Blood Orange

by Brenda Spalding

  Scanning the map, she remembered the old airport to the south east of Arcadia. It was a small field used by some of the local farmers that didn't have their own private fields to land on. It was always busy with supplies on their way in or out of there. If she remembered right, there was also a flight school there. It was publicly owned. A private airport would not work if you were trying not to be noticed.

  It was too late to call Gabe. She could check out the airport and call him if she found something. No need to bother him if it was a dead end and she didn't find the plane. That settled her plan for tomorrow.

  In a rancher’s field, not far from where Nora stood watching, the sound of the plane's engine cut through the night silence. Gabe smiled as he thought of Nora. He could pick out the skip in the engine as it approached.

  The field was lit by a full moon. Gabe and his men watched from a distance. Tito and the black van were parked on the edge of the field waiting for the plane to drop the cocaine. Dan spoke quietly with the other agents, while Gabe paced in the shadow of the trees.

  The van flashed its headlights. The plane banked left and swooped down low over the field—touching down for only a minute as packages of drugs were hastily tossed out the door. The engine roared as the plane

  rose and skimmed the trees, rising higher in the sky and heading east.

  The agents and police looked on as Tito and Santos gathered the packages and quickly placed them in the back of the van. Gabe could only hope that Tito had been able to place the tracking device in one of the packages.

  The plan was to follow the van at a safe distance. The tracker was in case they lost it on the dark rural roads. Loading the agents and officers, the small caravan made its way to the main road and headed in the direction the van had taken, east towards Arcadia.

  Dan kept his eyes on the direction finder, listening to the pings it made. "It's working. They're a mile or so ahead of us."

  Baker and Esposito oversaw the technology used in following the signal the tracker sent out.

  They followed State Road 70 East to where it turned into West Oak Street out past the Oak Street Cemetery. The van turned off a side road ahead. The tracker pinged along and then suddenly stopped moving.

  "The van’s stopped," Agent O'Donnell said.

  "That's strange. There's not much out there," Gabe said. "Not until you come to the small airport. How could I have been so stupid? Of course, the airport. I found it on the map back in my office right before we left. It just didn't register. I'm still learning my way around here. It's the only public one around here. There are a couple of private ones, but strangers would be found out right away at one of those."

  "Let's go on and see where the tracker stopped. Maybe they're at a house or building down that road," Agent Montrose said.

  With Dan and his DEA agents in the lead, they followed the signal down a deeply rutted road. "This car was not designed for this," O'Donnell said as another bone-rattling hole rocked the vehicle.

  "I can't take this down any farther. I'll break an axle or something. Last thing I need is for the drug runners to find a DEA car broken down out here," Dan said.

  Stopping, he got out and walked back to Gabe's car. "My car won't make it on this road. It's too low. At least we have a good idea where they're heading."

  "Let's go back to my office. I'll send someone out tomorrow in a truck that can handle the road," Gabe said. He was upset with himself and disappointed that they couldn't continue the surveillance and follow the van to see where it was off-loading the drugs.

  Turning the vehicles around in the dark was a struggle. One almost lost it and would have ended up in a water-filled ditch on the edge of the narrow dirt road. Riding back in silence, they were all thinking the same thing. The Arcadia Airport was the key. Tomorrow, they would put something together to catch whoever was the head of this operation.

  A couple of questions roamed in Gabe's mind. How would they know which plane had carried the drugs? Why drop the drugs in the orange groves? Seemed he had more questions than answers.

  The smell of coffee woke Nora in the morning. She had tossed and turned most of the night. "Hi Gramps," Nora said, drowsily stifling a yawn.

  "Well, you look like you had a bad night," the old man said, pouring coffee for himself and Nora.

  "I had a lot on my mind. I saw that plane again last night. Maybe Gabe and Dan saw it, too," she said.

  "I sure would like to get this drug business over with. I can't figure why people have to get mixed up with that stuff."

  "It's the money, Gramps. There's a lot of money in the drugs." Nora sat at the table with her hands around the warm cup.

  "You want any breakfast this morning, sweetheart?" Gramps threw some bacon in an old cast iron pan. "I can fix you up some eggs. Rosita is having a hard time with that nephew of hers. She will be here a bit late today."

  "No on the eggs, but thanks. I've got a couple of errands to run this morning. I should be back in time for lunch. Are you working with Hector this morning?" She hoped to distract him about where exactly she was going.

  "I thought we would go look at the bull you found over in Sarasota. I'll call the guy after I eat and clean up

  here. I hope it's still for sale." Gramps tipped his eggs onto a couple of pieces of buttered toast on his plate. He sat down and started to cut into his breakfast. "We haven't heard from your two suitors lately. I'm wondering how they're doing?"

  "Gramps, they are not my suitors!" Nora exclaimed as Rosita came in the kitchen door.

  "Suitors, Madre Dios, finally my little dove has suitors?" Rosita questioned from the kitchen doorway. She came in and grabbed a kitchen towel.

  "I don't have suitors. I have male friends," Nora said a little too strongly and stormed out of the room calling back, "Quit trying to marry me off."

  "I've got my money on Gabe," Gramps laughed.

  "I think so, too," Rosita said with a smile as she helped to clear up the breakfast things. "Mr. Frank, my nephew is visiting from Columbia. He is the son of my sister. He is so lazy that no woman in her right mind will have him. I want him to meet you and Miss Nora sometime, but he is always too busy doing nothing.”

  "Not a problem, Rosita. Maybe I can make some calls and find him a bit of work while he is here," Gramps offered.

  "Thank you, but I do not want him to be a bad worker and make it look bad for you," Rosita said.

  "I understand. The offer is there if you need it." Gramps patted Rex on the head and proceeded to feed the old mutt his breakfast while Rosita finished cleaning up the kitchen.

  Nora went upstairs to get dressed and was ready to head out. Rex had finished his breakfast, and she found him sleeping on the back seat of the jeep. Not wanting to disturb him, she took the battered Ford truck they used around the grove and headed out to Arcadia.

  Chapter Seventeen

  "How did that van disappear last night?" Dan asked as he paced Gabe's small office. "We were following that signal right until it turned down the road to the airport."

  Sergeant Alvarez knocked on the frame of the open door. "Got a minute?" he asked.

  Gabe waved him in. Alvarez put a small electronic devise on the desk in front of Gabe. Dan reached over and picked it up. "This is the tracker I gave Tito to put in one of the packages of drugs," Dan said.

  "I had a couple of men go back down the road where we lost the signal. They found this about halfway down—right after a big pothole. My guess is it never made it into the van at all. I think Tito couldn't put it where we wanted it, so he put it on the bumper and it got jarred off when it hit that hole.

  "Good thing they didn't find the tracker. That might have been hard for Tito to explain," Gabe said. He stood and looked at the county map pinned on the wall behind his desk. Then he turned, put his hat on his head, and checked the gun in his holster. "You game to go check out that airport? I've got a feeling that's where that plane is," he said to Dan.

  "Do you want the other agents in on this?" Ga
be asked.

  "Not yet. Let's go talk to them. We're just going to check it out for now," Dan said.

  They walked down the short hallway to the room in which the agents had set up shop. Agent O'Donnell was pacing with a stale cup of coffee. She grimaced after each sip. "When are you guys going to learn how to make a decent cup of coffee?"

  "Probably when you show them how," Montrose quipped. That kind of remark really rankled O'Donnell. Women were not the only ones who could make coffee.

  "You want fresh coffee; there's the pot," O'Donnell said indicating the coffee set up in the corner.

  "Why, when we have you," Montrose answered.

  "You're such a jerk," she retaliated.

  "Ok, ok, enough, we have more important issues than who makes the coffee," Dan said—walking to a board that had pictures of the van, Tito, and Mr. Jessup's dead body lying on his bed, bloody and beaten. "Gabe and I are going to take a ride and check out a little public access airport south east of Arcadia. That's the general direction the van was heading when we had to turn back. “The tracking device was found and brought back. So, we know we're heading in the right area. There are hangers and storage areas there that the drug dealers could be using. They never came back to the machine shop. It's evident they've moved their operation.

  “We've had a stake-out at the machine shop, and there has been no one coming or going anywhere near there since we found Hernandez. I think we spooked them a bit. We'll call if we find anything interesting. For now, it's just recon," Dan said, outlining their idea.

  "I'm not too crazy about you two going on your own," O'Donnell said. Being a female in the DEA was hard enough. She didn't like being sidelined. Government positions for women didn't come along that often, and she wanted to prove that women

  were just as capable as the men in the field.

  "You can come along if you want, but like I said, we're only checking out the airport to see if the plane could possibly be landing there. It might not amount to anything. There are several private airfields the plane could be using," Gabe told her.

  "Outside in five—anyone that wants to go," Dan said and left the room.

  "That leaves us to find a decent cup of coffee," Montrose smirked.

  "How about some donuts to go with the coffee, too?" Baker asked.

  "Yeah, let's check out that diner. I could use some breakfast," Esposito added.

  Agent O'Donnell and Gabe followed Dan outside, leaving the others to find the diner and a decent cup of coffee.

  Nora had a head start of a couple of hours before Gabe and Dan left the station. She felt her teeth would be jarred right out of her head as the old truck bounced through the potholes on the airport access road. The truck had high ground clearance, but she had to hold tight to the wheel to keep control.

  About five hundred yards along, Nora saw an opening in the chain link fence. Following it around to a group of buildings and a couple of hangers, she saw a sign for the Lenox Flight School on one of the hangers. Across the runway were a couple of more buildings and a “Welcome to the Arcadia Municipal Airport” sign.

  Pulling the truck behind one of the buildings, she got out and thought, "What the hell am I doing out here?" It dawned on her how foolish she was not to tell anyone where she was going. She should have called Gabe and told him about the plane and the registration number. “Too late now,” she thought.

  She wandered around to the front and noticed some rundown buildings and houses across the street from the end of the runway. Someone yelled at her to get out of the way as a small plane landed on the runway.

  "What do you think you're doing, lady? You almost got run over. We might be out in the sticks, but it's still an active runway." A man in a four-wheeler turned and chased the plane to where it stopped in front of one of the hangers.

  Nora hadn't realized that her wandering had brought her smack dab in the middle of the plane's path. She walked up to the man and apologized, "I'm so sorry. This is my first time here. I used to fly and thought I might take it up again," she said. "Is the airport open all the time . . . at night, too?" She was hoping to find some answers that might lead to the plane she had seen.

  "We close the terminal at night, but a few planes do land after dark. They have to call ahead and file their flight plan and ETA so we're ready for them. We have to light the runway and such. No plane lands after dark that we don't know about. Planes don't land here without runway

  lights, it's too dangerous. There is always someone here day and night checking the planes in and out."

  "Oh, I don't think I'd like to land at night. Do many planes do that?" she asked.

  "Look lady, I have another plane to make ready for the next student. Check in the office and my girl, Shana, can answer your questions or sign you up for a lesson." The man put the four-wheeler in gear and went to check out the small Piper Cub for the next lesson.

  Nora followed the sign and found the flight school in one of the row of houses and buildings she had spotted across the road. A bell over the door tinkled as she walked in. A young girl about twenty came out of a back room. The girl had a lot more makeup on than was called for during the day, and large gold hoop earrings dangled from her ears. "Hi there, what can I do for you today? Interested in some flying lessons?"

  "Maybe, if your name is Shana," Nora answered. "I was talking to a man outside, and he sent me to you. I hope you can help me. I'm looking for a particular plane. I've seen it flying around, and I like the looks of it and wanted to find out if it's been landing here. I have the registration numbers from the tail."

  "Why that plane?" Shana asked. She looked back over her shoulder and back to Nora.

  "Like I said, I like the looks of it. I used to fly and thought I might take it up again. If I do, I'll need a plane. We

  have an orange grove near here, and it might be a good idea to be able to fly up to Tampa or Jacksonville to talk to distributors." Nora was thinking it up as she went along.

  Shana seemed to relax and accept Nora's story. "We keep a log of the planes that fly in and out of here. What's the registration?" she asked, flipping open a large ledger book on the desk.

  "The number is N6109N," Nora replied.

  Shana scanned the book, flipping a few pages, "Here it is. That plane is a Piper Malibu."

  "I like the sound of that. Do you have information on who owns it? I'd love to see inside and see what the controls are like and how many passengers I could fit in there. You know, like for a girls' weekend away. I'm sure my friends would love that." Nora was enjoying herself but nervous at the same time. She wondered just how much more information she could pry out of the girl.

  "It says the plane is out of Miami, a company called M&C Enterprises. They land at night and take off in the morning, so your chances of getting a look inside are pretty low."

  "Oh, well," Nora said. "It was worth a try. Do you have a list of your prices for lessons? I'm sure I'd only need a couple to have me flying again."

  Shana handed her a pamphlet and said, "Is there anything else I can do for you?"

  "No thanks, you've been very helpful, and I'll call for some lessons soon."

  Nora walked out the door. The bell tinkled again.

  Shana stood watching her walk back across the street. A tall, dark man came up behind her and nuzzled her neck. "What did she want?" he asked.

  Shana told him that Nora was interested in his plane and some flying lessons. “She likes your plane. You should be happy.”

  His dark eyes followed Nora. "I think I'll find out if she needs more information," he said.

  "Santos, where are you going? She's just looking for a plane to buy."

  "Maybe, but I'm going to make sure," he said fingering the knife at his waist.

  Santos followed Nora from the office. He saw her looking in the hangers, checking registration numbers. "Ola Chica," he called pleasantly as he approached her.

  Nora jumped. "You startled me."

  "Shana said you were looking f
or a plane, a Piper Malibu?"

  "Yes, I've seen one around and thought I might like one," Nora answered.

  "You live around here?"

  "Not far," Nora was starting to be afraid.

  "Pretty lady like you all alone out here?” His smile was like a snake, his gold tooth catching the morning sun. “Snooping in business that doesn't concern you? You're Nora Hollister. You live right next door to that Jessup place."

  Nora was scared. He knew her, but how? "Yes, that’s how I saw the plane. My parent used to fly, and I did too for a bit."

  "I'll show you one. It's in the next hanger. You can have a close-up look." Santos gave her a hard shove, which almost knocked her to the ground and steered her in the direction of the hanger. Nora felt the muzzle of a gun pushed in her back, urging her to move faster.

  He reached around her and opened the small door beside the closed sliding entry doors for the planes.

  She tried to protest but got a shove that sent her tumbling through the door and onto the concrete floor. "Why are you doing this? How do you know me?" Nora asked, sitting on the floor trying not to cry. She didn't want to give him the satisfaction.

  How would anyone know where she was? She hadn't told anyone what she was up to. No one was going to come to her rescue. Only now did she realize how stupid that had been.

  She heard a muffled moan from behind her. Looking around, she saw Tito, bloody and bruised, tied to a chair with silver duct tape over his mouth. "What have you done to him?"

  The plane was there in the hanger, N6109N—the plane she had seen dropping the drugs. She was in deep trouble.

  "Same as what's going to happen to you. You think you're so clever—coming around, asking questions." Santos grabbed her by the arm and jerked her up to stand on her feet. Grabbing another chair, he tossed her into it beside Tito.

  "I still don't know who you are," Nora said. "You can let us go. Get in the plane and fly away."

  "No, that doesn't work for me. I need you to tell me who you told you were coming here?" he answered, tying her hands behind the chair.