Judgment at Alcatraz by Dave Edlund (carter reed .txt) 📕

area intended for parked aircraft. Presently, a half-dozen private airplanes were tethered there, ranging from single-engine aircraft to corporate jets.

As the rotors were winding down to a stop, a man exited the airport terminal, which housed flight operations and a small restaurant. He was obviously agitated, and strode the short distance from the terminal build to the parked helicopter, leaving him winded and with ruddy cheeks. His blonde hair was thin on top, which he tried to disguise with an obvious combover. Judging by his slacks and gray sport jacket over a white dress shirt and loose tie, he probably worked in management.

He labored at catching his breath while waiting for Sacheen to exit. She’d had the foresight to tuck her Beretta Model 92 pistol inside her waistband at the small of her back, where it was hidden by her shirt tails.

“Are you deaf?” the man shouted.

“What?” Sacheen replied.

“You ignored all radio communications, and didn’t have clearance to land.”

Sacheen opened her hands and shrugged. “Sorry. Who are you?”

“Bryce Washburn. I’m the manager. Do you have any idea how many regulations you violated?”

“I have eyes, and I could see that there were no aircraft in the area, or moving on the ground.”

“That’s bullshit. What kind of pilot are you?”

Leonard emerged from the far side of the helicopter, a step behind Toby and Agent Flynn. He was pushing his gun into Flynn’s back, blocked from Washburn’s view.

Sacheen was still feeling the adrenaline rush from the high-speed, nap-of-the-earth flight.

“A damn good one,” she replied.

“I want your license. I’m going to report—”

“No, you’re not, Mister Washburn. Are any of those planes for rent?” Sacheen pointed toward the parked fixed-wing airplanes.

“Excuse me? You really think I’d rent any of our aircraft to you after that stunt?”

“Hey, she asked a simple question,” Leonard said, still standing behind Toby and Flynn. “Are any of those planes for rent?”

He faced Leonard for the first time. “Well…”

“Mister Washburn. Yes or no?”

“Yes, but—”

“Thank you,” Leonard said.

Sacheen was already moving toward a sleek piston-engine aircraft, with a single propeller at the front of a long nose.

“Tell me about this one,” Sacheen called back.

Washburn hurried to catch up. Leonard and the hostages followed some distance behind him.

“That’s a Malibu Mirage,” Washburn said.

“And?” Sacheen replied.

“It will carry five passengers. Range is about fifteen hundred miles, and top cruising speed is about two hundred fifty miles per hour.”

“Good. That will work.”

“Now wait a minute. Not that fast. I have to check your pilot’s license and insurance. Where are you planning to go, and when will you return? I have to make sure the aircraft isn’t already booked.”

“Why is the hatch open?”

“It was detailed this morning. Our policy is to air-out the cabin for several hours. Some people don’t like the smell of the cleaning supplies.”

“Is it fully fueled?”

“Yes. But—”

“Good. I’ll take it. Leonard, let’s go.”

Washburn hurried to block Sacheen from climbing the steps into the cabin. She sighed dramatically, reached behind her back and pulled her pistol. She placed the muzzled inches from Washburn’s nose.

“I’m sorry, Mister Washburn. But you leave me with no choice.”

“You can’t steal this plane. It’s worth almost a million dollars.”

Leonard produced his MP5 while holding Flynn by the collar.

“Let’s not argue,” he said. “Okay?”

“Please just stand aside,” Flynn told Washburn.

Exasperated and terrified, Washburn stood aside as the entourage boarded and shut the cabin door. Sacheen eased behind the controls and worked through the checklist, then started the engine. It turned over a couple times, before roaring to life.

Leonard took the rearward-facing passenger seat directly behind the co-pilot’s station, and directed Toby and Flynn to sit opposite him. The ever-present submachine gun was nestled in his lap.

Washburn stood on the tarmac with his mouth agape as Sacheen taxied the high-performance plane onto the runway and accelerated into the pale blue sky.

Leonard and Sacheen both wore headsets with intercom to communicate over the roar of the engine.

“What’s your plan?” he said.

The Malibu had climbed to three thousand feet, and was flying due west.

“We’ll cross over Point Reyes and continue due west for fifty miles,” she said. “We should be off radar by then. But to be certain I’ll descend to one hundred feet. After the descent, I’ll turn off the transponder.”

Leonard grinned. Having outwitted the female shooter on Alcatraz, followed by the adrenaline-charged helicopter flight to the Napa Airport, both he and Sacheen were feeling giddy.

“I like it,” he said. “The officials will think we plunged into the ocean, and they will begin searching. But we won’t be there, right?”

“No. I’ll turn north and skim the waves for about three hundred miles, then turn east. We’ll cross land north of Crescent City, and then fly low, under radar, paralleling the California-Oregon border until we’re over Nevada. It’s so desolate out there that the last few hundred miles to the reservation will be easy.”

“You can put this plane down on that crappy ’ol dirt airstrip?”

“Leonard.” She twisted her mouth into a pout. “I’m hurt that you have to ask. I learned to fly in the back country of Western Canada and Alaska. That crappy ’ol dirt airstrip, as you put it, is a piece of cake. I landed the de Havilland on that strip, didn’t I?”

Leonard glanced over his shoulder at Sacheen.

“Yes, you did,” he said. “But that plane is a workhorse. And this one is a racehorse. A bit more delicate, if you ask me.”

“Piece of cake. Just sit back and enjoy the ride.”

“You and me, baby. We are an awesome pair.”

After a moment, Sacheen’s thoughts returned to her passengers, raising a new concern.

“Well, we still got a problem to solve,” she said. “What are we going to do with those two?”

Toby and Flynn were looking out the side windows, seemingly lost in thought. The drone of the powerful Lycoming engine rendered them deaf to the conversation between Leonard and Sacheen.

“You leave that to me,” he rumbled.

“You think the woman can be useful?”

He looked at Toby. She seemed to be in a trance, her gaze fixed upon the water below.

“I do,”