by Murray Segal
“Sure. I can cut the cost about in half by substituting rebuilt ones.”
“That sounds good. Just where are the guns rebuilt?”
“Right here in my back room. If any parts are needed I use factory made replacements. I even have a fully equipped machine shop where I can and do customize all manner of firearms for my customers.”
“Terrific. We have a deal.”
Al gets out two model RM380’s out of the back room along with cleaning and oiling kits and instruction manuals.
“Let’s sit down over at that table so I can show you all about the RM380.”
We sit there with Al for about 20 minutes while he explains how the guns work and how they should be cleaned and stored.
“It’s a good idea to go over the guns periodically even if they haven’t been fired in a while. Now it’s time to for a real-time bit of practice firing so out to the range we go.”
We go outside to the range where Al demonstrates good shooting essentials to us.
“First, as you first begin to get used to the gun, I would encourage you to use a two-handed grip. You will get better accuracy using two hands. When you get more proficient I want you to try a one-handed grip because there are situations that can develop where a one-handed grip will be better. It will be a tad faster as well.”
Al shows us both one handed and two handed grips, how to squeeze the trigger so as not to disturb the aiming and how to anticipate the recoil. Then he posts three targets about ten feet from us and hands us our guns. Silvia asks him is she can use ear protection when she starts shooting.
“Yes and no,” says he. “At first you can, but after a while I want you to take them off and fire some rounds without them. After all, you won’t have them on if someone attacks you, so you need to experience the noise and be ready for it so it doesn’t distract your aim. These targets are 18 inches in diameter which represents the average body width below the shoulder. Always aim for the center. As you get more proficient we will use smaller targets. Ok. I’m going to fire a few rounds and then you guys do the same.”
He fires 5 rounds and all of them hit the target very close to the center. I follow and I hit the target twice out of the same 5 tries but the two hits are out near the edge, on each side.
“That’s pretty good for openers.”
He points out the mistakes I made and signals for Silvia to take a turn. She does and misses the target all five shots.
“Don’t worry about that. Just keep practicing and you will be fine.”
Then he shows her what she did wrong and then starts to walk back to the shop.
“Hey where are you going?”
“Inside to do some bookkeeping. You guys keep firing 6 shots at a time, each. When you are not shooting stand back and don’t even load your magazine until the other one is finished and backed out of the way. You can stay as long as you want and only pay for the ammunition you use.”
We practice for an hour and a half and both of improve dramatically. We are both worn out after this session and ready to head back to PI. Back inside, Al looks over the targets we used and seems pleased with the results.
“You both did well. Better than I would expect for people who have never fired a gun before. I would recommend at least one more practice session and maybe two more. Come back when you have some time but make it sooner rather than later. Good luck and thanks for your business. I’m not buttering you up. I mean it. Take care of yourselves and if there is anything else I can do for you, let me know”.
“Thanks Al. I’m sure we will be back soon.”
CHAPTER XIII –
ENTER MARCOS AND HIS BALLOON
With that we get in the car and head south to PI. As we drive I think to myself.
“You know what might ensure our safety in the immediate future would be to hide the MDTW in some secure place away from our own apartment. The Nazis are after it and it is reasonable to assume that they won’t harm us so long as they don’t know where it is. Then again, we would become a loose end when they would, no doubt, find it.”
We drive the rest of the way in silence. Each of us struggling to see an easy way out of our situation that won’t involve shooting our guns.
“If those guys were standing in front of me right now, I would shoot them without a second thought.”
“That could well be illegal. It’s also a silly idea. You need grounds for killing anyone, including guys you know are evil. What we need to do just now is to find Graves Supermarket and stock up on food for our pantry.”
“That’s what we need? When in doubt eat. Right? Sounds like me talking, sweet stuff.”
“Until something better comes along. Yes.”
“Hey. Something better has come along. It’s called sex.”
“Lord. Are you ever going to grow up and stop acting like a teenager?”
“Hope not. Last time I looked teenagers must eat too. Head the car to 797 Main Street.”
We get to the supermarket and park in their lot. My guts are telling me to go lightly because I see us leaving town soon. Maybe that’s just wishful thinking. Perhaps it’s just more paranoia. We shop for an hour or so, and spend about $150 and buy enough food for about a week.
“You stow the grub while I take a quick check around the parking lot.”
“Stow the grub? You grow more like a gunslinger with each passing hour.”
Back in the apartment, I say, “With all this food we just bought, I don’t guess you wouldn’t want to eat out. Huh?”
“You guess right. Go in the living room and read the Star Herald or some other profound written work while I whip you up some proteins.”
“Don’t forget the carbohydrates and skip the tofu.”
I need to get back to my job and it would be best to go back with another feature story ready to go in the next issue. Something other than one on crime to demonstrate my versatility. I struggle to grab hold of something that might work. Ordinary business or crime stories, nah. Politics, nah. Got to be something fun and light with a new approach. Sports? Too routine. It pops into my head in a flash of light. The town is host to a balloon fest every year. That would be it. I’ll go up in one of them and write it while I’m in the air. Maybe take a video and stick it on You Tube or Facebook. Great idea. And great fun to boot. I go back to the kitchen to Silvia’s input on my idea.
“I thought I kicked you out of the kitchen once tonight. Are you going to keep disobeying the commander’s orders?”
“Be serious for a moment., I need to see what you think about my idea for a feature story. There is a balloon fest here in PI. There will be twelve pilots from around the globe participating. All I need to do is convince one of them to let me ride with them. I’ll take photos and a video which we can also put on Facebook.”
“Are you talking about one of those hot air balloons that actually go up in the sky without brakes or steering wheels?”
“Not exactly. They claim to be able to steer the balloons somehow and to stop it they can always drop to the ground.”
“Fabulous. Drop to the ground. You can’t be serious. You just can’t be. Try something else.”
“I am very serious and it will make a great story. Remember, I have a press card and shouldn’t have any trouble convincing one of the pilots that it would be great publicity for him to carry me up on a flight.”
“Be even more publicity if he crashed with you in the balloon. Maybe knock off a few people on the ground.”
“I think I detect a touch of sarcasm in your voice. Maybe not. Anyhow, tomorrow morning I’m going out there and get me a pilot.”
That evening we step back in time a bit and watch the movie The Sting with Redford and Newman. We’d both seen this one before but still enjoyed it one more time. After a breakfast of Heritage Flakes cereal with strawberries and apples, I give Silvia a peck on the cheek as I leave to find a balloon pilot who will be overjoyed at having a newspaper reporter along on his next ride. She is cool and dismissive, lett
ing me know that she is still against this idea. Using my reporting and sleuthing skills I quickly find out where Marcos Bonimcontro from San Paulo, Brazil is staying while in town. Marcos captains the Tribirds balloon. I’m in luck because he is eating breakfast at the hotel. The desk clerk directs me to him in the dining room. I’m hoping he speaks English as I march in and introduce myself.
“Good morning Mr. Bonimcontro. My name is Harry Stein of the Star Herald newspaper and I wanted to speak to you sometime today, when you have a moment.”
“Now is a good time. Why don’t you join me for breakfast?”
Great. He speaks English better than I do.
“Thanks. I’ve already had breakfast but a cup of coffee would be nice.” Don’t tell Silvia, think I, caffeine is on my no-no list. Marcos summons the waiter, who brings me a steaming cup of rich dark coffee. Even if I don’t get a story out of this escapade, the coffee will make my day.
“Mr. Stein, what can I do for you?”
“I’d like to write a front-page story for the paper about the balloon fest. But I’d like to take a different approach and go up for a ride and write the story up there. I’d take photographs of the balloon and yourself on the ground before we go up and then take photos, make notes and perhaps a take a video in the air. In addition to the story, I’d put the video and the rest of the package on Facebook or Twitter. How does that sound to you?”
“Of course. It sounds wonderful so long as you say positive things.”
“I can’t imagine that I could find anything negative to say even if I wanted to, which I don’t.”
As we talk an antenna goes up in my brain. I can’t help but wonder if Marcos has any connection or information about the Nazis who are hunting us. Probably just more paranoia on my part, but I stick that question into an empty corner of that brain. I will think of a way to see if Marcos knows anything at all about the Nazis. First things first though.
“When do you think, we could go up? I will need just a bit of time to clear the idea with my editor and gather the equipment I will need.”
“I prefer that we do this either before or after our regular flights. This afternoon would be ideal if that gives you enough time to get ready.”
“That works for me. Is the weather ok for you?”
“Sunny and warm with very little wind. That’s perfect. I’ll meet you at the site at 2 pm.”
“I hate to show my ignorance, but where is the site?”
“It is on Spragueville Road, not far from the Aroostook State Park.”
“See you there.”
I drive back to the apartment to pick up my cameras and to have lunch.
“Hey, lovewoman, I have just had a great talk with Marcos Bonimcontro, captain of the good ship Tribirds. And we are setting sail at two o’clock.”
“While you have been gone, I have done a little research on this festival. Guess what? Last year in Texas, eighteen people were killed in a crash. Did your Mr. Bonimcontro happen to tell you about that fiasco?”
“Umm, no he didn’t. But Silvia, bad things happen in all sorts of everyday situations and events. You know something like 35,000 people die every year in auto collisions. We don’t let that stop us from driving. Thousands more die in accidents in their homes. You can’t stop living because there is danger in the world.”
“Does that mean you have to go looking for dangerous activities?”
“But that’s just the point: riding in a hot air balloon is not any more dangerous than riding in your car on Interstate 95. Or climbing up your stairs.”
“I admire your courage but I still think you should dream up another story. I never heard of 18 people getting killed all at the same time on a staircase.”
“I’m too far into this and besides I think it will be a prize winner.”
“If it’s ok with you I will stay here and not go out to watch it.”
“Ok. What are we having for lunch?”
“Anything you want to make for yourself.”
Obviously, she is punishing me for going against her wishes. Seems awfully childish to me but I know her heart is in the right place and she is only concerned with my safety. I start pulling out the makings of a cold chicken sandwich but before I get very far into it Silvia relents.
“Never mind with that sandwich. If you are going to crash and burn I’ll see that it is with a full stomach. A rare steak and mashed potatoes coming up in 15 minutes.”
I give her a big hug and start gathering the things I will need: a couple of pens, the ubiquitous notebook, my Nikon camera for stills and the video camera. After lunch, I thank her for being a sport and I head for the Star Herald.
When I tell Steve Frederick about my idea, he seems to like it but I see some hesitation on his part.
“What is it Steve?”
“Well, I should really run this by our legal counsel. I’m a bit worried that our accident insurance might not cover this activity. When are you planning to go up?”
“This afternoon about 2 o’clock. Don’t worry about it. I will sign any release you want so that the paper is not liable for anything that may occur.”
“Ok. I’ll get one typed up in a few minutes. Do you have everything that you need by way of equipment?”
“Now that you ask, I suppose a small voice recorder would make it a lot easier for me rather than the old notebook and pen.”
“That’s easy. I’ll get you one that can be used in the voice actuated mode. I don’t know if it will work in that mode in the balloon with all the background noise but you can try it. If it doesn’t work, you can still use it in a non-actuated mode. Anything else?”
“Nothing comes to mind except some drugs to calm me down.”
“I can’t help you there. See your local pharmacist. Come by after you are back on the ground so I can see what you have.”
“I will and thanks.”
I arrive at the launch site a few minutes before two o’clock and unload all my equipment before Marcos arrives. His crew has already unpacked the balloon and started the propane heaters which will fill up the balloon with hot air to get it off the ground. When he arrives, he greets the crew and walks over to me with a smile on his face.
“We have nearly ideal weather conditions with only a little wind. It’s enough to carry us over the town so you can get a good view from up there. We will probable try and stay at an altitude of about 1,000 feet. Climb on board and let’s take off.”
I feel a bit queasy despite of all my pronouncements to the contrary.
Now I know how an astronaut feels. Well, sort of. The wind carries us down over the downtown area. I can see The Williams Apartment Complex and I imagine I can see Silvia through the roof of our apartment. I have cranked up the video camera and taken a bunch of stills with the Nikon. The voice actuated recorder works fine and I make verbal notes while operating the cameras.
We drift over the downtown and to a large open area on the edge of town.
“Look down there. You can see our crew with the chase vehicle following us to the landing site. They will make it there before we do. I am going to turn down the heaters so we can land. Sometimes the actual touchdown can be a little rough so hang on tight.”
Is he kidding? I am holding on so tight I worry that I will tear the basket apart. We bump down hard and the ground crew grabs the tether lines and it’s over. I made it. I let out a large amount of air out of my lungs, much like the balloon did.
“Marcos. Before you leave, I will probably want to talk to you again and maybe get you to read the story before it’s published. Would that be ok with you?”
“Yes, it would and I will be around town for another week so ring me up anytime.”
Next thing I do is whip out my cell and call Silvia.
“We’re down sweet wonderful woman. We just landed without incident and it was just great. I got reams of notes on my recorder and a ton of still and video pictures. What are you up to?”
“Nothing. I am curled up in bed with
the blanket over my head but otherwise everything is normal. Come on home. I might have a surprise for you.”
“Keep the blankie over your head for a while. I’m going back to the office and write up this prize-winning story while it’s still fresh in my mind.”
It is nearly five o’clock before I finish going over my notes and selecting the photos I want to use. It is a full-length story. Frederick is delighted with it. By that time almost the entire staff has left for the day. He quickly scans the written story and goes through the still photos that I have selected.
“I like it. I love it. It will have great appeal to our readers. Do you have the video?”
“Yes. Right here.”
I have boiled down the video to about 10 minutes. He loves that too.
“Let’s get that on Facebook and Twitter right away.”
I do that and then pack it in and head for the apartment. Silvia greets me at the door with a giant hug and a few small kisses.
“Woman. I am taking you out to dinner tonight to celebrate writing this story. It’s your choice of restaurants.”
“Does this mean that you are buying?”
“No, course not. But that’s not important. Just put away your apron and let’s go. I feel great.”
“The Sorpreso?”
“Naturally.”
I won’t bore you with a long-winded commentary on our meal at the Sorpreso. It’s enough to say that we enjoyed another elegant meal. It measured up to any dining experience we had ever had.
“You know, Silvia, I think I could get used to living up here if I was promised one dinner per week at the Sorpreso.”
“It’s a grand place but maybe not reason enough to move here.”
“A small exaggeration, I suppose.”
We arrive back at the apartment just in time to watch the New England Patriots play their first regular game of the season. Despite playing with an injury ridden line-up and without Tom Brady, who is serving his suspension, they beat the Arizona Cardinals on their home field. Jimmy Garoppolo, Brady’s back-up plays a great game. It doesn’t end until close to midnight so we slip under the covers. No fooling around tonight.