Dateline: Phoenix, Arizona
A Cessna 172 registered to Mr. Maxwell Berger, of Phoenix, who is believed to have been working on an assignment for the FBI, at the time of his death, was located in the Sonoran desert approximately 25 miles due south of Gila Bend. The aircraft was burned almost beyond recognition.
Crash investigators have determined that sabotage was almost certainly the cause. The starboard wing strut showed signs of having been tampered with so that it would likely snap in flight. No survivors have been found. The charred remains are being examined by forensics.
"Dust to dust," I muttered.
There is no indication if Mr. Brad Wary, who was found in the desert about five miles from the crash scene, was also in the aircraft with Mr. Berger. Mr. Wary is presently in a Phoenix hospital suffering from exposure and amnesia. The ongoing criminal investigation is focussed solely on sabotage aspects according to Juan Estrada, Chief of Detectives for the Phoenix Police.
I read the account aloud.
"This is so confusing, Max."
"I know. I think," I paused to get my thoughts ordered. "I think that the police and the transport investigators know more than they are letting on. However, they must really want to see me otherwise why was there all that fuss right after take off this morning?"
"We were lucky, Max. It was a little too close for comfort."
"Someone, somewhere is out to get me." Real fear is a survival mechanism, I realized. By comparison, the paranoia of the past five years had been such a colossal waste of time that I broke into a fit of laughter.
"Are you okay, Max? I think someone out there is out to protect you. Don't you think that bit about you being in the 172 was a plant?"
"I'm just letting off steam and feeling foolish, that's all. Let's talk. We've got to make plans. Wait a minute. You fix our position. I'll calculate our fuel. Then we'll make plans."
It only took about two minutes and we were ready to figure out what to do.
"I say let's divert to Guyana. It's a backwater. The United States does not have a very great interest in the place. I'm sure most of those in the State Department wouldn't even know where it is."
"I do."
"How come?"
"Jonestown. We'll talk about it later. Do we have enough fuel."
"99 Alpha Bravo Venezuela Control. Do You Copy?
"99 Alpha Bravo Go Ahead."
"Are you instrument rated?"
"Affirmative."
"Suggest you divert to Guyana. Georgetown is CAVU but Caracas is almost down to minimums and worsening by the moment."
"A wayward angel is looking out for us," Clarissa said.
"99 Alpha Bravo. Roger and thank you very much," sounding like Elvis who also is supposed to be dead.
"Some people have all the luck," I said. "First of all we had a mechanic who stalled off the cops, to give us the time to get the hell out San José."
"Won't be back for many a day," Clarissa said.
"And then someone in air traffic control in Venezuela was not about to cooperate with the American authorities. Air traffic control guys just do not have time to baby-sit anyone out here. We're not out of the woods yet though."
"Those clouds to the south are closing in by the second," Clarissa said. "It's much clearer to the east."