“I was just about to point that out,” Jill said, delighted. “What with all the equipment, travel, lodging, potential medical expenses from injury.”
“Not to mention missed productivity if one should become injured and unable to perform one’s customary duties,” added Nicolas.
“Exactly!” said Jill.
Eddie shook his head and gave a little roll of the eyes. “Accountants,” he said sadly. “It seems they are the same no matter what their nationality.”
Jake smiled. “I was just about to point that out,” he said.
They continued their trip around the plane—Jake pausing to caress the hammerhead wings at the nose—and then finally came to the door on the left side, just behind the cockpit area. Señor Gomez was not entirely sure how to open the thing, so Sebastian stepped forward and performed the action for him. A small stairway was folded down from the bottom of the door and Jake stepped inside, followed by Eddie. Everyone else stayed outside in the hangar.
It was dark in the interior, the air a little musty, but Jake could plainly see the setup. It was very similar to the aircraft he had ridden in with Austin on the trip from Phoenix to Denver, the standard business-transport arrangement. There were six luxurious seats behind the cockpit, the first two facing forward, the second two facing aft, the third two facing forward. Between the second and third sets, wooden tables could be pulled out from the walls. Behind the third set of seats was a sink and a small bar. Behind that were three more seats, all facing sideways, two on the left side, one on the right. Immediately behind that was a small door that led into the tiny bathroom. There was no cockpit door installed, so it would be easy for the pilot of the aircraft to converse with the passengers, especially those immediately behind the cockpit. The lights were all recessed. The interior color was a soft beige that was pleasant on the eyes. Like the one he had flown on before, the cockpit was equipped with computerized digital instruments with analog backups and had the Garmin integrated navigation package.
“What do you think?” asked Eddie after Jake finished the tour of the interior.
“I like it,” he told the businessman. “In fact, I love it. I want it.”
“Very good,” Eddie said, pleased. “I like a man who goes after what he wants.”
“It’s the only way to live life,” Jake replied, still looking into the cockpit and envisioning himself in that left hand seat.
“Well then,” Eddie said, “I understand that you brought your mechanic with you to examine the maintenance records and the aircraft itself, correct?”
“Yes,” Jake said. “That’s correct.”
“Well then, how about we let he and Samuel get to that? And I’m sure Sebastian will be helpful to their cause as well.”
“Sounds good,” Jake said, heading to the doorway.
“And I’m sure that Nicolas and Señorita Yamashito have their own things to discuss,” Eddie said, following behind. “We have already agreed upon a price for the aircraft, but they must start discussing things like inspections and transfer of funds and escrow accounts and all of those things that accountants like to go on about.”
“Yes,” Jake said, stepping back out into the hangar. “I’m sure they do.”
“That is likely to take a few hours, correct?” Eddie asked, casting his gaze on Jill and Nick, who were already putting their heads together over in the corner.
“At least,” Jake agreed.
“Well then, since you and I seem to be without much to do until that time, how about we pop out for a drink or two?”
“Pop out ... for a drink?” Jake asked softly.
“Right!” Eddie said. “There’s a wonderful bar just a few miles from here. I would so love to enjoy a few local brews in the company of one of the world’s most famous musicians.”
“Uh ... well...” Jake said hesitantly, not at all comfortable with this idea. This was, after all, Colombia, a country known for political kidnappings and the ransoming of the victims of this crime. And he was being invited to climb into a car alone with a man who may or may not be a Colombian drug lord.
“Is there a problem with this, Jake?” Eddie asked, his eyes probing into Jake’s.
“Uh ... well ... not really, it’s just that ... well ... I am an American and this is not America ... and I’m not sure how things work and all...”
“I assure you,” Eddie said, “you are perfectly safe in my company.”
“I’m sure I am,” Jake said, “but I don’t really have much of your money on me. Only a couple thousand pesos apart from what I have to pay the limo driver.”
“The drinks will be on me,” Eddie promised. “I insist upon it.”
“Oh ... well ... in that case...” he tried for a second to come up with another reason to refuse the invite, failed to do so, and then decided: What the hell? How often do you get a chance to have a drink with an alleged Colombian drug lord? And he’s going to buy! “I guess I will accept then.”
“Excellent,” Eddie said. He looked at the one of the members of his ‘security team’ and gave a nod. The nod was returned, and the man began to speak quietly, his hand covering his mouth. “Let’s head to the door. My vehicle will be here momentarily.”
Jake told Jill and Travis where he was going. They gave him a few concerned looks but said nothing. He then accompanied Eddie to the hangar’s man-door, where they had entered. Sure enough, the black SUV was now sitting out there, the driver standing next to the open rear door.
“After you, Jake,” Eddie invited.
“Thank you,” Jake said politely.
Still thinking this was a bad idea, he got into the back of the SUV and settled in. The back seat was huge, equipped with a bar and entertainment center. Jake could not help but notice that in addition to this the window glass seemed considerably thicker than what he was accustomed to. And when the driver closed the door after Eddie and the two security guys found their seats, it seemed he had to use a significant amount of force to do so, and the door slammed with a much louder noise than what was normal. Jake realized that the SUV was not stock, but armored, designed to be resistant to small arms fire.
Jesus, he thought nervously. Is it too late to back out of this side-trip?
It was. The SUV pulled away a moment later and started heading for the airport’s exit. A minute after that, they were on the main highway, heading north through the lush hills.
“Do you enjoy a good smoke, Jake?” Eddie asked him.
“Smoke? Uh ... that depends on what you mean by that.”
“Cigars, of course,” Eddie said. “I have some fine Cubans here if you would like to partake.” With that, he opened a compartment next to the bar, revealing it to be a small humidor. Inside were ten or so tightly wrapped stogies.
“I do enjoy a good cigar when the occasion is right,” Jake allowed.
“Does this seem like such an occasion?” Eddie asked.
“You know ... it really kind of does.”
“Excellent,” Eddie said, pulling two of the cigars out and then closing the humidor. He handed one to Jake. It was a Don Arturo Especial, which Jake knew sold for about six thousand dollars a box.
They prepped their cigars and lit up, blowing the smoke out into the back of the vehicle, where most of it was sucked up by a ventilation system that was also a few notches above stock. It was perhaps the finest cigar that Jake had ever smoked, smooth, yet with a delicious bite on the exhale. If he was going to his doom, at least he was going in style.
But he was not going to his doom. Instead, they came out of the hills and into a small upscale suburban area that Eddie identified as Chia. There, just south of a college campus and just west of a row of high-class nightclubs and restaurants, they parked in front of an old, colonial style building. The sign out front read Conquistar el Dia. Jake knew enough Spanish to translate this one on his own.