Flying Too Close to the Sun by George Jehn (novels for beginners .txt) 📕

bullshit. I thought it odd this happened every night, especially since I noticed the same guy boarding each time.”

“The same person?”

“Not only that. He takes the identical seat, 3-D. I also receive official notification a sky marshal is on board.”

“A sky marshal? That makes no…”

“The guy also wore a United States Treasury Department badge when I saw him on the ramp, but there was no sign of the badge when he boarded. To confuse things even more, according to the rules, a sky marshal isn’t supposed to delay the flight or take the same seat every time so I was baffled. Everyone I asked claimed ignorance.” She continued, “One night, a bit past nine an unmarked van pulled up alongside and this same guy hopped out. After supervising the unloading of some heavy-duty satchels into our forward cargo bin, he sprinted up the Jetway and took the same seat. As soon as he was onboard, the agent announced we were ready. This is the same scenario almost every night.”

“How do you know we’re carrying money?”

“Since I’m the captain, I wanted to know what the hell was going on. So one time I went onto the ramp to find out. As I walked around the nose of the plane, the guards pulled guns on me.”

“Guns? I thought you said no violence?”

“There won’t be. I surprised them,” an exasperated Christina said. “May I pulleeze finish? I rifled through the company’s computer looking for the details and was able to dig them up. It’s a highly classified Treasury Department operation.” Christina hesitated and leaning closer to Erik and with her sweet breath on his face, whispered, “The guy has a dual role, working as a sky marshal and also guarding the sacks, which are full of old, worn-out paper currency—.

“So close, yet so far,” Erik again interrupted.

“Close enough. After they’re unloaded, the old bills are probably taken somewhere in New York City where the money goes through a shredder. I’ve seen clear plastic pillows with cut-up bills stuffed inside. But catch this. The amounts listed on our flights were in excess of four million each time and these large shipments are what cause our delays.”

A grimacing Erik felt as though his stomach was run through a shredder knowing the feds were involved, meaning the FBI. “This happens every night?”

“I’m not certain about Friday, but the money’s on board Monday through Thursday. From what I witnessed the ground portion is overseen by a number of people, but once it’s aboard this guy assumes sole responsibility. And we have a unique opportunity before departing on 22 Right.”

“How so? It’s impossible to get into the cargo compartment from the cockpit.”

For about fifteen minutes, Christina outlined her step-by-step plan and when finished, Erik just whistled. “It sounds crazy, but just might work. Hell, if they’re going to destroy it anyway, it’s almost like we’re not really stealing. But have you figured out every detail, because I’m wondering if there’s anything you don’t know about this or might have overlooked? And, what about Woody?”

“I think I’ve got every base covered. But Woody remains a big question.” Quickly glancing at her wristwatch, Christina saw only thirty minutes remained before departure. “We need to decide, but I’m against bringing him in. The forward cargo compartment is directly below and aft of his seat, so he can’t see it. Plus, if we include him it’s less for us.”

“I’m not certain we can trust him,” Erik added.

“Me neither. But look, we don’t want to make him suspicious, so let’s join him now. I also want you to think matters through, because I still need a bit more time. I have someone lined up for our needed third person, but haven’t spoken to him yet. I know your first payment is due in a couple of days, and...”

“I paid that.”

“How? I thought you said you were broke?”

“I approached my girlfriend, Carol.” Erik watched to see if there was any reaction from Christina after he mentioned her. There wasn’t. “After I told her my job was at stake, she cleaned out her bank account. All she had was enough for the first month’s payment, but at least now I’m covered ‘til August.”

Christina frowned. “You cannot tell her—anyone—what we’re up to.”

“Don’t worry. I won’t,” an annoyed Erik responded with a grimace.

While walking to grab two takeout burgers, a solemn Christina informed him, “After the job we’ll be prime suspects. This means no calling each other from home or on any cellphone you might have, and definitely no emails. From what I’ve read and heard, the world we now live in is becoming a giant listening device for a bunch of faceless bureaucrats. Maybe I’m only a gene away from the crackling winds of paranoia, but there aren’t many secrets anymore, so let’s touch base only in person or via a pay phone. This way there won’t be any records.”

“You’re paranoid all right,” Erik replied, feeling a bit like that himself, “if paranoia is defined as acute awareness.”

.     .     .

They entered the eatery as Montgomery was putting his tray on the noisy conveyor belt. “Hey, where were you guys?” he innocently asked.

Christina immediately responded, “Erik was on the phone with his girlfriend. I made the mistake of standing close and all I could hear was, yes dear, no dear.” He’s henpecked and not even married.” Pointing to Woody’s tray, she told him, “Glad you didn’t wait for us. We’ll grab a quick takeout.”

“Okay. I’ll return and get the clearance.” And turning to Erik offered, “And I’ll do your pre-flight inspection, again.”

“Thanks.” As Woody hurried back to the plane, Christina watched him, thinking they definitely did not want to use him.

.     .     .

Per what had become the norm, there was a delay waiting for connecting passengers. But this time Erik peered through the small peephole in the fortified cockpit door, taking note of the tall, dark-haired male passenger Christina had described taking seat 3-D. Outside, the moonlit, low wispy clouds with dim stars