The Gift

Baretto "The Bear" Antonelli's gift to Lou and I for saving his son's life.






I watch the sunset from the back of the upper deck. Looks real nice with the fading cloud cover we had earlier. I think of that Greek saying... Carpe Diem, sieze the day. I ought to have that shit tatooed on my forehead. These are some wild times, the here and now. Reminds me of my time in the Navy, back when I wasn't in control of where I went and how I got there. Just hop in the chopper, or on the transport plane, and land on a carrier, or an island somewhere. It was high adventure. So is this.

Me and Lou are guests on this mafia chieftan's yacht. Nice guy for a leg-breaker, as my old man used to call them. Very polite. Not what I would expect from the movies I've watched. Now those Domincan brothers, they were just like what I expected. But not this guy.

I turn on the deck and am joined by Jorge, who offers me a smoke.
"Nah, I'm good."
He sparks up his cigarette and leans on the rail, enjoying the last of the view.
"Hey, Jorge, why do they call him "Bear"?"
He takes a draw and lets the smoke out nice and slow. "A lot of people think is because first name is Baretto."
Another hit, and he holds it just a little longer. "But this is not real reason. He is Baretto "The Bear" Antonelli."
Out comes the smoke in a long, focused stream. "Is because he maul people. Is what he does when people no do what he want them to do, when they really piss him off." He looks over his shoulder to make sure no one else was party to his explanation. "He beat them so bad looks like bear, like fucking grizzly bear attack them."
He flicks the spent cigarette over the rail. "This is just between us two gentlemen... okay?"
"No problem." I turn and look back out at the ocean, "He seems nice."
"Mr. Antonelli very nice to Jorge and crew, and you men. Just hard businessman. He not "The Bear" any more. He just shoot people now, and feed to shark sometime."
"Great."

I wander the boat with Jorge for a while. We go through the galley and Jorge shows me the refrigerator where they keep the snacks. He shows me a weapons locker that I am not supposed to see, so I am sworn to secrecy once again. After we come up from below decks, we find Lou and Bear sitting at an old chess set. It looks a little too old and beat up to be on this boat.
"Hey, Jake, Jorge, you two sit down here and watch me kick his ass." Bear sees Lou move with the distraction of our arrival and scrutinizes the board. "What did you move?"
"If you're gonna kick my ass your not getting my help." Lou tells him. But his move is discovered and Bear puts him in check.
"Son of a bitch." Lou complains as he hovers over the board, "You sure don't leave me with many options."
"No, I left you with no options. Stop fucking around and make the only move you have."
Lou moves his only remaining bishop to guard his king, and Bear takes it. "Checkmate."
"I don't want to play any more."
"Come on... you're quitting?"
"You're too good for me. I don't need my ass kicked for a fourth time."
Bear looks at me and then nods at the chess set, "How about a game?"
I shake my head, "Bear, I wouldn't be a challenge. Besides... it would ruin my buzz."
"Poker?" Bear offers, gesturing to a poker table in the corner of the salon. "Agaki is a hell of a dealer. We'll have cocktail service and the whole bit."
Lou and I nod, and Jorge of course. Bear makes a call and Agaki comes up from his quarters, along with the head chef.
"How you expect me to get beauty sleep?" Agaki bitches as he sits in the dealer's chair. He presses a button to his right and one of Bear's serving girls arrives in a little cocktail outfit.
"Cocktails?"
We all order a drink and she scurries off to the bar.
"It ten o'clock at night. Agaki off by eight, that is agreement." He is a grumpy little guy. I think he was serious about being awaken just to deal poker. But you don't argue with Bear.
"Oh for Christ sake, Agaki, how about I match the biggest winner here at the table and you keep that for a bonus."
Agaki narrowed his gaze and looked at Bear, a look that would get anyone else hurt or dead. "Agaki deal card for you, Mr. Bear. Just no like waking up to play game. Tired. Maybe miss killer vein in puffer fish next time."
He shuffles, "I also take bonus."

For the next hour we play cards and drink. Bear orders up some snacks and cigars. Agaki flips the cards out like he worked in a casino all his life. Lou gives me a look every once in a while and I know he has a good hand. I think he is worried about taking Bear's money, or winning in general. But Bear seems to be having fun and after a while we don't worry about a good hand, or a bluff or two. I think Baretto Antonelli likes having someone just to play with that isn't afraid of offending him or beating him at cards.
After a while Lou has most of the table's chips in front of him. Bear antes up, "Hey, Lou... you weren't letting me win at chess, were you?"
"Nope. That was all you."

We are under way for another half an hour our so and then the ship slows. We put our cards on the table, so to speak, and all head up on deck. The KOZANOSTRAW drops anchor outside a small bay. After that it is silence and starlight. Beautiful.
"Where are we? Lou asks, sucking the flame into another cigar.
Bear points toward the sheltered side of the small bay, "That is Cabo Codera. We'll take the launch over to shore in the morning."
"Oh yeah? What's there?"
"Something I want you boys to have." Bear sparks up a cigar of his own and smiles, "An ex-business partner couldn't pay off his debt. So I took his collateral in trade and wiped the slate clean."

I haven't slept this well in ten years. The sheets are like one thousand thread count or something. It's like sleeping in an orgasm... no shit. I gotta get a set of these. My stateroom lights up with the dawn and I am up before the sun breaks. I can hear voices in the galley. I get up and take a quick shower, then walk out on deck.
Lou and Bear are up to watch the sunrise. Apparently Bear has never missed one, not ever. I sit down at the small cafe table and fill a waiting coffee cup from the carafe on the table.
"Sleep well?" Bear asks as he hands the creamer and the sugar over. I waive them off, "Black is good." I sip and enjoy the rich brew. "As for the sleep, man do I love those sheets."
"No shit, those are amazing." Lou adds.
"I had those made when I went to Egypt. They are something, aren't they. You guys want a set to take with you?"
We both nod.
"I'll take care of it."

We drink our coffee in relative silence. There is a tropical breeze that blows through you, just the perfect temperature, the right force... perfect. Bear puffs on a cigarette and looks off toward Cabo Codera.
"You guys are gonna shit when you see this thing."
"What is it?" Lou asks as he finishes his coffee and reaches for the carafe.
"Not telling." Bear looks toward the ladder down to the service deck, "AGAKI... " He stands and works a kink out of his back, "Where the hell is he?" He walks to a white phone molded into the side rail and picks it up. He waits as it rings, "Hey, where the hell is breakfast?" Bear smiles as Agaki spits something back at him through the phone. I get the feeling that this is Bear's form of entertainment... fucking with Agaki. "Well get it the fuck up here."

Within five minutes Agaki is up on deck in front of an omelette station with his little white chef's hat on. He looks like a Japanese soldier on the Bataan Death march. Like he would execute every fucking one of us if we crack on him just one more time. But Agaki knows that it is a game, and he plays his part.
"You want omelette, I got some special stuff for you." He clears his throat like he is going to spit.
"Now that's just gross you bastard." Bear tells him.
"You first, Mr. Bear. What you want?"
"What do you have?"
"I have same thing have every morning... you no want any different." He raps his spatula on the steel of the omlette station, "What you want?"
"Why the fuck do you ask me if you already know what I want?" Bear laughs.
Agaki starts to prepare his omelette. "You think Agaki funny? I funny ha ha, I funny like clown... you think Agaki funny like clown?" He grabs the knife out of his belt and whips it through the air like a ninja and lands it on a pile of green onions, chopping the shit out of them.
"I love it when he quotes Goodfellas." Bear chuckles into his coffee cup.
Agaki picks up the serano peppers and sprinkles them onto the egg mixture solidifying in the pan.
"Hey, I don't want those peppers, Agaki."
"You always have peppa." He keeps cooking.
"Not today, my stomach is hurting."
"You no like peppa you take peppa off. Agaki make omelette with peppa for everyone."
"You take those GODDAMN peppers off my omelette, you little bug eater, or I'll feed you to something."
Agaki smiles now, obviousliy coming out on top of that exchange, and flips the peppers out of the omelette with the spatula into a small dish and then with a couple of quick moves folds the omelette and lays it on a plate. He tosses some fruit garnish and then lays it in front of Bear.
"You wanna Tobasco?"

Before he is done cooking Jorge shows his face and joins us for breakfast. Before he is done, Agaki fixes himself an omelette and joins us at the table.
"This is some good shit." Bear tells him, chasing the last bite around his plate with his fork.
"Shit?" Agaki tries to sound insulted.
"You did good." Bear tells him.
"Agaki make same every morning." He takes a bite of his own creation. "Is good shit."

We leave KOZANOSTRAW behind us as we head toward the small cove in the bay. As we get closer, a shape comes clear against the jungle and shoreline. It is a seaplane. I don't know what make, but she is a beautiful sight.
"Well? What do you guys think?"
We both look at the plane as we approach the shore. Lou shakes his head, and I know what he is thinking.
"Bear, we can't accept this?"
"Hey... you've got no choice in the matter. So how do you like that shit."
The launch hits the beach and we climb out and walk toward her. It is flawless, old but flawless.
"What's wrong with it?" Lou asks him as he wades out toward the plane and tries the compartment door. It opens.
"Nothing. Better not be or I'll part that guy out."
I walk around the other side and give the flight controls a shake. Everything seems to be okay.
I return to the compartment door and follow Bear inside.
"Ever fly one of these things?" Bear asks Lou as he climbs into the plane after him.
"Not yet."
I get in and look around. It is set up for cargo, with two seats just behind the captains and first officer's seats. Lou parks it in the right seat and waits for me. Bear sits behind Lou and I climb past him and park it in the left seat.
The whole set up is quite similar to Abby. It wouldn't be that much different. I mentally search for a few things that aren't in the same order, but for the most part it is all quite similar. I remember Jerry telling me about the difference between a seaplane and a land based aircraft. It is all in the take-off and especially the landing. You take your time with both, and with the landing you keep your nose up and drag the ass a little bit.
"I think I can do it." I start flipping switches, setting her up for a flight. "The one thing you gotta remember is that when you are on the water, you don't have any brakes. Taxiing and lining up for take-off is kind of tricky."
"Well let's go." Bear says, moving back to close the door.
"Now?" Lou asks him, looking at the fuel gauges. "We have full tanks."
"You think I would give you boys a plane with no fuel?" Bear returns to his seat and buckles up.

The number two engine fires up after a few tries. She chokes and sputters, but catches good and strong. After blowing out the stagnation of the past months, it runs strong with good indications. Number one engine fires and runs up with little fanfare.
"Flaps?"
"Let's try them at five."
"Do you know what your doing?" Lou asks as he moves the flap handle.
"Hey... you're not instilling me with too much confidence." Bear says.
"Don't worry, guys. The thing with a seaplane is drag and water conditions. You would think you would want calm waters... but that isn't it. That causes more drag, and when you are landing it is a real bitch. We have a little chop in the bay here, so that is good."
I throttle up and she starts to move. "The other thing is the angle you hold her at while you are taking off. You don't want to pull up too soon or you push your ass into the water and slow yourself down. So it is nice and gradual."

When I get her lined up for clear water I move the throttles up gradually, but fairly quick, playing with the elevators to get her to plane. At first she starts bucking from one wave to the next, so I apply a little nose-up pressure to get us to skim over the waves. Full power, a couple of skips and you can feel her overcome the drag of the water on the hull and she is up."
"YEAH BOY, That's the stuff." Lou yells. It is always like the first time with him and flight. He loves this shit.

The aircraft flies nice and responsive. We are up and gaining altitude. "Sweet, very nice." I tell her. "Lou, bring those flaps to zero."
I feel Bear's hand on my shoulder, "What do you think?"
"I think she's a great airplane. I think I am going to have to get Lou behind the wheel."
Lou smiles wide, "No shit?"
"Gotta get her home some how."

The Bear and KOZANOSTRAW

A picture I took on the way out to
Bear's ship the KOZANOSTRAW



Lou hides behind black RayBans as we put the first fifteen minute of the drive behind us. He smoked that whole Walker as soon as we touched down and now he is feeling it's effects. This leaves me in a bit of a bind for translating the continuing conversation coming from the front seat.
The guy in suit turns in his seat and rattles something off in the local tongue. He looks at me and I just raise my eyebrows a little. "Mr. Allen, we will have to make stop to have Mr. Antonelli's son cleaned up and made presentable. This should not take long." He smiles, "I don't think that his father would want to greet him while he lay in his own shit."
"Hey, I just fly the plane, and Lou here is the co-pilot. They buckled him in there and I just assumed that he was okay." I see the man smiling even more. "If they thought he would shit himself they should have had someone along to tend to him."
"Do not worry. This does not anger us. It is, how you say.... Kharma?"
"Oh yeah? Why do you say that? Seems like an okay guy to me."
The man pulls off his sunglasses and rolls them in one hand, "Just between friends here in this auto?"
"Yeah, sure." And here I thought I was the one that might be in trouble.
"Chris was here in the beginning, in Caracas and Maiquetia acting on his father's behalf. Mr. Antonelli Sr. had high hopes for this boy, but he was more interested in the party and the food and the women, and sometimes others. He never use the drugs, but he is very bad drunk."
He looks to me for verification of this. "Hey, I only met the guy a couple of days ago, so I don't really know him. Seen him put a few beers down but that's about it."
The man continues, "Let's just say he gets drinking hard stuff and then he treat everyone like shit. So they want to work for him no more. His father looses a few deliveries due to his negligence and this cost him hundreds of thousands of dollars. A connection to Domincans is almost lost. So father takes over here and sends the boy to Dominican Brothers. He tells them Chris can work on airplane, to put him to work and straighten him up. He went there with his friend and partner Jon. Jon is executed within one month by Dominican Brothers for whatever reason. This straightens up Chris. He is there five years and still alive. So his father is happy you bring him here."
I shrug my shoulders, "So he got a little payback, huh?"
The man slaps the driver on the shoulder and he rattles of a little more with a big smile, "Yes, this is the word... payback. He gets his payback." He points to a small home in this rural area. "We are here."
We pull in and the van follows behind us, pulling up to the front door of the building. One of the men get out of the van and open the front door, calling to someone. A woman steps out and they talk for a moment then head to the back of the van. When the doors open, the woman steps back and then holds her nose. The guy holding the door laughs at her and she pushes him, but then she gets down to business. It takes about five minutes and takes all three of the men to move Antonelli's listless body. Like dressing a walrus. In the end, the woman leaves with a big, shitty garbage bag and a sour look on her face. Chris is dressed in shorts and a t-shirt. It is good he was out of it. All of that movement on those broken ribs and the broken leg would have been too much.

Ten minutes after we leave the house we are on the water in a rather large boat that is taking us to the yacht we can see in the distance. Chris is awake now, groggy, but awake. He looks at his surroundings and I know he doesn't know where he is. He stares at the man that brought us here for a while and then his expression changes.
"Hey... hey Jorge, I remember you." He smiles and runs his hand over his scalp, "yeah, I know you man. How are you?"
Jorge smiles weakly, "I am fine, but how are you?" He points to the cast. "You have broken your leg, eh?"
Antonelli looks down at the cast and sees it for what seems to be the first time, "I'll be damned, I guess I did." He reaches down to touch it and then winces in pain.
"You broke some ribs too, Chris. Just lay back and take it easy." I tell him. "What is the last thing you remember."
You can almost hear the theme song from Final Jeopardy as he thinks.
"I remember flying with you guys. Dropping that cargo, those bombs... " He stops and then it all comes back, "Oh hell no, I got the shit blown out of me from those bombs?"
"Well, not quite. The bombs went off prematurely and you got knocked out of the airplane."
"I fell out of a fucking airplane?"
"Well, not quite. You had a safety belt on, it saved you from hitting the ground, just not from hitting the side of the plane."
Chris shakes his head, "Dude, I don't remember anything past dropping that shit. How long have I been out?"
"That all happened yesterday morning."
"No shit. I feel okay."
"You had been dosing on morphine for the last 24 hours." I point to the Band-aid on his arm where the woman had removed the morphine drip. "You are probably going to be in a world of hurt here in a bit unless you get hooked back up with some pain medication."
"Not to worry, Mr. Chris." Jorge adds, "Your father has stateroom with a nurse at your disposal. And this nurse she has pain medications."

As we get closer to the yacht you can see that this is a huge ship. I'm talking over a hundred feet long... something that needs a crew to run it. Jorge sees me looking and as we are pulling up to the stern of this huge boat, he tells me.
"This is a Westport yacht. Mr. Antonelli has it for sale to buy a bigger boat."
"Bigger than this?"
"Yes. This is one hundred and twelve feet, but it does not have helipad that Mr. Antonelli want for business."
"Oh, well hell... you can't have a ship this size and not have a helipad." I see the name as lines are tossed to awaiting crew and we are drawn closer... KOZANOSTRAW. Oh shit. "Hey, how much is he asking?"
"For this boat he is asking six point five million American dollars." Jorge tells me as we are escorted off the small boat on to the large one.
The crew has a gurney at the ready for Chris, who is helped off the boat and onto the deck.
"Is that my boy Christopher? A man in his Fifties that looks like he had been bred with a brahma bull steps out of the immense salon and goes to grab him in a bear hug.
"DAD.. dad, no I am told I have broken ribs." He tells him just in time. "Everything is starting to hurt. Can I just go and lay down?"
His old man manages a light hug and grabs two handfuls of Chris' face, "It's nice to see you again, boy. Your mother is gonna shit."
"Okay, Dad... hey where can I lie down before I fall down?" He was definately feeling pain now. He turned white as a ghost."
"Hey, easy there, kiddo. Jorge, get that fucking nurse into his room and shoot him up with something."
A few of the crew helped him onto the gurney and he is gone. Now it is just me and Lou, Jorge and Chris' father.
"You must be Lou." He extends a hand to me.
"No, sir, I'm Jake." I turn, "This is Lou."
"Well, Lou, my name is Baretto Antonelli, but you can call me Bear." He grabs Lou's hand and gives it a hardy shake. "I want to thank you for saving my boy."
Lou lifts his RayBans and props them on his forehead. "Sir, it wasn't anything you wouldn't have done yourself."
"Don't be so sure. I am the one that sent him there in the first place." He shakes his head and smiles.

We move into the salon on the ship and it is like the Plaza Hotel in here. All marble tile and crystal chandelier's, leather furniture and plush carpet. We all take a seat on an alcove sofa that is set in front of several picture windows. The scene outside is paradise.
"You guys want a drink?"
Lou nods, "I'll take a whiskey".
Bear looks toward the bar and the attendant gets to work pouring from a Johnny Walker Blue Label bottle. "How do yo take it?"
"Neat."
Bear nods. "How about you, Jake?"
"How about Jack and Coke?" I look toward the attendant, "rocks." He nods.
"You got any kids?" He asks the both of us. I shake my head.
Lou nods, "I got a son about Chris' age."
That's news to me. In all of our conversations thus far, Lou never mentioned even being married.
"Then you know what it takes. I tried 'til I was blue in the face to get that kid to take this shit seriously."
"This shit?" I ask him.
"The family business, you know. But the kid wanted to be a playboy and fuck off all the time. So we start losing money and he's the one, him and his buddy Jon. But they don't care what it takes to build this empire to what it is. So I have to make a decision."
The drinks come and we all take a sip. Bear sits and smiles and an uncomfortable silence follows. I am thinking that he is a little embarassed at spilling all of this when he hardly knows us.
"So, Bear, what decision did you make?" Lou is talking father to father.
"He needed more discipline, you know? That's a big guy in there, and when he is drunk I am thinking I might have to have him capped rather than have him trying to beat my ass in front of my employees. So I send him away, you know? A kind of druglord boot camp. I tell the Dominican Brothers not to hurt him, but to get him to see straight... to get him back on track, you know?"
Lou smiles and nods, killing the whiskey. Before he can ask for another, the attendant is there.
"That goes down smooth," he says. "Bring me a double on the rocks this time, okay?"

When the bartender returns with Lou's drink, we all need refills. The drinks are delivered and we continue where we left off.
"So the Dominican Brothers straightened him out? He seems like an okay guy to me from my dealings with him."
Lou pulls the last Walker out of his beat up cigarette pack, "Do you mind, Bear?"
"Hell no, enjoy yourself." Bear turns to me, "They straightened him right up. I guess the first week the two of them were there old Jon decided he was going to keep a little product for himself. It was only a couple of kilos, but it was out of line, you know? So they capped him right at the breakfast table."
Lou takes a hit off the Walker and passes it to our host, who gladly accepts it and takes a long hit of his own. He passes it to me and lets his hit out, "Hey now, that's what I'm talking about. Those fucking Colombians know how to live... good shit." He smiles and sits back, "That Paulo is a psyco, shot that kid right through the head while he was eating. Then he has his men bring in some of Jon's gear where he had hidden the coke, just so Christopher knew why he was killed."

The Walker makes it's rounds until it is spent. We drink several more rounds while Lou and Bear discuss child rearing. I was a little out of my element, but glad to just sit back and feed my buzz. After a while the conversation dies down and Bear decides it is time to eat.

On the upper deck he has a spread that would make the Dominican Brothers envious. There is every sort of seafood from abalone to lobster tails, octopus and even sea urchin. We even ate blowfish that was prepared by his personal Japanese sushi chef.
"You know if that shit isn't cut right it will kill you instantly." Bear says after we both have a bite. "But I told Agaki over there that he is first. So if he is still standing after his bite, then I take mine."
Agaki smiles, "I no like fish... I no eat this fish since you bring me here. Agaki know blowfish, know not to kill boss man. You no worry."
Bear shrugs, "Well, someone tries it before me. Those were my orders."
Agaki is in the corner shaking his head.

We end up talking about the states, the internet, a little about how big of a pain in the ass the D.E.A. is, and how much it costs to pay off local officials. Lou finds out that Bear was in country when he was and they take off on a "were you there when" exchange that seems to last forever.
I am still munching on lobster meat when a tray of cocaine comes around. Bear waves it off, so Lou and I do the same. When in Rome.

While the two of them relive the Tet Offensive, Jorge takes me on a tour of this floating palace. We tour the main stateroom, the half a dozen other staterooms, one housing Antonelli's snoring form and a sweet little nurse. We tour the engine room, private theater, and the bridge. He tells me this ship is a global traveller and has sailed the seven seas and more. He has a thick accent, Dutch I think. We leave the bridge and Jorge dishes some dirt.
"Captain Pfenning was cruise ship captain before he come to work for Mr. Antonelli."
"Is that right?"
"He get stripped of his job at cruise company becuase he like to drink on the job. Mr. Antonelli tells him he can drink, but boss will feed him to the sharks if he fuck up KOZANOSTRAW."
"No shit." I am hoping he is talking figuratively with the shark thing.
"Boss throw four people to sharks since I work for him."
I am speechless. Jorge sees my expression.
"We are not in grocery store business out here. Boss throws man to sharks, other men don't fuck up. Things work good."

After my tour, I meet up with Bear and Lou on the upper viewing deck. We are under way and headed god knows where. The two of them are smoking cigars and sipping brandy.
"HEY, Jake." Bear talks to me like a long lost friend, "Hey, buddy, have a cigar and some of this Napolean Brandy."
One of his attendants set me up and I puff my cigar to life. "Thanks, Bear. This is one hell of a ship you have here."
"Yeah, she's a good old boat. Need a helipad, though, so I am trading it in next season." He puffs on his cigar, "I have been all over the world on her. Life is good."
"Yeah, I bet." I sip the brandy. I am not a brandy man, but this shit is good. Lou on the other hand loves his cigars and apparently anything that goes with them. He tells me and Bear everything there is to know about the Napolean Brandy except the brand of socks the guy that sells it was wearing. And I thought he was just some crazed sharp shooter that owned a bar in Santa Cruz Hautulco.

There is a comfortable silence that allows the three of us to drink in the scenery of the Venezuelan coast, the blue water, the beautiful ship. We smoke our cigars and enjoy the buzz.
"Hey, boys, how about you be my guests for the evening."
"What about Abby?" I ask.
Bear looks at the two of us, "Who is Abby?"
Lou leans forward in his chair and snubs the last inch of cigar out in the ash tray. "Abby is the plane we flew in on. Your man is there guarding her for us. We have a few thing on board that we want to remain on board."
"Oh hell, that's no problem. I will have another of my men relieve him and they can switch off."
I look at Lou, who I know has no problem with the invitation, "Sounds good. Where are we going?"
"I have something for you boys. A small token of my appreciation."

Maiquetia via Caracas

A nice shot of Caracas as we fly by on our way to Maiquetia.








Lou and I breathe a collective sigh as we leave the airstrip in Cali behind us. It is just after noon and we have already made a hundred grand... supposedly. Niether of us feel motivated to count the money in the cases. They could have taken it all, and Abby. So to tell us there is a payment in the bag and not to have put it there wouldn't make much sense.
We are in the air for about an hour when we hear Antonelli in the back calling out for someone. Lou goes back and I hear him laughing. There is an exchange of muffled conversation and then silence. Lou steps back into the cockpit and parks it in the right seat.
"What's up with the Godfather back there?"
Lou stifles a laugh, "They put him in a fucking diaper, man."
"What? A diaper... is that what he's bitching about?
"Oh yeah, bitching is putting it mildly." Lou shakes his head. "I think he shit himself."
"Oh shit... you're kidding. What did he want you to do?"
"Change him, what do you think."
"So?"
"So I dosed him." Lou smiles
"Dosed him... Dr. Lou returns. I hope you didn't overdose him like you did Jerry."
"Awe hell no, I just asked him how many times he remembers pushing the button."
"How many?"
"He says he remembers pushing it five times, but it only took four to put him out. Four is safer."
"Now you're thinking."

We don't hear from Mr. Antonelli for the rest of the trip. I guess Lou learned his lesson from his last stint with the drugs. That would be all we would need to cap off our week... a dead mob boss' son.
He is already going to be smelling like shit, but we will just tell them that he probably did that after we landed.
"You better check and see if there are any of those diapers in that bag they sent with him and throw them overboard." I tell Lou. He gets it. If we tell them there weren't any spares they can't put it on us.

Abby hums along at altitude. We stay between ten and twelve thousand... that is where I am comfortable. Now that big boy is out of it we get into a few tales of the pool party after we separated. There were enough women there to indulge any fantasy out there, and aside from midgets or canings... we indulged just about every fantasy out there.
"How did you end up with that girl's jeans on?" I ask Lou, who is searching his jeans pockets.
"You know... I don't know. I don't remember even being with that girl, but then again I think I am missing at least two hours. It is a good thing I found my pants in the cabana." He comes up with a ruined pack of Marlboros. "Shit... these aren't my pants either." He feels for the belt loop that he tore on Abby's cargo door when he had hopped on for that first flight so many days ago. "Nope, these are mine alright." He holds up the cigarette pack, "Just not my smokes."
"I can't believe this shit the last couple of days. Jerry is gonna be pissed he missed it . But then again he wouldn't have even come this far, I don't think." I sweep the gauges and then give a tap on a few of them for good measure.
"Alright... I knew there had to be a good reason for this shit to be in my pocket." Lou brings out a crumpled joint from the inside of the pack and goes about straightening it up. "What do you mean he wouldn't have come this far?"
I take her off of autopilot and do a little course correction, then set her back on cruise control and take a stretch.
"I just mean that Jerry wouldn't have gotten lost and had to land at Tapia's. And if he did he wouldn't have taken ole' Jack and his boys and their cargo anywhere."
"Seems to me that we didn't have a choice in the matter." Lou says, running the straightened joint into his mouth and then back out. It was now opaque.
"Oh... man, you spit all over it."
Lou turns and smiles, "Did you think you were going to smoke some of this? Huh? You're the fucking pilot now, man. I don't feel like barrelling into the ground just because you're too stoned to land."
"Yeah, it sucks to be pilot."
Lou leaves temporarily. At first I think he is doing this just so I don't have to watch him smoke his Walker. But he soon returns with a couple of little bottles.
"Here ya go." He hands me two Jack Daniels and Coke minis.
"Where did you get these?" They're warm, but I open the first and shoot it.
"Out of that Escalade. They were stuffed down in the seat."
"I am going to need a liver transplant."
"We could take Antonelli's liver... he won't miss it." Lou sparks up his Walker and the cockpit clouds up. "You okay with this?" He tries to wave some of the smoke away.
"If I think I am getting a contact high to the point that I won't be able to fly, I will let you know."
"But won't you be fucked up by then and it will be too late?"
There is nothing but the rush of the wind as I crack a side window. Lou does the same. The smoke clears, but not before I feel a welcome rush... just a slight one. We still have awhile in the air and I am not worried.
"Why don't you just smoke half of it and save the other half when we are on the ground." I crack my other bottle of Jack and Coke and down it.
"No... I'm smoking the whole thing."
"You're a bastard. I'd save it for you if it were mine."
He holds up the Marlboro pack and flips the top up, "How about I save the other one for you. Okay, Nancy? Geez what a pussy."

The tension that was in the cockpit on the first three legs of our journey is totally gone. It feels like we are driving to the liquor store for a case of beer. No worries about the plane, about flying it, about what we are getting ourselves into.
Lou heads back to check on Antonelli. I hear him laughing his ass off, but I don't turn around. I don't want to know what he is up to. Plus if I turn around he may get me laughing so hard that I will auger this plane into the ground. So I am content with hearing what is going on, just not seeing. From what I can hear there is a lot of farting and a lot of laughter. Antonelli is totally out of it, so I am assuming it is all Lou, and big boy is the victim. When Lou returns to the cockpit he is crying he laughed so hard.
"That'll teach him to fuck with our plane." He wipes his eyes, "oh man... I'm dying. Man am I fucked up."

It is late afternoon as we fly over Caracas on our way to the nearby coastal town of Maiquetia. We finally line up on the runway of the little airport within view of the coast. There is no tower, hence no tower communications. We have a radio in her now, but who the hell knows what to say.
We set up for landing and Lou is right there. He knows the drill now and does his part flawlessly. Once we are down, I taxi to the end of the runway and then see a white Toyota truck with the emergency flashers blinking. He wants us to follow... so we follow. Our destination is a hanger complex of old quanset huts, none of which will house Abby. We stop in the middle of them, near a fuel truck and we are signalled to shut down. Didn't even need to make the cellphone call.
As we step into the cargo bay from the cockpit, Antonelli is stirring. Outside we can see a van pull up and three men get out. I open Abby's cargo door and watch them as they walk up.
"Hey guys... where are we? Antonelli is just a little foggy.
Lou stops next to him and picks up his Morphine trigger.
"Oh... hey, no more of that shit, please. It just makes me sleep. Hey, who shit in here?"
Lou clicks it twice and watches his eyes roll back. "Nighty night."

The three men converse with Lou for a moment and then they off-load Antonelli's gurney. I can hear them say "Pienso que él se caga." For some reason I know they think he shit himself. From their expressions I am sure that is what they said.

Once they have him loaded in the van, a sedan pulls up and a nicely dressed gentleman gets out. He steps up to the both of us.
"Mr. Antonelli Sr. would appreciate your coming out to his yacht anchored just off shore. We have a boat waiting to take you. He wishes to thank you personally."
I turn and look at Abby and the crew that is already fueling her. "Is this place secure?" I don't want to tell him about the cash, but I don't want any surprises either.
He knocks on the tinted window of the back seat and the door opens. A man in a suit and tie with an Uzi gets out and stands at near attention. He is given his orders and moves toward the plane, keeping an eye on everyone in the vicinity.
"This is one of Mr. Antonelli's personal guards. We will not be long. I assure you he will guard your plane and it's contents with his life."
I look at Lou, "Well then, the yacht it is."

Caracas Bound

A shot Lou took with the black and white setting.






The morning comes with the monkeys and the birds and the dawn. I'm sure there are bugs in there as well but they are drowned out by the screeching. I also can hear moaning that turns into pleading and finally shouting at those fucking monkeys and birds. If Lou was armed right now there would be gunfire and then silence. But he is not and the rest of this racket is not mixing well with the hangover.

"SHUT THE FUCK UP!" He shouts one last time before a couple of empty beer bottles are launched into the jungle. There is a momentary lull in the jungle noise and then it washes back in like the tide. Lou sits up and holds the sides of his head for a moment. "Jesus... "
I look at him with the one eye I have open. We are both in chairs at on the patio near the pool. With the exception of the bottles around Lou and me, the area is clean. You would never had guessed there was a party here last night with hundreds of people. We, however, have our pounding heads to remind us that it was a real.
There is a full mixed drink next to Lou's table that still has ice in it complete with pineapple and cherry garnish, untouched from the party... which must have just broken up a little while ago. Lou reaches for it just as a tucan bolts from the jungle and lands on the table. He pulls back as the bird steals the fruit from the glass and flys off, shitting on the table before he goes.
"You BASTARD." Lou is genuinely put off. He wanted that pineapple. He defiantly grabs the glass and drinks the contents and then winces.
"Hair... of the dog." He says
"Gentlemen." Arturo and his personel secretary walk up from the direction of the main house. "I trust you had a good time at the party last night?"
"I should hope so," I tell him, "These aren't my pants." Nothing. Arturo looks at my pants and then at his secretary. I shake my head, "Just kidding."
"Breakfast is being served on the patio of La Joya de la Montaña. Will you please join us before you leave us this morning?" He looks at the two of us and I can see his nostrils flare a little bit. "I have taken the liberty of providing a change of clothing in the cabanas for the both of you. Breakfast will be served in twenty minutes." With that he turned and they were gone.
"Well, at least he said we were leaving today." I hear Lou say as I look down at my bare feet.
"Where are my shoes?"
"I know you were joking about your pants, but these aren't my pants." Lou turns and shows me the rhinestones on the sides.
"Those were on that black girl you were with last night." I tell him as I spy my shoes near a pile of clothing at the side of the pool.

We come down to the main house, La Joya de la Montaña, and join the small group at the large table on the patio. A couple of the girls I had sex with last night are sitting with Paulo. I feel strangely comforted by this. Seated next to Arturo is Miss Anson, who looks a little older... harder up close, like she might kick your ass if you pissed her off. The rest of the table is filled with what I guess are relatives.
We are served a Lobster and Scallop frittata with a smoked swiss cheese. There is a lot of fresh fruit that seemed quite appealing after the abuse we put ourselves through last night.
Coffee is poured and conversation errupts in small pockets around the table. Lou and I sit back and listen. Not the same crowd we sat with for lunch just two days ago. It is like a Sunday morning brunch with the relatives, but in Spanish. Lou sits and smiles when they smile, laughs a little here and there. It pisses me off. I am going to learn this language if it is the last thing I do. I hear the word "hero" and then all eyes are on Lou. He turns his attention to me and asks something about Abby and damage and the run yesterday. I have the feeling that the whole Antonelli episode is a little embarrasing to him. He doesn't like the attention. After talking to him on our long flight from Ferdi's outside Mexico City I learned a lot about what he had been through. He had performed that lifesaving act many times before... but the results were different.
"Mr. Allen," Paulo starts, "you certainly have a way with an airplane. How long have you been flying?"
"Oh, most of my adult life I guess?" (yeah, in a passenger seat)
"Miss Anson tells me that you do the work on your airplane as well."
"I kind of wonder how she knows that, but yes I do the work on Abby."
Anson smiles, "Abby... is that short for Abigail?"
"Yes it is." She has an accent that I just can't place.
"I know this plane. Is it not owned by Jerry?"
Uh oh.
"I fly with Jerry, yes, but he was injured on our last leg and I had to take over." I hope this girl doesn't blow our shitty cover story.
"You know Jerry?" Lou asks after sipping his coffee.
"I flew with his brother Mike." She talks to Lou, but is looking right at me. "Up until he was killed by Javier's men up near the border."
"I worked for Mike, but that was before I actually started to fly with the plane. I know what happened to him. That's why we don't fly to far north any more."
Arturo waits patiently for a chance to interrupt. "My brother and I would like to ask one last favor of the two of you and your Abby."
"I hope it doesn't involve the type of cargo we dropped yesterday." I try to sound light hearted, but serious.
"We have received a request from the Antonelli's in the states to have Chris flown to an airstrip near Caracas in Venezuela. There he will be transported to a yacht and transported back to the States for his recovery."
"And how is it we can assist you?" I am hoping that Anson is taking that flight seeing it is totally the wrong direction.
"Unfortunately our Miss Anson has to make a flight down to Argentina with some of our product, and this leaves us with only one choice for the flight with Mr. Antonelli."
Oh shit. You don't refuse guys like this. But then again we are supposed to be old pros in this business according to Lou.
"That is quite a bit out of our way, Mr. Domincan. But for you we can manage it somehow. There might be a little trouble with the fact that we have no registration numbers, or radio, or transponders of any kind. "
Paulo smiles, knowing we would do it or he would find someone else to fly "his" new plane.
"Wonderful. Mr. Antonelli has requested that the two of you fly Chris personally so he can thank you himself." He takes a bite of his breakfast, chews, and swallows. "As for the plane, we have taken the liberty of giving you registration and certification that will not be questioned by anyone. We have also included a hand held radio set. There is no... how you say, transponder? This you will have to deal with some way. But a man with your reputation should not need such things."
I look at Lou. Here we go again. Now we are flying to Venezuela with a mobster's son. Jesus Christ what I wouldn't give to be back at La Corazon with Jerry drinking beer and playing bumper pool.
"And our money?" Lou asks.
"We have added to your money another hundred thousand dollars for your assistance in these matters." He sips his coffee, "I have had my men place the bags back in the compartment aboard your Abigail. It is there for your inspection."
Lou smiles and waves him off. "No need for that, Senior Dominican." It would be a horrendous insult to these men to even suggest that we would need to "count" the money. We seem to be golden with these guys and we want to keep it that way.

Breakfast comes and goes and we head on down to the hanger to check on Abby. Anson follows along. She has to make her run and needs to do her pre-flight.
"When you see Jerry, tell him Abigail says hello." She says over her shoulder as she hops out of the vehicle.
"Cute. Yeah, I'll tell him."
She turns her head as she walks, "Yes, that is me... Abigail. I thought you would have known."
"I thought the plane was named after Mike's wife." Lou says, aware of Abby's history as told to him on our flight from Mexico City.
I watch as she heads into the hanger. "It is."

We watch her do the walk around on her plane, trying to not be obvious as she goes about her inspection. So this is Abigail. The accent is Moroccan if I remember Jerry correctly.
"I always thought she was dead."
Abigail bends over and looks at the main mount brakes on her plane. She has a nice ass. "Doesn't look dead to me," Lou says astutely.
In the back of my mind I wonder if we will ever get back to Jerry and home to tell him we saw her.

She gets loaded and is on her way when they bring Chris out on a modified hospital bed. The men load him into the plane and then use tie-downs to fasten him to the floor. I stop them before they get to far and have them move him forward for balance. They bang him around quite a bit. He is out of it, probably dosed himself into oblivion. But that is good. Let him sleep. When the men have him set up and left Lou goes to the cargo space in the back of the plane.
"They locked it for us. What the hell good are keys anyway." He says as he reaches back.
"I don't have them. They are up in the cockpit in Jerry's bag."
I walk up front and see that they have moved the bag. "This pisses me off... these fuckers touching our stuff." I look inside and am surprised to see that pistol is still there. I pull the clip and make sure there is still ammo in it and then put it back. I find the keys and we make a quick check of the bags. Without laying it out and counting it we really have no idea what is really in there. It looks like there is more than when we started and that will have to be good enough for now.

We do a walk around and check our fuel. It will be a little shy of a thousand miles to Caracas. As we finish up a runner hands us a manila envelope with a flight plan and a cell phone number we are to call when we land. And that is it. We are ready to go.

Landing Antonelli

The Jungle on fire after our drops.





The explosions are horrific. I can barely hold the controls as each blast rocked Abby to her core.
"Jesus Christ... HOLD ON." Whoever this Bolivian ordinance expert is that made these fucking things didn't give too much thought to what would happen when they went off under an aircraft.
"HEY," Lou grabs my shoulder for good measure, "BIG CHRIS..." Another explosion jars the both of us, "BIG CHRIS FELL OUT."
I don't see the other plane in front of us. I fly through another of his blasts before I am able to take evasive action. An expanding mushroom cloud of fire superheats the cockpit and I am sure the cargo bay as well. I am pulling back with all my might, the throttles are full on and we are gaining altitude. I am trapped in the trough valley and until I climb out I can't get out of the way of these explosions.
"WHERE'S THE BOY?" I ask Lou. He turns and looks over his shoulder, and then with a start he is out of his seat and making his way back to the cargo door.
I take a quick look over my shoulder and see the boy and Lou trying to see out of the cargo door. Lou turns on his heel and runs back to the cockpit. We have cleared the canyon and I level off. The noise from Abby's twin radials tones down as I set her into cruise for the flight back. The controls are a bit jumpy and I can feel a bumping.
"Hey... " He starts.
"I think we might have some flight control damage from those blasts. She is handling like I am running the rapids."
"That's Antonelli. He didn't fall out. Well he DID fall out, but he has the safety on. He is getting the shit beat out of him."
I tip Abby on her wing and start a slow turn with Antonelli on the inside. "There is a hand winch in the equipment box. Hook it up to the "D" ring in the ceiling near the bay door. You're going to have to hook the other end to the safety line and then disconnect it somehow from the door frame."
Lou turns and is already in the equipment box freeing up the hand winch. The bumping stops with my turn which means he is now just swinging in midair out there. I look down out of my side window and can see the aftermath of the explosions. Most of the forest in the canyon is levelled. There are many fires that are being fueled by an underground cache of chemicals used to process the cocaine. I see bodies scattered like the downed trees. I glad I am up here rather than down there to see what they really look like.
Lou is working feverishly to get Antonelli back in the plane. He has the winch hooked up to the safety strap and is tightening it.
"THERE'S A BOLT CUTTER IN THE BOX," I yell to him. He runs back and grabs the cutters and then is at the door frame.
Lou reaches back and jacks the winch handle to make sure that there is max tension. He pulls the kid back from the door just in case the cable breaks. With the tension of Antonelli's body and the drag it could cut someone in half if it broke. He cuts the tie down bracket that the safety line is attached to and the whole thing breaks loose. There is a snap and now the strap holding Antonelli is connected directly to the winch. Lou starts cranking.

As Chris makes his way closer to the door, I see flashes on the ground. "Their shooting at us." I watch the ground errupt with rifle fire and feel some impacts in the fuselage.
"HEY... THEIR SHOOTING AT US."
Lou jacks that handle for all it's worth. I watch as Antonelli's lifeless body comes into view and eventually is half way in the door. That is good enough for me. I straighten out and try to climb out of range of the rifles.

The other plane is gone. I don't know if it made it back to base or was consumed and was now part of the flaming jungle we left behind. At first I am a little disoriented with the continual turn I was making. I fly off in the wrong direction and have to double back to get back to the Dominican Brother's strip.
In the back of the plane Lou is working over Antonelli. There is a lot of blood. The wind has stripped him of most of his clothes. What was left has been reassembled by Lou to keep the man's dignity intact.
"HE'S NOT BREATHING," Lou shouts.
"YOU BETTER DO SOMETHING. WE ARE AT LEAST TEN MINUTES AWAY FROM THE AIRFIELD."
Lou is the kind of guy you want in an emergency of this nature. He doesn't think... he acts. He takes his own shirt off to use to wipe the blood away from Chris' face and chest. He has the boy pump on Antonelli's chest... six times, and then Lou pinches the nose and breathes a long breath into Chris' lungs. Six times... breath, six times... breath. It goes on until I am on approach to land at the Dominican brothers airstrip.
It seems like second nature right now, setting up to land Abby on this strip. I don't worry, taking my cue from Lou I don't think, I just act. Before I know it I am backing off the throttles and braking as we slow down toward the end of the airstrip. I unlock the tail wheel and spin her around, punching up the throttles to speed back to the hanger.
"HE'S BREATHING" Lou shouts. He feels for a pulse on the artery under the jaw, and then reaffirms it with the wrist. "Have a pulse." He says... more to himself than anyone else.
We scoot into the hanger and I spin her around and shut down. I look down at my hands. They are shaking like I have Parkinsons or something. Holy shit. I am glad we don't have to do that again.

It is about five minutes later when they actually have Chris Antonelli out of the plane and onto the back of a truck for transport. I don't know where they are taking him, but I hope it is a hospital. As the truck moves out of sight, Arturo pulls up in the Escalade and motions us to join him. We hop in and we follow the truck straight up to the house on the hill.
"Don't you have a hospital or something?" Lou asks, never taking his eyes off the truck.
"We have a small medical staff right here on the property. I assure you whatever is wrong with Mr. Antonelli we will be able to tend to his needs here."

We all ride in silence behind the truck. There are two men riding in the back with Chris, and the boy... who is holding his wrist in an attempt to find the man's pulse. He has seen Lou do it and thought it was just a matter of grabbing him. We see Antonelli move his head just a little, and Lou breathes a little easier.
"I think he'll be fine."
"You did good back there."
Lou starts to say something, but then stops. He regains his composure. "First one I have been able to save in a long time."

It is well after dark before we find out that Chris Antonelli got the shit kicked out of him. He had several facial fractures, a concussion, two broken ribs and a broken leg. But he was alive, thanks in large part to Lou who brought him back from the dead.

We had intended to make the drop, grab our money, and go. But as things turn out that doesn't happen. While waiting for news on Chris we find out that he isn't just a wrench working for these guys. He is from a large "family" that works with the Dominican Brother's organization. Chris' Uncle was called immediately upon our arrival and news of his progress was relayed every fifteen minutes or so. Appearantly there are some very grateful people in the Pittsburgh and Rochester New York area that consider Lou their hero at the moment. And what makes them happy makes the Dominican Brother's happy. So... they throw us a hell of a party.

As far as I can tell they must have trucked half of these women into the compound, or flown them in. There are at least ten of these beauties to every man. All of them dressed for a day on the beach in Rio. I am just hoping that our hosts have made sure that they are all disease free because I'm not asking. I'm pretty sure that firing squads would be involved if one of these guys caught so much as a cold from one of these girls. So I'm pretty sure I'm safe.
I lose track of Lou. The last time I see him is when we are smoking some of the local shit. It is a nice way to leave the tension behind. He is really happy he could help old Chris, who I am told is now conscious and wishing he were at the party. I am assured by Arturo that he has control of his own morphine and is having a little party of his own.

Paulo finds me in the corner of the pool, "You sir, you have done a fine job today." He claps me on the shoulder. "Our competitors are no more, and Mr. Antonelli is back safe and sound."
I'm a little taken back. This is the same guy who shot two people right in front of me and set Jack on fire. But it seems that they might have been a little cavalier with ole' Antonelli's services and were now glad that he was back safe and sound. This guy may think he is one crazy fucker, but he's not crazy enough to think that a game of one-upmanship with the East Coast Mob would be a good thing.
"Well, uh... we just got lucky." I try to occupy myself with my tumbler of whiskey.
"Not lucky, senior, you and Miss Anson make a good team."
"Miss Anson?"
"Yes," he looks across the room and then gestures to a short brunette standing near the ice sculpture on the food table. "She is our pilot to replace Guenther."
She turns when he speaks her name, but with the music and the noise of the party it is sheer coincidence. She's really cute and the whole pilot thing is a tremendous turn on. I wanted to kick that pilot's ass when we got back on the ground for nearly blowing us out of the sky by dropping too low. But it wasn't all her fault, and I could never be mad at a face like that.

The music plays on. The pool is alive with naked bodies. We are honored guests with drug lords in our debt. Life is good.

The Drop

Lou's picture from the cockpit. The lead plane dropping the last of it's charges. He is flying way to low.


As soon as Antonelli tells us about the explosives, we make our way back up to the house to find Arturo. We both agree that discussing anything with Paulo would probably get us skinned.
I am worried about the safety of the whole situation, worried about Abby being blown out of the sky before any drop occurs, before take-off, hell... before she gets out of the hanger. I want to know more before we go anywhere. But I realize that if I refuse we will be executed by that fucking lunatic Paulo. They think we are professionals, at least that is what Lou told them. So from a professional standpoint I don't want my plane blown into small pieces.

We find Arturo in the library, or whatever the hell it is. He is on the phone and waves us in while he continues his phone call in his native language. I look at Lou, who needs no coaching or prompting. I get the impression that he may have done this type of work before
Arturo finishes his business call and hangs up the phone. "Gentlemen... I take it you have been to the hanger and now you have questions."
"Senior Dominican, I don't mind assisting you in any way I can. But I don't think it is right for you to expect us to risk our employers aircraft in doing so."
"Jake Allen, I assure you there is no risk. "
"High explosives are always a risk."
"Who told you that there were explosives on your plane?" From the way he poses the question I have a feeling that he already knows the answer.
"We... we figured it out for ourselves when we examined the cargo."
Arturo gives me a serious look, and then a slight nod. "These devices have been assembled by a former member of the Bolivian Armed Forces, a specialist in the art of explosives and ordinance. There is no risk involved."
"High explosives are very unstable," Lou starts, "You can't tell us that the cargo isn't dangerous."
"The cargo will not be armed until it is free of the plane, much like bombs that are dropped from war planes. The chutes will slow the drop and allow you to climb out of harms way."
Lou gives him a little nod, "Timed fuses?"
"Yes, it is not armed until the chute opens, and then it is timed to go off once it is on the ground." Arturo's tone signals that he is getting impatient. Paulo hears it from the other room and comes in to join the conversation.
"Is there a problem." He says with a polite but firm manner.
"I am just worried about the plane, that's all."
"Don't worry about the plane. Just worry about following the lead plane and dropping when he drops. There will not be any problem. It will all go according to plan." Paulo talks as he walks to the bar. He pours tequila from a hand-blown bottle and returns to the table where Arturo sits.
"Your employers, they have competitors, no?" He says, sipping on the tequila.
"Well... of course, yes."
"We too have competitors. We have tried to reason with them, to partner with them. But they do not wish to do the right thing for our mutual businesses. They only wish to remove us as competitors. Before your arrival here we found out that one of the men aboard the pilot Guenther's aircraft might have been acting for this competitor and caused the crash of the plane and the partial loss of cargo."
He shoots the rest of the tequila and then continues. "This is, how you say... the last straw."
Paulo stands and paces over to the large picture window that looks out over the valley below, "We know that they receive raw product from the growing area by air drop about ten miles from here. Then they refine it in a mountain laboratory and it is then shipped out to the dealers in Mexico and from there to the United States."
"So you are going to drop explosives disguised as their usual supply drop?" Lou asks.
"This is correct. They are accustom to immediately retrieving these packages. The charges are such that the personel will cease to exist, along with the laboratory."
"Jesus... " Lou grunts.
"Will we have time to get out of there before they blow?" I ask.
"You follow the lead plane and drop when he drops and there will be no danger."
"And then we come back and get the money for our employers?"
"Yes, we will have this ready for you."

It is several hours before we are to take off on this bombing run. I look over the work that was done by Antonelli and his crew. We look for the pilot of this other plane, but never find him. We end up in Abby's cockpit going over our preflight checklist when we hear the other aircraft engines fire.
"Where the hell did he come from?" Lou looks out the windscreen at the arms sticking out of the pilot's side window giving the hand sign to pull the wheel chocks.
"I don't know but it looks like he is ready to roll." I look down out of my window and there is Antonelli giving me the thumbs up for start. "Well... I guess we're going."
Abby's engines start without any mishap. She is solid as a rock. That familiar vibration, the smell of her exhaust blowing back into the plane from the mountain breeze, it is a comfort I cannot readily explain. Antonelli waves us off to follow the other aircraft and then climbs into the cargo bay before we get moving to quickly. His helper is already inside, some young kid who is oblivious to what we are carrying. Chris Antonelli, on the other hand, is soaked with sweat and is constantly wiping his face, neck, and head with the same old shop rag. Like a kid trying to keep up with a melting ice cream cone. He knows.

This should be a quick flight. The Dominican Brothers said it was ten miles down the mountain range, and that the lead plane knows exactly where, when, and how high to drop the load. We drop when they drop. I just wish it was care packages we were dropping.

The lead plane takes us to the end of the field, turns, and hits it hard. He is up before we have even made our turn. All of a sudden I am nervous as hell. We turn and have Abby set up for our roll as Lou locks in the tail wheel. The other plane is way ahead of us. "What the FUCK, is this guy trying loose us or what?"
"Gear up?" Lou says to me. I nod.
Behind us we hear Antonelli shouting over the engine noise and wind blast from the open door.
"Tire las seguridades." He tells the kid.
I look back quickly and see the boy start moving up the cargo bay, pulling something from the top of each bundle where the chute cord attaches.
"What is he doing?"
Lou looks back and watches, "He is pulling the safeties from each of the bombs.
There is a collective tensing of muscle in the cockpit, and I am sure from Antonelli, as the boy pulls the rings and long safety wires from each package. The boy holds them up and Antonelli verifies them and then claps him on the back. He looks at Lou, who is to signal him when the lead plane begins the drop.

I have to chase this guy down, and just catch up to him as he turns into a deep canyon and lines up on what seems will be his run. There is a road below us with a little traffic, some big trucks. We can see them wave to us. They are expecting us... or whoever would normally be dropping their product. We shoot down the canyon. I have never dropped cargo like this, but I know this is too fast.
For whatever reason, the lead plane pulls up and we circle around. As we bank it, I can see more trucks and people down in a wide area of the dirt road. He is letting them assemble for maximum damage. We are going to kill these people. I knew that was what we were doing, but it doesn't hit me until I see them down there. I look at Lou, who seems to know what I am thinking.
"It's either them or us, brother."
Like so many choices in life.
Now we slow. I back off of the throttles when I see the other plane do the same. We are only a few hundred yards apart now. I can see Antonelli's counterpart and another man in the doorway as they push the first bundle out the door.
"DO IT." Lou yells back and our cargo is released piece by piece.
Lou snaps a picture of the lead plane as we turn down the valley.
"CARGO IS AWAY" Antonelli yells. I am to pull up and get out of harms way before the first bomb detonates. Too late.
The first of the diesel fuel/fertilizer bombs detonates early, before it even lands in on the road. Abbey shakes violently and then the second charge explodes. I hit the gas and start to climb, but Chris Antonelli, who moments before was standing at the door to watch the action, is no longer in the aircraft.