AFTER ELEVEN, AND WITH NO MOON THE DARKNESS weighed heavily upon them. Cat looked nervously about him as Bluey, strapped into the left seat for the first time, did his run-up of the airplane. In the dim light from the instrument panel, Cat could see the bulky, fifty-gallon fuel tank in the rear compartment, where the luggage usually went, and the luggage piled into the back seat. On top of the luggage was the life raft, surprisingly compact, but heavy. Cat reckoned they were at least ten percent over the rated maximum gross weight for the airplane.
Both men wore deflated yellow life jackets and shoulder holsters with their respective weapons. (âDonât wear that thing under your jacket,â Bluey had said. âWhere weâre going, you want everybody to know youâre carrying.â) Under his right arm Cat wore another kind of shoulder holster, a large, soft, leather wallet containing a hundred thousand dollars in hundred-dollar bills, this in addition to the two million dollars in the aluminum case lying next to the life raft, at the top of the pile of luggage. If they had to ditch this airplane, Cat intended to be sure that case went into the life raft with them. On the floor between the seats lay an Ithaca riot gunâa short, 12-gaugeshotgun holding eight double-ought buckshot shellsâthat Bluey had bought from Spike. (âScarier than a machine gun,â Bluey had declared.)
In the shoulder holster with the money was Catâs Robert Ellis passport; the matching wallet was in his hip pocket. His own passport and wallet were in the aluminum case with the money. Cat now possessed a forged FAA Temporary Airmanâs Certificate, in each of his two names, declaring him to have recently passed his instrument rating. That was a joke, Cat thought, since he hadnât even earned his private pilotâs license. (Spike had explained that the certificate was what a newly qualified airman was issued on completion of his examination. It was good for six months, and a hell of a lot easier to forge than a permanent certificate.)
They were loaded for bear, Cat thought, and that gave him some reassurance, but the airplane was loaded, too, and that was making him very nervous. He watched as Bluey switched on the taxi and landing lights, flipped in twenty degrees of flaps, trimmed for takeoff, and shoved the throttle in. They sat with the brakes on, vibrating, until the engine reached full power, then Bluey released the brakes.
Cat was appalled at how slowly the airplane seemed to be gathering speed. The clearing couldnât be much more than a thousand feet long, and they were using up ground fast. Ahead, in the beams of the airplaneâs lights, the trees were growing alarmingly close. Then, at fifty-five knots, Bluey hauled back on the yoke, and the airplane staggered into the air at what seemed to Cat an impossible angle of ascent. Surely the aircraft would stall. Bluey brought the landing gear up and the angle increased even farther, and suddenly they were over the trees, and theAustralian was pushing the yoke forward, letting the airplane gather speed.
Bluey grinned at him. âThatâs your actual short-field-takeoff-over-an-obstacle,â he said, pleased with himself. âYou want to remember how that felt, the angle and all. Might come in handy one of these days.â
âThanks for the demonstration,â Cat replied, mopping his brow with his sleeve. The real thing had been quite different from practicing on a nice, long runway.
Bluey turned sharply toward Everglades City and kept the airplane flying low. A few minutes later, with the airport in sight, he began an ascent, simultaneously calling Flight Services on the radio. They had just departed Everglades City, he explained, and would like to file for Marathon, in the Florida Keys. The flight plan filed, Bluey relaxed.
âI told you it would lift anything you could put in it,â he grinned at Cat.
âI believe
Both men wore deflated yellow life jackets and shoulder holsters with their respective weapons. (âDonât wear that thing under your jacket,â Bluey had said. âWhere weâre going, you want everybody to know youâre carrying.â) Under his right arm Cat wore another kind of shoulder holster, a large, soft, leather wallet containing a hundred thousand dollars in hundred-dollar bills, this in addition to the two million dollars in the aluminum case lying next to the life raft, at the top of the pile of luggage. If they had to ditch this airplane, Cat intended to be sure that case went into the life raft with them. On the floor between the seats lay an Ithaca riot gunâa short, 12-gaugeshotgun holding eight double-ought buckshot shellsâthat Bluey had bought from Spike. (âScarier than a machine gun,â Bluey had declared.)
In the shoulder holster with the money was Catâs Robert Ellis passport; the matching wallet was in his hip pocket. His own passport and wallet were in the aluminum case with the money. Cat now possessed a forged FAA Temporary Airmanâs Certificate, in each of his two names, declaring him to have recently passed his instrument rating. That was a joke, Cat thought, since he hadnât even earned his private pilotâs license. (Spike had explained that the certificate was what a newly qualified airman was issued on completion of his examination. It was good for six months, and a hell of a lot easier to forge than a permanent certificate.)
They were loaded for bear, Cat thought, and that gave him some reassurance, but the airplane was loaded, too, and that was making him very nervous. He watched as Bluey switched on the taxi and landing lights, flipped in twenty degrees of flaps, trimmed for takeoff, and shoved the throttle in. They sat with the brakes on, vibrating, until the engine reached full power, then Bluey released the brakes.
Cat was appalled at how slowly the airplane seemed to be gathering speed. The clearing couldnât be much more than a thousand feet long, and they were using up ground fast. Ahead, in the beams of the airplaneâs lights, the trees were growing alarmingly close. Then, at fifty-five knots, Bluey hauled back on the yoke, and the airplane staggered into the air at what seemed to Cat an impossible angle of ascent. Surely the aircraft would stall. Bluey brought the landing gear up and the angle increased even farther, and suddenly they were over the trees, and theAustralian was pushing the yoke forward, letting the airplane gather speed.
Bluey grinned at him. âThatâs your actual short-field-takeoff-over-an-obstacle,â he said, pleased with himself. âYou want to remember how that felt, the angle and all. Might come in handy one of these days.â
âThanks for the demonstration,â Cat replied, mopping his brow with his sleeve. The real thing had been quite different from practicing on a nice, long runway.
Bluey turned sharply toward Everglades City and kept the airplane flying low. A few minutes later, with the airport in sight, he began an ascent, simultaneously calling Flight Services on the radio. They had just departed Everglades City, he explained, and would like to file for Marathon, in the Florida Keys. The flight plan filed, Bluey relaxed.
âI told you it would lift anything you could put in it,â he grinned at Cat.
âI believe
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