The airplane stalled and fell the last ten feet to the ground, landing with a noisy slam, then bouncing a couple of times. They came to a stop on the very end of the runway.
“Well,” Ginny said, “we made the runway.”
“A little late, though,” Holly replied. “I’m glad you were able to miss the ditch.”
Ginny pointed straight ahead: the propeller had stopped straight up and down, and the tip of the blade they could see was missing. “That accounts for the vibration,” Ginny said.
They got out and walked around the airplane. Daisy seemed remarkably unconcerned. Apart from the shattered windshield and the punctured window, there was a line of bullet holes running from just aft of the pilot’s seat upward and aft. Holly counted seven holes.
Ginny stood back and looked at her wounded bird. “What this airplane needs is a new windshield, new prop, new pilot’s window, and a lot of patching-plus a very thorough annual inspection. I think the engine is going to have to be torn down to see if there was any damage from that awful vibration.”
“All that sounds expensive,” Holly said.
Ginny nodded. “That’s what insurance is for, although I’m not sure how I’m going to explain this to the insurance company.” She climbed into the pilot’s seat. “Come on, let’s see if this thing will start.”
“Start?” Holly asked, alarmed. “You’re not going to try to fly it again, are you?”
“No, I’m going to try and taxi it over to that old hangar,” Ginny replied, pointing. “It beats pushing it.”
Holly got into the passenger seat. “Right. And anyway, somebody might be looking for us from the air.”
“The thought crossed my mind,” Ginny said, “although we’re both probably completely paranoid.” She flipped on the master switch, pushed in the mixture, cracked the throttle, and turned the key. The engine fired as if nothing had happened, and they began to move down the runway.
Shortly, they were in the shade of the big hangar, which had been built to hold many airplanes. Ginny shut down the engine, and they got out and looked around. The roof was full of holes and the floor was covered with light debris, but it sheltered the airplane from prying eyes.
Ginny took out her cellphone and tapped in a number. “Ham,” she said, “come get us, we’re on the ground. We’re okay, just a little problem with the prop. You drive north on highway one…” She continued with the directions. “That’s only approximate, since I’ve never been here on the ground. Just keep hunting until you find us.” She punched off. “Ham’s not too concerned,” she said.
“It takes a lot to concern Ham.”
“You know,” Ginny said, “I think it might have been the tip of the prop that broke the windshield. I mean, when a bullet came through your window, it made a hole but didn’t shatter.”
“You could be right,” Holly said, looking at the prop. “Looks like there’s about six inches missing, and that’s a pretty good-sized piece of metal.”
“Holly, who was shooting at us?”
Holly thought about that for a minute. “I’m not sure I know,” she said. “You think I could sleep on the sofa tonight?”
“Of course you can. Better yet, we’ll make Ham sleep on the sofa, and you and I will share the bed.”
Holly laughed. “I’ll let you break the news to him.”
Ginny walked around the airplane, inspecting it. “I think the shooting was coming from ahead of us when we were doing the touch-and-go. Then, when we made our left crosswind turn, it was coming from the side of the airplane; that’s how your window got hit. Looks like the shooter was somewhere around the end of the runway, to the north.”
“It’s good that you chose to keep flying, instead of setting her back down.”
“You know, I don’t know why I did that,” Ginny said.
“I’m real glad you did.”
54
Holly insisted on sleeping on the living room sofa. They had had dinner and talked, and Ham and Ginny respected her reluctance to talk about what had happened in the past few days. Holly’s response to any conversation was desultory, and they finally gave up and went to bed.
Holly made up her bed on the sofa and got into it, and Daisy lay down beside her. Holly was tired from the stress of the day’s events, but she did not sleep for a long time. Then, in the middle of the night, she came wide awake and sat up. Had she been dreaming, or just thinking? Somehow, she had answered a question in her sleep, then another. Pieces slid toward one another, and if they did not seamlessly interlock, at least there was a logic present. She found her cellphone in the dark and called Grant’s number.
“Hello?” He sounded sleepy.
“It’s Holly,” she said.
“What’s wrong?”
“I won’t know that until I talk to you,” she replied. “I’m at Ham’s. Do you know where that is?”
“No.”
She gave him directions. “I want you to come and get me.”
“Now?”
“Now. I think I can put this thing together, with your help.”
“What thing?”
“Come get me.” She hung up.
Holly dressed and waited for Grant at the gate, so as not to wake Ham and Ginny. When he came, she waited for him to turn around, then put Daisy in the backseat and got into the car. It was a warm Florida night, and the top was down.
Grant found his way back to the bridge before he said anything. “What’s going on?”
“Listen to me carefully,” she said, “and don’t interrupt me until I’m finished.”
“All right.”
“I’ve been staying in a guest cottage at Blood Orchid, courtesy of my friend Ed Shine. I’ve been kind of stunned, I guess, since the bomb went off in the cemetery. Mostly I’ve been watching TV-old movies, sitcoms, anything I could find. I tried not to think, but I believe a part of my mind was working, because I began to think of things.
“Yesterday, Ginny called me on my cellphone and invited me to go flying, said it would be good for me. I asked her to pick me up at the Blood Orchid airfield, and while I was waiting for her, a business jet landed and offloaded a bunch of heavy boxes into a Blood Orchid van. The guys flying the airplane noticed me, and before they took off, one of them made a cellphone call. I think it was about me.
“Ginny came, and we took off; I was flying left seat. We went around the pattern once and did a touch-and-go, and as we started to lift off, somebody opened fire on the airplane. The windshield exploded, and we took some rounds in other parts of the airplane. Ginny flew us to a disused field not far from there, and we landed safely, and Ham came to get us. Got all that?”
“Yes.”
“Does any of that tell you anything?”
Grant hesitated. “I’m not sure.”
“Did I mention the boxes the jet unloaded were heavy?”
“Yes.”
“What weighs a lot?”
“Metal… liquid… paper.”
“Yes, paper.”
“You know about what was going on at Blood Orchid when it was Palmetto Gardens, before the Feds went in and broke it up?”
“Yes, they were shipping money out of the country, money from drug sales in the U.S. They were flying it out of their own airstrip to wherever they wanted, in South or Central America.”
“Do you think they’re doing that again? Is that your idea?”
“No.”
“Then what?”
“The Pellegrinos are taking in huge amounts of money from their offshore banking operations and putting it into their own offshore bank, right?”
“Right. But you didn’t hear that from me.”
“Yeah, sure. So they can send as much money as they like to any bank in the world, right?”
“Right.”
“Now, say you’re running a drug ring in the U.S. Say you’re associated with other people who’re in the same business. It’s a cash business; you don’t take checks or credit cards, and you don’t put the money in the bank, right?”