by Jeff Egerton
Having Rosemary along complicated things. If it was just him and Curly, he could throw the plane around and they could take their chances of getting shot while jumping Jones. After losing Sam to a wild gun-shot, he wasn’t going to do anything to jeopardize Rosemary. This made the task of overcoming Jones that much harder, and if they didn’t find a way to subdue him, they were goners. He had no doubt when they reached Acapulco, Jones would kill the three of them. Catwalk couldn’t envision Jones turning them loose to return and tell the American authorities where he was. He leveled off at eighty-five hundred feet with these thoughts racing through his mind.
Catwalk unfolded his chart and plotted his course and fuel range. The coast by Acapulco was notorious for storms, so he decided to land short in Guadalajara and refuel. This too could cause problems. Lately, the purity of the Mexican fuel was suspect and cases of contaminated fuel were not unusual. He thought of his forced landing many years ago in Raton Pass. Down here, however, there were stretches of hundreds of miles with nothing but hills, so a flat landing area may be harder to find down here than it was in the pass. And, they only had one parachute, so….
Then it hit him like a bolt of lightning! He knew why Curly brought only one chute. A plan started to take shape. He prayed that he and Curly were thinking along the same lines — their lives depended upon it.
He looked back in the cabin. Curly was tied up and gagged in a window seat halfway back in the cabin. Rosemary was sitting on the other side of the cabin a few rows behind Curly. It didn’t look like she was tied up or gagged, but probably tied to her seat. Jones was three rows further back, where he could keep an eye on both of them. With everyone tied up or bound to their seats, they’d have to outsmart Jones; there would be no overpowering him.
Thirty minutes later, after thinking over the plan, that he hoped Curly shared with him, Catwalk gave the control yoke a few quick turns, causing the aircraft to roll to the left and right twice in each direction.
Upon feeling the aircraft roll, Jones stood up and walked up to the cockpit. He said, “What’s wrong, fly boy?”
“Nothing, just some clear air turbulence. It’s not unusual over these hills and you’ll probably feel more of it before we reach Acapulco.” Catwalk then created some more turbulence by turning the wheel slightly. While doing so he gave the appearance of fighting the aircraft to keep it straight and level.
He told Jones, “It’s getting rough. You’d better sit down and fasten your seat belt.”
“You just fly the plane and get us there, Jackson. Don’t worry about me.”
Catwalk continued his charade of fighting the plane. Finally, Jones turned and walked back to the cabin. As soon as Jones had his back turned on him, Catwalk looked back at Curly and pointed at Jones. He then made the gesture of pulling a parachute ripcord. Curly nodded once, very slowly. Convinced that he and his partner were on the same wave length, Catwalk sat down and continued to “fight” the aircraft.
Rosemary had been frightened to death ever since Jones walked into her house. Now, after seeing Catwalk’s gestures, she had some hope that somehow Cat and Curly would get them out of this. She looked at Curly. Again, almost imperceptibly, he nodded. Rosemary closed her eyes and said a prayer.
Three hours later, Catwalk called Jones up to the cockpit. When the jailbird arrived, Cat said, “There are storms building over the coast. I’ve got to stop in Guadalajara and refuel, so we’ll have enough fuel to hold if we have to wait for the storms to clear. We shouldn’t be on the ground for more than thirty minutes. From there it’s only an hour and a half to Acapulco, unless the storms delay us.”
Jones thought about this for several minutes. Clearly, he was worried that the refueling stop would present Catwalk with a chance to somehow foil his plans. He said, “You listen to me, fella, and you listen good. While we’re refueling, I’m going to have a gun pointed at your lady’s head. Your buddy is tied up so he won’t cause any trouble. If I see anything funny going on, or if anyone tries to get into the plane, I’ll put a bullet in her. You’ve got to remember, I’ve got nothing to lose. The worst that can happen to me is, I go right back where I came from. Do you understand?”
“Don’t worry.” Catwalk insisted, “All we’re doing is refueling and no one is going to get on the plane. I guarantee you, no tricks.”
Jones went back to the cabin and told Curly and Rosemary. “We’re going to land and refuel. While this is going on, I’m going to have a gun pointed at the lady. If anything goes wrong, or anyone tries to pull anything, I will pull the trigger.”
Rosemary looked at Jones, silently weighing his words. She had to trust Catwalk to get them out of this, but the odds seemed to be stacked heavily against them.
Curly watched Jones. He’d been praying that he and Catwalk had the same game plan. With the refueling stop, it looked like Catwalk was laying the foundation for their trap, but he still knew, if there was any difference in their unspoken plans, it would be fatal for all of them.
CHAPTER FIFTY-TWO
Catwalk landed at Guadalajara and taxied to the transient refueling ramp. When the ramp attendant walked out to the plane, Catwalk recognized Jorge Velasquez, whom he’d gotten to know and had enjoyed an occasional lunch with, when they were flying cargo flights down here.
Catwalk opened the cockpit window and said, “Top off both sides, Jorge.”
Jorge was overjoyed at seeing his old friend. “Hey, senor Catwalk, how have you been? I haven’t seen you for a long time.”
Catwalk cursed Jorge’s congeniality. He didn’t want to do or say anything that Jones could interpret as being suspicious. And, he didn’t want Jorge to get the idea that anything was wrong. He said, “I’ve been fine, Jorge. We don’t fly through here anymore.”
“That’s too bad, I miss seeing you and Mr. Curly. How is he? Is he flying with you today?”
“No, not today, Jorge. I’m running late, can you get us refueled as quickly as possible?”
“Si, senor Catwalk. I’ll have you filled up in a jiffy.”
Catwalk felt the barrel of the pistol in the back of his neck. Jones had appeared behind him. He said, “What’s all this talk about?”
Catwalk slid the window closed, then turned his head and said, “Just an old friend. He’ll refuel us and we’ll be off the ground in no time.”
Jones wasn’t convinced. “God damn it, Jackson. I swear if you’re trying to get help, your old lady is dead in a second.”
“I’m not doing anything except getting the aircraft refueled. We’ll be taking off shortly.”
Jones said nothing. Catwalk then heard his steps retreating back into the cabin. He breathed a sigh of relief, but only for a second. Jorge’s helpful attitude again raised the level of anxiety.
Outside, he was motioning Catwalk to open the window. Catwalk opened the window and Jorge said, “Hey, senor Catwalk, you have much oil spray on your number one engine nacelle. You should let me clean it off and check the level of your oil reservoir.”
“It’s O.K., Jorge. The oil pressure is good and we don’t have far to go.”
Jorge looked at him with questions all over his face. Catwalk knew it was because they both realized that any other time, Catwalk would never start the engine until the oil level was checked and brought up to the proper level. Catwalk said, “How’s the refueling, Jorge? Are we about ready to go?”
Jorge said, “Is everything O.K., Senor Catwalk?”
Catwalk silently cursed. He expected to hear a gun-shot any second. Trying hard to sound convincing, he said, “Everything is fine, Jorge. Couldn’t be better, except I’m late with a real important load.”
“O.K, Senor. I’ll get going. You come back when we can have lunch again.”
“I’ll do that, Jorge. Thanks.”
A few minutes later another ramp attendant appeared next to his engine with a fire bottle. Catwalk yelled, “Clear on number two.” He then completed the engine start procedures and sighed a, “Thank God.” He saluted th
e ramp attendant and taxied toward the runway.
After departing he set his course for the rugged hills south of Morelia. He’d flown over them many times when they were flying cargo and often thought this would be a terrible area in which to have engine problem, because level places where you could make a forced landing were almost nonexistent. If you lost power around here, your chances of surviving were slim at best.
Once he leveled off, Catwalk again went over the plan in his head, trying, for one last time to find any flaws. Thirty miles south of Guadalajara, he decided it was time to put the final phase of his plan into play. This was the moment when he and Curly would find out if Jones was as predictable as they hoped he was.
He eased back on the fuel mixture until the number two engine started running rough. Then, he yelled out, “Shit! God damned Mexican fuel.”
Jones came running to the cockpit. “What’s wrong with that engine?”
“I don’t know; the gauges are all fine. The only thing I can think of is, we must have got some bad fuel.”
“Are you sure?” He pressed the gun barrel against Catwalk’s head. “If you’re pulling something, I won’t hesitate to shoot because there’s another pilot in back, who can fly and right after I drill you, your old lady gets it.”
Catwalk held up his hands and yelled. “Jesus Christ, man. What could I be doing? Do you think I’m intentionally causing an engine problem down here?”
“What can you do? Can we still fly?”
Catwalk looked at the rugged mountainous terrain below him. “Yes, if this one quits, we can still fly on one engine. The problem is, if we lose both engines. Then, I’ve got to find somewhere to land, and as you can see, there aren’t any places out there that are level enough to land on. If we lose both engines, we’re going to crash — period.”
Jones ran back to Curly, took his gag off and stuck the gun in his face. “Your pal says we might lose both engines and if we do, there’s nowhere to land down here. Is he telling it straight?”
“Of course he is. It’s not uncommon to get bad fuel down here. If we got some when we refueled, the only direction we’re going is down and you’re going with us.”
While Jones was busy with Curly, Catwalk had adjusted the fuel mixture so the other engine started running rough. He yelled, “Number one is running rough too. We’re going to have to find a place to set it down.”
Curly said, “There ain’t anywhere down here, Cat. You know that.” He looked at Jones, “You better prepare for a crash landing.”
Jones stood back and broke out in a sly grin. “Like hell I am. You prepare for a crash landing, chump. I’ve got an ace in the hole and you gave it to me.”
Jones went to the back of the cabin and hurriedly put on the only parachute in the plane.
Curly yelled, “Jesus Christ, Jones. For once in your life, why don’t you do the right thing and give the parachute to the woman.”
Catwalk heard this and knew the plan was taking shape—but then, he had a sobering thought, it wouldn’t be out of character for Jones to shoot everyone before he bailed out? He had to keep him busy.
Picking up on Curly’s logic, he stood up and yelled, “Give her the parachute, Jones. We’ve only got a few seconds and we’re going in.”
Jones grinned and waved his pistol around the cabin.
Catwalk yelled, “We don’t have much time, Jones.”
Jones fired back, “You don’t’ have much time, pal!” He then checked the parachute straps and wrestled the door open.
Standing in the slipstream, he said, “So long, suckers.”
Alton Jones jumped into the Mexican sky. For a moment — just a brief moment — he was convinced he’d beaten the odds and would be living an idyllic life on a beach in Mexico. Then he pulled the rip cord.
Catwalk looked out the cockpit window and saw his life’s nemesis falling toward the hills below. He brought the fuel mixtures back to normal. Soon, both engines began purring like a contented cat. He banked the plane to the north and set the auto pilot.
He went back to the cabin. As he untied Rosemary, he said “Everything is fine, honey and we’re going home.” He then untied Curly and closed the door.
She asked, “You mean we’re not going to crash? I though the gas was dirty.”
“No, it’s not. Curly knew if we faked having engine problems, Jones would want to save himself. That’s why he brought only one parachute.”
Rosemary looked at Curly. He was laughing hysterically.
Catwalk stared at Curly, then broke up himself.
His soon-to-be wife said, “What’s so funny?”
Catwalk said, “I’m guessing Deputy Jones got the biggest surprise of his life when he pulled the ripcord and nothing happened.”
Rosemary looked at Curly and said, “You mean….?”
Curly nodded and said, “I was going to throw that bad parachute away, until I found a better use for it.”
She looked at Catwalk, and said, “Curly saved our lives, honey.”
“That may be, but he’s still the world’s worst chicken thief.”
THE END
About the Author
I was born and raised in Batavia, Illinois, a small town that straddles the Fox River about 30 miles west of Chicago. After our high school graduation, a friend and I found our lives looking pretty bleak. We were thinking that this would be a great time to head for Colorado. We were also broke. This meant the only way we could leave town was by hopping a freight train. So we jumped aboard a boxcar and headed west. Eventually this youthful adventure blossomed into THE BOXCAR BLUES.
I joined the Marine Corps at the age of eighteen and entered the fabulous world of aviation. Serving with the Second Marine Air Wing in Vietnam I was awarded the Navy Achievement Medal with a Combat V. Following my service I joined the FAA and spent nine years as an air traffic controller at O’Hare Field, the world’s busiest airport. After O’Hare I spent the next twenty years at various other airports. Now you know why most of my novels have an aviation based theme in them.
I started writing in the late 90s and have had two historical novels published. I’ve also had the dubious distinction of having 4 publishers show an interest in my work but then go out of business prior to publishing any of my work. As of this writing I have three more novels and two nonfiction books that will be out in the next two years.
An avid outdoorsman and photographer, I currently live in Tucson, Arizona with my wife Diane and our spoiled rotten cat, Pumpkin. My e-mail: [email protected].
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These are my novels that are available at Amazon now, or will be there soon.
THE TARGET — Someone is stealing military jets, leaving behind no trace of plane or pilot. As a field agent for the International Bureau of Investigation, Loretta Goldberg is sent to investigate. She uncovers the ingenious method used to steal the jets, then finds out that she’s only digging up what the criminal masterminds want her to find. Knowing the stolen jets will be used for a hostile act, Loretta breaks all the rules. This puts her at odds with bureau management, who think the target is Air Force One. Loretta knows better and calls in a former agent and part-time lover to help her crack the case. Together they buck the system, against a decreasing time element, to take down an enemy syndicate that is bent on capturing—The Target.
The next two novels I wrote were about a couple who are in the risky business of recovering stolen aircraft.
CARIBBEAN SPLASH is a one-of-a-kind novel where two people find a seven year old child asleep in a plane they just recovered. When they discover that she’s the child of a former drug kingpin, they know they have to return her — but after stealing his plane, the drug lord won’t welcome them with open arms. Now they wonder if they’ll survive the encounter??
In ESCAPE, the duo go to Russia to recover a plane, only to find out they’ve been used to smuggle a political assassin out of the country. They get out of Russia, but then discover that they’ve been framed for an act of
sabotage at a Russian military base and their pictures are plastered all over European TV. To flee eastern Europe they have to use trains, planes, boats and that old escape stand-by, a Turkish furniture van.
THE BRAZILIAN BLUES, — Luke Jackson, his wife and four year old son fly to Brazil to lay the groundwork for Aztec Airline’s international expansion. Luke returns to the hotel after a meeting and makes a horrific discovery—his wife and son have been kidnapped. He contacts the local police, only to find out they don’t really care about the foreigner’s family. He turns to a private detective, who agrees to help him—until the P.I. is found murdered.
Luke enlists more help, but can they get to his family? The kidnappers lead them on a thousand mile chase down the Amazon; a river filled with all kinds of danger. During their journey: The ransom money gets stolen; A boat gets stranded; Luke is arrested; .
A second man gets murdered: And this is just the beginning!!
DYING FOR DIAMONDS — Vern Garner is and always will be in love with Rosanna Ramirez. When she asks him to help her find her missing daughter, Krista, he agrees to help, but because she went missing in Mexico, he’s skeptical of their chances of success. Their first shock is when they discover that Krista is spending time with a leader of a deadly Mexican cartel. Next the Mother, Vern’s lover, is arrested for trafficking in drugs. His next surprise comes when he uncovers a diabolical money laundering plot. Is Rosanna guilty? Will their romance survive the ordeal? And do they find Krista? Don’t miss DYING FOR DIAMONDS.
Thank you for your support.
Jeff Egerton