"We're ready," Christie said.
There was nothing more for me to say. Cynthia came up and looked after the checkout. We were on our way. After a quick run home to drop off the luggage and pack a few things for the aircraft, I gave Christie a ride to her studio.
"This is a terrible turn of events," I said. "Do you think you could get those photos of the Baron blown up?"
"I'll do them first thing. Give me a call in about two hours," she said leaning over to give me a quick kiss.
I had had so many irons in the fire that it was impossible to juggle them all without getting burnt. This was a time to go with fight or flight. I knew which one I was going to take but it didn't mean that I was going to like it. I parked Juan's car in his slot and left his keys with Sharon. I picked up my Merc from the compound and set out. Getting into the mangy Merc was quite a let down from driving Estrada's pristine Lincoln. I was grateful for the head start that Juan had provided.
I couldn't quit now. I was in too deep. When I had provided the FBI with a meaningful lead as to where Julian Fairfax had been headed, I would happily quit. I yearned to put all this behind me and get back to my old life of testifying as to the devious delvings of divergent paper shufflers. In embezzlement and money laundering cases there was no need for anyone to be physically hurt. It was reassuringly boring. I was ready to be bored. In the realm of my kind of forensics, corpses did not go off gently into the night and if they were to do so there would be a quietly reasoned explanation for the illusion. I needed to hang in there awhile in order to get all my ducks in a row. I still felt as if I owed it to Frank my old partner who had been taken down when we were attempting to carry out a major cocaine bust.
I made plans to fly the Cessna into Pasadena and rent a car. I knew that I was taking a chance but I would not be stupid about it. I purposely did not make any kind of reservation. I did not want to be entered in a Hertz or Avis data bank nor was I willing to take the risk of having my name on an airline manifest. I knew that my flight plan would be recorded but hopefully it would be lost in the maze. The less of a paper trail the better.
Of course, I could always take the bus as the Una-bomber had been said to do. I was really glad now that I had played dumb when Julian had given me the opportunity to drive. If the guys who had killed him were searching for me, it is unlikely that they would think Cessna. I figured that Julian had put me down as a wanna be pilot because I was a little rough on the controls when I had been flying his Baron. I skidded a bit in my turns and had trouble resetting the power when we came off climb.
I finished my walk-around. I swung the prop through once with the switches off just to make sure that the engine turned over easily. I had just cracked the throttle and was about to turn the key when 37 Victor Zebra went by. I thought how wonderful it would be to own a twin Cessna. I guess I was wrong on Thursday morning. It's still around. Of course, it could easily have been to Colombia and back. As I reached for the ignition key, there was a rap on my window. Brad, the Fixed Base Operator, had a worried expression on his face. I shut down.
"What can I do for you?"
"Am I glad to see you. What have you been up to? I have been looking all over for you "
"You just haven't been looking in the right places."
"I've got fifteen students scheduled for lessons as well as solo time and only one aircraft."
"That's a toughie, Brad" I felt for the guy. What was he going to do, offer to drive me to LA?
"I'd love to help you out but I'm a little pressed for time."
"I've got an offer that you can't resist. I'll make you an even trade for the 172. All that it will cost you is gas. You can use my Aztec for as long as you need it."
I could not believe my ears. "I'm ready to go whenever you are. It seems like a hugely fair trade, an Aztec for a Cessna 172.
"Furthermore, your next 100 hour check is on me." Brad wouldn't make any money in sales. He didn't know when to shut up.
"You've got a deal."
"Here are the keys. Stow your gear and pop into the office. We'll do the paper work first so that everything can be kept legal like."
He was tight-lipped. He would take my secret to the grave with him. "I'm going to LA," I said entering the cubbyhole, he called an office.
We soon inked the deal. As we proceeded to the Aztec, airplane of my dreams, we chatted about a variety of things. That's the thing I liked about Brad; he gives a person space. He isn't likely to be checking up on me and wouldn't go out of his way to help any one else check up on me either.
"You can be in Tucson in 48 minutes, in this baby," he said as I primed the port engine. It was as if he had forgotten my remark about LA. Brad was a reassuring kind of guy.
"I guess, I could," I replied doing a visual check to make sure the left prop was clear.
I pushed the button and eased the throttle forward as soon as it fired. I did not see any point in being overly secretive with Brad. We had grown up together. I told him a bit about what I planned to do, so that he wouldn't have too much trouble locating his aircraft in the event that anything should happen to me.
"More high level investigative stuff, huh?"
"Something like that," I said.
"Let's get this check ride out of the way then so that you can go and nab the bad guys. Your airplane."