He would bring the truck out even before Jerry’s plane rolled to a stop, curious to see, unknowing of the possible danger he could face. Jerry eased down the landing gear, praying there was no incident, no small spark, nothing, relieved when it snapped into place and the wheels touched down smoothly. The first part of the job was accomplished.
He pushed open the door and jumped out, the truck racing down the runway, and began running toward the trees. The last time he had been forced to do this, a plane with a spotlight had been circling overhead and people had been shooting at him, but this time there was only moonlight and no gunfire.
An hour later, he was standing outside a phone booth, wondering which direction he was going to take. The man who loaded the barrels had been his friend for a long time, so he tried the argument that it had just been a mistake. But it wasn’t convincing. There wasn’t just one mistake, but a series of errors that should have led to his death if not for both his skill and a bounty of luck. Still, he thought he would offer the benefit of some doubt.
He was picked up thirty minutes later and taken to the house where the man was staying. He wasn’t home, nor should he be because he would be on his way to south Florida with the cocaine, but as Jerry looked around, what he found was beyond belief. The cocaine was stored in a room.
This made no sense. He might be dumb enough to try to kill Jerry, but to steal from the Colombians was far too stupid, even for him. Yet, there was the cocaine. And what about the other men? Were they a part of it as well? He would not believe that.
He made a few phone calls and let it be known that he was alive and expecting the man to come to him within two hours---or else. Then, he sat back and waited.
(To be continued next post.)
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