WINDOW OF TIME

by DJ Erfert

  He glared at Sunny. She lifted her shoulders and pretended to study her fingernail.

  “I guess … I don’t have a choice, now, do I?” Rocky said gruffly.

  “I’m glad you see it my way.” Lucy ripped open a pocket in her pant’s leg, pulled out an envelope, and handed it to the angry man. “This should cover the cost of renting your plane. I’ll pay for the fuel separately when needed. We’ll be bringing in our equipment and bags in a few minutes. Please get ready.” She turned and started down the aisle again as he opened the envelope. She could hear him curse in surprise at the large amount of cash he saw as she climbed down the stairs.

  Sanderson caught up with Lucy and Sunny on their way back to her car. “Agent James, would you really have done that? Would you have had him grounded on false charges?”

  “Nah,” Lucy said with a subtle grin.

  “In other words,” Sanderson said with a satisfying smile, “you tricked him.”

  Twenty

  “Let me carry that,” Dusty said, taking the duffle bag from Sunny’s hand.

  “Thanks.” Just the thought of getting into an old propeller plane made her stomach queasy. Sunny had Dramamine tablets in her medical bag, two of which she had already downed before strapping on her “sea bands”—little plastic balls that pressed against acupressure points on the inside of her wrists. Still, Sunny couldn’t help pushing down the wristbands a little harder in anticipation of the airsickness she knew would be forthcoming.

  Of all the stupid things Sunny had done in her life, insisting on going with Lucy on her mission had to be her most idiotic to date, especially now that Lucy had found them a new ride to who-knows-where. Jets didn’t bother her that badly. They were smooth, most of the time, and quick. An aged propeller plane, on the other hand, rode altogether differently. It would bounce. It would shimmy. It would … make her sick.

  “Come on, Sunflower. The rest of the gang is waiting.” Dusty smiled and grabbed her hand, pulling her toward the open doorway.

  The airport had given them clearance to taxi to the edge of the tarmac so the pilots could heat up the engines. But the passengers had to be inside before the big propellers were allowed to turn. Standing next to one engine, Sunny could understand why. One little slip would immediately send severed body parts flying indiscriminately across the field. She closed her eyes to more pleasant thoughts, like kneeling over a toilet and puking her guts out for the next twelve hours.

  She knew all the things she needed to do to minimize her impending condition. Besides the wristbands and ginger, Sunny found a seat snug up against the small galley the owner had installed behind the cockpit. It wasn’t much more than a sink, an under-the-counter refrigerator, and a microwave, but the divider would keep the peripheral movements to the least amount possible.

  “Sunny, are you okay?” Lucy asked, taking the seat across the narrow aisle from her. “You’re pale.”

  “I know. Just ignore me, please.”

  Dusty leaned over her. “She’s air sick.”

  “But we haven’t left the ground yet.”

  He took Sunny’s hand. “But we’re in a plane.”

  “Cripes,” Lucy said. “Is it that bad already?”

  Sunny nodded.

  “You knew we needed to fly, and you still wanted to come with me?”

  “Yes, I know.” Sunny blew out a shallow breath. “Like I said, just ignore me.”

  Lucy leaned back and buckled her seat belt. “I’ll be sure to keep the aisle clear.”

  “That’s big of you,” Sunny muttered.

  The Belle’s engines deepened in pitch, and it began to creep forward. The pilot maneuvered the plane onto the tarmac, turning toward the runway. She tightened her grip around Dusty’s hand as she stared at the fine lines in the divider’s wood grain three feet in front of her. She started in the upper left part of the screen and tried to follow each line down to the bottom where the grain met the carpet or blended into the next line. By the time Sunny had counted the final dark brown line on the far right, the DC-3 was airborne and cruising level.

  The ride wasn’t nearly as bad as she feared it would be, although it swayed somewhat like the painful gate of an old woman with arthritis. Sunny dared move her stare away from the stationary partition to Dusty’s concerned sky blue eyes.

  “Is there anything I can do to possibly distract you from your condition?” Dusty asked quietly, leaning in toward her. He ran his fingers along the curve of her cheek and leaned in even closer to her face.

  “Not a good idea right now,” Sunny whispered. He stopped before he actually kissed her. “I need some Dramamine, please.”

  “Understood.” Dusty pulled out the medical bag from under his seat and unzipped a side pocket. “There are beds in the back. If you need to lie down, I think one of those would be more comfortable than reclining in your seat.”

  Sunny held out her hand when he tore open a single dose of medicine. “I’ll see how this works before I try to go to sleep.” She took the pills with a few sips from a bottle of water.

  Lucy touched her arm. “I think Adam would be willing to give up the co-pilot’s chair for a while to give you a little relief. It does help if you get to look off into the distance, you know.”

  “Yes, but it’s dark outside, and there’s not much to look at right now,” Sunny whispered.

  Johnny leaned around Lucy. “I think Dusty’s right. You should try to sleep through the flight.”

  “I’ll wake you if we stop anyplace interesting,” Dusty said, grinning.

  “We have two stops before our destination, Sunny.” Lucy unbuckled her seatbelt as she spoke. “When we get to the first refueling, you can get out and walk around. It will do you good.” She tapped her shoulder. “Come on. Let’s get your bed ready.”

  Dusty stored the bag, unbuckled his seatbelt, and got Sunny up from her seat. Lucy had a Murphy bed locked down before she reached it. She pulled down the blanket and top sheet and fluffed a compressed pillow before Sunny sat down on the mattress. Dusty knelt in front of her and deftly unlaced her boots, tugging them off her feet before helping her lie down and cover up. When Sunny felt something being pulled around her, she lifted her head and saw Dusty buckle a seat belt over her hips.

  “So you don’t bounce out of bed if we hit turbulence,” he said.

  Pulling her rubber band from her ponytail, Sunny let her hair down, and almost immediately Dusty’s fingers were combing through the long strands falling onto her pillow. Lucy went back to her chair. It was considerate of her, really. The medicine in Sunny’s stomach had begun to dissolve, and the subtle waves of drowsiness lapped against her consciousness.

  Or the dizziness she felt could have been from Dusty’s close proximity. He leaned over her and gently caressed her forehead while gazing into her eyes. Basically, they were alone. The deep thrum of the plane’s engines made it impossible for anyone at the front of the plane to hear their conversation.

  “How are you feeling, Sunflower?” Dusty asked in a whisper and as he lightly ran his knuckles over her cheek.

  “Still nauseous.”

  “Well, give it a little more time.” He touched her lips with is fingertips, and Sunny caught her breath. “I’m … distracting you again?” he asked with the side of his mouth curled in a grin.

  Sunny closed her eyes and let the sensations of his touch push aside rational thoughts. “Yes.”

  “In a good way, or bad?”

  Sunny couldn’t help grin at him. “In a good way.”

  “Good.” Dusty’s big chest shrunk as he exhaled. “I was beginning to think …”

  She waited. When he didn’t continue, or even look up into her face, she got worried she’d hurt his feelings. “What?”

  Dusty cocked his head to the side and lifted up a length of her hair, choosing to study it instead of catching her gaze. “That I couldn’t get you to notice me.”

  Sunny snorted. She didn’t mean to; it just sort of came out when she didn’t
want to laugh at something so absurd. That noise instantly brought his amused stare up. “Dusty, you have everyone’s attention wherever you go. You are the most handsome man I’ve ever seen.” Did she really just say that out loud?

  “Sunflower, I haven’t been spending the time since I met you seeking everyone else’s attention.” Dusty leaned closer. “I only wanted yours.”

  It could’ve been the drowsiness caused by the medicine taking over her mind, or maybe her heart had just melted at him sounding insecure. “Then you don’t need to worry.”

  “After we get back home, would you consider going out to dinner with me?”

  Sunny caught his hand. “When?”

  “Every night.”

  Sunny smiled. He must’ve taken that as an invitation. He quickly closed the distance and kissed her. Her nausea disappeared with the acceleration of her heart.

  Twenty-one

  “She was impertinent!”

  Jim took the clipboard from the special agent’s hand. He had gone down to the dungeon to look over the checklist of what equipment Agent James had checked out. “If you had the same field experience as she’s had, you’d be short-tempered sometimes too.”

  “She was rude!”

  Jim grinned at the unusually tall man. The dungeon keeper stood not quite seven feet tall, too tall not to stand out for most regular assignments. He was resigned to keeping track of their agencies commodities for the past thirty years. His negative attitude reflected his acquiescence to his position.

  “I don’t doubt it.” The relatively short list of items seemed odd, even for an agent as unusual as Lucy. “Woman’s size six black battle dress uniform pants, black long sleeved mock turtle-neck shirt, multi-pocketed vest, web belt with holster, size nine women’s boots, black socks, … volt meter, bolt cutters, three rolls of black duct tape, … one Glock 9mm gun with silencer and extra clips.” He suddenly stood up straight, cursing, “What the hell?” His head whipped up to catch the dungeon keeper’s smoldering stare. “C-4?”

  “Twenty-five pounds of it.”

  “Just what the devil is she planning on doing with that much plastic explosive?”

  The lanky, gray-haired man crossed his long arms over his narrow chest and sighed. “She wasn’t inclined to share that information with me when I asked her, sir. She just got rude, telling me to mind my own business.”

  “Did she check out a satellite phone?” Jim asked as he continued to scan the page.

  “Yes, sir.”

  Jim marched down the wide aisle toward the elevator. He needed to talk with his agent and find out her intentions before they got any closer to their assignment. He took out his phone and hit a single button. The agency’s operator picked up after one ring. “Get me Agent Summers.”

  He didn’t want to bother Sanderson while he was flying, but Summers was his co-pilot and should be free to take his call. Jim needed to know where they were. He glanced at his watch. Eleven pm in California. They should have taken off five hours ago, which might put them near Florida already.

  “Summers—”

  He sounded sleepy. “Agent Summers, this is Brockway. Where are you?”

  The man cleared his throat. “In bed, sir!”

  “In bed? What are you doing there?”

  “Uh, do I have to answer that question, sir?”

  A woman’s voice laughed in the background. “Summers, aren’t you flying with Sanderson?”

  “No, sir. Agent James didn’t like our jet, so she found a different plane to take on her mission. Captain Sanderson flew right chair with Captain Rockwell Sizemore.”

  “She didn’t like our jet?” Jim punched the elevator button exceptionally harder than necessary with the knuckle of his fist. “What kind of plane did they take?”

  “A sixty-three-year-old Douglas Commercial 3.”

  It took Jim a moment before he understood what he meant. “A DC-3? How did she find a DC-3 in Long Beach?”

  “It was in a hangar two doors down. The owner was working on it.”

  Jim stepped into the elevator and turned around. “Yeah, that seems about right. Thank you, Summers. You can go back to … whomever.”

  He disconnected his call and stared at his reflection in the polished aluminum doors. He stood directly in the middle where the seam came together, his distorted image splitting in two. As badly as he wanted to be a good leader, Jim’s gut had told him he should’ve sent his injured agent home and taken the assignment himself. He could still play along with the best of his agents. At the very least he might’ve partnered with Lucy—to give her the back up she may need. There were times when he regretted ever getting out of the field and into an office.

  An old prop plane. Why that kind of a plane? Jim punched the button for the main floor, and as the elevator began to rise, it dawned on him what her intentions were. “She’s going to land directly on the island instead of Nassau. Huh!”

  Instead of going home like he’d told his wife, Jim detoured and headed down into the Information Center. Night shift crew took up only a few of the fifty cubicles dedicated to gathering sensitive information, and right now he needed a computer with better connections than his laptop. After he sat down in an isolated corner, he logged on with his username and password.

  “What are you doing here?”

  Jim turned around to find Kate standing behind him with her hands on her hips. He’d been caught. “I …”

  “Don’t try to make something up on the spot, Jim. I know you better than that.” Kate looked around his shoulder at the monitor and said, “I also know you’ve been down in the dungeon checking up on Lucy, when you should have been home. Spill.” She rolled another chair closer to his.

  Jim blew out a deep breath. “Okay, fine! Yes,” he said in hushed tones. “I’m checking up on her. Isn’t that what you’re doing here too?” He saw her hesitate before she sat down. “That would be a yes.”

  “Of course I wanted to keep my eye on her. She’s my friend, and up until this morning, she was lying in the hospital. I have the clearance, so I’m not doing anything wrong.” Kate motioned toward the computer. “What have you found?”

  Turning around, he said, “I found out that Lucy decided to obtain her own ride to the island. Her new pilot is a man named Rockwell something or another. I wanted to pull up any information I can on him.”

  “Could his last name be Sizemore?”

  Jim lifted his fingers off the keyboard. “That’s right. How did you know?”

  Kate smiled knowingly. “Run his name. I don’t think you’ll be disappointed with who Lucy’s flying with.”

  Jim leaned back in his chair and crossed his arms over his chest. “Do I really need to bother?”

  “It would have been more fun having you read for yourself how Rocky Sizemore landed his crippled jumbo 747 jet on a grassy field outside of Silver City, New Mexico six years ago.”

  “Whoa,” Jim whispered. “How did it become crippled?”

  “They were on the last leg of a trip from Atlanta to Los Angeles when a small private plane flew into their flight path. Rocky saw it and tried to climb out of its way, but unfortunately the pilot of the private plane did the same thing. It collided with the jet’s undercarriage and took out the landing gear as well as caused a major leak in the hydraulics. Steering was done mostly with rudders and engines. He landed the plane on its belly next to a freeway, saving the 257 people on board.”

  “Was the other plane found?”

  “Three days later, hikers found some wreckage scattered near the base of the mountain, but they couldn’t find the body of the man who had left the Santa Barbara airport that afternoon.”

  “So, Lucy not only found a guy with a plane that can go cross country and then land directly on the island, but she found a guy who’s a hero to fly her there?”

  “Evidently so.”

  He turned back to his computer. “I want to know where they are right now.”

  “Are you going to call her?”
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  “No. I’m going to track her.” He pulled up her satellite phone number and overlaid it on a map grid, hit a button and waited for a moment. “Her phone has a GPS locator inside it.”

  “As does mine,” Kate pointed out. “As does yours.”

  “It does,” Jim said quietly, “technically.”

  “What do you mean, technically?”

  Jim grinned as he glanced around. “I switched mine off.”

  “You can do that?” Kate asked, taking her phone from her handbag.

  “I can.” Jim’s grin broadened as he sat forward. “There she is.”

  Kate leaned in closer. “Isn’t that—”

  “Yes, it is. They’re in Houston. Huh! She got clearance to land at the LBJ Space Center for refueling—at midnight.” He grinned and tapped the desk with his fist. “Impressive. I wonder what she has planned next.”

  Twenty-two

  “You brought what on board my plane?”

  Lucy unbuckled the duffle bag from the seatbelt tying it down. All of her bags had found a seat during takeoff. They had also taken all the food goods, blankets, and pillows from the agency’s jet since Rocky’s plane was a little lacking in some basic comforts. Of course, he didn’t have any real pre-flight notice before they left.

  “Oh, come on, Captain Sizemore, it’s not like I have a bag full of sweaty dynamite. It’s just a little malleable plastic explosive.” Lucy tossed a smaller bag unexpectedly into his hands. “I’m keeping the detonator caps separately.”

  “Blast it, woman,” Rocky cursed. “Are you insane?”

  “No,” Lucy said, lifting a backpack from another seat, “but I do have a headache.” She sat down and tugged at the bag’s zipper. “You know, I wouldn’t think a man like you would fret over a little danger.”

  “What do you mean?” Rocky tucked the small bag under the seat near his feet.

  Lucy leaned back and gazed at the scruffy older man. “I haven’t lived in a cave for the past six years, Captain. I know who you are, but I didn’t expect to find you holed up in a secluded hangar working on an antique aircraft.”