Plans for the Big City

Abbys Cargo Bay at the landing strip in Barra de la Cruz. Just trying my new batteries.




Last phone pick of windsurfer out of Santa Cruz Huatulco









I sleep on the short boat ride back to Jorge’s, more like pass out. It is enough to recharge me. We left Lou back in the bar. Jerry made him a map to the airstrip. We would meet tomorrow morning at nine o’clock. Jerry also borrowed a few hundred dollars so we could pay Jorge for the night and buy what we needed. We are now in possession of a large purple “thong” for Nester’s wife, and a dress for Mari, Tapia’s wife. Our shopping list was long, but since we didn’t drive the truck to town, we trimmed it a bit. We will get those supplies when we fly to Mexico City.
I am lost in my thoughts for the moment until a cold, wet bottle of beer is held to my neck.
“Want one?”
“No… not right now.” I think there might be a world record with the other six I drank in between equal shots of tequila.”
“Pussy.” Jerry pops the top and takes a pull. Then stops and puts the bottle to the back of his neck. “Shit, Mexico City.” He brings the beer back for another taste and then holds it out to me. I grab it. Hair of the dog. In this case a big, hairy bastard with rabies.
“I thought we didn’t like Mexico City.”
“That’s right, we don’t. But we need the money and it is only gold, not drugs, or guns, or anything else that might land us in prison.” He empties the beer and puts it in the trash bag. “I haven’t been there in so long. I don’t know if the landing strip is “available”.
“So we make a fly-by and check it out.” I look at Jerry. “We don’t have to land right in Mexico City, do we? We can find an outlying strip somewhere safe and just drive to where we have to go.”
From his lack of response I get the feeling that it is easier said than done. Mexico City has all of the advancements of any national capitol city, including radar, an air force, air traffic control, transponders and the like.

By the time we reached Jorge’s we are starving. Aside from breakfast that morning, we managed to eat a couple of taco’s from a street vendor after we left Lou’s bar, and that was it.
You can smell Mari’s marinated pork as it slow cooks. She buries it, along with the coals that will cook it, and it smolders all day long in the covered hole, smoking and juicing itself until it is so tender it will just fall apart. I had it last time we were here. It is a good thing we were gone all day, because the aroma while it is cooking will drive you mad.
Somewhere between dinner and the unending beer supply we tapped, Jorge offers a friend who has a farm outside the Mexico City limits. He tells us that the strip was built for an old crop duster and that he doesn’t think it is long enough for Abby. But I have seen Jerry work wonders on small strips and I am not so worried.
“It is twenty minutes away from the city. Do you know where in the city you are going?” Jorge asks with a full mouth. It is very hard to stop eating this pork. Each piece is like your last breath, you have to take it.
Jerry looks at me, no help here, and then back at Jorge. “Lou said these guys are regular business men, so I would suppose they would be in the financial district.”
“No matter. This city is large, so no matter where you land, you will have to drive a long way.” He picks up his beer, “You want I should let him know you are coming?”
Jerry nods, “Can he get us a car?”
“I am sure he will let you use his, but I will ask this anyway.” Jorge smiles, “I know I don’t have to mention but it will be nice for you to offer him payment for the use of his field and auto. Treat him as you would treat me.”
“Of course, Jorge. I will take care of him.” He stands up and stretches. “You need to show me on the map. And then we need to crash. Big day tomorrow.”

By the time nine o’clock rolls around, we have oiled and inspected Abby, and have her running in the old hanger.
We are both up front. Jerry wants to refresh me on take off procedures. It is something we do every once in a while. He wants me to be able to get her off the ground in case of emergency. Now landings, landings we have never done… I have never done. He has always landed her. I have lobbied for a little schooling on this matter, but for some reason Jerry has refrained from letting me have the controls.
“Come on, Lou. Where the hell are you?” Jerry looks at his watch. “Let’s get her set up on the runway. I want to get rolling as soon as he gets here.”
“You are clear on the right.” I say.
“Clear on the left.” He replies and gooses the throttles. Abby responds with a fluid forward movement. Just as we move out of the hanger, a small sedan blows by right in front of us. Jerry pumps the brakes and we both lunge against our harnesses.
“Son of a bitch.” Jerry looks to his left and sees a flatbed truck come into the clearing at the other end of the strip. “Looks like Lou brought company.”
We motor out of the old hanger and see Lou running with a big black bag and a rifle slung over his shoulder. I unhook my harness and make it back to the cargo door just as Jerry slows the plane. Lou tosses the bag up, it is real heavy. Then unshoulders the rifle and hands it to me, all while he is running alongside. He hops up into the cargo bay and turns, legs out the door. “Gimme that rifle. Motherfuckers turn on you like a pack of wild dogs.”
Jerry turns and lines up on the runway. The truck is behind us now, and you can hear the gunfire.
“What the FUCK, Lou.” Jerry calls from the cockpit as he puts the coals to Abby’s engines.
“Its those bastards from the bar, a few of them anyway. They must of overheard what we were doing. Didn’t know they could understand English.” He pulled the bolt back and loaded the rifle.
The truck was only a few hundred feet behind us now. Lou wrapped the shoulder strap around his wrist and tucked the weapon into firing position. His first shot found the engine block and stopped the truck in flash of spark and smoke, followed by a fire that emptied the cab of its three occupants. The second shot left a permanent limp for the man with the pistol that had been firing back.
Abby made short work of the runway and we were up and over the trees before starting a slow bank back toward the coast.
“What took you so long?” Jerry leaned over and gave Lou a quick look.
“A couple of those fuckers from the bar tried to take my gold. I will NEVER let those motherfuckers into my bar again. I’ll shoot ‘em first.” Lou safeties his rifle and puts it back over his shoulder and takes a deep breath.
“No shit.” I try to sound sympathetic, but I saw those guys at his place and none of this surprises me.
“Nice shootin’, Tex.” I tried to lighten the moment.
“308 Remington, fully bedded stock, armor piercing rounds.” He adjusts the strap, “I have a scope that goes with it that’s worth six grand.”
“What’s in the bag?”
“Twenty-eight pounds of gold.”