“This thing has four Pratt & Whitney engines,” Mike said, “each producing more than forty thousand pounds of thrust. We can carry more than a hundred and seventy thousand pounds of cargo.”
“How much runway are we going to need?” Stone asked, worried about what was available to them.
“The airplane can work out of a thirty-five-hundred-foot runway,” Mike said. “How’s that for short-takeoff performance?”
“Range and speed?”
“This is the ER, the Extended Range version. We can fly two thousand eight hundred miles without refueling. Today, we’ll refuel at an air force base at Lajes, in the Azores, then go on nonstop to Iraq. We should have a nice tailwind, too. Cruising speed is four hundred and fifty knots.”
The airplane began to taxi, with linemen at each wingtip, making sure they cleared any obstacles. Stone watched an airliner take off ahead of them and then, after a final cockpit check, they taxied onto the runway. The first officer shoved the throttles forward while the brakes were held, and when the engines reached full power, the captain released the brakes and the airplane moved forward faster than Stone would have thought possible, pressing him into his seat. They were in the air after a takeoff roll that seemed to take only seconds, and Stone put his headset on to keep out the noise. He could hear the captain talking to the tower, then to New York approach. Shortly, they were at flight level 290 and over the Atlantic Ocean.
“Come with me,” Mike said, unbuckling his seat belt.
Stone and Holly followed him to the Airstream, and he opened the door for them. Inside were four bunks, some comfortable chairs facing a large TV screen, and a galley.
“This is our rest area,” Mike said. “We’re flying with two crews, and the off-duty pilot and copilot can use the bunks in the cockpit.” He led them out of the trailer and pointed to what looked like a hotel laundry bin with canvas sides. “Our parachutes are in there. Has either of you ever jumped?”
“Once,” Stone said.
“I did airborne training in the army and got my wings,” Holly said.
“Getting out of this thing is real easy, should we have to,” Mike said. “All you do is strap the chute on, clip onto a static line at the rear, then just run off the lowered tail ramp. The rest is easy, depending on where you land.”
Stone thought about that for a moment. “I hope we won’t have to do that,” he said.
TWENTY-TWO
After they had cruised for a few minutes, Stone, Holly, and Todd Bacon followed Mike Freeman from the cockpit to the Airstream trailer, where they settled into chairs and Mike gave them a choice of movies. They settled on Casablanca.
It was quieter in the trailer, so they didn’t need headphones. A smaller screen next to the big one displayed a moving map, which showed them out over the Atlantic, with the tip of Long Island disappearing off the rear edge.
Stone hadn’t seen the movie for years, and he enjoyed it as much as the first time he’d experienced it. When the titles came up at the end, Stone checked the moving map, which showed another ninety minutes of flight time to the Azores. Todd and Holly got up from their seats and left the trailer, leaving Stone with Mike.
“Tell me about what’s going on with Jack Gunn’s business,” Mike said.
“I don’t know what’s going on there,” Stone said. “I only know that Jack’s wife’s sister was murdered a few days ago.” He told Mike about the aborted dinner party, the police investigation, and the people surrounding what had happened. “I can’t prove that Adele’s death has anything to do with the business, but I have a bad feeling about it, and I don’t want my money there until we know everything about her death. That’s why I recommended that you not deposit the proceeds of the sale of the company with Gunn.”
“Should we remove what we have with them now?”
“Do you have any sort of business insurance that would protect your investment?” Stone asked.
“No.”
“Then it can’t hurt to move your funds.”
Mike nodded. “I’ll call the office and get the process started.” He picked up a cordless phone from a credenza and called New York.
Stone dozed off in his reclining chair and only woke when the sounds of the airplane changed.
“We’re descending into Lajes,” Mike said. “I’m going to go up and watch our landing.”
Stone followed him and they sat in the jump seats again. Through the pilots’ windows he could see an expanse of blue Atlantic, gleaming in the late-afternoon sunlight, and an island came into view. Stone spotted the long runway a few minutes out and watched the pilots as they slowed the airplane’s descent, then put in flaps and slats and lowered the landing gear. They landed smoothly and taxied off the runway, where a fuel truck was waiting for them.
“We’ll stay on the airplane,” Mike said, “to avoid having to clear local customs.”
An Air Force contingent did enter the airplane and check passports, though. An hour later they were climbing out of Lajes and heading for Gibraltar and the Mediterranean beyond. Once they were at altitude again, Stone went back to the trailer and lay down on a bunk. Shortly, he was asleep. He woke in time to get a look at Gibraltar, far below, then he had a dinner prepared by a caterer before they left Stewart, along with a glass of wine. Then he went to sleep again.
He didn’t wake up until Mike shook him.