Dirty Work (Stone Barrington 9)

Stone was enchanted. He hadn’t been on a DC-3 since he was a boy, and he loved the deep rumble of the radial engines. “This is great, isn’t it?” he said to Dino.

Dino, who was holding tight to the armrests, his knuckles white, did not reply.

“Isn’t it great, being on a DC-3?” Stone asked, elbowing him.

“It has propellers,” Dino said.

“Of course it has propellers.”

“It’s not a jet.”

“You’re very observant.”

“Why is the tail on the ground and the nose in the air? We’ll never get off the ground.”

“It’s a tail dragger,” Stone explained. “It doesn’t have a nosewheel, just a little one at the back. It’s the way all airplanes used to work.”

“They used to crash a lot, too.” Dino let go of an armrest long enough to grab the wrist of a flight attendant, who was walking down the short aisle. “I need a drink,” he said.

“I’m sorry, sir, but our flight is too short to offer drink service. We’ll be in Saint Thomas in half an hour.”

“I’m a cop. Does that make any difference?”

“We don’t even have liquor aboard, sir. Please relax, it’s going to be a very short flight.”

Dino let go of her wrist and resumed his death grip on the armrest. The airplane rolled onto the runway and kept going, while Dino helped by keeping his eyes tightly shut. After an interminable roll, the airplane lifted off and began to climb.

“See,” Stone said, “it flies.”

They crossed the coastline and entered clouds. The airplane began to shake. The pilot came on the intercom. “Ladies and gentlemen,” he said, “this is the captain speaking. We apologize for the turbulence, but I’m afraid we’ll be dodging thunderstorms along our route today, so please keep your seat belts fastened.”

Dino let go of an armrest long enough to yank his seat belt tight enough to cut off circulation to his legs.

“This is going to be great,” Stone said, as the airplane leveled off.

Dino looked out the window. “We’re flying awful low.”

“It’s a short flight, Dino. There’s no point in climbing higher; we’ll be there in twenty minutes.”

The airplane suddenly dropped a couple of hundred feet.

“Jeeesus!” Dino said through clenched teeth.

“Nothing to worry about,” Stone said, sounding unconvinced. He was feeling a little queasy himself.

The airplane banked sharply to the right, kept that course for ten minutes, then banked sharply to the left. Items were falling out of the overhead racks.

Then, unexpectedly, they were on the ground, just as a rain squall struck the airplane. It did some weaving as it braked, but then they were at the terminal.

“I want a drink,” Dino said.

“When we get to the hotel,” Stone replied.

The rain continued as they got into a taxi, and what little they could see of the town of Charlotte Amalie through the rain-streaked windows seemed drab. The taxi climbed steeply for a few minutes, then deposited them on the doorstep of a small hotel. Shortly, they were in their adjoining rooms.

“You want a drink now?” Stone called.

“I want a blood transfusion,” Dino called back. “Leave me alone.”