Friendly Faces

Tapia and Mari's ranch house.








I find myself lost in thought as we find and follow the Mujer Silvestre as we had so many days ago. Seems like it has been months with all that has happened.

People have died. We have kept company with mercenaries, drug lords, mafia king pins. We started our journey from El Corazon with the simple thought of a supply and fuel run and ended up with nearly a million in gold, an Aztec giant, and of course a crazed Viet Nam Sharpshooter. A simple cashing transaction ended up in a foiled robbery and death to those bandits. Our escape from that danger wound up with Jerry being shot and eventually overdosed, Ollie severely wounded, and Lou shooting down the plane that was shadowing us.

It was my trial by fire behind Abby's controls. With Lou at my side, we managed to make it all the way to Cali without killing ourselves, even with that tremendous canyon landing we made. Then there were Dominican Brothers and the executions we witnessed. Our money held hostage as we were forced to bomb their competitors mountain hide-out and lab. Lou showed his stripes when he saved Antonelli's life, and in turn we made a friend with Bear. We welcomed Naomi into the fold and Lou got his wings. And then there was the women, the sex and drugs and rock and roll. Our flight for home and the Panama stop. Red and Dia's hospitality, music by the fire... homemade ice cream. And today, those pirates... and Lou's best shot that probably saved our lives again.

Now, as I fly Abby over the Mujer Silvestre as it connects to La Dora, I feel anxious to share what has happened. I want to finally relax and look into familiar faces. I want to sleep without a gun in my belt and one eye open. I want to get shitfaced and not have to worry about flying somewhere tomorrow. But I do want to fly. I don't think I can go back to the way it was. I have it in my blood now and I don't think I want the cure.

"Hey Jake, is that it up there?" Lou has been silent for the last hour, hanging on my left wing for the whole trip.

I pull back from my thoughts and see what he is seeing. A few miles ahead is Tapia's airstrip. Lou hasn't seen it in the daytime from the air.
"Yep, that's it, Lou. Let's do a fly-by and let them see that we are here."
I bring Abby in low and fly across the airstrip and up toward the ranchhouse. Lou stays on my wing and we buzz the house. I tell Lou to fly ahead of me as we make our bank around the back forty and come in and line up on the airstrip. Out of my left window I can see action around the front of the ranch house, trucks on the move.

I watch as Lou touches down, only once this time and pretty much perfect.
"Nice, Lou... looks like you finally have the hang of it."
"I fly better with a buzz I guess."
I touch down behind him and we motor to the end of the strip.
"Let's spin 'em and shut 'em down," Lou calls out.
"Aye, Captain Blood."
With Abby in the front spot now, I shut her down. Home at last, or damn near. Tapia's is a sanctuary that is just as good as El Corazon. Unless, of course there are a band of La Segunda Vida crashed in your field. I smile as I step down the cargo bay toward the door. Lou opens it from the outside.
"How's your ass?"
"Probably feeling like yours right now." I look up the airstrip and see the trucks coming. "Here they come." I turn to Lou and realize that I have found a new best bud, one who will have my back and I his. I extend a hand.
"I couldn't have done any of this without you, Lou."
He grabs my hand gives it a shake, then pulls me in and gives me a pat on the back.
"Me too, brother. Without you at those controls I think we would be dead right now." He looks at the trucks, closer now. "Depending on how all this works out you and I can always make our runs in Naomi."
The trucks race up. I can see Jerry in the front with Tapia, Jerry's good hand waving excitedly out the window.
"I think the three of us will fly until we are to old to do it, okay?" I pat him on the back. "You're with us now if that's where you want to be."

The trucks stop in a cloud of dust. We walk up and are embraced in a crowd of Tapia's men, crushing hugs and pats on the back. I feel a bit like a returning war hero. The missing bomber that everyone thought had been lost over the channel. The crowd parts and there is Jerry, a wide smile on his face... nodding his head.
"I knew you could do it, man. I just knew that you could." He steps up and grabs me in a quick hug with his good arm as Tapia grabs Lou off his feet and whirls him around.
"Estoy tan contento verle mi amigo!" He releases Lou, who puts his hands on Tapia's broad shoulders.
"I am glad to see you too, Tapia."
Jerry looks up at Abby and nods again, "Looks like you took good care of our girl." He looks back at the tail numbers, "What's the deal with that?"
"It's a long story, one that I will only tell with some of Mari's cooking and a big fat Walker being passed between us."
"A Walker... haven't heard that for a while." Jerry smiles and walks around Abby's wing. "And what do we have here?" He is looking at the little seaplane parked behind Abigail.
Lou steps up, "That's Naomi... she was a gift from a new friend."
Jerry walks back and gives her a quick walk around, "Beautiful... she's beautiful."
I reach up and give her fuselage a quick pat, "And there's more to her than meets the eye."

We are delivered to the main house and are greeted by Mari, who is already in an apron preparing the evening meal. She cries as she comes down the steps and holds the both of us like a grieving mother.
Tapia comes to her side and transfers her hugs to himself to free us. We let Tapia know our desire for a warm shower and maybe a little home brew when we are done.
"You boys clean up and we will light the bonfire. It will be a hell of a party." He looks at me with a tear in his eye, "We thought you boys were dead. We pray for you, for your soul. When we hear Abby we think it is in our heads. Then Mari scream... she scared the shit out of us, that she see you fly over. And now you are here. Dé gracias a Dios."

The water feels good. I stand for several minutes under the stream, letting it wash the week's events away. I try not to think about the people in the plane, or anyone else we had seen or knew of that died. I am still just an aircraft mechanic, not a warrior. I hope I never get so accustom to killing that it wouldn't bother me.
When I emerge from the bathroom, there is no one in the house. I can hear music outside and smell the woodfire. I look in on the room Ollie had occupied when we left, but it is empty. Outside they are all in a festive mood. Tapia has what looks like a leg of lamb and a half a dozen chickens on spits over part of the fire. There is a barrel that usually holds drinking water that now is dispensing some kind of punch or wine from the drinking ladel.

"Hey Jake, mi amigo, have some Sangria. It is my family's traditional recipe." Tapia hands me a plastic cup and fills it from the ladel. There are pieces of orange and lime in a sweet full bodied wine. I drink down the cold beverage and hold out for more.
"This is good, Tapia... hit me again."
I walk with my sangria and look at the sun going down. There is a fantastic crimson blush to the sky over the horizon. Red sky at night... sailor's delight. It will be smooth sailing. It is in the mid '70s with the breeze off of the La Dora. Cooler than usual here, but welcome just the same.
I see Jerry and Lou sitting off to the side of the bonfire. They are laughing about something. Next to them a few of Tapia's ranch hands make music with a couple of guitars and a banjo. I can't believe we made it back.

"JAKE." Jerry waves me over to a folding chair they have saved for me. "Sit down and tell me that Lou is full of shit."
"Lou is full of shit."
"Is what he told me true?"
I look at Lou, "What did you tell him?"
"Just about everything that happened to us."
"Then it's true." I drink down my second glass of sangria. Before I can give any thought to refilling it one of Tapia's boys takes my glass and hands me a fresh one. "Gracias." I call after him.
Jerry takes a hit off of one of Lou's Walkers and then passes it to me. He holds it for a three count and then exhales. I take my own hit.
"Lou says you guys landed in a canyon or gorge or some shit and it was like.. straight up out of that bitch. Is that right? And you made it?"
"You would have been proud." I say, still holding my hit. I let the smoke out in a long stream. It is nice to know we don't have anywhere to go. Then it hits me.
"We saw Abigail... Mike's ex. She says to say hi."
Jerry is speechless for a moment or two, then... "You saw Abigail. I thought she was dead."
"Well, me too, but she isn't. She is flying for the Dominican Brothers now." It occurs to me that we are missing someone. "Where's Ollie?"
Jerry has a long stick now and is pushing and prodding at the coals on this end of the fire. "Ollie had a pretty bad infection going so we had to leave him in a hospital that Tapia knows. He should be good to travel in a week or so."
"No shit... " Lou takes the Walker as it comes around, "That's a tough motherfucker. He should be okay."
"Nester must be shitting himself not knowing what happened to his money and old Ollie."
Jerry nods, "I have tried to radio the store, but no one answers. I think that power supply took a shit." He looks at me, "We need to fly back there and give him his money and tell him what happened. I know he is worried. It wouldn't be like Nester to think we stole his shit... he doesn't think that way about us. But I am sure he is worried."
"Well, we can go tomorrow. Abby is up for it."
Lou let's out his hit and passes it on to one of the ranch hands, "Jerry, would you mind flying right seat in Naomi. I could use some pointers."
"Naomi, huh? Sounds like fun. We don't have that far to fly, less than an hour. I don't know what I can tell you on the way, but I'd be happy to."

Before long, Tapia rings the dinner bell and we all take a little of everything. Mari made up some fantastic salads and a rice dish that is gone after the first pass. We all take our full plates back to the fire and take our seats. There isn't much talking, except to compliment the cooks.

"Man is it good to be here." I tell Jerry. "For a while there I didn't think we would ever see you guys again. Either we were going to die in Abby, or at the hands of all of these crazy fuckers we were dealing with."
Jerry nods, "Yeah, those Dominican Brothers sounded like real nut jobs."
"Not just them, Jerry. We were chased all the way into Costa Rica by this plane. They wanted Naomi, or something inside her."
"But there isn't anything inside her, Jerry. I looked." Lou tells him.
"Well, they wanted something. You might have to pull a few panels to be really sure."

The music starts again. With full bellies and plenty left to drink the party rolls on. Tomorrow we will make our way back home. Tomorrow we will see what Naomi is hiding... what is worth dying for.

Tapia's or Bust

The plane that followed us into Costa Rica. Lou landed first and took three shots, this is one of them.


It is early in the morning, maybe four or five, and there is a plane circling overhead. I can hear it. At first it is high and I think it is passing us by. But then it comes in lower, and then lower still on the last pass.

"Lou... "
He snorts and then continues snoring.
"Hey, Lou, wake up."
"What... what's the matter?
"There has been a plane making passes for the last ten minutes or so." I swing out of my hammock and walk to the cargo door and open it. A moment later both Lou and I are on the ground looking up into the night sky. It is getting light on the horizon, but not enough to make out anything but wing lights. My hand goes to the pistol in my belt and rests there.
"What do you think?" Lou squints at the lights as they make a wide turn miles down range and head back up west of the airfield.

It takes a few minutes, and the wing tip lights almost fade into the starscape when we both see it turn and head straight back toward us. It gets lower and lower until it makes a pass at high speed at maybe five hundred feet.
"Well, if he wasn't sure about us he is now."
"No shit... what the hell was that? Feds?"
"I don't know and I don't want to find out. Lets roll the hell out of here."
Lou heads for Naomi as I pull the chocks on Abby. "Hey, follow me out and leave all of your lights out except for your control panel." I toss the chocks in the door and climb in. Lou has Naomi's side door open and he turns.
"Where are we going?"
"We need to head out over the Pacific and out of Panamanian airspace. As soon as we're up we throw the coals to it. Stay low, follow my lead."

As we fire up the girls, the plane makes another long turn and then comes back lower than before. It keeps going. Now's our chance. I get my headset on and hope that Lou turned on his radio.
"Lou?"
"Yeah?"
"You set up right? Everything look good to go?"
"I'm good to go."
"Why don't you get up first and then I will take you and you follow me, Good?"
"Roger."

I am right behind Lou and Naomi as he powers onto the runway and takes off. I give him a ten count and I hit the gas and roll out. I am so pre-occupied with the plane that overflew us moments ago that I forget to lock my tail wheel. Abby gets squirrely on me for a second or two until I get her wheel locked, then about ten seconds later I am up and don't give a shit about it after that.
"Lou, you okay?"
"It's all good. Flaps are up, gear are up, boost pumps off... " He gives me a little more of this before trailing off.
"Do you see our friend?"
Silence, then "No... you?"
"When I was rolling he was still headed south and hadn't made his turn. Even if he did when I started my take off he wouldn't be able to see us go without nav lights."
"So where to?"
"Just stay on my left wing. We are going to head southwest for about twenty miles, and then north. That should get us out of Panamanian airspace."
"How far does their airspace run?"
"I'm not really sure. It is usually twelve miles I think... at least that is their jurisdiction on the water. We have to clear the bay before we worry about the twelve mile mark."
Two idiots. We better have luck on our side. And it seems we do. We fly low, about five hundred feet and head out over the bay toward open ocean.
"Why didn't we just go for the Caribbean? We were close enough to smell it at that airfield." Lou tells me as I make a course correction and leave him temporarily. Moments later he is on my wing again.
"If we were to head out into the Caribbean from Panama, or Colombia, or Venezuela we would be under the scrutiny of the DEA and everyone they have enlisted to help them. This way we are heading away from trouble."

I tell Lou to stay on frequency and I'll be back in a minute. I do a quick check of the bandwith and find a conversation that doesn't seem to be tower communications or normal radio traffic. I make note of the frequency and then ask Lou to investigate while I wait for him. He comes back and I can hear the excitement in his voice.

"That has to be them, man. They made reference to the fact that the aircraft have left the field, or something like that, and they aren't sure which way they went."
I look at my altitude. In all of this I am over a thousand feet. "We have to get down below radar. Shit, I know not to go this high."

We drop down a few hundred feet off the water and head northwest. "What the hell do they want? Get back on that frequency and see what else you can find out."

It is about ten minutes an I still don't hear from Lou. I get him right on my side and use the Maglite to signal him from the cockpit. It is dawn now, and the night sky won't hide us any more. I keep flash the light on and off and he finally gets back on the radio with me.
"There is more than one of them. They aren't Panamanian Feds. I think they are drug runners, or pirates or something. They are looking for us all right. They followed us out of Caracas, but had to make an emergency landing and lost us. I think they just followed the course we were on and hoped to spot us along that track."

I flashed on the men that were watching us at that nightclub. "What the hell. Why would they want us?"
"Not us. I think they want the plane, or something inside it."
"Naomi?" We didn't feel the need to do too much looking when Bear offered her to us. I just assumed that anything of value would have been removed before she was given away. "Lou, there must be something in the plane that Bear missed. Something they want."
"So what do you want to do, land and let them take her? I get the feeling that they don't plan to leave anyone talking once they get whatever it is they want."
"Well, we don't have to worry about that if they don't find us."

Famous last words. Time passes as Lou and I make our way up the coast outside the territorial limit, then come in and follow the beach over Costa Rica. It doesn't seem like they know where we are. But then I spot them.
"Lou, look at your two o'clock."
"Shit on a stick, is that the plane?"
It is only one plane, high wing twin turbprop. Faster and more manueverable than us, out about two miles and high.
"You better get back on the radio and listen."

There doesn't seem to be another plane, at least not nearby. This one is flying solo. Maybe the other plane is looking elsewhere. Several plans run through my mind.
"Jake... "
"What do you have?"
"That's them. The other plane is hell and gone from here. Probably looking in another direction, you know... covering more ground."
As Lou talks, I can see the plane closing the distance between us until it is close enough to see the man in the door with the automatic rifle.
"Oh for Christ sake, will this shit ever end?" I am between Naomi and the chase plane. The man with the rifle aims. I back off the throttles and his shot crosses in front of me. "Motherfucker... " I key my microphone, "LOU, get on the radio and find out what these guys want. They're shooting at me."
"I'm on it."
There is radio silence for me as Lou gets on the line with them and tells them to cease fire. It takes a few heartbeats, but the man in the door backs off and pulls the barrel back inside the plane.
"They want us to land, Jake."
"Where, in the fucking jungle?"
"They say there is an airstrip outside of Golfito. They want us to follow them."
I weigh our options... which takes all of a second or two. "Well, I guess we follow."
"Jake, I can knock them out of the sky."
"With what, Lou, an empty tequila bottle?"
"No, with the rifle I bought from Dia."
"You bought a rifle from Dia?"
"Yeah, a nice Remington 308."
We change course with the chase plane and now head toward the airfield somewhere ahead of us.
"When did you have time to buy a rifle from Dia?"
"You guys were gone a long time. She took me back to the house to get beer. I gave her three hundred for it."
"Jesus, Lou, when were you going to tell me about that?"
"Never got a chance to, I guess. So what? What should we do?"

Lou speaks with the chase plane once again and they tell him that they will follow us in. We line up with Lou in front, then me, and I assume the chase plane is behind me. I give Lou lots of room and he touches down a quarter mile ahead of me, brakes hard and ends up in the grass along side the runway. As I approach, I see Lou with my camera taking pictures. What in the fuck is he doing taking pictures. I come in hot, gear up and ready myself for a high speed fly by. The next thing I see is Lou with the rifle, waving me off to my left. I pull up and to the left and nearly scrape my port wingtip on the ground. What happens next I only know from the aftermath.

I make a hard left and circle back just in time to see the fireball as the number two engine blows and takes the wing with it. The plane must have seen my evasive action and done so itself. However it worked, Lou managed to pop a couple of rounds through the number two engine, causing a catastrophic failure that took the wing with it. Before it impacted the ground, Lou was back in the cockpit and readying himself for take off.

I fly over the fireball and watch as Lou gets back on the runway have way down and powers up. He lifts off as I fly by overhead. It all happened so fast.
"Lou... Lou?" I key the microphone a few times. "Lou, you on this thing?"
"WOW, I didn't expect that one." He pulls up beside Abby and levels out. "I was trying for the engine, you know? Force them to land and we head out. But that wing coming off, that was a bonus."
"Well, we better high tale it out of here. There may have been someone in those hangers."

It is a little after nine o'clock in the morning and we have already killed how ever many people were on board that plane. I can't imagine anyone living through that one. But then again, I don't think for a second that these guys were just going to let us fly off on our way. They would have shot us in that field down there and left us for the birds.
"Lou?"
"Yeah."
"What were you doing just before you grabbed your rifle?"
"When you came on in with both engines blairing, gear up, so fucking low that the grubs were ducking... it looked shit hot, man. I had to get a picture."
"You're crazy, you know that?"

We head northwest, following the shoreline. I think we have about seven hundred miles to fly to get to Tapia's. I think it is over. All of this crazyness is behind us. It isn't long before I hear singing in the radio, and a little wing movement from Naomi. Lou was into the Walkers, or the tequila, or whatever else he might have smuggled into his cockpit. He might have just saved our lives back there. Those pirates were after something. When we get to Tapia's we will do a search of our own and find out.

Panama Red

Panama Red's Catering truck








You would think it was a stunt of some kind for the amusement of an airshow audience. An announcer blairing overhead bringing your attention to the incoming seaplane with "Lou the Air Rodeo Clown" at the controls. "There he comes now kids... Oooo he hits hard and it's one bounce, two... three. It looks like he is going to take off and come around again. NO... he is down for a forth time and he has managed to touch the ground with both wing floats, that's known as an Air Rodeo Wave kids. Amazing isn't he?"

No, not amazing.

A few things cross my mind, like sheetmetal repairs to both floats, blown cylinder seals, blown tires, blown mind on my friend Lou. As he taxis up toward me Naomi seems to be moving okay, not crabbing which would indicate a gear or wheel problem. From my perspective I can't see much as he approaches.
"Sorry about that." Lou says over the radio, "I came in faster than I wanted to... kind of scary."
"No shit. You scraped both wing floats. I didn't know you could fly like that."

Nothing.

"Alrighty then... follow me."

I have only been on this airfield once before, and that was more than a year ago. At that time there was a man they called Red that had been working on an old N3N biplane in one of the hangers. Jerry negotiated with him for some of the fuel he had on hand in an old fuel truck. As I taxi toward the hanger, I see no fuel truck, no Bi-plane, and no Red.

I pull up to the open hanger and spin around so I am lined up for the taxi way. Lou does the same dance up ahead of me and we both shut down. Long flight. I am hungry and want, off all things, a clean shitter to do my business in.

"Well, I didn't have to worry about a fire if I would have crashed her."
"Out of fuel?"
"I was out of fuel about ten minutes ago. The only gas I had left was from Polar Negro and salsa."
"Well... " We step into the old hanger and there is no sign of Red, or anyone else. I looks like it has been abandon for some time. Through the hanger and out back our hopes are dashed. No fuel truck out here either.
"Now what?"
I turn and walk back into the hanger and over to an old wooden desk . A film of dust and cobwebs covers the top. I pull a handful of paper from the dust and look through it.
"See if we can find a phone number or something for Red. He is a friend. He can help us."
Lou picks up the WWII era telephone on the corner of the desk, "Lines dead."
"We have Bear's satellite phone, remember?"

The desktop gives up no secrets. Lou starts going through the drawers. I go over to an old cork bulletin board hanging at an angle on the front of an open door. I give a look inside. A greasy, foul smelling camode sits in the dark, the window above it closed and painted black. I close the door on that nightmare and look at the half a dozen cards pinned under a torn page from a phone book, and a few receipts under a thumbtack. I take the receipts and leaf through them.

"Nothing in the desk, Jake." Lou walks over to the bulletin board and plucks the phone book page from under the tack. He looks beyond that to the cards. "These are all the same. What's an IA?"
"Could be a lot of things. But here I would think it stands for Inspection Authority."
"Manny "Red" Arroyo, IA,A&P,Flying Lessons... this is the guy I bet." Lou hands me a card.
"I doubt there was more than one Red working out of this place."

The satellite phone is a trip. Like a super cellphone with unlimited range. I punch in the number but it refuses to dial. "Shit, I need the country code." I start to dig through the little case it comes in."
"Five zero Seven." Lou tells me.
"How did you know that?"
"You think your the only one that has been to, or called to Panama?"

I punch in the country code and number. After a few moments it starts to ring. I hand the phone to Lou.
"What?"
"Talk to whoever answers. We want Red. When he gets on the line, tell him your a friend of Jerry's... the Jerry that has Abigail."

Lou goes through at least three people before he says Reds name. Then it is all Spanish. It is short and sweet. Lou cancels the call and then hands the phone back to me.
"What? Is he coming?"
"Well, he's retired."
"What does that mean?"
"I don't know. Something about trading his plane for a Catering truck."
"So now what?"
"I'm not sure. It sounded like he was coming down here."

We wait by the offices for a short time. There are four other hangers in the general vicinity, all of them as trashed and empty as this one. While we are looking through the last of them, we hear the airhorns.

"That's a catering truck all right." Lou heads for the hanger door and I follow.
A panel van with "Red's" and what I assume are enticing menu items are painted on the sides of the vehicle. Like something you would see on a San Diego side street. It pulls to a stop in front of the planes.

"Ola! You call me? Hello... Jerry?" The driver steps out of the panel van.
"Hey, Panama Red!" I give him a wave and he looks at me with a squint as Lou and I walk up.
It looks as though he doesn't remember me.
"It's me, Jake... I was here with Jerry when he bought the fuel from you? We stayed at your house." It turn to Lou, "His wife is one hell of a good cook."

Red smiles and shows the gap in his side grill, "I remember you. You play the piano at my house. You not so good."
I nod. He remembers.
"How's your wife... "
"Dia, she is fine." He turns to the van, "DIA... Recuerda usted Jake? ¿El amigo de Jerry del año pasado?"
She steps out of the van as well and smiles and nods.
"Hey Red, we need to get some fuel. Can you help us?"

We decide that Lou will stay with the aircraft and I will ride with Red and his wife to wherever it is he is taking me. He speaks enough english for us to communicate. He knows we need fuel and lots of it. We drive back up the runway and out another gate that is hanging off it's hinges. After a five minute ride, we turn on to a fairly busy street.

"The truck I use when I have my plane is still for sale."
"Hey, Red, I don't want to buy a truck... just want to fuel up."
"This I understand. I will tell this man that sells the truck that you want to test this truck before you use it. You see? Then we go to fuel farm and buy AVGas."

We pull on to a lot with every sort of commercial vehicle, all very well used. There are cranes, paving machines, graders, dozers, and in the back the old fuel truck. Red points a calloused finger, "There she is... very old truck, very dangerous."
"Why is it dangerous?"
"La conducción es floja." Red looks at me, "The steering is loose."

Before I get both feet on the ground the salesman is on the hunt, approaching us through the maze of equipment. "Senior... Senior!"
He yells at us from a hundred yards away. Red lets him get up to us before he tells him what we want. I see the salesman shake his head and then Red looks at me and turns for the catering truck. I turn and follow.
"Espera... Permitiré que él maneje el camión."
Red stops and we both turn around. "He says you can drive the truck."
"Drive it or use it? We'll be gone for a while. I don't need him reporting it stolen."
"Do not worry, my friend, I am the one that brought him the truck. It has no papers... he cannot report it stolen for it is stolen already."

That makes sense.

Red tells me that he tells the guy that we need to see if the pump still works, that we are going to get a little fuel and should be back in an hour. He also told him that if I liked it I would pay him five hundred dollars American. I have five grand with me for fuel and whatever else we run into. But I have a feeling if I pay for the truck and leave it at the airstrip for future use, it won't be there when we return someday. Not like our strip in Barra de la Cruz.
Red tells Dia to take the catering truck back to the plane and wait for us there. I ask Red to tell her that if she makes dinner for us we will make it worth her while. She nods and is off to the airstrip.

I get in the passenger seat and Red climbs in and fires it up. The way he handles it you would have thought it was his daily driver. It has a split rear end with an airshift on the stick. He does his magic and we are headed down the road passed the airfield. He is constantly steering, cranking the wheel about one revolution in one direction and then back the other way... just to keep it heading straight down the road.
"Jesus, this thing gonna make it?"
"Just the steering. Besides we are only going to the aeropuerto local just down the road."

Fifteen minutes later we are watching a boy pump AVgas into the truck from a huge tank. Abby still has fuel on board, probably need a thousand gallons to top her off her main tank and the aux wing tanks. Naomi is bone dry, probably needs four to five hundred gallons with her aux tanks. I get fifteen hundred gallons just to make sure we have enough. Red assures me he has use for the remaining fuel if we don't use it all. It takes thirty minutes to transfer the fuel and then we settle accounts. I make a friend with the guy behind the counterand slip him a Benjamin just so he remembers me next time I am in the area.

When we finally arrive back at the airfield, I am ready to get the hell out of this death trap of a fuel truck. It was bad enough driving with it empty and worrying about it careening off the road. Load it with ten thousand pounds of fuel and it is a like strapping a keg of nitro on a blindfolded bull and riding it down the road. Even Red said a little prayer of thanks when he parked it behind Abby's wing.

Lou is in a lawn chair drinking tequila and eating fajitas off of a paper plate. Dia is in the catering van turning the air sweet with smell of onions and peppers and grilling beef. She is singing with music that is turned down to low to hear, but she sounds great.
"Oh hell no. You comfortable, Lou?"
"Yeah... comfortable." He talks through a mouthful of food and then washes it down with a beer that he pulls out from beneath the plate in his lap.
"Beer?"
"Dia has a whole cooler full of it."
"Jake, viene y obtiene su cena." Dia calls from the truck.
Lou chugs his beer and crushes the can, "Yours is ready."

Dia can cook. I would weigh five hundred pounds if I were to marry a woman like her. It is good that I live with Jerry and we just visit food like this. I eat and drink beer until I am so full that I won't need to eat for the rest of the week. Then I have one more just for good measure.
Me and Lou decide the fueling operation will wait until morning. Panama Red and Dia leave us temporarily, but return fifteen minutes later with wood for a fire, a guitar, and one of those ice cream churns that you have to hand crank.
"You, Jake... you crank the handle." He sets the churn down in front of me and I start a slow turn on the handle. After a fire is made, Red puts the guitar in his lap and tunes it for a moment or two, then strums it and starts singing in Spanish. Lou sparks ups a Walker and we pass it around. It is a beautiful night.

Between songs I can hear a cellphone ringing. It isn't mine. That was left at Tapias with our M16 and Lou's rifle. The music starts again and both Dia and Red sing a little harmony. I know I am stoned but it is very nice. I get the feeling that they sing together often, something totally lost on Americans. When they finish, I hear it again. This time Lou looks at me, passes what's left of the Walker to Dia, and gets up out of his chair. He walks to over to Naomi and reaches in the pilot's window. It is the satellite phone.

Lou answers it and carrys on a lengthy discussion, a debate of sorts that lasts for a few minutes. I start to realize that whomever is calling, it isn't just a wrong number. I get Lou's attention and run my finger across my throat in the "cut" sign. He just looks back at me as he converses in the local tongue.
"Hang up the fucking phone, Lou."
He stops talking and looks at me, shrugging his shoulders.
"Do it."
The call is terminated and he looks at the read out. "Doesn't show any number."
"What did they say?"
"They wanted to talk to someone named Markham. I tried to tell them there wasn't anyone by that name, but they took some convincing."
"Is that the name on Naomi's papers?"
"No... "
"Turn that thing off. They can pinpoint your signal with these phones. We don't need any trouble, especially when it isn't of our own making."

We drink and smoke and sing, and eventually eat this vanilla icecream I have been cranking since god knows when. It is delicious. We part ways with Red and Dia, they have to head home to their family. Lou gives them five hundred bucks for their troubles and they are very gracious. I think we left him a quite a bit of fuel in the truck to use... or sell.

It is not as hot here. There is a constant breeze that moves through Abby as we get settled in the hammocks. I can't shake that phone call. The chances of you dialing a satellite phone number by accident is a million to one. They aren't the same as cell phones or land lines. Someone deliberately kept Lou on the line to triangulate the call. I remember the men in Caracas, the men that seemed like they were watching us. I slip out of the hammock and reach into Jerry's bag and bring out the pistol and check the load. Once I am in the hammock, I tuck it in my belt and try to sleep.

Next Stop Panama

The picture of I took of Lou on the dance floor the night before. He is the one with his hands up down in front on the right with the girls.




We find Abby where we left her. Everyone is gone... no guard, no one. Apparently Bear had moved on and took his men with him. But this is okay because our cargo behind the semi-secret hatch is still there. I take a little inventory while Lou checks on Naomi. She fit nicely in the hanger behind us. Lou had the men that were here last night gas her up. Both Abby and the new girl are ready to fly.

Speaking of girls, they stayed all night with us after we left the clubs around two in the morning. Lou tried to find a way to give them a little something without making them out to be whores or something. They knew that wasn't what he meant, but told him that they were with us because we needed to have a good time. I'm sure that was how Bear put it to them. They wouldn't think of taking money for our night out. It would put them in the wrong social class... and these girls were all about class.

We work together, inspecting both aircraft with tired eyes. Didn't get much in the way of sleep last night, but what we did get was quality. I am hoping for a little miracle from the little bag of tricks I got from the waitress last night. While I am thinking about it I split up the capsules from the bag and give half to Lou. He pockets them and we move on.

After topping off Abby's oil tanks we turn to Naomi and start on her. She is small and accessible.
We make quick work of our inspection and then check her reserviors. The only issue with Naomi will be her range. I estimate her to have half the range of Abby, about a thousand miles. Planning around that for the first few legs will give us some margin for error.

"There is an old Army airstrip just outside Panama City I have landed at before. It's on Jerry's charts. I think you can make it there without much chance of using up all your fuel."
Lou grabs his chin with his left thumb and forefinger and nods. "We can fly the beach most of the way just in case there's trouble with her."
"Now you're thinking. We run the chance of Federales working with American DEA, but it is a slim chance as long as run the coast and aren't crossing over it to open sea. We can keep low until we get out of the populated areas."
"What about the radio?"
"Well, let's give it a shot." I turn on the radio and select a frequency in the upper bandwith and slip on the headset. "Radio check... " I repeat my request several times.
"Is it broken? No one coming back?" Lou looks worried.
"No, that's good. I would rather it just be you and me on this thing."
I strip off the headset and hand it to him, then head over to Abby and climb in. I select the same frequency and key the microphone. "Radio check?"
Lou gives me a thumbs up. I key up again, "We'll use this setting until it gets busy."

After a lengthy going over in Naomi's cockpit, making sure Lou feels comfortable, I offer to go on a few more touch and goes with him.
"I think I can do it. I never mentioned this to you, but I have flown small planes before. When I was a kid the neighbor had a crop duster and I went up with him plenty of times. Learned to fly when I was fifteen."
"So... what happened yesterday?"
"I'm a hell of a lot older now and I stopped flying when I was sixteen. Plane crash... not my fault though."
"So, no more lessons."
"That's about the size of it."
"Hey, it's your funeral."

We get into Abby's cockpit and find the charts for this region. I find the two charts we need and line out our course, tracing it out with Lou looking on.
"We'll fly northwest to the Gulf of Venezuela and around as much of the mountain range as possible, over to Santa Maria then on thru Cartagena. From there it is a straight shot over the water to Panama."
Lou looks at the chart and the distance. "That looks like about a thousand miles. Not much room for error."
"It's a little shy of a grand. It should be a walk in the park. By the time we get over Cartagena we should know how much range we have left. I don't know anything about the place, but if it looks bad, we will have to find an airport and fuel up."

We push open the hanger doors and Lou gets in the cockpit. Naomi has markings, and I ask Lou to look in the side pockets for paperwork on the aircraft. He finds a leather binder with title and registration, the title signed off by the previous owner with no recipient filled in.
"She is legal." Lou calls out, holding up the paperwork. He folds it back into the binder and stows it. Then he waves me over.
"Hey, just in case something happens, I had a hell of a time."
"Me too, Lou. Let's talk about it in Panama."
He shakes my hand, "Let's do this."

I set up the cockpit and get her ready to fire. I look over at Lou, who has already started Naomi and idled her out of the hanger. He will take off first and I will follow. I start Abby's number two and blow the smoke out of her. Once she is up to idle, I fire number one and get them evened up. Time to roll.

Little Naomi taxis out ahead of me and then I hear Lou on the radio.
"Well, I guess this is it. I am just going to head out on course. If you have any trouble you let me know and I will turn around."
"Of course. Good luck man."
Lou turns onto the runway and I see him give a thumbs up and hit the throttles. She starts off quick and gets two thirds of the way down the runway and then lifts off. Lou stows the gear like he has a weight-off-wheels switch and they are up before he is twenty feet off the ground. It looks like he might stall, but then eases her back to normal flight.
"That a boy, Lou." I say into Abby's empty cockpit. Feels kind of weird being in here all alone. My turn now.

I roll out on to the tarmac and lock the tail wheel, then throttle up and roll out. Abby lifts off like a champ and I put the gear up. My eyes scan the gauges, then I bring the flaps up and turn my boost pumps off. Lou is ahead and flying at about a thousand feet, headed for the beach. I kick her in to high gear and get up next to him.

"How are you doing?" I ask him over the radio while I fish in the side pocket for a headset. I remember one being somewhere up her that Jerry would where just to keep the noise to a minimum.
"So far so good. I'm thinking if you just stay on my wing all the way I would be happy as hell."
"No problem."
I find the headset and cross my fingers as I plug it in. "Lou?"
"Yeah?"
"Good... this thing works. How much throttle are you using?"
"Looks like I am about two thirds up on the throttle."
"I'm gonna hold Abby at about 150 knots. See if you can match me."
I throttle up and get her speed set at 150 knots. Within ten seconds, Lou is on my wing.
"Think she can hold that for the duration?"
Lou doesn't answer right away. I can see him studying his gauges, "Yeah, she looks good. If anything changes I'll let you know."

We agree on two thousand feet and hold the coast line until we pass over the Gulf of Venezuela then cut over the peninsula and we will hold the beach line once again all the way to Cartagena Colombia.
It starts to get real lonely after the first hour. We don't talk much on the radio at first, but then we get into a talk about life after death. While we are in the midst of it, Lou announces he is going to have a shot or two. I tell him to just be careful.

"Don't worry, mother... I'm a big boy."
"That's not what I mean and you know it. The plane won't land itself."
"Yeah, I know. Don't worry about it." He pauses and I think he is probably cracking the seal on the bottle.
"To be honest with you, I wish I would have brought a little something of my own."
"Look in Jerry's bag."
I reach down and feel around in the bag. There is a bottle of tequila and a baggie with a couple of Walkers.
"Hey... right on."
"I didn't want to drink alone up here."

After the first shot, we continue our conversation. Lou thoughts are in the same vein as mine. Afterlife is a graduation of sorts from the human condition into the pure energy condition, our energy being the collective experience of the soul.
"I read a book once called Mobius... One Man's Journey. Interesting shit. Says the soul is collective through several lives on Earth. Once you have lived here on Earth enough times to bolster your soul energy, it escapes the ground of earth and your in the afterlife. If you pass on and you don't have enough soul energy you start again in a new body and do it all over again."
There is a pause and I start to think that maybe my headset stopped working.
"Lou?"
"Are you smoking that shit already?"
"No."
"Sure sounds like it."

We continue on to Santa Marta. I know that I had several shots during the trip so far. I don't know about Lou. He starts singing a few songs over the radio. It isn't until he starts fucking around and getting too close that things happen. At one point in time he starts tipping his wings this way and that, and then he collides with me. Just a foot of wingtip to wingtip, but it is enough to move me and to cause him to go spiralling out of control beneath me. I can't see him but I can hear him.
"SHIT... " Lou shouts into the radio.
"Give her full right rudder and pull back on the column."
I hear nothing.
"LOU?"
Nothing.
"You stupid son of a bitch. I knew... "
He pulls back up from below and levels off next to me.
"Game time is over." I tell him.
"I think I pissed myself." There is silence for a moment. "Nope, just spilled the tequila."
"I'll tell you what, just put the cap on it and we will party our asses off in Panama, okay?"

Lou does a check of his fuel situation as we approach Cartagena. After calculating our distance covered and what was left to go, we decided to keep flying. We both eat a little of the cocktail girls speed, which improves our alertness in the face of nearly no sleep and the few shots of tequila.
"Hey."
"Yeah Lou."
"I have to piss like a race horse."
"Have you tried out your auto pilot?"

We spend the next few minutes setting it up and making sure it would hold a course. It gives him just enough time to run back and piss out the side door. When he returns, I do the same. He gives me a little room and stays off my wing about two or three hundred yards. Abby has a habit of wandering a little and I don't want another collision.

Onward to Panama. We fly over the jungle and then the canal. Our airfield is close now. We are both buzzing hard on the speed. Lou is chattering on about the woods and laying in them and being so still that no one knew he was there until they were right on him. And then beer in some river, and a still, and...
"HEY!"
He stops.
"Lou, I think that's our airfield at seven o'clock."

We make a fly by and check the wind. We are going to have to land with the sun in our eyes.
"You want to go first?" Lou says, dropping in behind me.
After we both set up for landing, and Lou telling me everything he is doing just to check himself, we spread out.
"I tell you what, Lou. Just follow me down, set your flaps and then start dropping off of the power. Use my glide slope and just do what I do. I will take the airstrip down to the end, so you will have to brake a little more just so you don't run into the back of me."
"Okay."
"And no bouncing."

I drop my flaps and gear, and while I am hoping Lou has done the same he reports that fact over the radio. I get her down and run her all the way to the end of the runway. It is a long one, used by the US Army during Operation Just Cause. They landed C-130s here. I unlock the tail wheel and spin her around just in time to watch Lou hit the ground.

Dancing the Night Away

The courtyard of Lou's hotel choice in Maiquetia







I bolt awake, like from a horrible nightmare or something that has my heart racing. I look around and I don't know where the hell I am. In a room that is kind of spartan with just a dresser, the bed I am in, and a bathroom. It is dark outside... where ever outside is. I takes at least a ten count before something starts coming back to me. But now what is coming back to me seems more like a dream than reality. I am not myself... drugged, I feel drugged. The window is open and I can hear street noise below me.

I lay there for a few minutes, hoping my head will clear. I have never felt this way before. I swing my feet down off the bed and let them rest on the cool tiled floor. My head doesn't hurt, not a hangover. My neck is sore, though. I must have slept on it funny.
There are jeans and a shirt laying over the edge of the dresser, so I put them on and slip on the shoes near the door. They are damp, like they had been in the rain or something.

Out in the hallway nothing lends any credibility to the moment. I still am an amnesia victim for all intents and purposes. Just a bunch of doors and faded wallpaper. It smells like stale cigar smoke. I walk to the end of the hallway and there is a winding staircase. I can hear music and laughter. I run my hands thru my hair and then rub my face. Might as well see what's down there.

The lobby of the hotel looks nicer than the first floor hallway. There is an old fountain in the middle, a nice front desk that was probably in it's heyday when Sputnik was in orbit. Out of the lobby area on the left is a courtyard with another fountain and surrounding rooms with Spanish architecture. The music is coming from the lounge to my right that spills out onto the sidewalk with umbrella covered tables and nicely clad patrons. I feel like I am violating the dress code until I see a familiar face at one of the tables.

"JAKE" Lou waves at me and the woman he is with turns and smiles.
I make my way over to the table and stand there, still unsure of where, what, or how.
"Man, I thought you would never wake up." Lou stands, "This is Gabriella... Gabriella this is my friend Jake."
She smiles and nods and then I take a seat.
"You all right?" Lou asks me as he gets the bartender's attention and orders two beers.
"I don't know." I look around. We are obviously in the middle of town... but what town or city are we in.
"I told you not to take that pill. Didn't I tell you? You just don't listen." Lou shakes his head. The beer comes and he takes the two Polar Negras and sets one down in front of me.
"What pill? What are you talking about?"
"Jesus, that shit erased your goddamn mind, Jake." He takes a long pull off the bottle of beer.
"Hungry?"
"I don't know. What happened?"
"What is the last thing you remember?"
"Taking off... the seaplane. Is that real? Did we get a seaplane or is that just part of the dream I had?"
"Oh it's real. Naomi is real. That is the last thing you remember? Taking off in Naomi?"
"Yeah, I guess it is."
"Well, we flew from Bear's boat all the way back to the airstrip where we left Abby." He drinks the rest of his beer and then calls the waitress over.
"Arepas... cachapas, two." He holds up two fingers and then points to the menu. She takes the order.
"So when did I lose track of things... why did I lose track of things."
"Well, I kind of insisted on landing. You were right, though, I should have let you do it first, you know just to get the hang of it. So... you know, I'm sorry about that."
I look at him like he is speaking French, because aside from the actual words coming out of his mouth none of it makes any sense.
"So I let you land the plane? Is it all right?"
"She seemed okay, it was hard to tell with all that mud."

I stop and drink my beer. I tip the bottle and don't set it down until it is completely empty.
"Another?"
I nod.
The young lady that has been sitting here the entire time stands, leans over and plants a nice kiss on Lou's lips, and then says something into his ear and departs. Lou smiles wickedly.
"Boy she is something, man. And she has a friend."
"So you landed the plane?"
"Twice, actually. The first time we hit a little hard, glide slope, not enough flap. I know... I get a little stubborn when I get nervous. I don't know why. It's a bad habit. Probably would be better with a shot or two, or maybe a couple of tokes on a Walker."
"Twice?"
"Yeah, well the first time when we bounced, and the second time when we ran out of runway and she stopped in that mud bog."

And then it all came back to me.

"Oh shit... the mud bog. That's why my shoes are wet. We had to wash the mud out of them."
"Oh yeah."
"That still doesn't explain why I am feeling so groggy."
"Well, I'm getting to that. You see, all the way down to the ground you kept telling me everything to do, you know... flaps, throttles, gear, trim this, pull back on that. It was all kind of overwhelming. Plus I was completely sober... not good. So I told you to fuck off and I would land her my way or kill us both doing it. I was getting a little stressed with the whole thing. So when you were reaching for the wheel to take her from me, I kind of snapped."
"You hit me, didn't you?"
"Well... I just kind of rapped you on the neck. It's kind of like a choke hold without the hold. I'll teach it to you... "
"You fucking hit me? What the hell is wrong with you?"
"I know, I'm real sorry about that. Won't happen again, ever."

Next round of beers come and I drink half of mine before I speak again. "So, that is why I feel so groggy?"
"Well, not exactly. When you came to we were on the ground and your neck was killing you. You wanted a couple of Tylenol out of Jerry's bag. Those were gone, but I gave you one of the pills Agaki gave me while we were on Bear's ship. It us supposed to be a natural form of Valium or some shit like that. I didn't think the stuff would knock you out like that."
"And you told me not to take it?"
"What?"
"You said before that you told me not to take the pill."
"Well, I told you not to take the second pill. You didn't feel anything after you took the first one, but you didn't give it enough time to take effect."

Dr. Lou strikes again. Well, it's water under the bridge.
"No hitting."
"Never."

Food comes, lots of it. I don't think about anything. I still have memory glaucoma and can only remember things around the edges. As I eat, things slowly return to normal. By the time two more beers come and go, and the stuff Lou ordered for our dinner is consumed, I am almost back to normal.

"So who is with Abby?"
"Bear's men were ordered to stay with the plane until we departed. I threw them a little bonus, so I think they were okay with us spending the night in town."
I give him a look.
"No, really, everything is okay. The bags are okay." He grabs the last flour tortilla and fills it with beef, "Besides, I thought we could use a good night sleep before we leave in the morning."
He shoves half of the rolled up tortilla in his mouth. He chews and nods as he runs the other half around in the juice on the beef plate.
"Yeah, I saw your good night's sleep walking away just minutes ago. We still need more flying lessons."
"Nah... I'll be fine. As long as the radio works between us, I'm good. If I have a question or a problem, I will tell you about it. That and a little something for the stress. I bought some tequila and a little something to smoke."
"Jesus."
"Yeah, well... I'll work on that after I have a little more time. I won't go crazy with the shit, just enough to keep the edge off."
"I'm not your mother. If you auger in becuase you're too fucked up just try not to kill anybody on the ground."
"Nice."

I finish my beer and sit back in the chair. I don't know what time it is, but the place is fairly busy. The rest of this town, as far as I can see, is kind of a shit hole.
Our waitress comes by with a couple of glasses, "Chicha?"
We each take a glass and she motions for us to shoot it. Kind of nasty. It is local hooch... not tequila, something else. We order another.

Hours pass and we are shit-faced. Lou's Gabriella returns with her friend and the both of them get comfortable in our laps as we drink more Chicha. The girls smell like the beach and just the right hint of sweet perfume. The girls talk back and forth. The one in my lap tells me her name is Avita more than once, but I am too fucked up to care. Before I know what is happening we are up in the room... Lou's room, smoking a Walker and getting laid.
Now might be the end of anyone else's evening, but these girls have different plans. One of them makes a phone call and we all get into a cab in front of the hotel and are off to Caracas. Apparently these two are from Caracas and know all the spots. Lou has a pocket full of cash and they are happy to help him spend it.

When I first laid eyes on Gabriella, I thought she might be a call girl. To pretty for the likes of us. Avita is equally beautiful and the both of them are at least twenty years younger than us. But that's okay. They aren't call girls, just nice girls who like to party and have a lot of sex. Lou buys them champagne at one club and they put us in the VIP section. It is nice, all of the attention from the girls. Lou goes out and dances with the two of them. He looks out of his league out there.

As I smoke a Cuban and drink our Dom, the club owner comes by and asks about Bear, and then asks me to relay his greeting.
"What makes you think I know Bear?"
"You are with his women."
Ahhh, so that's it. I knew there was a reason these girls were here... and with us.
I look out at Lou, who is sandwiched between the girls now as they writhe up and down his body.
"Yeah, I'll let him know you said hi."
"Thank you sir. And while you are in my club you are my guests. Your money is no good here."
I shake the man's hand and he departs.
Bear... he would have been fun to have along.
When the cocktail girl comes back by to check on me, I try out my Spanish and whisper in her ear about something to help us stay up while we are flying tomorrow. When she leaves I am not sure whether I asked her for a little speed, or offered to change her furnace filters. She returns a little while later with a small cloth pouch. I peel off a hundred dollars and she looks over her shoulder then back and me and smiles. She sticks the hundred in her bra and heads off to another table.
I try to see what's inside, but there is nothing but strobing dance lights. I trust her. She knows I am with Bear, or thinks I am... and I am pretty sure the word is out that you don't fuck his friends over.

Before long, I am out on the dance floor amidst the jet-set of Caracas. At first I am self conscious and stiff, but after looking at Lou who is as loose as the Scarecrow on the Wizard of Oz, I leave my worries behind and dance like nobody is looking. What a party. The music gets in your blood and you move with it, everyone on the floor, like a beating heart. I can't believe our company, our friends, our luck. I just hope it never ends.

As I dance what turns out to be our last dance before heading back to the hotel, I can't help but notice a group of men that have been watching us for a while now from the second floor balcony. I know that Americans aren't to well liked in Chavez's Venezuela, but I don't think that is it. But for now I am too fucked up to care. Tomorrow we head home.

Flying Lessons

The pic I snapped of KOZANOSTRAW as Lou makes his fly-by.


We are up for about ten minutes. I take her through the paces and feel out the flight controls. She is more responsive than Abby, but then again her size dictates that. Lou takes the controls and flys her for a bit, makes a couple of gradual turns and then I take it back. We say nothing about the fact that neither of us are really pilots, and that of the two of us Lou has the least behind the stick time. Bear thinks we are professional flyers and I don't want to shake that tree.
"Nice, huh?" Bear says as he leans an arm on the back of both seats. "Take us down and buzz the boat... scare the shit out of Agaki. He does that slow dance excersize stuff up on deck this time of morning."
I bank around and head back toward the boat. We come up on it fast and I fly as close as I dare. Bear laughs as he sees Agaki duck when we fly by.
"Yeah, you got him... got him good."

Landing, now that is going to take skills that I thought I would never have to use. Two weeks ago the thought of me landing a seaplane on the Venezuelan coast would have been as far away as the Mars Landing. But here I am, taking a long approach, giving myself a lot of room for error. I keep thinking in the back of my mind that I don't want to give myself too much room or I will be trying to "taxi" this thing a hell of a long way back to the beach.
"What are you doing?" Lou asks.
"It's called landing."
"Don't land in Colombia, for Christ's sake. Set her down close to shore so we don't have to motor around in this chop for too long."
I look at him, "What, do you read minds now too?"
I turn her around and head back toward the beach, taking her low and slow as I come into the bay, gauging an escape if it doesn't turn out right. I let her drop.
"Shit, give me flaps... ten, flaps at ten."
Lou moves the handle and she floats a little more.Gotta let her down nose up, let the tail down first and then ease her down onto the water. The beach is ahead of us, and for a moment I feel panic creeping up the back of my throat.
"Let her come down, Jake." Lou is as calm as a mountain lake.
I ease her down, backing off the throttles and pulling back on the column just enough to have her ass dip in the water first. It grabs, trying to nose her in, but I keep pressure on and pull the throttles back. She settles into the water like a fucking pro was flying her. I look at Lou and he gives me a wink. We did good. We just won't let Bear in on our little secret.
We are close enough to shore that within a minute we nose up on the beach. I shut her down and we climb out into the knee deep water and climb up to dry land.
"Well boys, I suppose you will want to fly her to your plane and head on home, huh?" Bear looks a little disappointed.
"What are you gonna do, Bear?" Lou picks up a shell from the beach and gives it a look, then tosses it.
"Same shit I always do, boys. It doesn't end unless I give up the ghost. Kind of a prisoner, you know."
"Nice prison, though." Lou gestures to the boat.
"Yeah, there are perks involved." Bear reaches out shakes Lou's hand.
"I really appreciate you saving Chris. His mother still thinks of him as her little boy. Hasn't been little for some time now, but try telling her that." He reaches out and shakes my hand now.
"You boys ever need to get a hold of me you call." He waves one of his men over and he hands him a business card and a satellite phone in a little case.
"You boys take this, it will work anywhere. And this is my personel number on this card." He hands the phone to Lou and I take the card. It is just a number, no name or anything.
"You boys stay safe." And with that, Bear is in the boat and headed back to KOZANOSTRAW.

We sit on the shore and watch the yacht pull anchor and get under way. The whole process from Bear leaving us to the yacht making tracks is about thirty minutes. And here we are, sitting on some beach with a new plane and new plans.
"Well, teach me to fly this bitch."
"Bitch... not a name I would pick."
"We can name her later. I want to fly."
I look at the plane, it is beautiful. I almost think I would trade flying with Jerry and just fly with Lou down here making runs over the Gulf, or up and down the coast. I shake the daydream off and do a little evaluating.
"What are your plans, Lou?" He looks at me kind of funny.
"You trying to get rid of me?"
"No, not at all. I just don't know where we are going with all of this. Are you going to fly back with me to El Corazon and we make plans from there? Are you going to go your own way and take her where ever you're going?"
I stand and pick up the satellite phone and card, tucking it into the case. "We have to make a decision whether or not to just take off from here and fly to the airstrip and get you flying from dry land, or if you want to fly from here... I mean we could practice here, but even from my novice standpoint, I think you ought to get a little training just flying over dry land first."
Lou doesn't respond at first. It feels like he is mad at me or something. So, I leave him sitting there and push the seaplane off the beach and walk her around like a dog in the water so she is headed out once again.
After a minute Lou comes sloshing up to me.
"I'd like to fly with you back to get Jerry and then back to El Corazon, if that is okay."
"I was hoping you'd say that."
"And I would like to try to take off and land just once before we head over to the airstrip."
That gave me the chills. I don't know why, just made me really nervous. I am not the one to be teaching anyone even how to fly... never the less how to take off and land a seaplane. Lou is going to have to learn how to fly in a few quick lessons. I am sure he can take off and fly her all the way home. It is the landing that is going to be difficult.
"Can I ask you something?"
"Yeah, Jake... what?"
"Why can't we just fly her over to the strip and start flying lessons from there. I mean, let me take her off from here. Hell, I'll even let you land it at the strip."
"Because if I kill myself landing, at least I will have taken her off at least once."
Well, you can't argue with that logic.

Lou is in the left seat. All of the time we have been flying he has been fucked up on smoke and alcohol. I didn't think he had been paying this much attention, but he does his set up like he has done it a hundred time, checking pressures, setting flaps and cowls, the whole bit. I just watch for a second before I start helping.
Lou points to the radio, "We will have to find a channel we can talk to each other on. I am going to have to have you talk me in when I am flying home."
"That shouldn't be a problem. The Dominican brothers installed that radio in Abby and it should be compatible. We just have to stay clear of the Air Traffic Control frequencies."
Once again her engines rumble to life. I don't like the fact that we don't have a name for her.
"Lou, you have to think of a name."
"What about Naomi?"
"Naomi? Indian name, isn't it?"
"I was fucking this Mexican girl in California, name of Naomi. I was caretaking this vineyard and she moved in with me. It was a time in my life where I wasn't sure where I was going, didn't really want to think of where I'd been, but having a helluva good time in the present... kind of like now. It seemed like an adventure. And man was she a beautiful girl."
"Naomi it is."

We bump the throttles up and move her off of the sand and head out. Lou looks a little stiff at the controls.
"Relax, Lou, you'll do fine."
"I could really use a drink, or a joint right now."
"Well, we'll scratch that itch when we are on the ground, okay."
I don't think he likes that answer.
"It sucks being pilot, doesn't it."
Lou cracks a smile and I see him relax a little.
"Flaps to five?"
"There at five, Lou."
"How much throttle?"
"Give her more and pull back on the column just a bit until she stops bucking on this chop." He gives her some gas and we porpoise just a little.
"Use one hand on the wheel and one hand on the throttles. Bring the throttles up and at the same time pull back, just enough pressure to make her ride the water."
We start to plane and he increases the throttles. "Pull back a little more, Lou... good."
You can feel the drag decrease, "Now lift her off of the water and throttles up at the same time."
Naomi rises off of the surf and we are airborne. Lou lets out a wolf call that curdles your blood. He is going to be trouble behind the controls of his own plane... a wild man with wings.
"That a boy. Get her up a bit and then put her through some paces. Get the feel of her." We get up to a thousand feet and Lou dips the wings here and there, but seems to be afraid to do anything else.
"Well, let's make a turn, Lou."
"Okay."
"Just turn the wheel and give it a little rudder."
He eases it into a turn and with the influence of the rudder it tucks around rather quickly.
"Good, not too fast. Did you feel that?"
"Hell ya, it was nice." He turns the other way now and quicker. Then the other way.
"Easy Lou, easy does it."
He has lined up with the coast now, the same direction the yacht took.
"Lets fly over the boat, okay?"
"Oh hell ya."
It takes about thirty seconds to catch up with the yacht and Lou comes down fairly low. He flies by and rocks his wings. I snap a quick picture as we pass.Lou is too busy looking out the side window and we start heading for the water.
"PULL UP... "
Lou snaps back to the controls and the attitude of the plane and levels her out.
"Why don't we fly on back to the airstrip and we can get a few touch and goes in before lunch?" I offer, hoping that he isn't serious about landing just right now.
Lou levels out about fifty feet above the water, drops his flaps, cuts back on the throttles and we do down.
"Keep the nose up, Lou. She is going to want to nose in once she... "

That was it, as soon as her ass hit the water she dove nose first into the next swell and a sheet of water blows over the top of us. I hear the engines strain as they blast through. We bob like a cork for a second or two and I reach over and give her a little gas to make sure we don't stall out. Lou has a bit of a bloody nose, which I point out.
"I've had worse."
"If she hadn't done it I would have myself. Nice landing."
"Fuck you."

Taking off in the open ocean is a bit different than a sheltered cove. The swells are hard to get on top of and Naomi fights me all the way. We pour the coals to her and it takes a lot to get her to plane while we try to hold an even track to get her up to speed. Finally she skims and then breaks free and we are up.

We head for the airstrip, following the beach. Not a word is spoken, just the sound of Naomi's radials and the wind. I feel a sense of loss... I think Lou does as well. He had found somoeone that had been where he'd been, lived what he had lived. There is that instant bond that is as strong as if you had known that person for years, and a loss of that friend when you depart with no plans to ever see them again.

Behind us we leave that new and influencial friend. I get the feeling that Bear would have liked to come with us. But that's just not to be... not now anyway. We all have work to do. Lou has to learn to land. We have to ferry both planes back to Tapia's and pick up Jerry and Ollie. We have to get Nester's cash back to him and get back to El Corazon.
And who knows what will happen on the way.