Flying Too Close to the Sun Read online

  “He’s the one.” Christina introduced them.

  As they shook hands Juni blew pungent smoke into Erik’s face, asking, “Jesus Christ, you still in high school?”

  Erik glared back and Juni immediately apologized. “Hey, I’m sorry. I was out of line, but I thought airline pilots were, well, older.”

  “You have to start sometime.”

  “Why do you want to get involved in this shit when you still have your entire life in front of you?”

  Erik relaxed and opened up a bit, which he inexplicably found easy to do, quickly synopsizing the story about his loan Christina had only partially related to Juni who muttered while shaking his head, “A woman captain and a kid pilot? I guess the times have changed.”

  “It’s a new world out there,” Christina added.

  “Forgive me. Right now I feel like an asshole in a room full of proctologists,” Juni replied. “I’m not certain I like this new world a hell of a lot.”

  “It’s no Dick and Jane fairyland any more, but there’s nothing we can do about it.” To lighten things up a bit Christina added with a wide grin, “The next work needed in this new world is changing the name of the COCKpit.”

  They all laughed.

  The toothless guy came and took drink orders. Juni requested a bottle of white wine and recommended the fruitti di mare seafood pasta, which sounded good to all of them. Erik asked, “Will anyone will recall seeing us? Lots of people stared when we entered.”

  Juni scratched the scalp under what looked like greasy hair, while shaking his head. “Memories are good here, but also very short. Let’s get to why we’re here. I flew to Boston and spent a few hours reconnoitering the airfield and the town you described across the bay from Logan. It’s called East Boston, a rundown New England burg seemingly straight out of a time warp that unlike me wasn’t able to adjust to this changing world,” Juni managed a small smile. “A bunch of Hispanics live there, but also still quite a few paisans. I pretended to be just another guinea—and only I can use that term here, like a black person using the n-word in Harlem—thinking of moving there. If I were, I would be welcomed with open arms. Here’s a tide chart I picked up at a local tackle store.” Juni placed it on the table. The chart disappeared and the conversation changed to food when the smiling waitress brought plates overflowing with delicious linguini loaded with clams, mussels, calamari and pieces of tender sea bass, all covered with a delicate livornese sauce. Between delectable bites, Juni stated he felt barring a merger with a larger airline Shuttle Air’s long-term survival appeared uncertain. Both pilots simply looked at each other grimly. “But let’s get back to the job at hand. What do the money sacks and locks look like?”

  “They’re large, dark green satchels with padlocks on top,” Christina replied, “like the duffel bags I’ve seen in Army/Navy stores.”

  “Meaning I can get nearly identical fakes?”

  “Probably.”

  “That’s important, ‘cause if the bags aren’t the same, they’ll immediately know something’s wrong when the cargo hold is opened. Replacing them with lookalikes will increase the odds in our favor. If they’re transported before anyone knows somethin’s up it will give us more time and the suspect list will be much longer. We have to think like the cops and try to stay one step ahead.”

  Cops? Robbery? All Erik wanted was to be an airline pilot. Juni’s voice jolted him back to the present.

  “What about the locks?” Juni asked, while jotting things on a napkin.

  “They looked like everyday brass locks to me.”

  “Are they long or short? Are they the key or combination kind?”

  “They’re short and I didn’t see any numbers.”

  “I’ll buy four. I might even have two key locks at home from college, so old chances are they’re untraceable.”

  The waitress again interrupted, this time bringing three cappuccinos courtesy of the house. After thanking her Juni asked, “What else?”

  “What about transportation?” Christina said with a toothy smile. “How will you get to Boston and bring our money back?”

  “My wife’s Buick. I had it tuned up and the oil changed and I’ll get my hands on some Massachusetts plates.” Juni continued as they sipped their cappuccino. “The East Boston Holiday Inn is where I’ll stay under an assumed name. Here’s the number,” he said, handing Erik and Christina tiny slips of torn paper with the telephone number in pencil. “Once we’re done, get rid of those. I’ll get a fake ID and let you know the name I’m using. My story will be the same; I’m checking out the area in anticipation of moving there. You got any questions?”

  Christina said, “I guess you’re in?”

  “You guessed right.”

  After a sigh of relief Christina took some pages copied from her 727 flight manual out of her handbag describing the forward cargo compartment door and its operation. She handed them to Juni, pointing out one unique feature; because the aircraft was pressurized, to prevent it from blowing off, the counterbalanced, smooth ball-bearing-hinged door opened inward. “Don’t make any noise ‘cause the guard is seated directly above it,” she cautioned him.

  “That might present a problem because I’ll probably have to slam it closed.”

  “You won’t. Just twist the handle. They keep it well lubed.”

  Erik said in half-jest, “Maybe you can leave Sunday and we can be done with this by Monday?”

  Juni held up his hand like a stop sign. “Sunday? Monday? I doubt it. I can’t rush ‘cause I gotta be thinking four or five steps ahead. Plus, more groundwork is needed. I gotta get materials, drive to Boston and find out where the cops are stationed, if they patrol and how busy the marina is after dark. That’ll take time. I might be able to accomplish everything in a few days, but don’t count on it ‘cause if I make a mistake it’s not like erasing chalk off a blackboard.”

  Christina changed the subject to something nagging at her like an high-strung spouse. “What about Woody? Do we bring him in?” Turning to Juni, she added, “He’s the copilot.”

  “Woody! Is this guy named after a dick?”

  Christina giggled. “I wondered about that too. But he said it was from getting hit on the head a lot.”

  “What are your thoughts.” a suddenly serious Juni said.

  “After speaking with him and mulling it over, I believe we’d be better off without him. I can keep his attention diverted by telling him to handle the radio or something similar.”

  “Will he do as he’s told?”

  “Definitely” she said, now looking at Erik. Christina sipped her cappuccino and added, “After our engine problem I’m certain he’ll go out of his way to please.”

  “Are you sure?” Juni asked.

  “Yeah. We had an engine quit working a while back and Woody didn’t do anything when we really needed him. Plus, I don’t trust him. There’s something else I can’t put my finger on. Call it a woman’s intuition or whatever, but I did some subtle probing at dinner one night and didn’t like his answers. Hell, he might even go to the cops to endear himself with management and we’d have no way of knowing. Plus, including him means less for us.”

  “I agree,” Juni added, gently slapping his palm on the tablecloth. “Is it unanimous, Erik? It’s just the three of us?”

  Erik concurred.

  As he was finishing his cappuccino Juni asked, “What other info you got on this sky marshal? I think the jets the rag heads crashed into the World Trade Center came out of Boston and I don’t wanna get shot.”

  “They did, but the sky marshal part mainly concerns anything inside the plane. It’ll be dark and he won’t be able to see or hear anythin
g outside, provided you don’t screw up.” She hesitated. “Remember, we can’t wait too long to act. Like I said, this contract won’t be renewed in September. I also heard the Feds might attempt to fence in all the areas of large airports bounded by water. I sure wouldn’t want to see you having to climb over barbed wire—”

  “I heard that too,” a somber Erik interrupted.

  “I agree we have to move as quickly as possible, but that raises another concern. Are there motion sensors around the airport border?” Juni asked.

  “Why, I, I don’t know,” Christina stammered, “but I have noticed small, evenly spaced poles along the perimeter that might be sensors.”

  “If they are, those could be our undoing. Is there any way to find out without tipping our hand?”

  “I don’t think so.” Christina answered.

  “I need to know before I go traipsing around.”

  Christina said, “If I ask that question it’ll just arouse more suspicion later. Why would I be asking?” She hesitated. “I pride myself on logic, so let’s take the worst possible scenario and by assuming there are sensors.” Juni and Erik listened attentively. Looking directly at Juni she said, “You’ll be operating when the weather is so poor no one will be able to see you. When the weather’s good and the devices are triggered, the controllers would probably first try to locate the cause by peering through binoculars or a telescope from the tower. It stands to reason, only if they couldn’t tell what set them off would they send a vehicle to investigate. Odds are high a seagull set it off because there are lots of them flying around the area. But, when the visibility is so lousy that nothing can be seen, I’d be willing to bet they’re deactivated ‘cause it would be senseless to send a car as the driver wouldn’t be able to see anything either. They’d also have to stop or delay every jet from taxiing and taking off while the car was out there for fear a jet might run into it, or vice versa. The airlines would never stand for delays caused by someone chasing invisible gremlins.”

  A thoughtful Juni lit another butt making Erik believe more smoke came out of this guy’s mouth than his old man’s diesel Mercedes.

  Christina insisted, “It must be FAA policy to disable them when the visibility drops below a certain value. I’ve flown in and out of Boston a lot in bad weather and never experienced a delay like that.”

  But Juni remained concerned. “Suppose what you’ve said is wrong and when I come ashore the cops arrest me?”

  “Believe me, I know that won’t happen.”

  “All right,” he finally sighed, waving his hand in the air. “I’m willing to roll the dice.”

  “Look,” Christina added, “I also want the odds in our favor as much as possible, but do not see a problem.”

  Juni continued. “There’s another thing. Suppose the satchels have tracking devices attached. They’ll know exactly where and when they’re removed.”

  “They can’t.”

  “Why not?”

  “It would interfere with the plane’s navigation system.”

  “You sure?”

  “Positive. That’s a non-issue.”

  They continued discussing a few more unresolved details until they were satisfied. Juni next added, “Do not mention anything to another soul. All calls to each other are to be made from a pay phone and only if absolutely necessary. Shortly after I get the money, I’ll give your home phones one ring. This will be followed by another single ring twenty seconds later. Do not pick up the phone. After that, nothing unless there’s a dire emergency ‘cause at some point the cops will tap your phones. And remember, you can’t throw money around or we’ll get nailed. It has to be laundered overseas because the bills’ serial numbers must be recorded, somewhere, sometime. I’m not certain where or when, but if there was a data entry made before we get them and a large chunk is spent at once, it’ll be easy to track. The laundering must be done in a former Iron Curtain or Far Eastern country. Once the money goes into an overseas institution it’ll be impossible to trace because it will be handled by lots of people before working its way back to the States. I’m familiar with how to handle this. It’ll cost a small percentage of the take and is somewhat complicated, but is money well spent. I’ll provide the details when I’m back. You guys will still have to sit on your shares and can’t go tossing it around ‘cause the cops will have you under a microscope for quite a while.”

  “We supposed to keep it in our mattress like Italians?” Christina asked.

  “Whaddaya think? Italians are the only ones? You don’t have to go quite that far, but you can’t spend it immediately. In the modern world this storm will blow itself out because any crime, irrespective of its size is followed by another even larger one. I still know a few people in the investment banking business that can bury it for you for a few years while it earns interest. For now let’s just concentrate on getting it.”

  Erik said, “What about paying off my loan?”

  “That’ll be easier because the amount is relatively small,” Juni added. I’ll immediately provide you with a certified check from a former business associate to reimburse the bank. My contact is willing to acknowledge through certain channels he loaned you the money irrespective of your crummy credit rating, at a rate bordering on usury. Christina mentioned repayment wouldn’t be a problem for you next year. Is that right?”

  “Yeah, when I get off probation and—”

  “He’s agreed to wait until then for you to start repaying a bit at a time. When questioned, all of your answers will have sound explanations. Of course you have to hand over three thousand in extra interest. That okay?”

  “That’s fine.”

  Juni paid the bill and on the way out put an arm around both pilots. Turning to Christina he said, “There was something I liked about you beyond the obvious when we first met. Remember, after the job you and I can’t be seen together, meaning one of us will have to make some excuse why we can’t come to family gatherings whenever the other is present.”

  “That won’t be a problem.” Christina assured him. David would be out of her life once this was a done deal. Juni shook hands and to Erik it was as though he’d stuck his hand into a warm loaf of Italian bread.

  Outside, Erik and Christina discussed some work items while Juni was lost in thoughts of yesteryear.

  While silently surveying the familiar surroundings, Juni’s memories of a younger world and simpler times painted a smile on his face. It was a period before progress and savagery grew at the same rate, when nothing changed, year after year. He could still smell the bouquet of springtime fragrances caused by the newly bloomed lilacs mingling with the Italian cooking scents oozing from the row houses; hear the muffled sounds of people speaking in cramped, hot rooms with open windows and no air conditioners; see the backyard clotheslines; all mementos of a poorer, more carefree era. Ah, Brooklyn. A place where life was still tough and even talking was a hassle due to the incessant traffic and jangling horns. Where exhaust fumes coat the air. A further stroll down memory lane was unavoidable because notable personal events had occurred within walking distance of this very spot. It was right up the street, in the schoolyard of Public School 132 on a warm summer evening like this one where he’d first proven his manhood, gone all the way with a young dark-haired beauty named Nancy Colucci. He was fifteen and she a mere fourteen years old. An era when the sex was safe, but the streets could be dangerous. First worried he’d gotten her pregnant, after the embarrassingly brief encounter, when it turned out he hadn’t, his Catholic upbringing mandated confession. The following Saturday, fearful of recognition he’d nervously sought Almighty forgiveness by declaring his carnal sin in a disguised voice to Father Anthony Monasco, or Padre Tony as he was known to the young parishioners at St. Theresa’s. The priest asked int
imate and probing questions, “What did it feel like?” and “How long did it last?” Only years later did Juni realize the Padre was probably getting his jollies over every sordid detail. Four long city blocks away was Alley Park, where he got drunk for the first time with his best buddy, Ray Peluso. After throwing down a pint of cheap Italian Swiss Colony Muscatel both teenagers laughed so hard at absolutely nothing they had tumbled to the ground, hysterical. No matter how hard they tried, the next day neither could recall what was so funny. It wasn’t funny ten years later, when Ray was gunned down and his murder remained unsolved, an open case. When translated from Brooklynese this meant he had crossed some powerful individuals and paid the ultimate price.

  The floodgates opened further and more memories poured forth, recalling standing on the top stoop of these same homes, watching brown water cascade down the street after a sudden summer thunderstorm. This brought on thoughts of pastimes like stoopball and stickball, which made him long to return. But he forced himself to stop because just like Ray, the past was dead. All Juni was concerned about now was the future, his and his family’s hopes.

  Erik and Christina were still speaking when Juni returned to the present, gave her a peck on the cheek and again shook Erik’s hand. Cranking up his car for the drive home, the Ford with more rust than metal wouldn’t start on the first two attempts. He whacked the cracked, dried-out dashboard, but didn’t get angry. With this deal, I’ll soon be drivin’ a brand-new Caddy.

  As he drove off Christina asked, “What do you think of him?”

  “I guess we’re fortunate to have him.” The truth be known, Erik was close to not wanting anything more to do with this harebrained scheme. But those words just wouldn’t cross his lips. “Right now you’re the captain in command of my future,” was all he could manage.