Where There's Smoke
“Turning you down has nothing to do with ethics. I’m not looking to get killed. Beyond that, I don’t trust your motives any farther than I can throw you. So you wasted—”
“What if Ashley is still alive?”
He fell silent and regarded her with piercing intensity.
“Uh, ’xcuse me, Key?” Balky was standing in the doorway, his rheumy eyes darting between them with uncertainty. “I’m leaving for the night. Will you lock up?”
“Sure thing, Balky. Good night.”
“Night. Night, Doc.”
“Good night.”
They listened to his departure. The interruption defused the tension, but only marginally. Key turned his back on her and ran his fingers through his hair. “Is that a possibility?”
“Probably not. The point is that I don’t know. I guess in the back of my mind I’ve clung to the faint hope that she somehow survived. Her body was never shipped back like her father’s.” Wearily, she rubbed the back of her neck. “Of course, as a physician and considering the severity of her wound, I know that’s highly improbable. She died and was buried. Somewhere alien and unknown to me. I can’t live with that. If nothing else, I want to bring back her remains and bury them in American soil.”
He turned to face her, but said nothing.
“I need you to do this,” she pressed. “One way or another I want to take my daughter out of that place and bring her home. But I can’t get into the country. Even ally nations have very few airlines that serve Montesangre because the government is in such constant upheaval. When and if I did get through, as an American citizen I’d be denied entrance into the country and shipped out on the next flight.”
“I’d say that’s a fairly accurate guess.”
“More than a guess. I’ve been in contact with people in similar circumstances. Many Americans have loved ones in Montesangre whose fates are unknown. Their fact-finding missions have been futile. If they got as far as Ciudad Central, they were dealt with harshly. A few were imprisoned for hours, even days, before being returned to the airport to await the next outbound plane. Some claimed they barely escaped with their lives, and I believe them.”
“That’s why I don’t want to fly over the place, much less land, get out, and walk around,” Key said.
“If anyone can get an airplane in and out of there, it’s you. Clark constantly bragged about your flying skills. He told me how you’ve flown into impossible situations to deliver supplies or make rescue attempts, and that you thrive on taking risks—the more dangerous the circumstances, the better.” She paused for breath. “Supposing you agreed to do it, could you get an airplane?”
“That’s a broad supposition.”
“Go with it for the sake of discussion. Could you get a plane?”
He thought it over for a minute. “I know a guy who once asked me to crash a plane for him so he could collect the insurance. He was that badly in debt. He offered to give me thirty percent of his take. If I lived.”
“Can you do that? Deliberately crash a plane and live?”
“If you do it right,” he said with a fleeting grin. “His offer was tempting. Hell of a chunk of cash. But it wasn’t worth the risk.”
“Is he still in financial straits?”
“Last I heard.”
“Does he still have the airplane?”
“Last I heard.”
“So he might be agreeable to your flying it into a potentially dangerous situation. If it never came back, he could collect his insurance money and keep one hundred percent of it. If we did make it back, he’d have the money we paid him to use the plane. How much would he charge to lease it?”
“It’s a sweet plane. Cessna 310. Not that old. Taking into consideration the distance… say twenty thousand.”
“Twenty thousand,” she repeated softly. “That much?”
“Ballpark. In addition to my fee.”
“Your fee?”
“If my ass is going to be target practice for a guerrilla with an automatic rifle, you’re damn right there’s a fee.”