Saturday evening after an early supper, the cast arrived for the premier. The shades were drawn and the show began. Phil, the Director and Cinematic Photographer, received high marks for his video skills, while Daniel, who constantly mugged for the camera, was booed and hooted unmercifully. Smitty kept the good-natured kidding to a low roar but he knew it served to unite his “troops” into a cohesive fighting force. His frozen expression belied the face that beamed within. Willy and Raul detected Smitty’s pride and pleasure and for the first time smiled back.
“I guess I’m growing on them,” Smitty thought with satisfaction.
Phil erased the tape and dropped it into the trash as others arranged their chairs around the bed. Harold was first up. Smitty, who orchestrated the evening, introduced him. Harold had IDs, death certificate, maps, driver licenses, funeral home shipping documents, even release of liability forms in a briefcase that he placed on the bed within Smitty’s reach.
“Willy this looks like you,” Smitty said as he sailed an ID through the air in Willy’s direction. “Jerry, this is either a picture of you or me, it’s hard to tell the difference.” That ID sailed into Jerry’s outstretched hands. The other papers were distributed and Harold received his ticket from Global Air. His seat would be 37A, a window seat on the left side, just one row forward of the left rear exit. “Raul, this is an airport map, pretty obvious, I suppose. Your routes in and out are highlighted. You’ll be Willy’s navigator; don’t let him get lost. Jerry, this map is for you. Check it out along with this ticket. You’ll leave on Thursday the twenty-fifth. I made a reservation at the Grand Hotel on Hwy 101, the Bayshore Freeway, about a mile north of the San Francisco Airport. There’s a rental agency nearby; it’s marked on the map. A van will be waiting for you there on Friday. The res-code and confirmation number are written on the flip side up in the corner. The ID is phony, but it’ll process, and I’ve been assured that when a photocopy is made, the image will be so grainy it’ll be useless. By the time the ID is discovered to be invalid, it will be Monday morning at the earliest. By that time you and Daniel will have dumped the van in Phoenix, and joined up with Willy and Raul. Call me and I’ll help you make the join up. This will be a dynamic situation fellas so keep me posted. I need to know where you are at all times.”
Like shuffled cards, Smitty dealt the hand. “You all know your assignments. Do you have what you need? ID, credit card, reservation…?” Heads nodded in assent.
“My compliments, Harold, you did a first rate job. Phil, why don’t you take it from here?”
“Okay, boss, at 4:30 p.m., an hour and a half prior to departure, on Friday the twenty sixth, Willy and Raul will check in at cargo, and drop off the box. If the casket’s size becomes an issue, take the offensive. Argue that the body has not been embalmed, only washed and wrapped in linen for immediate burial. Play the religious card. The deceased’s belief calls for burial within 24 hours, and you have your orders. Flash the papers and mention the family. They will surely experience extraordinary pain and suffering if the deceased’s beliefs are violated, and when legal proceedings are initiated, you want it made clear that Global is responsible. Ask the receiving clerk to give you that release in writing. ‘Nuff said, if a real moron is on duty, and he’s a stickler for procedures, call Smitty as if he’s the funeral home. He’ll call me and I guarandamntee that casket will get loaded even if it means my job. After the drop, you guys return the van and head over to Bedford. Pick up the F-150 crew cab at Enterprise and start driving to Phoenix. That’s where you’ll join up with Jerry. Jerry will make the pickup in San Fran. He’ll be recovering from a hangover and a wild night in the Castro District, so you’ll have to wait for a call from Smitty to get a timeline.”
“Castro District, my ass,” Jerry whined.
“Exactly my point,” Phil retorted without missing a beat.
The troops hooted, but none louder than Willy, who said, “Phil scores again.”
“Harold, forty minutes before departure, no more, you check in at the ticket counter with all those new bags. It will be too late to containerize them so they’ll be tossed into the cargo hold as loose bags, just the way we want them.”
“I just had a thought,” Daniel interrupted.
“Stop the presses, men, Daniel just had a thought.”
“Oooh,” was their pained, and collective response.
Phil quickly added, “I knew it had to happen someday, but I’m still caught off guard. What is it Daniel?”
“Phil, even God hates a wise guy, and you must top His list.”
“I’m sorry, Daniel, I couldn’t resist.”
“Apology accepted.”
“Oh, I didn’t apologize. I’m just sorry I couldn’t resist.” Phil laughed.
“Will you guys stop clowning around?” Smitty asked, enjoying the light hearted banter. “We have work to do. What’s your thought, Daniel?”
“What if, you know, I have to go while I’m in that box?”
“Oh, man.” Willy groaned, and everyone joined in derisive laughter.
“You guys are impossible; give the man a break!” Smitty said. “What can you tell him, Willy?”
“I can tell him the Army has thought of everything. Be all you can be means no more peeing in your pants. When you can’t use the bushes, use a piddle pack.” He held one aloft. “This sturdy bag has a sponge in it. It’s made for just such an occasion.”
“It’s a simple concept,” Phil added, “and if I may continue?” He looked at Daniel who countered, “Sure, if it’ll get you guys off my case.”
“Ooh, touchy, touchy. Okay, back to business. As you might surmise, a plane of this size doesn’t do a quick turnaround. It should be at the gate long before the scheduled 6 p.m. departure. Air Freight will load the coffin on a baggage cart about forty-five minutes prior to the ETD and it’ll be towed to the plane hooked to other carts loaded with late arriving whatever. The Load Room will have figured the C.G. with the casket in mind. It’ll be one of the last items loaded in the forward cargo bay. Harold will signal Daniel when the cargo door closes, and Houdini will escape the box. It will be darker than a well digger’s ass; use the flashlight to locate the light switch on the aft side of the door.”
Raul raised his hand.
“What is it Rulee?”
“What if the baggage guys stack stuff on top of Daniel and he can’t get out?”
“Good question. In short, they won’t. They just don’t, and I don’t know why for sure, but it’s procedure. Maybe some containers aren’t strong and the airline doesn’t want to take any chances. Can you imagine the lawsuit if the body arrived looking like a ham sandwich? No, nothing goes on top except the tie downs, and our lid slides down and away, so that’s not a problem. Where was I? Oh yeah, destination. Jerry will have sobered up and he’ll be ready to transfer the Coors to two large, sturdy footlockers. What did I omit, Jerry?”
“I’ll have a storage unit rented for three months, paid in advance; I’ll make the switch there. I’ll leave a disassembled and unrecognizable coffin for the next renter. Daniel and Harold will take a taxi to a rendezvous point designated by Smitty and I’ll pick them up. We’ll drive south on Interstate 5 to L.A. and then take I-10 to Phoenix. We’ll call Smitty as we approach the city to find out where Willy and Raul are holed up. We’ll dump the van and the five of us will make our way back to Texas with the footlockers in the bed of the pickup.” Jerry clasped his hands with exaggerated hopefulness, saying, “Did I do good?”
“You did fine, son. You did just fine.” Phil said with counterfeit pride. “Questions? Anybody?” He surveyed the room. “It’s all yours, Smitty.”
“The mission is a go, men. God bless and keep in touch.” The men, to a man, stopped at Smitty’s bed to touch him like a talisman before filing out of the room.
Daniel tarried, and as the last man, touched Smitty saying, “This mission is fo
r Brandon, but you made it possible. I owe you.” Daniel’s voice cracked when he spoke. Smitty was touched and embarrassed, and covered his own emotion by playing the tough guy. “Get out of here and don’t come back without five million dollars.”
Daniel sniffed and running the back of his hand across his nose, stiffened and answered, “Right. I’m out of here. See you in a few days.” At the door he glanced back, caught the thumbs up signal and closed the door quietly behind him.
Alone again, Smitty said a prayer for the success of the mission, and a prayer for Brandon, saying, “We’re coming for you buddy. Hang in there.” Exhausted, his sleep was deep.
Show Time. The Casket Arrives For Shipment (Friday, August 26th, 1994)
Daniel arrived on schedule at the cargo receiving dock of Global Air Freight, located on the west side of the DFW Airport. Willy Brown and Raul Sanchez wearing identical, nondescript khaki uniforms had presented forged shipping documents from Memorial Funeral Home, and personal identification cards that were closely scrutinized by Agent Charlie Radcliff.
“Looks good,” he said, “but what’s this?” He pointed at a document printed on a law firm’s letterhead.
“That,” boomed Willy, “is some lawyer gettin’ his piece of this guy’s last action. The deceased had some religious conviction that rejects embalming, meaning the body shouldn’t be left out in the sun for long, if you get my drift. He’s been washed and wrapped by his family, and we’ve been keeping him in a cooler waiting for this evening flight. The family needs to get the body to California where he’ll be planted six under first thing tomorrow. It’s all set. I just need you to sign right here on my copy that you understand that this is a priority shipment that has to get on Flight 620 to San Francisco today.” Smiling his most disarming smile, Willy offered a pen to the receiving agent.
“Hold on a minute. I can’t guarantee this HRC will be on six-twenty today.”
“Why not?”
“Because a hundred things could go wrong, that’s why not. The flight could cancel because of mechanical reasons. A hurricane could blow through here, hell I don’t know.”
“Well, that wouldn’t be your fault, would it?”
“No, of course not, that’s what I’m saying.”
“Look, this is just lawyer speak. Everybody knows that in life and in death, there ain’t no guarantees. This just says you’ll do your best to get this dead client of some ambulance chaser on the next flight, and the next flight is number six-twenty. That’s all this says, and I have no doubt you will do your ‘damnedest’ to make that happen.”
“Of course, I will surely do that,” Charlie smiled as he accepted the pen to sign the document.
Willy folded the paper nonchalantly, saying, “The next flight is six twenty, isn’t it?”
Reflexively, the agent glanced at his status board and acknowledged that it was. Willy nodded, seeming deep in thought. As if remembering something important, he retrieved the folded paper from his breast pocket and spread it out on the counter. He wrote the words Flight 620 confirmed above the freight agent’s signature and date. The intended impression had been made and Charlie Radcliff objected, stating again that there was no guarantee.
Willy interrupted him, his resonant voice emphatic. “You know how lawyers are. They don’t see things like the rest of us do.” Willy and Raul waved and made a hasty retreat.
Charlie Radcliff, obviously irritated and agitated, grabbed a microphone and keying the transmit switch, bellowed, “Priority pickup, priority pickup, San Fran six-twenty.”
Light filtered through the narrow spaces between the boards on the sides and top of the casket, flooding the interior with dozens of thin lines of light. Daniel felt exposed. He lay motionless, keenly aware of every sound around him. At that moment Phil Roberts entered the room. “What’s up, Charlie? I heard your priority call.”
“Hey, Phil, what the hell are you doing here today? Aren’t you off?”
“Yeah, I came in to pick up a friend flying in from Atlanta on Delta. He was sitting on the plane at the gate for an hour with thunderstorms over the field. Long story short, he decided this was an omen and he bailed. Can you imagine that?”
“Oh, sure, about ten percent of the people who fly range from scared a little to scared to death. It’s amazing. Hell, the danger is getting to the airport.”
Phil laughed. “You got that right. I thought since I was here, I’d visit the flight line. You know, Charlie, guys like us might as well be working at Sam’s or Toys-R-Us if we don’t go out on the line from time to time to actually see a plane. Anything going on here today?”
“Typical Friday. Hold on,” Charlie said as he raised the microphone to his lips. “Baggage. Priority one. San Fran, six two zero. Pickup A-S-A-P.”
“What’s the priority?”
“This casket. I need to load it on six-twenty and times a wastin’. Sometimes I get so fricking mad at our baggage handlers I could strangle them.”
“Maybe I can help. I’ll run get a dolly from the back so we can at least roll this casket to the rear dock.
A burst of radio static crackled in the air, followed by, “Copy your priority, be there in one.” When the baggage handler arrived, Charlie sarcastically inquired, “Been on vacation? What does the word priority mean to you?”
“It means get there when you can, when you have only two hands and two feet. It means hire more help, and it means get off your fat ass and do it yourself if it’s so damned important.”
“You left something out,” Charlie countered, “You said ‘two hands and two feet’ but you forgot to say and half a brain. Don’t forget that next time.”
Daniel heard scuffling and thought the men were fighting until he heard a loud laugh punctuated by a friendly jibe. “Charlie, you big cry-baby, are you afraid he’s going to get out of that box and get you?”
“No, I thought I might die of old age and need a box myself by the time you arrived to handle this pry-R-it-T.”
“Never fear, old man, I’ve gotcha covered. Six-twenty is due to push at eighteen hundred. Do you want this x-rayed?”
“No. Just get it loaded. No ifs, ands, or buts.”
Phil pushed a dolly through the door just as the two men began to lift the casket. “Here, guys, use this. No sense getting a hernia.” To the baggage handler, he said, “Mind if I tag along?”
“Sure thing, Phil, but you have to promise not to nag the way Charlie does.”
“Wouldn’t even know how. Let’s roll.”
“Hang on. I’m headed for central pickup for final bags. The priority is a tie-on. There are a lot of bags coming in late from a cancellation. We’ll stop at central and change tugs. You can help me tie our friend here on the string, and then we’ll beat feet to Gate 28. My team is at twenty-eight now and has been loading for quite a while. They’ll be fit to be tied if I’m late and we get blamed for a delay.”
The driver popped the clutch and the open-air tug raised its front wheels and launched from the loading dock. He shouted into the wind, “With only one cart, this baby has a lot of zip. The diesel engine in this puppy has enough torque to pull stumps.” Laughing as he raced along, his words were swallowed by the wind. Phil bobbed his head as he held on for dear life, and trailing behind, the corpse forgot his code of silence entirely.
“Cheese and crackers!” Daniel bellowed as his head caromed painfully off the lid. His complaints, unbidden, were masked by the diesel’s roar and floated away with its fumes. The bone jarring ride of the cart and the hammering of the casket on its reinforced steel, gave Daniel carte blanche to curse or pray as he bounced like a ball within the box.
After lying still for what seemed an eternity, bouncing was therapeutic. He rolled to and fro and stretched as best he could. Within minutes the sounds that camouflaged his presence, changed. Voices could be heard shouting above the metallic din of machinery.
The driver had slowed to a stop but had been ordered to move and Daniel felt the motion as the cart pulled forward. A warning bell sounded as a vehicle reversed its gears and Daniel wondered if it was he who moved backward. He couldn’t tell. Since stopping he had the sensation of floating, a feeling akin to those he felt as a kid back on his feet after hours on skates at the roller rink.
He had been parked in a noisy place. Overhead a high-speed conveyor moved baggage with loud certainty to specific chutes where waiting hands loaded bags onto carts according to destination. A stentorian voice heard above the din ordered someone to uncouple and leave a cart in position. Daniel envisioned his driver leaning down to disconnect his tow bar and actually felt the motion and metallic clanking of success. Nearby an engine sputtered to life, spewing diesel fumes that Daniel inhaled until it pulled away. There were voices too. He concentrated on the voices that whispered through the filter of the boards and resonated within his chamber. Sometimes the voices were so close that Daniel froze in fear of discovery. Once a hand tapped the coffin and he expected someone to say, “I know you’re in there,” but instead he heard a shouted instruction and the tapping stopped and the someone moved away.
“Put this casket in an HRC. Make sure you get the head forward. This here arrow tells me this is the head. So keep the head forward at all times.”
Phil had made that point when briefings were held in Smitty’s room. “We mark the box, because if we don’t, someone will try to open the box to find out where the head is. It does make a difference, and I guarantee you, if Daniel goes up a conveyor belt pitched skyward, he won’t want to make the trip feet first. It would be like standing on your head. Maybe embalming fluid rushes to the head the way blood does, and I can’t imagine what that might do to a freshly prepared corpse. We’ll paint an arrow on the box and that should solve the problem.”
Daniel’s reverie was interrupted by another voice.
“We’ve got a problem, Houston. This casket is too big for the HRC.”
Price For A Patriot Page 16