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."