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

by Lawrence Colby

Maybe later, Alex, okay?

  Using the rags he took out earlier, Richard covered her up so no one would know what he was up to with the cart. With plans to dump her on a hangar floor on the base and pressed for time, he began to drive off so he could set her up before the arriving employees. Driving past the basement staircase and through the mud, he spotted Muffin.

  “We left the door open, Alex.” Stopping the van, he jogged down the staircase to triple lock his apartment.

  He heard his mother in the kitchen above open the back-screen door with the familiar sound of the creak and spring, and yell out to him. “Richie, waar ga je heen op dit uur? Where are you going at this hour?”

  He ignored her, picked up Muffin, took her in the van with him, and drove off.

  A bit more relaxed, he headed toward the Niagara Air Base and used the voice text feature on his phone.

  “Sir, things are happening. Embarrassing situation will play out today at Air Base. I did it.”

  Ford’s Office, Niagara Air Base, Niagara Falls, New York

  Now with just the two brothers sitting alone, Charlie spoke first.

  “Ford, I’m innocent. We’ve already said what we need to say. I did, though, want to tell you about something else. It’s related. Want to talk now or come back?”

  Ford sat with his face in his hands, rubbing. “Charlie. You’re my brother, family. You know I love you. You are also one of our newest pilots. Yes, I have the time. Like, only five minutes, but go ahead.”

  Ford looked as conflicted as Charlie had ever seen him.

  “Well, Grace and I have continued seeing each other, and she’s been telling me about how bizarre the congressman has been about the base. He says at press conferences that he wants the base open, but in reality, he doesn’t. I don’t get him.”

  “I thought that was odd, too. Me and Emily have been talking about it. Honestly, I’ve been thinking about it non-stop. Never told you the details, but I was tempted to drink that night. At Water Street Landing, remember?”

  Charlie clearly remembered. “Yeah, was wondering what was up when you made your way over to the bar.”

  “Made me wonder if Washington or Air Force Reserve thought I was responsible for causing the mishaps. Didn’t know what the congressman was up to.”

  Ford was displaying his vulnerability, Charlie thought. Maybe he does trust me.

  Charlie swallowed hard, making that loud noise in his head, but wasn’t sure if Ford could hear it. “Ford, he has damning texts with a guy named Ray Parker. Ever hear of him?”

  Ford shook his head. “No, don’t recollect. Why?”

  Charlie got his phone out of his bottom flight suit pocket and looked up the photo Grace sent.

  “Check this out. Grace took a shot of Anderson’s phone with hers and sent it to me. Shows a copy of a text between Anderson and Lansing about this guy Ray Parker and closing the base.

  Finish this, Richard. Get it fucking done ASAP. I want it OVER at that base and get Ray off my ass. Do you understand?

  Ford read it, but Charlie could tell it wasn’t registering with him. It had to be related to Charlie being brought in for FBI for questioning. Ford’s thinking must be clogged.

  “Okay, Charlie, I gotta hit the morning meeting,” he said, looking at his watch. “That is what I want you to do. I’ll go see what’s up with our guys… we got a crew broken down in Germany. You go over to Zeke and Grape and show them this. Use the ‘see something, say something’ card.”

  Ford looked around the office, stopping to look at the baby ultrasound printout next to Wu’s flight helmet.

  “You’re in some deep crap, brother, I gotta tell you. If they connect your little helmet bag of rags with those jet engines, you’re screwed. Prison time. Don’t talk to feds unless I am with you, got it?”

  Charlie bobbed his head. “Yeah, I won’t, Ford. I’ll drive down there now and find them.”

  “Send that to Grape first, then go talk. And Charlie... we’re brothers. A brotherhood. I’ll do everything in my power to protect you. Keep your nose clean. But if you did this-” Ford told him, walking out mid-sentence.

  Charlie put his head down, realizing the gigantic reality of the situation. He had a tear in his eyes, as all of the emotions between the two brothers were coming to an explosion.

  “Ford, I’m innocent. You have to believe me…” Charlie cried. “I didn’t leave any rags in there!”

  Ford stormed off, the weight of the world on his chest, too.

  “I don’t know, Charlie. I just don’t know,” Ford quietly said to himself in the hallway.

  Chapter 42

  Niagara Air Base, Maintenance Hangar, Niagara Falls, New York

  Richard knew he was pressed for time after looking at the van clock. The sun was already above the horizon and peeking through the trees onto the blacktop road.

  Although the blue laundry cart was a lot heavier than usual, Richard was able to back it down the van, across the hangar sidewalk, up the elevator, and into his base office without many people seeing. Flight line security saw him with his usual cart and waved him through, with Richard making it seem like any other normal day.

  Now in his office with the cart, he closed the door behind him and sat. He wiped the sweat from his brow with one of the rags. Need to scout out downstairs first before parking Holly on the hangar floor. Richard stood up quickly and opened the closet door. Muffin poked her head out now, looking around above the cart, but Richard didn’t pay any attention to her. He kept the door open with his butt and looked at the array of keys displayed on his desk. He grabbed one of the newer ones off his desk in the line-up and went back into the closet.

  He wriggled two heavy rag bags out of the way so that he could access a hidden door inside the closet. Richard unlocked the door and turned on the light in the blacked-out room. Once a former bathroom, it was converted into an improvised museum of his weapons, from swords to handguns. Each one was displayed uniquely and methodically, with their own oil painting, lighting arm, and typed name card. If it wasn’t hidden in the back room of a maintenance office, one might be impressed at the quality, as if it was a display case at a Smithsonian Museum.

  Handguns of all kinds were presented, labeled with a small typed out name card that showed the manufacturer, year made, and caliber of bullet used. A quick glance revealed over 100 on display, locked to the wall. The irony was that military members, including Richard, were not allowed to have personal weapons on the military base. Richard skirted the rules over time and had what seemed like the professional collection of an arms dealer.

  Located on a bookshelf near the doorway were hundreds of orange prescription pill bottles, stacked up by year and lined up by month. As far as the eye could see, there must have been ten years of pills aligned and stacked, each bottle full and unused. The labels were all from the local Veterans Affairs Hospital and had names like sertraline, diazepam, chlorpromazine, and fluoxetine, all used to treat schizophrenia, depression, severe OCD, and anxiety. Richard wasn’t taking his prescribed medications.

  He wheeled Holly into the display room, along with Muffin, and left them behind as he locked the door behind him. Richard returned the key to his desk, lining it up perfectly with a few adjustments, ensuring it was perfect, then departed to walk the maintenance floor to see how many technicians were around.

  Grape saw the text from Charlie as they got out of the pickup truck and read it, but didn’t have any context.

  “Hey, sir, Charlie is on his way to see us. Sent me a text. Wants to talk about this photo he just sent. Appears to be a conversation between Congressman Bruce Anderson and Lansing regarding closing down the base. Involves someone else named Ray Parker,” Grape told Zeke.

  They stopped in the parking lot. “That’s a wee bit weird, huh, Grape? Thought the congressman was all high and mighty about saving the base? It’s related to the mi
shaps?”

  “Wouldn’t that be a hoot? Congress guy is related to crashing airplanes.”

  Zeke and Grape arrived at Richard’s office and found that he hadn’t arrived yet to start his day. Since their recent visit was extensive, they knew what to do.

  Joking around, Grape knew Zeke would find it humorous. “Zeke, what colors you want to grab? Red and blues, or just for today, greens and yellows? Tommy Hilfiger would have enough material in this room to design a year’s worth of clothes.”

  “Dis guy, Grape,” Zeke said, shaking his head. “Stop it, and just grab your rags. Use your plastic gloves, so you don’t contaminate the evidence.”

  They went straight to the closet and turned on the overhead light. Both were in the room, grabbing a few rags of each color for Frank to do a laboratory breakdown on. Their hands were full now, but both of them heard it.

  “Wait, Grape. Stop moving a second. You hear dat?”

  Both pilots stopped in their tracks, listening, and turned to the back of the closet, the direction of the noise.

  “Is that… meowing? From a cat?”

  They looked around from the sound location and saw the keyhole and doorframe cut out for a potential entry.

  “Are you kidding me? Lansing has a separate closet? What kind of freaky setup does dis guy have?” Zeke said, even surprising him.

  Grape looked at the door with a curious eye. “Why would you have a hidden door with a cat locked up?” He leaned his shoulder into it with zero movement. He pushed on it a second time with all his weight, and it didn’t budge.

  Zeke laughed. “Look here, kid. A fortress door. I’ll bet you a beer that one of his keys on display out there unlocks da thing.”

  Richard finished walking the hangar floor and found the perfect spot to dump Holly. Under the wing of one of the jets, the footage captured on the news would be perfect. It should show the Air Force Reserve Command and BRAC and Congress the Niagara tail markings in each photo and video shot. Perfect. Excited to finish the job before the day started for the mechanics and technicians, he made his way upstairs to the second floor so he could get his cart.

  Thrilled to tell Bruce of the news. Soon.

  “Dis here newer key might do it, Grape. Try it,” Zeke said, handing him the key.

  Grape opened the door to the dark room with no windows, and it had an immediate dank stench to it. The meowing grew louder as they opened the door, and both men were confident there was a cat in the room with them. Grape used his phone flashlight and found the light switch, flipping it on.

  “Holy moly,” Grape said, stunned. “What kind of a room is this? Sir, this freaking guy is whacked.”

  Both pilots looked around in Richard’s room, stunned at what he had on display. Locked handguns from each American war with textbook alignment from waist high to about seven feet in the air, on three walls. The locked swords, both sheathed and unsheathed, sat arranged and displayed.

  “I’ve never seen anything…,” Zeke said, walking in awe. “Looks like one is missing. A P226, according to dis label.” He continued to walk through the hidden room, stopping in the rear of the sanctum.

  Then Zeke had one of the top shocks of his life, noticing the medical shelves full of the prescription pill bottles. “Oh, Grape. Lansing has some significant issues, my friend. Prescribed meds for everything under the sun. He’s not taking them... these bottles are full,” he said, picking one up and shaking it.

  Rattle-rattle-rattle.

  “He’s a basket case. Can’t even pronounce this one med, what’s dis something-a-zene?” he said, attempting to pronounce one of the drug names.

  “Let me see it.” Grape typed it into his phone search engine. “Hang on… says used to treat schizophrenia.”

  “My God. Um, hello? You can’t have that condition and serve in the military. How is dis guy the maintenance officer for a flying squadron? And these drugs are from the Buffalo VA. The pill bottle label, Grape. Doesn’t the VA talk to military medicine with those electronic health records?”

  Grape was more interested in the cat now, looking at Muffin. “What are you doing in this closet, cat?” He looked at her collar and read her tag. “Muffin, eh?” Grape continued to look at Muffin, and then something else in the bin.

  Zeke nodded over at him, looking.

  “Hey, sir, take a look at this in the cart. Bloody rags? Why would he have bloody rags up here?”

  Chapter 43

  Squadron Morning Meeting, Niagara Air Base, Niagara Falls, New York

  Ford left Charlie by himself and walked into the Pilot Room on-time, ready to take on the squadron morning meeting. The smell of coffee dominated the air, and he could hear someone slurping theirs in the front of the room as a joke.

  “Let’s get going this morning. Full day today. Start with what aircrews are available for missions, then go with a tail number breakdown for us,” Ford said as the guys settled down into their cushioned seats.

  The usual morning itinerary discussed which aircrew were available for flying missions, a status of tail numbers and their maintenance status, and what was going on for current events around the world. The KC-135 mission was a permanent tie to world events, and if fuel was needed to support a live or training mission, the fleet of refuelers was at the ready.

  “So, the guys in Germany will be fixed by sundown, then flying the red-eye home after crew rest?” Ford asked the operations duty officer. It was routine to have a jet break someplace, repaired, then either continue home or press on for the mission.

  “Good to hear, okay. What else do we have? Local flying lines today and tonight?”

  Maintenance Hangar, Niagara Air Base, Niagara Falls, New York

  Richard was on the second floor outside his office door and felt his phone vibrate. He stopped to read the text, hoping it was Anderson.

  ANDERSON: Good work, Richard. I knew you could do it. Come over to the house when you are finished so we can talk.

  RICHARD: Yes, sir. It has been a pleasure.

  Grape moved a few rags around now, spotting a human hand in the bin. Small, tan, with long red fingernails on a left hand with a thumb ring, seen by both men at the same time. Grape’s tone trembled. “Someone’s in this cart.” Both of them took as many rags as they could off the pile and discarded them.

  Richard walked into his office and heard the voices coming from his closet. He walked in tip-toeing like a child, listening to them chat. In my closet? That’s my closet!

  “Dis here’s a body, Grape. Hold it. Don’t touch anything else. We gotta problem. Gotta call LE. This is a crime scene. For heaven’s sake… Lansing has a lot more going on than maintenance and some rags,” Zeke said.

  Grape agreed and stepped back, then his words came out at Mach One speed. It was coming together, crystal clear to him now. “Sir, Lansing has to be the saboteur. No way Charlie Stevens was doing it. He set Stevens up. Lansing knew engines and locations of where to stuff his rags so he’d cause the mishaps, right? Lansing knows engines! These are his rags. Lansing’s a dirty rat.”

  Zeke agreed. “It’s all coming together, Grape. He’s a dirty ass rat. Good call on-” but he never got to finish his sentence.

  The door suddenly opened, and Richard walked in. He looked possessed.

  Richard walked in on Zeke and Grape, startling them both. Richard had his P226 out and pointed the weapon at both of them. Like a robot using artificial intelligence, he analyzed their location and distance, scanning that both pilots were close together. Easy targets. Will be simple shots. Richard’s stoic face was sweaty, his baseball hat low so that the two pilots could just about see his eyes.

  “Richard, let’s talk about everything. Put the gun down,” Zeke said in a calm voice. “Whatever it is, we can work it out.”

  Grape stood in silence, close to wetting his flight suit. He had never had a gun pointed at him b
efore.

  “Shut your mouth. You shouldn’t have come in here. It’s my closet! Mine!”

  Squadron Morning Meeting, Niagara Air Base, Niagara Falls, New York

  Ford looked at the paper version of the flight schedule and signed off on it, allowing the crews to fly and get paid for their work.

  “Let’s review the weekend drill schedule for the next UTA,” Ford told the briefer, wanting to see the hourly breakdown for the upcoming Unit Training Assembly.

  Maintenance Hangar, Niagara Air Base, Niagara Falls, New York

  “Richard, we can solve dis, okay? Whatever happened to dis girl and the mishap airplanes, we can talk about it. Put the gun down,” Zeke told him.

  Richard’s breathing and heartbeat were up way more than when he killed Holly. These guys are a lot closer to me than she was.

  “Lay down on the floor, face down,” Richard said, his voice trembling.

  Grape eyed him with disdain, almost hate. He had a sister and imagined her lying lifeless in the bin. And if Richard was capable of killing her, and causing the mishaps, then he could shoot both him and Zeke.

  “Why’d you bring those jets down, Colonel Lansing? Why’d you stuff those engines with your rags, FOD’n them out?” Grape said in a harsh tone.

  “Easy, Grape,” Zeke told him.

  “Don’t worry about why I did that. The congressman and I have our reasons for closing this base. The plan was perfect until you two dumbasses came into the picture. Lay the hell down right now, or you die,” Richard replied back.

  Richard could tell from their faces that they were shocked that the congressman was involved. “You and Anderson took down the jets?” Zeke asked.

  Zeke was slow to turn but got down on the floor as he was told. Richard ignored the question.

  Grape, on the other hand, hesitated to follow his instructions. Richard was unaware of Grape’s rapid decision that he wasn’t going to take Richard’s crap any longer, so he made a move.