Pacific Passages

"After you."

Marcia and I walked briskly through the cabin, deflecting tough questions from worried customers (What about my connection? What’s wrong with the plane? Where are we?). We said we were working the problem and would answer their questions soon, and that we’d be underway to San Francisco as soon as possible. "Please sit back and let the flight attendants serve you. Thank you for your patience," we said, acting sincere and honest but pressed.

I glanced at Cluny as we walked by. The image of him under that blanket fast asleep stayed with me for a very long time.

We exited through the aft airstairs. I raised them, sealing off the cabin from the ramp. I felt a sigh of relief, as I’m sure Marcia did, but no words were exchanged.

Bridget...in black garb...appeared from nowhere. She handed us automatic weapons with extra clips and gave a thumbs-up, indicating her logistical responsibilities were accomplished. Words take time, so none were exchanged. Much work remained to do, and everything had gone like clockwork, thus far.

Kurt, his weapon slung over shoulder, met us at the rear of the plane. He touched Bridget’s shoulder and gave a thumbs-up. He’d cut the wires to the radios, ACARS, and air-phones, which were located in the electronic equipment compartment.

Bridget had parked a small forklift next to the rear cargo hold of the 727. I jumped up on it and opened the cargo pit. I stared at the money, neatly stacked in 239 twenty-pound boxes, just as the manifest promised.

Bridget operated the forklift while Marcia stood guard.

Kurt and I got in the pit and began loading the money onto the forklift, working at a frantic pace. We sweated profusely. Our wet hands left handprints on the cardboard boxes. My breathing became loud and irregular as claustrophobia set in. I worked faster for fear of suffocating in that black cave. All I saw was Bridget’s ghostly face bathed in an ominous moonlight.

We made three trips between the pit and the Gulfstream, which was parked in the shadow of the 727. We loaded the money through the forward entry door, stacking it in precise locations of the business jet’s modified cabin.

We worked about fifteen minutes before things went bad...real bad. We were en route to the 727 to get the last load...about fifty boxes...when the lights of a car approached.