Charter Plane To Miami

Taken from Cayo Hueso - Island of Bones. McTrite is chasing two embezzlers. They get a jump on him in Key West. To catch up, he hires a chartered flight to take him to Miami. Psycho also chases the two embezzlers. He wants to kill them and take the embezzled funds.

Psycho and McTrite were on a collision course. Fate would put them in Miami simultaneously.

~ Three Thousand Feet Above the Atlantic ~

 The bird I occupied was a Piper Cherokee 140. It had experienced ten years of abuse. It looked much older. Damn! I should have peeked at the maintenance records. It wasn't apprehension. I was scared shitless. He flies too close to the water thought Hackney. He'd been a crop duster when he was younger. A stupid daredevil is what he was. What if he should have a heart attack and die echoed from my mind repeatedly. "Do you carry a life raft, Mister Patterson?" I asked coyly a bit ashamed.

"Excess baggage. We're only two miles from land."

I wasn't comforted. That's a hell of a long way to swim. "If the engine quits instantly wouldn't we plunge into the Atlantic?"

"This lightweight plane glides like a feather. But today strong winds are coming from the west and we would be pushed out to sea if that happened. I can climb some and fly over Mother earth if it would make you feel safer. Mind you, landing in a forest can have disastrous consequences."

"It's kind of like being between a rock and a hard place isn't it, Sir? It's a pine tree or a shark. I think I would prefer a pine tree. Death comes much quicker."

"You're the customer."

I felt us climb and turn. Now, I wanted to ask about parachutes, but I think I knew the answer. I didn't want Patterson to think my yellow streak was a blanket.

Sparsely snow-white hair and deep wrinkles told a story. Through the bifocals, I saw blue, but age had brought the gray I saw there. I'd surmised he was a pilot during World War Two. I raised my voice to be heard over the gibberish on the radio and engine noises. "Where'd you learn how to fly, Mister Patterson?"

"Army Air Force during World War Two. I piloted B-17 in the European Theater."

"You're lucky. The Germans shot down a slew of those."

"Lucky, my ass, I got shot down near Paris my fifth mission. All of us who breathed bailed out. We left two gunners and a mechanic in the burning plane."

"Sorry to hear that."

"I wouldn't be alive if I hadn't free fallen for ten thousand feet. Maaan, that's a thrill. The skies were filled with German Fighters. They wouldn't hesitate to strafe an enemy crewmember dangling from a parachute. Of course, all that fear dampened apprehension of the parachute not opening."

"Were you captured?"

"I was lucky. I landed in a field tall with grain. The Germans came, but they were unable to spot me and they passed me up. Fortunately, the French Resistance also saw me in the air. They apparently were better positioned to know where I landed. That's one time my high school French served me well. We could have easily thought they were Germans."

"That's interesting. So what happened?"

"Well, for over a year I became a Resistance Fighter. Eventually, I got back to England. They worked me closer and closer to the Swiss border. At the German border, I traveled the rest of the way on my own. By then, my French was nearly fluent and I'd learned some German. It came in handy when I had to travel through Germany. Maaan, it's a story that needs to be told."

"I can imagine."

Suddenly, I saw a dreamy gleam in his eyes and a smile tugged the corners of his lips. 'Mister McTrite have you ever slept with a Parisian?"

I was taken aback. Instantly, I remembered Mademoiselle Rénu. I cleared my throat. "Why do you ask that?"

"Just wondered. I met Madam Falconet the year I was with the Resistance. What a femme -- Ooh! La La. She was unforgettable. At first, she was shy and inhibited. She guarded her emotions closely. Memories of her husband, who'd been killed during the German's blitzkrieg of France, were still cherished. She really loathed the Germans."

"You said were --"

"Yes, I learned after the war that she was captured and executed. I can imagine what they did to her before they shot her."

"I'd love to hear more, but I think I see the airport. And big jets are everywhere." My voice had been raised three tones higher.

"It's alert time. If you get back to Key West stop in at the Hog's Breath Saloon some night, and I'll finish the story."

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