Thin Blood Thick Water (Clueless Resolutions Book 2) (18 page)

“Are you guys okay? Chip asked. “Have you seen Danyel or Lamar?” Chip questioned again, without getting an answer from the first inquiry. Mario climbed gingerly on board at that point and Chip could see that he was hurt. Standing on the pontoon, Max ducked his head into the cabin looking forward to address Chip.

“We’re really glad to see you and Danyel, Chip. She’s coming up now with Lamar,” he said, pointing over to the approaching skiff carrying the two of them. “You and Danyel can best fly us out of here. I’m beat and I’m seeing double, slightly,” he added. “We’ve all been through some shit over here.”

Danyel pulled up in the second skiff and climbed up into the co-pilot seat, placing her rifle on the rear cabin floor. Lamar untied the first skiff and gave them both a push-off with his foot before climbing up into the rear cabin. Maggie and Max sat facing Mario and Lamar who were sitting with their backs to the cockpit.

“Okay, buckle up, here we go,” Chip announced. The float plane lurched forward through the river current with increasing speed, leaving the New Brunswick nightmare scenario progressively further behind. At the point of expected conversion from water-borne to air-borne, the Cessna amphibian struggled but seemed unable to totally part from the river surface.  After bouncing up from the choppy river and settling back down the third time, Chip cut back on the throttle and the float plane slowed to a slow drift.

“I don’t know why we can’t lift off,” Chip said, looking back to the passengers while lifting one ear piece of his radio headset. “Either we don’t have full power or we’re over the weight limit,” he said, with a puzzled look on his flushed face.

Everyone on board except for Maggie was a trained pilot. All had been checked out on this aircraft but only Chip and Danyel had flown it with the grenade launchers installed. Mario was still looking fuzzy and Lamar was sitting uncharacteristically silent, with a stoic gaze toward his feet. Max unbuckled his seatbelt and rushed forward to the cockpit. He first addressed Danyel.

“Did you notice any changes when you flew in?” he asked. “Did the plane handle differently?”

“Not that I could say,” she answered. “Maybe a little less noise from the pontoons on the water, probably because of the retrofitted equipment, but it handled okay.”

“We could have picked up a hit somewhere, a pot-shot from the submersible or from the canoes,” Max guessed. “But we haven’t got time to inspect outside. I think it might be the weight of the grenade launchers and a full cabin. Have we got anything heavy that we can jettison?” he asked. Danyel indicated that all she had aboard was her sniper rifle and a few extra rounds but it was lightweight.

“Is our heading downwind?” Max asked. Chip thought for a second and responded.

“You might have something there. The river current has switched to out-flowing with the tide change. The surface is choppy which means the wind is blowing up-river. If we spin around and take off with the tide current and against a wind, maybe we can get enough lift to get airborne,” Chip theorized, emphasizing the ‘with’ and ‘against’ with his hands. Max gave a thumbs-up and hastened back to his seat.

As Chip powered-up and swung the float plane around to face down-river, Max explained the problem to Maggie, and the plan to remedy it. Lamar lifted his sullen, downward gaze when he heard Max’s explanation but offered nothing of substance.

The engine revved-up again and the second take-off attempt began. With the aircraft accelerating in the same direction as the surface current it seemed to be a little smoother. The pontoons were hydroplaning sooner now, but the Cessna was still not airborne.

“We’re gonna hit the canoes!” Chip yelled, as the float plane approached the still-perusing fleet of young tribesmen.

Lamar suddenly unbuckled his seatbelt and jumped up from his seat. He unlatched the passenger door and, in one motion, jumped through the loud whoosh of air onto the port pontoon. The full-throttled turbine-powered prop wash then blew him off to the rear, into the reddish mid-river current.  With the lessened weight, the Cessna Amphibian became instantly airborne. As they zoomed over the canoes most of the paddlers dove over the sides in fear of being hit by the float plane pontoons. Max, holding onto his then un-buckled seatbelt, re-latched the passenger door. To the anxious pilots and remaining passengers, the sensation of small-scale aircraft flight returned to relative normalcy.

“What the hell’s wrong with him?” Max asked, rhetorically regarding Lamar’s actions. “Has he gone back to his roots, or something?” Maggie grasped Max’s arm with her ‘good’ hand and, with a look of relief, along with utter disregard for Lamar’s fate, pulled him toward her. From the pilot’s seat, Chip turned back toward the passenger cabin and gave a thumbs-up. Mario, with a blanched, sickly-looking swollen face, leaned forward with his head in his hands. After the flight leveled off at a low altitude heading south across Fundy Bay, Danyel came from the cockpit area to pick up her sniper’s rifle and to look in on the disheveled and haggard evacuees.

“I couldn’t believe Lamar jumping out like that,” she remarked. “We had the air speed and were just lifting off. When he opened the hatch we lost lift and almost hit those canoers.”

“He wasn’t himself,” Max told her. “He was working with the tribe trying to get us released. The executioner on the upper mountain ledge was his brother.” Danyel let out a slight gasp.

“I didn’t know…” her voice trailed off.

“Did you do it?” Maggie asked Danyel while pointing to the rifle. Danyel nodded grimly and explained that she had to make a quick decision when she saw, through her scope, the large Native Indian grasping a long lever to seemingly release something harmful to Mario, who was in the cage. “When I saw them taking you up to the cage it looked like you were going to be next,” Danyel said, looking at Max.

“Well, you guessed right. As soon as they got me up there I was going in the cage with Mario and the floor was going to be opened,” Max told her, validating her correct assumption. “And Maggie was to go at the next high tide,” he added. Mario agreed with a nod and a grimace on his pitifully swollen and bruised face. Danyel nodded grimly in relief.

“That was some shot,” Max said, complementing her marksmanship. “It had to be over four hundred yards…and uphill!”

“I was well trained,” was Danyel’s somber and stoic response. With no further explanation, she transitioned to a more up-beat tone and suggested that the trio must be hungry. She went to the rear of the cabin, opened a storage space hatch, stowed away the rifle and retrieved some emergency food rations enclosed in foil envelopes. She passed them out and produced some water bottles to go with the meager foods. While Danyel went about resuming her position in the co-pilots seat, all three of the escapees devoured the rations in short order.

The evening sky over Nova Scotia was darkening when the USAP investigative crew returned to the Bickford river-front guest house.  During the short, low-level flight from Fundy Bay, Mario dozed along the way as did Maggie, while Max’s super-hyped psyche, accompanied by a fuming, head-pounding anger, had kept him awake and pre-occupied. After landing and docking, Danyel bandaged Maggie’s hand with a wrist splint and gave her a tetanus injection from a packaged syringe provided in an on-board survival kit. She also administered the same injection to Mario and gave him a cold pack with ice cubes wrapped in a towel to apply to his swollen face, along with some ibuprofen tablets.

Maggie had placed a call to Jessie’s cell phone to catch-up, to get messages, and to re-assure her that her boss was okay. Maggie later told Max that she was surprised at the contact with East Wayford Mayor VanDyke, and the call he made to their friend Don Chace at FBI headquarters. Max was surprised as well. His mind was filling with questions and he was becoming extremely impatient for answers.

After the three former hostages had indulged themselves with much needed hot showers, Maggie and Danyel managed to create a supper meal from provisions on hand at the guest house. The meal may not have been inspiring but it was well appreciated by all, except Mario. Probably due to his medicated condition, Mario’s preference was a light snack and bed rest. Chip and Danyel treated themselves to a sample of the fine wine reserves from the cooler. As for Maggie and Max, martinis, the relaxed atmosphere among friendly companions, and the comfortable lounge chairs which eased their bumps and bruises, at least temporarily, restored some semblance of normalcy after their tumultuous past few days.

The land-line phone at the Bickford guest house rang at 4:10 AM. Brad was calling to advise Chip that he was going to arrive at the Nova Scotia Airport at, or before, 8:00 AM. He had re-scheduled the Lear 45 and was flying it in with a quartet of hand-picked security guards with valid passports from the USAP staff. He had booked them into a local hotel on a five day ‘company-sponsored golf-vacation.’ Chip could confidentially utilize the ‘golfers’ for whatever the situation called for, and the Lear would be available for returning any of the ‘missing persons’ to headquarters, or wherever. The golfers could be returned by commercial transportation later. Not one of the exhausted Nova Scotia participants heard the ring. Brad left the message.

One-by-one, the five guest house patrons awoke. The coffee was ready and the coffee maker was empty by 8:15. As Maggie prepared to brew another pot to accompany a light breakfast, they took turns filling in the details of their inspection and subsequent abduction. There were glaring questions concerning Simon Lagasse, the accountant, Lamar’s brother Jonathan who had been eliminated, Lamar’s whereabouts and intentions, and the mystery of the mountain ‘sacrifices’ including the red river-water.

Maggie felt she needed to get home as soon as possible to have her hand tended to. Mario needed medical attention and wanted to leave as soon as possible. Danyel, not part of the investigation, had interrupted a prior assignment to fly the Cessna to Nova Scotia. She wanted to get ‘back to business’. Chip listened to the team input and made a decision.

Danyel had bypassed customs flying in, so she could fly the Cessna back to Lakeside. The possibility of damages to the plane ruled out flying it back with a full load. Mario, Maggie, and Max would process back through customs and board a commercial flight to Ithaca. Chip suggested that Max, though he offered to stay, should get checked out for any complications resulting from his possible concussion. Max agreed and Maggie, showing a look of relief, knew that he also felt relieved.

“Pack up and let’s get over to the airport,” Chip commanded. I want to find out more about the Native Indian involvement here and how the submersible figures into all this”, he stated, with an inflection of authority in his voice. “I didn’t go through customs coming in, so I’ll hang out at the guest house until we can arrange transport back.

With that plan set it was put into action and, within 20 minutes they were on their way toward the airport.

More surprises were in store for the group, as if they hadn’t had enough, when they arrived at the airport! Brad was in the airport lounge having brunch with the ‘foursome of golfers’.

Chip was stunned and angered at the same time. “Whose decision was this?” he asked of Brad in a confrontational manner.

“Mine, but I called you early this morning and you ignored the call,” Brad shot back. “Are we all on the same page, or what?”  Chip pulled up his cell phone to contradict Brad, but noticed that it was dead and needed re-charging. “Oh,” he said, totally embarrassed.

“It didn’t pick up so I left a message at the guest house,” Brad said.  The group of bodyguards that Brad ferried in stared with miscomprehension at the two Partners’ apparent struggle for control. The worn-down group of investigators looked at each other.

“Did anyone check the phone for messages?” Max asked. All he got in return was shrugs and head shakes. “I guess we’re all guilty of miscommunication,” he continued, diplomatically. “Brad, can you get us back to headquarters?”  Brad answered in the positive. He was shocked to see Mario’s condition and Maggie with her bandaged hand, supported by an improvised sling. Brad hadn’t been told that Lamar ended up among the missing.

Chip was introduced to the four guard employees, none of whom he had met previously. He agreed to transport Danyel, along with the ‘golfers’, back to the guest house and continue on with his plan. Brad would fly the Learjet back to Ithaca with Max co-piloting. Danyel would fly the Cessna, under-the-radar, to Bar Harbor Maine for refueling, and then back to headquarters.

At 10:10 AM Eastern time the USAP Lear Jet was over the North Atlantic Ocean flying west-southwest to Ithaca, New York. The Cessna Caravan Amphibian was flying west-southwest to Bar Harbor, Maine. One at 12,000 ft. altitude and the other at 1200 ft.

Brad and Danyel were in contact via radio at this point in their flights. Max, flying with Brad in the co-pilots seat, was in on their conversation. It was sometimes abbreviated to protect any listeners from discerning any ‘secure’ information regarding the principals, but Max picked up some ‘shop-talk’ between the pilots, which surprised him. He felt that it was a deliberate maneuver to allow him in on the gist of the chatter. What Max was hearing was not exactly complimentary regarding their CEO, Chip Chaplain. He sensed that it was, perhaps, in order to judge his reaction. Max tactfully pretended a need to use the restroom. He tapped Brad’s shoulder and gave the hand signal. Brad nodded and went on with his chat with Danyel as Max lifted off his headphones and rose to move aft. If they were testing him on his loyalty to Chip, he didn’t want, at this point in time, to be judged as for-or-against anybody. At this point he was only interested on getting himself and Maggie back to headquarters, and then to home. He made a mental note, however, on what he overheard.

The final approach to Ithaca International Airport began at 11:15 AM Eastern Time. The temperature at ground level was 67 degrees with southwest winds at 6 knots. The approach and the ILS (Instrument Landing System) glide path decent were uneventful. With co-pilot Max activating the flaps, the landing gear, and the reverse thrust braking system on cue, Brad made a smooth, expert landing. While in taxi mode to the private hangars, Max gave him the thumbs-up sign and Brad smiled broadly in response. Although it was the newer and revised version of the original Lear Jet, the 45 model was well-used and somewhat abused when it was purchased. Brad had supervised a complete factory-rebuild of the aircraft and considered that to be the crowning achievement in his aviation life. He liked all of the transportation vehicles under his command and all aspects of aviation, but he
loved
flying the Lear 45.

After clearing with the customs agent who motored over to the private service depot on their arrival, the concierge arranged transportation for the USAP contingent back to Lakeside.  On the way to headquarters Max queried Brad as to an available airplane with which he and Maggie could travel home to East Wayford. Brad informed him that the Cessna Skylane was ready to go.

“You did a great job in the right seat today, so I’m sure you can manage the flight to New Haven,” Brad said, authorizing the use of the company ‘small plane’.

Max took Maggie to his office via the rear hallway and, after entering ahead of Maggie, and clearing through the pass-through bathroom, Max was startled when she shut the door behind him.

“What the…” he muttered, as he turned around with a slight sense of alarm.  He immediately realized that Maggie probably needed to use the facilities and he calmed himself. Max was a bundle of raw nerves what with the harrying episode in Nova Scotia.  He was quickly checking his itinerary and messages when Maggie came out of the bathroom.

“I heard your jumpy reaction,” she said with a chuckle. “What did you think, we were still back in ‘coo-koo’ land?”

“Yeah, I guess so, for a second there,” Max answered with a nervous smile. “It was one of those knee-jerk reactions. We could sure use a little down-time!” He suggested that they go to a nearby medical emergency center to have her hand checked. Maggie indicated that she would prefer to see her primary physician back in East Wayford.  Her reasoning was that her hand was wrapped and splinted, and only was painful when she bumped it. With that decision made, they walked to the elevator and then through the hangar to secure their carry-on bags in the Skylane rear seat. They both utilized the automatic snack dispenser in the service section and, after quickly downing energy bars along with cups of coffee, Max picked up his flight plan from Brad. At 1:10 PM Eastern Time they were air-borne and homeward bound.

From an aviation perspective everything went well on the flight to Tweed airport. Uncharacteristically quiet, however, both Maggie and Max were preoccupied. She, hoping that the unexpected absence from her business didn’t cause too much of a disruption, and his worry about her worrying. Max also had more than a few unsettling questions on his mind regarding the state of affairs at USAP, and also felt a little guilt over putting Maggie’s well-being at risk.  In return, Maggie sensed that he was concerned about that. The usual spontaneous, good-natured banter between these two kindred spirits was absent at this point in time.

At 2:05 PM Max had received clearance to land. A brisk tailwind had shortened the typical flight time between Lakeside and Tweed Airport. With no air traffic in the area Max made short work of the landing and taxi processes. At 2:19 the parking brake was set and the engine power was cut.

Maggie’s car was blocked by a large crew-cab pickup in the space directly behind. The only delay in the journey was from a walk to the flight office and a twenty minute wait for the clearing of the poorly-parked vehicle, which was executed by a local AAA tow-truck. The mind-set of the travel-weary duo was not cheerful and, with stomachs churning from hunger as they waited, each of them muttered some uncomplimentary epithets directed at the inconsiderate, unknown driver of the pickup.

The first stop after leaving the airport was the long-time favorite spot of Max’s and Maggie’s for eating and greeting, Jerry’s Jug in East Wayford.

“G’day Mates!” announced their friend Jerry Pippen, in his usual brogue. “The Dynamic Duos’ have graced us once again with their presence,” he announced openly to the patronage, as was his custom. A smattering of applause and the insincere shouted greetings upon the usual sophomoric ritual that Max and Maggie found embarrassing at times, on this occasion, warmed their dispositions considerably.

“That was good to hear today, my friend,” Max said as they seated themselves at their favorite corner of the bar.

“Say what?” Jerry asked with a frown. He knew the teasing wore thin at times and was surprised to get that response from Max.

“It’s a long story,” Maggie responded, answering for Max. “We need Martinis and menus pronto!” she added, smiling broadly now. With a thumbs-up, Jerry went about preparing the favorite drinks with great efficiency, an art form he developed over many years behind the bar.  Gradually relaxing, Max could feel the tension draining away. Sitting amid familiar surroundings at Jerry’s bar with Maggie at his side, the intense, auto-response defense-system in his mind, which he developed and had lived with during his military combat duty, was fading away now. It had returned in spades during the Nova Scotia investigation and had kicked into high gear during his and Maggie’s abduction and survival ordeal. His mind began to drift.
“The long-forgotten tension was easier to tolerate then, but not so easy now,”
he thought silently.

“Max!” Maggie almost yelled. He jumped at the loud, jarring, mention of his name. Maggie burst into an uncontrollable laughing fit at his reaction to her calling his name. Jerry was startled as well and was giving them a curious look. Max became a victim to the contagious laughter emanating from Maggie and the two of them became red-faced buffoons trying to squelch the conspicuous eruption.  Settling down after a few seconds and realizing the rudeness of their actions, they both felt obliged to bring Jerry in on the cause of it.

“He was somewhere in dreamland and didn’t realize that we had to order the food,” she tried to explain to a bemused Jerry.

“For some reason I was back in the Far East and thought I hit an IED!” Max said in defense as he wiped the tears of laughter from his cheeks.

“I gave you a stiff drink, but we don’t serve improvised explosive devices at this bar,” Jerry retorted, explaining to Maggie, or anyone else nearby, what an IED was. He was trying to bail out his good friend.

Serving the second martinis free, as ‘dessert’ after their meal, Jerry took the time to chat seriously with Maggie and Max. He seemed concerned with Maggie’s bandaged hand and encouraged her to have it checked as soon as possible. She assured him that a visit to her doctor, or an accident room, was on the next day’s agenda.

Jerry caught the couple up on his profitable financial status and, since they had been advisors instrumental in his financial decisions a year or so earlier, they were happy to hear it.

Enjoying a relieved and relaxed present state, the tired couple headed for Hargrove House Apartments for a good night’s sleep…or whatever.