“How do I know I can trust you?” Linus said, beginning to choke up and covering his mouth.
“Hey, keep it quiet, Linus. How do you know? Because I’ve already showed you the contract and one of the Purdy retirement homes. It’s all set and ready to go. When I verify that this deal is wrapped up, your mother gets transferred.”
“And how about me? You’re my brother-in-law—are you going to make sure that I get taken care of when things start going bad?”
“When things start going bad? Linus, have you taken a look in the mirror? You’re not listening to what your doctors are telling you. You’ve had full-blown AIDS for how long now? They’ve been telling you to get your act together, wrap up the loose ends of your life. You gotta wake up, Linus. I’m one of the few people who’s going to make sure you get the care you need when you start really falling apart.”
Linus took one final drag on his cigarette and then crushed it out in the ashtray.
“Okay then—I guess that’s it. I guess I’m ready. Let’s do this thing.”
“Just remember—the first thing we do is find out where Mary Sue Fellows is, and then we find out what she told Chambers. After that we take care of the rest. You got it?”
Linus nodded his head. Howley passed a black ski mask over to him and pulled out his own. He then gave the other man a .38 revolver. Linus stuffed it into his belt buckle and covered it with his shirt. The two slipped quietly out of the truck and padded down the path to the dock, ski masks in hand.
Howley bent over and whispered, “You make a noise at the back of the houseboat. Meanwhile I’ll come around to the front door and bust my way through. Then you get in as fast as you can run.”
As they reached the beginning of the dock, Howley heard something and froze in his tracks. He grabbed his partner by the arm so hard that he almost cried out.
Linus had already put his mask on halfway but was able to see. Howley put his finger to his lips and started to turn slowly toward the noise. By now both of them could hear the sound of heavy footsteps coming down the gravel driveway.
When they had fully turned around, they were confronted by a looming human figure, standing only a few feet away in the shadows.
It seemed enormous. In its right hand appeared to be some kind of an ax. In its left hand, it looked as if it was carrying a bucket.
The figure spoke in the deep voice of a man.
“What business do you have here?”
Linus remained silent, and Howley was about to speak but changed his mind. After another few seconds of silence, the man in the shadows spoke again.
“I feel in my spirit that you are up to no good. I think you have come to do harm to a prophet of truth. You are not the first one to try that. Listen to the words of the Lord:
So he sent and had John beheaded in prison. And his head was brought on a platter and given to the girl, and she brought it to her mother. Then his disciples came and took away the body and buried it, and went and told Jesus.
Howley began reaching toward his pocket for his revolver but then thought better of it. He motioned to Linus that the two of them should leave.
“No harm done, my friend,” Howley said. “We were looking for a surprise party, but I guess we came to the wrong place.”
The two men walked around the figure in the shadows, giving him a wide berth.
As they reached the Hummer, Linus began whispering excitedly.
“Did you see that guy with the ax? Man, he must be some kind of nut case. Walking around with an ax, talking about chopping some guy’s head off named John. Hey, come to think of it—didn’t your mom used to call you John?”
Howley stopped for a second and threw an angry glance at his partner.
“That’s my middle name. That’s what she used to call me. Now shut up and get in the truck.”
When the black Hummer had left the premises, Andrew White Arrow stepped out of the shadows and started walking toward Will’s houseboat. In his right hand was a long-handled ceremonial tomahawk, and in his left he was carrying the small refrigeration unit.
By that point Will had heard the voices and had walked out of the houseboat with an inquisitive look on his face.
Andrew strode over to him and explained who he was.
“Do you mind if I give you a big, brotherly hug?” Andrew asked, embracing the attorney.
As the two of them entered the houseboat, Andrew explained that the tomahawk was a gift from Tommy. Then he showed Will the portable refrigeration unit with the blood sample.
“You need to keep this thing shut. You can plug it in here and recharge it. If you charge it overnight, it will be good for another twenty-four hours at least,” Andrew explained.
As the two settled down to talk, Will asked him about the visitors he had encountered.
“There were two of them. Very strange,” Andrew added. “I felt in my spirit they had some real evil in mind.”
“Do you have any idea who they were?”
“Not at all. Two men. They apparently drove up in a big black Hummer. There was a silver skull-and-crossbones on the bumper. One of the guys was actually wearing a ski mask.”
“How did you get rid of them?” Will asked.
“That’s also sort of funny. On the way here from South Dakota, I was listening to my Bible CDs. I was up to Matthew 14 when I pulled up here—you know, the part with John the Baptist in prison. The beheading.”
“And?”
“Well, I just told them I thought they were up to no good. Then I felt led to recite a couple verses from Matthew fourteen. That must have done the trick because they left rather quickly.”
Andrew gave Will a big smile, and the two had a cautious chuckle together over the incident. But there was little question in Will’s mind who was behind the two ominous visitors.
He invited Andrew to spend the night before he left for New Mexico. Andrew gladly agreed, saying he would sleep in the living room.
“That way I can be close to the front door, just in case there is any more trouble.”
Double-checking the lock on the front door and the windows, Will crawled into bed. He tossed and turned for several hours, but finally, somewhere around two or three in the morning, he fell into a deep sleep.
But right at 6 A.M., Will sat up in bed with a start, his eyes wide open. The words of a sign had just flashed in front of him while he was sleeping.
He jumped out of bed, grabbing his head after propelling himself a little too quickly for his injuries.
“It’s an idea. It’s a chance. I’ve got to check it out,” he muttered to himself loudly.
Throwing on his clothes, Will grabbed his shaving kit and put a few things in. Then he snatched the part of the case file that contained his trial-preparation materials, including the medical records Andrew had brought down from South Dakota, and threw it into his briefcase.
His visitor was up by now, and was standing in the middle of the living room with a quizzical look on his face.
“I take it you are going somewhere, my friend. Am I right?” Andrew asked.
“Andrew, I’m sorry to run. But I had a thought. Actually some kind of a dream—or maybe I was awake, I don’t know. Anyway, I’ve got to chase down this possibility. If it doesn’t work out, I’ll be right back, and you and I can have breakfast together. Otherwise, there’s food in the refrigerator. I’m sorry I may not be able to have a chance to chat with you about Mary Sue and everything.”
As Will reached out to shake hands before leaving, Andrew put both of his big hands on Will’s shoulders.
“I pray a blessing on you, Will Chambers,” he said with a smile.
Will quickly loaded his belongings into his Corvette. Then, running back to the houseboat, he collected the most important item of all—the little metal refrigeration unit with the vial of Joshua’s blood.
“Just close the door behind you when you leave,” he shouted back to Andrew. “It’ll lock on its own. Remember, the authorities are still lo
oking for you, as well as Mary Sue. Keep that in mind.”
Will gunned his engine and sped off down the road that led from the lake to the county highway.
47
AFTER DRIVING FOR A FEW MINUTES on the county highway, Will spotted what he was looking for. He turned off onto a side road marked by a red windsock that was billowing in the breeze. Right next to the windsock was the sign he’d remembered in his sleep.
He sped down the narrow road, kicking up gravel, until a large red arrow pointed to a turnoff on the left.
Driving into an open field, he saw several outbuildings and a large, wooden barn that had been converted into an airplane hangar. The barn had a large American flag painted on its side. Along a makeshift landing strip were two rows of bleachers—enough seating for maybe a hundred onlookers. On the landing strip there was a vintage biplane that was painted in red, white, and blue.
Will parked his car and stepped quickly through the open doors of the hangar. On a step stool, peering over the engine of a small, single-prop Cessna was a man with dirty cowboy boots, grease-stained blue jeans, and a cowboy hat.
Will shouted out, “I’m looking for Tex—Tex, ‘The Flying Cowboy.’”
The lanky man turned around and looked at Will with an amused expression on his face. He looked to be in his late 40s and had a tan, rugged face with a gray mustache.
“Well sir, seeing as I’m the only one in this place wearing a cowboy hat, I guess that would be me,” he quipped.
“Tex, I’ve got a problem,” Will said.
“That goes for just about everybody. What’s yours?”
Will launched into an abbreviated, rapid-fire explanation of Mary Sue’s case and Joshua’s medical condition. How time was of the essence because of the impending trial date and Joshua’s deteriorating health. Dr. Forrester in the Bahamas was the most qualified expert to not only diagnosis Joshua’s real medical condition but also to exonerate his client. The only problem, of course, was getting an immediate flight out to Grand Bahama island.
“I don’t think I got your full name,” the man responded. “My name is Tex Rhoady. What’s yours?” he asked, extending a callused hand in Will’s direction. The lawyer shook his hand readily.
“Will Chambers. I’m an attorney from Virginia here in Delphi on Mary Sue Fellows’ case.
“Virginia? That’s a fair distance from the Peachtree State. I suppose that means your client must have thought you were worth bringing all the way down here.”
“I guess so,” Will replied, “And while I appreciate my client’s confidence, what I need now is quick transportation down to the Bahamas to deliver this blood sample to Dr. Forrester who’s waiting for me there.”
“Well, I tell you, Will,” Tex explained. “I’ve got three planes. One is a Learjet. It’s a pretty little thing, but I’ve leased it out to some other pilots—for a fair chunk of change, I might add. You can imagine with the strike that private planes are being snatched up pretty quickly. The second plane I’ve got is this Cessna. Nice machine, but it’s got engine problems right now. And then I’ve got that old biplane, the Stearman out there, that I use for stunt flying.”
There were a few moments of silence, and then Will looked out toward the airfield. Walking out to the opening of the hangar, he took a long look at the red, white, and blue biplane. It had two open cockpits and a single propeller.
Then Will turned slowly back toward Tex.
Tex caught his glance and began to chuckle.
“I assume you are an experienced pilot?” Will asked.
“Well sir, I’ve been around planes all my life. My daddy was a pilot. I flew quite a few missions in the Gulf. I did some commercial flying after that, flew for the civil air patrol. I even did fly-throughs on forest fires for the Forest Service. Then, when the Afghan war started, I was reactivated and called up. I flew a couple recon missions, and after that I told the military I was hanging it up. Ever since I’ve been back here, stunt flying and crop dusting, just like my sign says.”
“Stunt flying?” Will asked.
“Yeah. You know—‘aeronautical high jinks that will amaze and astound you’—just like my brochure says.” Tex laughed a little at that.
Will gazed out through the open doors of the hangar.
“What about that?” he said, motioning to the biplane.
That was when Tex stopped laughing.
The pilot swept his hat off his head, wiped his brow, and hopped off the step stool. Putting his cowboy hat back on, he strode over to Will and stared him in the eye from just a foot away.
“You’re serious, aren’t you?” he asked.
“I’m afraid I am,” Will answered.
“You aren’t a pilot, are you?”
“No, I’m not. And I only have a thimble’s worth of knowledge about aeronautics. I handled a few small-airplane cases years ago in my law practice—a string of crashes involving a certain model of dual-engine plane. And, then I also fly quite a bit because my practice takes me here, there, and everywhere. So that’s all I know.”
“Well, let me give you the quick course,” Tex began somberly. “You are talking about taking a vintage biplane—single-engine—out over the Atlantic. Out to the Bahamas. Now this plane here, it’s got a nine-cylinder, 450-horsepower Pratt & Whitney power plant as a retrofit. I’ve staked my life on it doing stunt flying. It’s an absolutely reliable workhorse of an engine. But you are talking about going over the Atlantic—this time of year—with a plane like this.” With that, Tex walked outside and stared at the biplane. Then he turned around.
“You’re talking about updrafts, downdrafts, wind shear, waterspouts, hurricanes—that’s the kind of stuff you get the minute you leave land and hit ocean atmospherics.”
“Look,” Will said, “I’m not asking you to do a Lindbergh and get us to Paris. I’m only asking you to fly to Grand Bahama island. I’ve checked the map—what is it, fifty, a hundred miles off the Florida coast?”
“Yep,” Tex replied, “that’s about it, depending on where you leave land.”
“Let’s put it this way—if I’m foolish enough to be a passenger in this thing from here to the Bahamas—are you gutsy enough to be the pilot?”
“Wrong approach, counselor,” Tex replied firmly. “Don’t pull that macho stuff on me. I don’t have to take risks in an airplane to prove that I’m a he-man. Do you know how many sorties I flew in the Gulf? Have you ever flown through antiaircraft fire? Have you ever seen your squadron buddies flame out and crash right in the thick of it?”
“Tex, you do aerial stunts for a living. That’s got to be a hundred times more dangerous than taking this flight,” Will countered.
“If you’re not a flier, I guess you don’t understand. I do all of that ‘daredevil’ stuff—but I will tell you something—it’s all calculated, calibrated, and controlled. It looks real risky, but I know exactly what I’m doing up there for my audience. But flying over varying terrain and open water is a whole different thing.”
“Then let me put it to you this way—you are my last chance. If you don’t do this flight for me,” Will said, “then Mary Sue Fellows is probably going to lose custody of her child for the rest of her life. She may even go to prison for a crime she didn’t commit. And worse than that, a little boy might end up dying because we didn’t get a diagnosis in time. Can you live with that?”
Tex gave a big sigh and thrust both hands in the pockets of his blue jeans. After a period of silence, during which he appeared to be visualizing some unseen scenario, he started in.
“Man-oh-man,” he said with a rueful smile, “I sure thought my momma raised me smarter than this.”
Then the pilot ambled over to an old wooden desk in the corner that had several greasy engine parts on it. He pulled open a drawer that squeaked, and retrieved a piece of paper. Walking over to a tall tool chest, he propped his elbows on it.
“Okay, come over here, Mr. Lindbergh. You need to sign this. Agreement and Release. You being a
lawyer, I’m sure you know all about these.”
Will hurried over to Tex, read the paper hastily, and scribbled his signature at the bottom.
“We leave here in one hour. I’m going to do a systems check. I’m also filing a flight plan. That way, if we go down into the water—and let me remind you, this is not a seaworthy plane—then they can look for whatever is left of us after the sharks get through.”
Will gave an uneasy smile.
“An hour is fine. I’ll go over to my car there and make a couple of calls.”
“One more thing,” Tex added. “You’re going to be charged my standard rate for a coast-to-coast charter flight. And I don’t come cheap. And I’m also adding a twenty-percent surcharge.”
“What’s the surcharge for?”
“For the additional risk factor. If we end up getting some weather,” Tex explained, “you better make sure your seatbelt’s on. Because in that case there’s going to be a whole lot of ‘bouncy-bouncy,’” and with that, he made a wild flapping motion with his hand. Then he let out a chuckle and disappeared into his office at the rear of the hangar.
Will hurried over to the car and called his office.
Hilda answered. “I’ve got some good news for you,” she said.
“I could use some.”
“Jacki said we just received a fax from the Georgia State Supreme Court. They ruled on her motion for recusal of Judge Mason.”
“And?”
“They just issued an order removing him from hearing the trial.”
“That’s terrific news,” Will exclaimed. “Have we gotten notice of who the new judge is going to be?”
“Yes,” Hilda said. “I’ve got an order from the Juda County Circuit Court right here. It reads, ‘The Honorable J. K. Trainer has been appointed to hear the trial In The Interest Of Joshua Fellows, A Minor Child.’”
“Do we know anything about this judge?” Will asked.
“We’re checking into it—we don’t have anything yet.”
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