The Buffalo Pilot: A Ford Stevens Military-Aviation Thriller (Book 3)

by Lawrence Colby

  Ray felt like he was losing them before he even presented the rest of the idea and nearly lost his patience, but wanted to make sure he demonstrated the utmost respect for his uncles. “Casinos, casinos. Legal tables and slots. Sports betting. These are profitable and provide jobs for our people. Our families. Our brothers and sisters have figured out a way, and this gets RICO off our backs. No more FBI and BIA feds pressing us. Tax exempt from fed income, too. Uncles, please accept my recommendation.”

  The Federal Bureau of Investigation and Bureau of Indian Affairs were aggressive federal law enforcement agencies hunting down criminals in Indian Country, as well as many other gangs. At the direction of Congress, they formed the National Gang Intelligence Center in 2005 to help hammer down the progress of the gangs. The center mixed gang intelligence from across federal, state, and local law enforcement on the growing criminal action, hammering organizers like the Parkers.

  After some time, heads nodded in agreement. “We’ll listen. Go ahead. Keep going, Ray,” Graham said.

  Yes! thought Ray. He’s coming around and will influence the others.

  “Thank you, Uncle Graham. Okay, so my homeboy Joe is a cop with Buffalo Police, right? His side hustle is protection for a guy. Runs a few errands. Acts as his driver. He applies pressure when he needs to apply pressure.”

  “So what? What’s that got to do with a casino?” Graham asked. He sarcastically threw his hands in the air.

  “So, Uncle Graham, my homeboy, Joe, makes arrangements with street tramps for his guy. He likes the women, even though he’s got like four kids and an old lady at home. He likes these broads. Hotel rooms all over Niagara Falls and Buffalo, even more when they travel. Like a couple a week,” Ray told them, then stopping for questions.

  “Keep going, Ray,” Daniel encouraged him. “Explain,” he said, nodding.

  “Well, this guy is well-connected. Pretty powerful. Knows people. Like the National Indian Gaming Commission. Interior Department government people. Other real high shot callers. My homeboy Joe knows the same ladies pretty good that this guy does. Especially one girl, Nikki,” Ray told him, with a pause. “And his girl Nikki is willing to take pics.”

  One of the older leaders in the back couldn’t hear. “A what? A pic?”

  The others got mad at him and yelled. “Pics! Pics! Pictures. Photos. Get a new hearing aid.”

  His uncles were still listening, another good sign so far.

  “What I’m saying is Joe can get us some good comprising pics and send them to me. It will sway federal funds to us. This guy has the power to influence. Unions. Casino construction connections. Impact a couple laws, right? Plus, we know people and have all the right connections to put a deal together. We know the shot callers from the families, which is how we’ve always gotten business done, right? We get together with the families from the Mafia. Uncle Graham, you could call Birns up in Montreal, or Dad, you could call Eastman in Minneapolis. Contact the Italians like Gino down in Howard Beach. We get a deal on the construction… I got us a location selected, and with this guy, we get the location.”

  Some of the more conservative leaders turned to each other for a quick conversation on the wooden chairs in the back of the room, then looked forward again. One of them threw some ice in his glass and poured himself a third drink. Graham and Daniel said a few things to each other up front, but Ray had no idea if they bought off on it.

  “No one man has that much power, Ray. What are you talking about, some local business owner?” Graham questioned, shaking his head. “I don’t know anyone that big. And what organization has money for an airport?”

  The Oneida Reservation leader stood up, sipping his gin. “Who does your guy Joe work for, some county commissioner? The governor?” he said, laughing, his belly shaking.

  “No, sir. That’s the best part. He’s a fed.”

  “Go ahead, tell your uncles, Ray,” Daniel replied, smiling like a fiend.

  “Congressman Bruce Anderson.”

  Silence fell over the lake house, and that was the precise moment Ray knew he had them. With his pitch finally complete, he was confident that it was just a matter of time now, and he’d finally get approval for his project. His father did not say anything either, another good sign. Like a simmering dinner stew, Ray let it sink in.

  Easier than I thought it would be, he told himself. Didn’t even have to show the video. It will all be smooth sailing from here.

  Looking outside at the dark lake, though, Ray knew he had his work cut out for him. Convincing the Haudenosaunee was the easy part. The near impossible task now was shaking down a sitting U.S. Congressman. Oh man… uncharted waters.

  Chapter 8

  Lewiston, New York

  A week had passed and Charlie successfully completed his first full week in the Niagara squadron. He spent the last few days on administrative paperwork, everything from pay and benefits to the local 9mm small arms shooting range. He felt good about his first week down, and departed the squadron on Friday night for the nearby town of Lewiston. It had been announced that morning by a few pilots to meet at the Water Street Landing, and that’s exactly where Charlie wanted to go.

  He arrived at the Water Street Landing Restaurant and Bar, a local favorite complete with an outdoor patio and live music. It was just what he needed to wrap up his first week, and ordered a beer after sitting at the bar. He took his first real look at the river just below them, wondering about the speed and volume of water it held.

  The force of the Niagara River was one of the most powerful in the world. Some 12,000 years ago, Niagara Falls began at Lake Ontario, working its way south to its current location. The 170-foot high falls sent 757,000 gallons of water per second over its edge, creating a deep gorge that resembled a lesser version of the Grand Canyon. The east side of the Niagara River resided in the United States, and the west side stretched into Canada.

  Water Street Landing had a few locals bellied up, already there from a hard day of work or school. A few college kids were throwing darts, while others were grabbing an early dinner. Charlie saw two guys in flight suits, so he walked over and sat with them at the bar. They didn’t say anything as he received his beer, and the guys just kept on chatting.

  He listened as the two boom operators next to him argued about the Buffalo Bills. Their conversation about whether the team was ever going to move to Canada was pretty aggressive and loud, but no louder than anything else going on. No heads turned, as it was a regular discussion in Buffalo’s local bars.

  Charlie liked to put back a beer or three at times and was ready to engage the two boom operators on how things were going at the squadron. Although he could hear the live music, he sat in silence as they carried on their conversation, and his mind drifted to Ford and his wife Emily, and then his squadron arrival the past week.

  Charlie looked up from his beer to find a beautiful female taking a seat next to him, along with her friend. Long brown hair, wearing tight jeans and brown riding boots, along with a nice sweater. Thin, toned, and attractive, there was something about her that caught his eye: her smile. She turned her head to all the guys in flight suits, and Charlie’s eyes met hers, their eyes locking.

  Charlie’s face turned a light shade of red out of embarrassment. She is pretty. He extended his hand, the first time he did a move like this toward a girl.

  “Hi, my name is Charlie,” he said, feeling nervous. Almost a reflex he couldn’t control, he blurted it out. “I like your hair.”

  She gave him a big grin, showing off her white teeth and confidence.

  “Hi, Charlie. My name is Grace Fitzgerald. Nice to meet you,” Grace replied. She nearly dropped her purse and seemed to be just as nervous. Grace also nearly forgot to introduce her friend for the night. “And this is my friend, Holly Hayden.”

  Charlie took a swig of his draft, feeling on edge. “What brings you two in tonight?”r />
  Grace and Holly looked around for a moment before answering, like they were looking for someone. Holly leaned forward and ordered drinks, seeming to know the male bartender pretty well. Nearly too well, the way he stared at her.

  “We’re rocket scientists and visiting from our lab down in Florida.”

  Charlie was speechless. Was she kidding?

  Holly turned to smile. “That’s a lie. We’re race car drivers from Indianapolis.”

  Now Charlie knew they were playing him.

  “We live around the Buffalo area. And Washington, D.C. But we work for a local office in downtown Buffalo when in New York,” Grace replied, studying his chiseled cheeks and short dark hair. “We work for a political official.”

  “That sounds cool. If it’s true,” Charlie replied.

  “It is. We were just kidding, Charlie.”

  “Nice. Well, it’s nice to meet both of you. Can I buy your beer?” I can see she’s got drinks coming. Did she say county official? Charlie glanced toward Holly now, noticing her heavy spring tan, then laser-focused back on Grace’s beautiful smile. Charlie was hooked.

  “We can’t have too much, Charlie, we’re working. We’re here to meet someone from your air base. Our boss made arrangements to meet your base commanding officer tonight. A low-key neutral site to discuss a few topics.”

  The live music was starting to really kick in now, and the outdoor patio was filling rapidly. Charlie saw that the lights were on now, and it looked awesome.

  “Ah, ok. Got it. What’s the name of the person you work for?”

  “Congressman Bruce Anderson. He’s the local-”

  “No kidding? Sure, I know of Congressman Anderson. He’s from the 28th district. Business and family man. Buffalo State grad. We all know of him,” Charlie said, impressed.

  “I figured that you did. He’s a big supporter of military and veterans’ organizations. You’d like him.”

  “Pretty good gig if you get to come to Water Street Landing and have a few beers. While getting paid,” Charlie nodded. “Reminds me of when I worked at a little beach t-shirt shop.”

  Grace took a few big sips. “Yeah, the congressman is great, but he’s also all business. Constituents are his top priority. When he comes for work, we are expected to be working, not drinking.” She shrugged her shoulders. “We have a social one beforehand. He knows about it.”

  “Understand, that’s okay,” Charlie replied, liking her feistiness. “What you do for him? Are you a volunteer on his campaign?”

  “No, a bit different. I handle all of his legislative and military affairs for western New York. Lots of military up here. Primarily Reserve units this far west, all the way to Syracuse. Active component over in Watertown. Lots of government agencies down at the federal building. The congressman does a lot for the service members and veterans… tremendous amount of ongoing proposed legislation. Really supports our men and women.”

  She sounds like she is campaigning for him, Charlie thought. “You work out all the details? Write up the legislation?”

  “Well, that’s my job. We focus on topics like military-medical readiness and beneficiary access, military pay and compensation, and equity of benefits for Reserve and Guard that’s consistent with active-duty counterparts. Plus, oversight of you guys in uniform,” Grace said. She gave him a wink.

  Charlie liked that she was into both the military and politics, and lived locally. He could also tell Grace liked him just the same, catching her coy smile while brushing against his arm with her long hair.

  “Maybe one day, Mr. Charlie, I will take you up on that beer,” Grace said, looking at her watch.

  Charlie figured her boss and guests must be arriving soon. “Grace, what does the congressman want with the Niagara Air Base?” Charlie asked. “It’s kind of awkward, yeah… to meet in a bar?”

  “I can’t tell you that, Charlie. From time to time, the congressman just conducts business outside of the traditional places. Helps him connect with constituents. This is one of those times.”

  Even though they were in New York, Capitol Hill was a strange place to operate, and whether the congressman was in his district or back in Washington, he was always on call. Always on the clock. Charlie figured it seemed legitimate, but the hair was up on the back of his neck. One thing Charlie knew was that meeting out of an office with government officials could mean conversations were off the record. To meet in a bar seemed so informal, even casual.

  Grace stepped away from Holly and Charlie to look out at the patio for their boss and saw a few military guys shaking hands out front. Grace still seemed distracted by Charlie, and he had hoped she was into military guys. From what he could tell, Grace had a real fancy for him.

  Dressed in a short, black leather jacket, collared business shirt and a slight belly hanging over his dark pants, the 61-year-old congressman sported white-and-dark hair that was slicked back with every hair it its place. Charlie looked at him and thought he was shorter than he imagined, but had a distinguished look about him. Both girls saw he had arrived, and gave a hurried good-bye to Charlie. The girls rocketed over to the doorway to greet the congressman.

  Charlie kept observing from afar, watching the interactions, mesmerized that an elected member of Congress was present. In tow was the congressman’s wife, Janice, dressed to the nines, and their children and a nanny. Wife takes care of herself. Plastic surgery. Nanny for the kids… some young European, I’m sure, with that blonde hair. They looked to be the perfect couple and picturesque to all seeing them.

  Wearing a gray overcoat with shorter hair was a man in his mid-50s, who walked in behind the Anderson family. His erect body language and jerky mannerisms looked strange, but what stuck out to Charlie was his flat nose and expressionless face. Kind of looks familiar from the base?

  The gaggle walked by Charlie as they headed to a table in the back. “Here you go, Charlie, call me some time. I’d like to stay in touch with you,” Grace said, handing him her business card. She stared straight into his eyes, and he was smitten.

  “Thanks, Grace.” Charlie was hot for her, but wanted to play more games. “Maybe. Maybe not.”

  Grace’s face said it all, and Charlie knew he got her. “Fine, don’t call,” she commented, teasing him right back.

  Charlie continued to sit at the bar, looking at her card, reading it a few times. He used his thumb to scan over the elevated print. “House of Representatives,” he mumbled to himself.

  He felt the cooler air rush inside low across the floor as the door shut. The man wearing the gray overcoat with the flat nose, and now another in a green olive-drab flight suit, stopped just inside the door. The guy in the overcoat gave off a weird vibe, scanning the room like a robot. His target must have been Holly because he glared at her oddly, giving Charlie a chilling feeling. The second guy in the flight suit was his brother, Ford.

  Ford is here?

  Spotting him immediately, Ford went over to Charlie and gave him a hug. “It didn’t take you long to find the nearest watering hole.”

  “Just finished at the squadron, Ford. All good.”

  Ford placed both his hands on the sides of Charlie’s face, squeezing. “Twinkle Toes, I spend a lot of time in this place drinking coffee. They have my favorite kind shipped in from Battle Grounds Coffee over in Massachusetts.”

  Charlie pulled away from Ford’s grasp and took another long glance at Grace from afar, which Ford caught him doing.

  “Ah, Grace. You like her already. I can tell,” Ford said. Ford knew his brother like the back of his hand.

  “Yeah, she’s pretty hot. Gave me her business card.”

  “You’re already kicking ass. Most of the guys from the squadron have never gotten that far with her. Good for you. Take her out. When I first moved up here and Emily had her place in Rosslyn, I’d see Grace on Sunday nights on the Express commuter flig
hts down to Reagan National.”

  Charlie smiled. “I may call her because…”

  Ford stopped him in mid-sentence as he was getting a wave to come over to the table. “Shoot. Charlie, gotta go. Have to meet these guys.”

  “Ford. Wait. What are you guys meeting about? Why here?”

  Ford’s demeanor changed. “Save the base. Congress and the Air Force may want to shut us down. Something called BRAC could come up. Base Realignment and Closure, in Washington terms. It’s possible… a bad deal if it happens. The congressman is trying to learn as much as he can about what we do in our flying mission in the event we appear on the list.”

  “Wow. Close the base?”

  “Yeah, but the congressman is on our side. Told us it was possible, possible, it ends up on the list. But also, that Capitol Hill follows the 914th and has a lot of friends in high places.”

  Charlie raised his eyebrows.

  “We’re lucky, though. One of the maintenance officers from the base, Richard Lansing, over there sitting. See him? He’s his senior legislative director. Works part-time at the base with us, and full-time for the congressman,” Ford said.

  “Gray overcoat guy, the robot who blinks all the time… with the flush-face nose?”

  “Yeah, him. Name is Richard. And don’t be so judgmental, bro,” Ford said. “If this base ever appears on the list, he may save your bacon one day.”

  “That’s nice and all Ford, but… really? Closing the base? That’s thousands of jobs gone. I mean… dude, I just moved up here. Is closing the base even a possibility with the new tankers?” Charlie said, his tone emotional.

  “Charlie, I gotta run. Look, just calm down and we’ll see what happens. Promise, Charlie, you’ll be flying for many years to come, ok?” Ford said, then walked away.

  “Don’t make promises you can’t keep, Ford,” Charlie said in a low voice.