"We're going to make it."
"Guyana Control Aztec 99 Alpha Bravo Clearance Over."
"Alpha Bravo, we have you on radar. You are cleared number one. Runway zero eight. Winds calm. CAVU."
"Runway zero eight. Roger. Alpha Bravo out."
I was beginning to sweat. A half-hour ago, I had been faced with making an instrument approach into an airport that I had never landed at before. It would have been a touchy situation in an aircraft in which I had a total of about twenty five flying hours with not more than ten landings and take offs and some of those were touch and goes.
We touched a bit fast but massive puddles from the storm that was now over Venezuela slowed us almost to a stop within a couple of hundred feet. I never had to touch the brakes.
"Ground Control, taxi instructions."
"Alpha Bravo this is Ground Control. Turn off the main runway at the next taxiway. The business aircraft ramp will be directly in front of you. Welcome to Guyana."
"Roger Ground Control. Thank you. 99 Alpha Out."
A ramp rat was there to meet us but thankfully no one else was evident. I pulled up, set the parking brake and heaved a gigantic sigh of relief. "Shut down check."
I ran up both engines and used the idle cut off. I flicked the switches off in order. Checked the parking brake for a second time and gave Clarissa a high-five. We were soaked the second that we stepped onto the wing. Sweat dripped off us. I locked the door and with our overnight bags in hand we took our time entering the terminal.
Customs and Immigration was surprisingly easy. The ride to our hotel was torturously slow but amiable, if such a thing was possible. Our driver, Shamin Dube, was a virtual font of local history and colour.
Our hotel was nondescript but spotlessly clean. The shower was huge. We shared it. I stepped out to the ringing of the phone. I wondered what the management wanted now. I tapped on the shower door.
"Get the phone." Clarissa stepped out and dripped water across the red tile floor and picked up the handset.
"Hello."
I wondered whom she was listening to. I wrapped a towel around her so that she wouldn't get the shivers. I threw on a pair of shorts and a Tshirt.. She was still holding onto the handset and going 'uh huh.'
Finally she said, "Stand by one."
Covering the handset with her hand, she asked. "Do you know a Mary Wary?"
"Ask what types of plane her husband flies."
"She says he has three Cessna 172's and he used to fly Piper Aztec 99 Alpha Bravo but he sold it to a friend for a dollar."
"Generous of him," I said holding out my hand.
"Hi Mary. How's Brad?"
"He's fine now. He wants to talk to you."
"Hi Old Buddy. How in heavens name did you track me down?"
"Oh that's how. I didn't know she worked for AT&T."
"Is it safe to talk?"
"Sure, we're in a motel in Yuma, took off for a few days, R & R. Great rates in the summer you know."
We must have been on the blower for half an hour. I hung up realizing what a great guy Brad was. He had been using my aircraft and making money with it until the strut incident. We agreed to work every thing out once we had a chance to get together.
"Do me one last favour. Call Susan Magliani and let her know that I'm alright."
Clarissa said. "We really have had some angels looking after us."
"I don't know where to begin."
"I think you should start telling me, if you are willing to that is. I think you should be making notes. We need to know what kind of danger we are in."
"That part is easy. Just about every kind of danger known to man."