The Ridge

Before he even undressed, Cal forced himself to stop thinking about Jan naked in a shower with him. She could still arouse him with just a look or a touch. In fact, she always said it was one of the things she loved most about him, but if she wasn't coming in—and she wasn't—then what was the point of daydreaming about it. Instead, Cal willed himself to think about the flight, the wedding, and the long weekend ahead. Billy was flying, so he didn't have to worry there. The wedding was the girl's department; he just needed to show up and do as he was told. As for the rest of the weekend, I'm just going to play as much golf as possible, he thought. Well, the wedding might be a little different. He never had to walk down the aisle and give his little girl away and, no matter what, Traci would always be his little girl. He still had to remind himself that she owned her own business and that she was about to be married. To him she would always be the little girl who sat in daddy's lap to watch the Wizard of Oz. Watching the Wizard of Oz was a family tradition, but she was too scared of the witch to sit alone. As the hot water scorched his back, he smiled and remembered. After showering, Cal threw on boxers and a T-shirt, grabbed a towel, and stepped out of the bathroom drying his hair. As he did, he was staring down the barrel of a 357 Magnum pointed between his eyes. "You make a sound, you die." Mike Sullivan whispered. Immediately Cal assessed the situation, looking first at the cargo door of the plane. He hoped that his family might see what was happening and call for help. That would not be the case—the door was closed. He turned his attention to the intruders. Four men and two women, and the men all carried weapons. The leader was in front of him with the Magnum. He was Cal's height, bulkier, but about the same weight. Everyone else was looking to him for their next move. A tall, lanky man stood by the door of the plane holding a Russian-made Bizon-2 machine pistol, and Cal could tell he was good with it just by the way he held it. A big, muscle-bound guy stood at the door to the hangar holding a Glock 9mm. He had a mean, dangerous look. A shorter, balding guy with a Beretta stood over a pile of travel bags. Whatever these guys wanted, it had to do with those bags, Cal thought. Both women were over by the west wall waiting to be told what to do. The blonde was smiling with an excited look on her face. The other, the brunette, just looked scared. As his gaze went back to the man in front of him, Cal slowed his breathing and forced his mind to focus. It amazed him that his old training still clicked in automatically. "What do you want?" Cal asked. Sully's eyes narrowed.“I'll ask the questions. How many people on the plane?" Cal hesitated. "Don't screw with me, pal. How many"” "Four, including the pilot" Cal finally answered. "Who are they?" "My wife, son, daughter-in-law and, like I said, the pilot." "Where's the plane heading and how soon?" Sully asked. "Arizona. We're scheduled to leave for Tucson at 3:30." Sully glanced at his watch. Four hours to wait. His first thought was to leave as soon as possible, but then he caught himself. Be patient and don't bring attention to yourself, two things he had learned to live by when trying to avoid the cops. "Good. We're hopping a ride. No one gets hurt if we don't get any trouble. We leave you guys and go our merry way when we land. Understood?" "Understood." Cal understood all too well that his family and Billy's health depended entirely on what these guys were into and how he handled the situation. "Listen, this is my plane. I can get you money and fly you wherever you want to go. Just let the others leave," Cal offered. Sullivan pushed the gun up against Cal's temple. "I don't need any suggestions from you. You think I'm stupid? Ten minutes after we leave, the cops are on our ass. So just shut up, and let's go meet the loved ones." SKIPCAL purchased its first plane, a Lear Jet, for business reasons in 1983. Four years later they moved up to a Boeing 727. They decided not only could they move business passengers from city to city, but also cargo from off-shoot companies they formed. At that time, SKIPCAL also purchased a lease on the hangar at Kennedy Airport that they recently renewed. Finally, in 1990, they settled on a Boeing 737 and customized it to handle all facets of the company. It was a rare occurrence for the company plane to be used for personal use, but this was a special occasion. As he approached the big plane with SKIPCAL emblazoned on the side, Cal felt helpless. He was glad Skip's family was not with them on this trip. He knew his own family was in trouble and his mind was racing, trying to think of a way to protect them and get them out. Sullivan wanted a small plane like the one he had seen on the runway earlier. The information he got from an airline attendant told him that any private plane arriving would have to taxi to the far west end of the airport to the private hangars. He decided they would take the first hangar with a plane inside. They would then wait it out until someone came to fly it. Okay pal, you first. Remember, I'm right behind you. If I have to start shooting, you will be first, but you won't be the last to die here today. Get it?"l