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

were delayed a few minutes leaving the gate due to the inclement weather, but the weather conditions at LaGuardia are much better, so we don’t anticipate any inbound delays and should arrive on or close to schedule. We’re currently experiencing a minor mechanical problem, which should be resolved in a few moments. Our flying time to New York will be approximately thirty-five minutes. Thank you for flying with Shuttle Air.”

.     .     .

The noise level was now much higher and Juni figured all three engines must be running, meaning he had two minutes at most. Never enough fucking time! He spun the latch for the forward cargo door and it swung inward as smoothly and silently as night turns into day, just like Christina said. It was pitch black inside, so a breathless Juni turned on the small penlight held between his teeth and peered in. Suddenly, the clouds parted and slid away, exposing the moon. Was the fog lifting? But just as quickly dense murkiness again descended and placed a tight lid over everything. He could see the shape of two duffels right near the front, so he grabbed and dropped them to the hard taxiway. The remaining bags were inside. He reminded himself to think like a cop, meaning he had to keep his feet outside of the compartment. So stretching his full length, he felt his way around like a blind person, finally clutching two others. Although tempted to climb in and grab them all, he knew greed meant immediate detection at LaGuardia. He dropped two more bags to the pavement. As he quietly slid the bogus satchels into the compartment, a slight smile crossed his lips as the fakes and locks closely resembled the ones on the ground. He silently closed the door, swung the handle to the locked position and dragged two bags behind the jet. After depositing them at the edge of the taxiway, he quickly returned and got the remaining two. All the time silently praying Christina wouldn’t move the plane and crush him like a swatter would a fly.

.     .     .

“It says in my book the only time there’s no frequency or voltage indications is when there’s been either a generator differential fault or an over-voltage. In either case the enunciator panel is supposed to show that, but it’s blank,” Erik said.

“Look. I’ve been trying to tell you, the problem is in the generator control circuit breaker,” a red-faced Woody broke in. “It’s probably tripped. For Christ’s sake my old man’s dying. I gotta get home!”

“Where’s this breaker?” Christina calmly asked.

“The large black one on the bottom row of the rear panel,” an exasperated Woody said, pointing to the bottom of the rear bulkhead.

There was no reason to delay any longer. “That’s it!” Erik exclaimed. “The number two’s popped.”

As Woody turned back around, per Christina’s instructions Erik quietly reset the cargo compartment door light circuit breaker. Finally, he did the same for the generator control and the generator immediately showed 115 volts and 400 cycles. After placing it on line everything appeared normal. He then completed the remaining checklist items.

“Thanks, Woody. Let’s get out of here,” Christina ordered.

Woody immediately informed the tower, “Shuttle Air 1540’s ready for takeoff.”

.     .     .

Mere seconds after clearing the tail, the high-pitched engine whine turned into a roar and the big jet began slowly proceeding along the taxiway. Juni stood motionless on the wet grass as the 727 slowly vanished into the blackness, figuring he had two million bucks or more at his feet. Although he felt giddy, the money wasn’t theirs’ until the job was finished. He still had to get back to the marina and then as far away, as quickly as possible, from charming Boston. But he sensed the most difficult part was over.

.     .     .

“Shuttle Air 1540 is cleared for takeoff. Once airborne, turn left to a 140-degree heading and contact departure control on 133.0.”

While rolling down the runway, with the pilots’ attention on the takeoff, Erik slipped the tiny bulbs back into the door light panel. The forward cargo light remained extinguished, meaning Juni either got in and out or never made it. They would know soon enough. As the plane thundered down the runway, Erik wondered if the flight recorder was the new or old type. If the old, then how was he going to spend his newfound wealth? But if it was the new he would be spending time in prison. They broke ground and the jet quickly vanished into the overcast as they headed for the bright New York City lights.

.     .     .

Juni tossed the duffels into the boat and again jump-started the engine. While carefully backing away from the shoreline, after cranking in the 348-degree radial he steered a heading of 330 degrees until the VOR needle centered. He again experienced minor problems remaining on course, but holding the VOR radio in top of the compass resolved the problem. His ass was dragging but his mind was already in Jersey counting the money. Approximately fifteen minutes later, the dull lights of the yacht club began sporadically peeking through the thick fog like the cheerful blinking lights on a Christmas tree. He dropped the VOR radio overboard, where it immediately sank out of sight. Not another soul was around as he slowly chugged by the long wharf and turned into slip #42. He removed the copper jumpers and the engine quit. The wires went overboard and he made certain the boat was berthed in precisely the same manner. Although difficult, Juni refrained from breaking off a lock and peering inside one of the bags. He should now have enough to pay off his debts and get on with his life. Although he wanted to let out a loud Brooklyn cheer, there would be plenty of time to celebrate later. After stripping off the diving suit and changing back into jeans and flannel shirt, he wrapped the other gear up in