Once out on the grass, Alex walked around the plane again, draining fuel from various places, checking the control surfaces, the oil. “I think we’re set.”
He moved around to the left side of the plane and pulled out what looked like a flat backpack from the front cockpit. Holding it out to Richard, he said, “Put your arms through here,” indicating straps attached on either side. He helped Richard strap on the thing. “This is your ‘D’ ring.” He indicated a shiny metal ring tucked inside one of the straps. “Do not pull it unless you intend to use the parachute.”
Parachute? Use it? “Why should I want to use it?”
“You won’t. You get in the front seat.”
“Shouldn’t the pilot sit in front?”
“Pilot sits in the back in this plane. Step here, and nowhere else.” He pointed to the wing root next to the fuselage. “Step onto the front seat. Put your hands here and here,” he pointed, “and lower yourself into the seat. It’s a tight fit, but you’ll make it.”
Richard did as he was told, aided by Alex, and was soon sitting comfortably. There wasn’t much room to move.
“This plane is built for two pilots, so if you feel in front of your feet, you’ll find rudder pedals. Don’t put your feet on ‘em. Bend your knees so you don’t touch ‘em and interfere with my flying the plane. The stick between your legs has to be free to move too.” While telling him this, Alex was reaching over Richard’s shoulders and around his waist, attaching more straps and pulling them very tight.
“That’s kind of tight,” said Richard.
Alex ignored him and pulled on a lever attached to the waist strap. The strap got a lot tighter. “The tighter, the better.” Alex checked his handiwork, and, approving, placed a set of earphones with microphone boom on Richard’s head. “This is your headset. Just talk naturally into it – you don’t have to push any buttons. It won’t work until the plane is started, though.”
Richard heard Alex struggle with straps as he put on his own parachute.
“Gotta put this gun somewhere else,” said Alex
Richard was so tightly tied down, he couldn’t turn around and look at Alex. He could only look out to the front and to the sides as far as he could twist his head. A muffled thud suggested Alex put the gun somewhere in the plane.
Alex got settled in his own seat and soon there was the sound of a starter motor, then the throbbing pulse of a large, high horsepower engine. There was a crackling in Richard’s earphones and he heard, “How do you hear me?”
“I hear you fine.”
“You’re loud and clear as well.”
The pitch of the engine increased and the plane started bumping along the grass toward a roadway that Richard now assumed was a taxiway. “Where’s the runway?” He looked around and did not see anything promising.
“Just up ahead. We’ll be out of here soon. I just have to check out a couple of things first.” The engine got louder for a while and it felt like the little plane was straining to jump into the sky. “Okay, let’s go fly!”
They moved forward and onto what looked like another taxiway – it was quite narrow. Richard couldn't see the taxiway after they lined up on it. The plane had a tail wheel that made it sit nose high on the ground and he couldn't see the ground past it. He wondered how Alex could see where he was going. The engine suddenly got very loud and with a deep throaty roar, they started moving forward. Soon, the tail lifted up. Richard could now see in front of them. Not very far ahead were several trees. Richard didn’t think there was nearly enough room to take off, but it wasn’t long before the little plane was airborne and climbing rapidly. He looked off to his left as they passed the midpoint of the runway and saw a police car pull into the driveway of the airport.
. . .
They flew to the Northwest, climbing to six-thousand five-hundred feet. “How you doin’ up there?” Alex called to Richard.
“Okay. Man, you can really see a lot out of this canopy, can’t you? I’m used to looking out of those tiny little windows in the airliners.”
“Yeah, I love the view.” Alex looked out over the green fields of New England, the trees and many ponds, lakes and reservoirs. He never tired of the scenery.
“So,” asked Richard. “Where do we go from here?”
“How the hell should I know? I’m just taking this one step at a time. Get away from the bullets. Get away from the guys shooting the bullets. Get out of the town where the guys are that are shooting the bullets. You got any ideas?”
“We need help,” said Richard. “I can’t believe there isn’t some authority, somewhere, we could surrender to and get this settled. We’ve done nothing wrong, right? So there must have been some horrible mistake. We just need to straighten it out.”
“I can’t think of another alternative. We can’t run forever. We just need to be careful who we surrender to. The FBI, maybe?”
“The police all over the country can’t be out to kill us. Maybe we can just turn ourselves in to a police station somewhere else.”
“I don’t know. There is a dead cop, you know. And Martin is sure to say we did it.”
“They may put us in jail,” said Richard, “and put us on trial, but they won’t shoot us on sight. Will they? It might give us a chance.”
Alex was quiet for a moment. “One thing at a time. We can’t fly forever. We need to land somewhere within three hours. I think we should find somewhere where those guys back there can’t find us. We don’t know how connected they are. If they’re what they appear to be, they have a lot of resources they can use. We need to go somewhere we can hide until we’re ready to give ourselves up. This airplane stands out because it’s so unusual.” He paused in thought. “There’s one place I know of where it’d fit in like a tree in a forest. There’s an aerobatic contest down in New Jersey starting tomorrow and there’ll be a number of aerobatic planes there beginning today. Maybe we should go down to the contest. Philadelphia is close by; we might go to the FBI there.”
“Okay, but then why are we heading north? New Jersey is south.”
“Well, I had to head somewhere. I just picked northwest at random. But, you know what? The guys watching the radar screens on the ground can tell where we’re going. If we fly up to the Connecticut River valley, turn off the transponder and descend over the river below radar coverage, it’ll look like we were heading northwest and then disappeared. Then we can fly south, below the radar, for a hundred miles or so, do a touch-and-go at a small airport, turn on the transponder, and climb out toward our destination. It should look like a plane just took off and they won’t be able to know it’s us.”
“Do you really think we need to be so complicated?”
“I don’t know, it couldn’t hurt. I’ve never tried to hide from the police before. Did you see that police car drive up as we took off?”
“Yeah…”
“Well, if they can find out that quickly that I have a plane and where I keep it, they can sure go to the radar control center and review the radar tapes they keep and find a blip that took off when we did from Georgetown and follow it to where we go. Or worse yet, send up a flight of F-16’s to intercept us. I can out maneuver an F-16, but they have guns and missiles I can’t dodge. Maybe this’ll mislead them.”
“Do you really think they’d get the Air Force to shoot us down?”
“No. But when I got up this morning I didn’t think I’d be chased by police trying to kill me for no reason, either.”
After another half hour, Alex could see the Connecticut River off the nose. “Okay, get ready. I’m going to go into a spin, drop a few thousand feet and pull up about five hundred feet above the river. Ready?”
“Couldn’t we just descend gradually?”
“Yeah, but that wouldn’t be nearly as much fun. Here we go…” Alex pulled the throttle back to idle and by slowly raising the nose, kept the plane from losing altitude as it slowed down. In a few moments, the plane stalled, the nose dropped sharply. Alex kicked in hard r
ight rudder, causing the nose to veer off to the right. The little airplane rotated around and dropped its nose to a near vertical attitude. The rate of rotation accelerated as the plane dropped. Habitually, Alex counted out to himself every one-hundred and eighty degrees of turn: One half… one… a half…two, half, threehalffourha’fi--' All the while, Alex watched the altimeter. He knew from experience how much altitude he would need to recover from the spin. At five, he released pressure on the stick and pushed in left rudder. Within ninety degrees of turn, the little plane obeyed his command and stopped spinning – the nose now pointing straight down. Easing back on the stick and adding power, they leveled off and Alex noted that the altimeter said five-hundred and twenty feet. They were heading down river. Not bad, he thought.
“Whoooooa!” shouted Richard.
“You okay up there?”
“A little queasy, but that was great! Can we do it again?”
Chapter Seven
They landed at The Flying W airport in Lumberton, New Jersey in mid-afternoon. The airfield had one three-thousand foot runway, a fifty-room motel, as well as a restaurant on the property. Once on the ground, Alex arranged to put his plane in the back of a large hangar, with several other aerobatic planes. After that, it was almost five o’clock. “We can’t make it to Philadelphia before the FBI is closed,” he said as they walked toward the restaurant.
“We could get ahold of somebody, couldn’t we?” said Richard. “There must be someone on-call, or the FBI equivalent. We could call them and see what happens.”
Alex ran this over in his mind. “Maybe I’m just spooked by the bullets, but my intuition is screaming caution. If we do this, I’d rather wait until the busiest time of day when there’re lots of people around.”
“How about just going to a police station?”
“We could… But again, I think the middle of the day would be better. And somehow, I feel safer with the FBI. Maybe it’s because they’re federal government, I'm not sure. And, you know, the local police could just turn us over to the guys in Georgetown who were trying to kill us. I think that’s less likely with the FBI. But, bottom line? I don’t know what the hell I’m doing. I’m going strictly on gut instinct. And I don’t like it one bit. We’re fumbling around in the dark and we need to go very slowly and feel things out as we go. Let’s take our time. Let’s get something to eat, get some sleep and see how things look in the morning.”
Alex tried to avoid the thirty or so pilots preparing to compete; he didn’t want it to get out he was there. Keep a low profile, leave as few tracks as possible, he thought. He did arrange for one of the competitors to get a motel room in his name instead of Alex’s or Richard’s. Alex told his friend he forgot his credit card and gave the guy cash in exchange for using his card for the room. Alex and Richard grabbed a bite to eat, then hunkered down in their room, deciding what to do next.
“Damn it,” said Alex. “I really hate lying to my friends here. It’s a lie of omission, not commission, but a lie just the same. They trust me, and I’m getting them to help me avoid the police. It just doesn’t feel right.”
“I know what you mean. I’m sorry you're involved. Had I known what was going to happen, I never would have gone to your house. But I had no idea. Maybe you should go your own way.”
“Oh sure, throw me to the wolves. No, they tried to kill me as much as you. I’m no safer without you. We go together.”
Richard looked down at his hands. “So, what now? Where do we go from here?”
“How the hell should I know? Alex moved over to Richard, putting his face inches away. “I had a good life. A job I liked. A career I could be proud of. One that gave me some money and enough time to enjoy it. A house, a plane… And now, what do I have? Nothing! Nothing except the likelihood I’ll end up as a piece of bullet-ridden meat on the side of the road!” He took a deep breath and stepped back, turning away from Richard. “Hell, we probably won’t last another day.”
“Alex,” said Richard calmly. “I’m not the enemy. I didn’t wittingly cause this to happen. Someone else is responsible for what’s going on. Not me.”
Alex paused, then turned back to face Richard. “I know. I know. It’s just so… So damned scary. And dammit, how can you be so calm all the time? I’m going out of my mind and you don’t seem to be bothered at all. It’s aggravating.”
“Oh, I’m plenty twisted up inside. I just spent years learning how not to respond to it; how to disengage from the furor of the world, that’s all.”
“Well, disengage now and you’re dead. Why is it I have to do all the thinking? Make all the decisions?”
“Don’t misunderstand. The object is not to be uninvolved. You should be involved. You just don’t get wrapped up in the insanity; you don’t react to your fears. You learn to act based on something deeper, more dispassionate.” Richard sighed. “And you’re right. I am leaning on you too much. We could worry this to death, but if we don’t act soon, someone else will and we’ll be at their mercy. And it doesn’t seem like they have much, if any, of that. I’ve listened closely to everything you’ve said and I think you’re right about going to the FBI tomorrow morning while they’re busy. I vote we try to arrive there tomorrow around ten o’clock.”
“It’s a plan, then,” said Alex, taking a deep breath. “Let’s get some sleep and get up around eight. That’ll give us time to get something to eat before we go; God knows when we’ll be able to eat again. Then we can call a cab and head for Philly; it’s only about twenty miles from here.” He moved toward the bathroom. “I’ll take that bed, okay? He pointed toward one of the beds. “But first a shower.” He opened the bathroom door. “I just wish I’d had time to grab a change of underwear.”
. . .
Alex and Richard walked through the large door in front of the hangar and went toward the back. Alex was making one last check on his plane before they went to breakfast. The night before, the hangar held thirty-six aircraft packed cheek-to-jowl. The planes were parked so tightly, you couldn’t walk past the front row. Earlier in the morning, the competition pilots moved their brightly colored planes out to the flight line in a long procession, each plane being pushed by two or three pairs of hands. There were Sukoi 29’s, Yak 55’s. Pitts Model 12’s, Extra 200’s and 300’s, Pitts S1-S’s, S1-T’s, S2-A’s, S2-B’s and S2-C’s, Super Decathlons and even a clipped-wing Cub. There were only three planes left in the hangar, and everyone seemed to be out on the flight line with their planes. Alex and Richard walked up to Alex’s Extra, parked in the back, out of the way.
“Is that your plane?” came a voice from the shadows behind them.
“Yeah…” said Alex and he turned toward the voice. It was female. What he saw stopped him mid-sentence. It was a woman, an attractive one at that, but she was wearing a blue police uniform with badge over her left breast. More disturbing, she held her hands straight out in front of her, clasped together, holding a service pistol, pointed directly at him.
“Down on the ground, on your bellies. Now!” she commanded.
The two men went down on the hangar floor on their stomachs.
“Don’t shoot,” said Alex. “We’re innocent. We’ve done nothing wrong.”
“Shut up and spread eagle!” said the woman. “If I hear one more word out of you, by God, I will shoot!” The officer moved toward them. With one hand, she reached for her belt and pulled out a pair of handcuffs. As she did this, she turned her head, side to side, looking around. She threw the cuffs over to Alex. “Cuff his hands behind him,” she said, nodding at Richard.
Alex hesitated, trying to decide what to do.
“Now!” commanded the cop.
Alex, not able to think of anything else with a pistol aimed at him, got up on his hands and knees and grabbed the handcuffs where they landed. “Jesus Christ!” he said as he did as he was told. “Sorry, Richard.”
“Now, back on your belly,” said the woman when Alex finished. Bending down, she put a knee on the small of Alex’s
back and pulled first one, then the other hand toward her and secured another set of handcuffs on his wrists. “Stand up and move toward the back door. Now!” She reached down and pulled them to their feet, one at a time.
Going through the small door in the back of the hangar, they walked toward a car parked close by – it was not a black-and-white. Alex and Richard got in the back seat as they were commanded to do. Soon, the three were driving away from the airport.
“What’s this all about?” demanded Alex. “Where are we going?”
The officer didn’t respond and just kept driving, now out on the open highway.
“Answer me, dammit! We have a right to know!”
“Just keep quiet and do what you’re told.”
They drove for about a mile and pulled off the highway, down a country road. Turning onto a dirt track, they drove into what appeared to be an abandoned barn. The officer got out of the car and closed the barn door. The gun came out of the holster again.
“Out! On your knees!”
Alex and Richard did as they were told. The officer stood about five feet away, again pointing the pistol toward them.
“You don’t have to kill us,” said Richard. “We’re no threat. We give up - “
“What are you talking about?” said the policewoman. “Why would I kill you?” She lowered the gun.
“Damn good question,” said Alex. “Why are the police trying to kill us? Why won't they let us surrender?”
“What? What the hell are you talking about?”
Alex and Richard looked at each other. Richard seemed as befuddled as Alex felt. “All I know,” said Alex, “is I woke up yesterday morning and it started off as a nice quiet day. Then these two policemen showed up, one shot the other, then threatened to shoot me -”
The Devil's Vial Page 7