The plan went off without a hitch. Greg came quite close to running over two reporters and a videographer when he suddenly backed out of his garage without warning, but they managed to allow their survival instincts to override their reporter instincts at the last second and got out of the way. He drove off rapidly from his Brentwood subdivision, leaving the ground troops scrambling to get to their vehicles. The airborne troops followed him, as predicted, two of the helicopters broadcasting his journey live on their respective stations, breaking into the previous live shot from in front of Covington Medical Center, where they were still camped out and waiting for word on Mindy and her baby. As Jake had promised, the helicopters had to break off when he approached the southern portion of Burbank Airport. The ground troops in their cars were still too far behind to catch a sighting of where he went from there. Greg was able to continue on his journey in relative peace from here, having only to deal with the afternoon traffic of Los Angeles.
Jake watched the pursuit from inside the KVA Studio building along with Pauline, Ted, and Ben Ping.
“This shit reminds me of the day they arrested OJ,” Pauline remarked.
“He’s driving a lot faster than the Bronco was,” Ted pointed out.
By the time he left the studio to drive to Whiteman, Jake already knew that Greg had successfully evaded them as they were now back to the view in front of the medical center and speculating about just where Greg might be going. Since he had been heading in the general direction of the San Fernando Valley, and since Covington Medical Center was located just a bit northwest of the San Fernando Valley, the conjecture was that he was on his way there and they eagerly anticipated his arrival. Some thought he was coming to try to stop the induction. Others thought he was coming to be with Mindy and witness the birth of his child.
Instead, he pulled into the parking lot of Whiteman Airport at 4:46 PM and parked his car in the weekly pay lot, which was automated for arrivals so he did not have to deal with an actual human being who could tell the reporters he had been there. He made his way over to the tarmac in front of the main terminal building, where Jake was in the process of having fifteen hundred pounds of jet fuel pumped into his tanks from the fuel truck. Jake hustled the actor inside the plane before the fueling tech could see him.
“I think you pulled it off,” Jake told him. “Go grab a seat on that couch back there so the fuel guy doesn’t see you through the window.”
“Right,” Greg said, looking around the interior. “Not bad,” he said. “Not quite a Gulfstream, but much better than that other plane of yours.”
“Yep,” Jake agreed, “and you can take a piss if you need to.”
“That’s good to know,” Greg said.
“I didn’t even put you on the manifest as a passenger,” Jake told him. “A violation of FAA regs, true, but it will keep some tower controller from ratting out where you are.”
“Oh, that seems a wise precaution,” Greg said. “Can you get into trouble for that?”
“If it’s discovered, I can just claim it was an oversight and take a little slap on the wrist. I have no previous violations.”
“That’s good,” Greg said.
“The only thing is that if we crash and burn, they’re not going to know it’s you in the plane with me. That could complicate the identification of your remains to some degree.”
Greg looked at him sharply. “Uh ... my remains?”
“Yeah,” Jake said. “But don’t worry. I’ve covered that as well. Elsa and Laura know you’re on the flight with me. I called them earlier and told them to expect you. Pauline knows you’re with me as well. One of them will be able to tell the NTSB who you were and then it’s just a matter of getting hold of your dentist to match his x-rays with the teeth of your corpse.”
“Very comforting,” Greg said.
“I thought so,” Jake said with a smile. “Hang tight. We’ll be in the air in twenty minutes.”
It was actually closer to eighteen. Greg sat in the copilot seat while Jake rolled down the runway and lifted into the air. He turned northwest for home and climbed to eleven thousand feet. Once he was at altitude, he set the autopilot, including the auto-throttle, and settled in.
“It’s a remarkably quiet plane,” Greg observed once he perceived that the sterile cockpit condition was no longer in effect.
“That it is,” Jake agreed. “Having the engines mounted high, in the rear, and facing backwards keeps most of the engine noise from reaching us. Also, there’s pretty good sound insulation built into the fuselage.”
“Definitely a step up from your other plane,” Greg said again.
“And guess what?” Jake asked.
“What?”
“I have the ability to turn off the control inputs from your position. So, if you want to put your hands on the controls and pretend like you’re flying, you go right ahead. You can even make engine noises if you want.”
Greg looked at him and saw him smiling. “I’ll take that under consideration,” he finally said.
Jake chuckled and then took a glance at his instrument panel. Nothing was amiss. He scanned the sky around him, seeing two airliners heading into LA but neither were in a position to be of concern to him. He turned back to the actor. “You look better than the last time I saw you.”
“Do I?”
“You do,” Jake said truthfully. “You don’t look as stressed. Did you get yourself laid?”
“Not yet,” Greg admitted. “But I do feel like I’ve been handling the situation better of late. I’m not drinking as much as I was the last few months and I’ve resumed my workouts. I’ve even gotten some feelers about upcoming auditions. Until today, it seemed my reputation was intact and the press had almost forgotten about me.”
“I wouldn’t think this whole clusterfuck about Mindy being induced will ultimately be damaging to you,” Jake suggested.
“It shouldn’t,” he said. “Still, I’ll be glad when it’s over.”
“Have you talked to Mindy since all the shit hit the fan?”
“Not a word,” he said. “She has been in seclusion and has made no attempts to contact me. Nor have I made any to contact her.”
“I bet she gives the kid a fucked-up name,” Jake prophesized.
“That is not any of my concern,” Greg said.
They flew on in silence for a few minutes, the plane making an automatic course correction as they reached one of the programmed waypoints on the route. When it rolled back to level, Greg finally spoke up.
“So ... you ... uh told me that Celia was there when you picked up the plane from South America?”
Jake nodded. “She met us in Caracas,” he said. “Showed us around for a few days and then we all flew to Barquisimeto and stayed there for a few days. It was cool. Nice place. Kind of reminds me of Heritage in a way. A medium sized city whose purpose for being is the agriculture that surrounds it. A little muggier than Heritage though.”
“You saw her family while you were there?”
“We did,” he said. “Nice, down-to-earth people. Celia stayed with them in their house. Me, Laura, and Suzie stayed in the hotel, but we had dinner with them both nights. I enjoyed talking to them. They seem very concerned about the direction their country is heading in. Inflation is out of control, wages are stagnant, everything costs more, and it all gets worse by the month.”
“Interesting,” Greg said, though he sounded far from interested in Venezuela’s economy.
“They kept talking about some dude named Hugo something-or-other,” Jake added. “They seem to think that if he would just run for the top spot there that he’ll be able to turn things around.”
“I’m sure he will,” Greg said dismissively. “You say that this Suzie, the female pilot, was there with you?”
“She was,” Jake confirmed. “I’m sure you’ve read about Suzie and C being friends. It’s been in all the papers.”
“Yes, I’ve read about it,” Greg said. “They allege that there is a sexual affair going on between the two of them—or at least there was one?”