“Then we’ll see you tomorrow. Drinks are at six.”
“I’ll flight-plan for the cocktail hour.”
“See you then.”
“See you.” Stone hung up feeling elated.
“You look better already,” Joan said.
“I feel better already.”
“Bob looks relieved,” she said.
“Are you relieved, Bob?”
Bob wagged all over.
“You want me to pack you a bag?”
“That would be great.”
“How long?”
“Say a week, to be safe, and pack Bob a bag, too.”
—
The following morning at ten, Stone sat at the end of runway 24 at Teterboro Airport.
“November One, Two, Three, Tango Foxtrot, cleared for takeoff,” the tower controller said.
“N123TF, cleared for takeoff.”
Stone flipped on the pitot heat, strobes, and landing light, taxied onto the runway, and pushed the throttles forward, glancing at the pilot’s display as the airspeed climbed. At a speed labeled R for rotate, Stone pulled back on the yoke, and the jet rose from the concrete and climbed. He retracted the landing gear and the flaps and, at 450 feet, switched on the autopilot, which would now fly the departure procedure known as RUDY4.
Shortly, he got a vector and a new altitude from the departure controller and, to his surprise, was given flight level 400, or 40,000 feet, and was cleared direct SAF.
Twenty minutes later he was at altitude and on course. He adjusted the air-conditioning, chose the symphony channel on the Sirius Satellite Radio, and picked up the New York Times crossword puzzle. He glanced over a shoulder to see how his new crew was doing and saw Bob sitting on a rear seat, looking intently out the window. Stone had laid a blanket in the aisle for him, and a moment later Bob hopped down, curled up, and went to sleep.
Stone concentrated on the puzzle. Each time he moved to the next clue, he looked up, did an instrument scan, made an adjustment, if necessary, then returned to the puzzle. Three and a half hours later he was descending into Santa Fe, with fifty minutes of fuel left, and he set down smoothly on runway 20.
As he taxied to a halt at the FBO (fixed-base operator) and stopped for chocking, a sleek dark sports car pulled up to the nose of the airplane. He wasn’t sure what it was.
He picked up the checklist and went through the shutdown procedure, then got up and opened the door. Bob preceded him onto the ramp, and he gave the key to a lineman, who opened the forward baggage compartment and loaded his and Bob’s luggage into the rear of the car. It was a tight fit.
Stone walked around the car and found the Aston Martin winged logo. The lineman walked Bob over to some grass to do some business while Stone sat in the driver’s seat and looked around. He couldn’t find a key or a start button, and there was no gearshift lever present in the usual place.
“You know this car?” the lineman asked.
“I don’t.”
“I had to read up on it before I took it out of the hangar. Here’s what you do. First, set the handbrake, since the gearbox has no Park setting. Put your foot on the brake, and put this into that slot on the panel.” He handed Stone a little black box, and he slid it into the slot. “Now push it all the way in.” Stone did so, and the car leapt to life with an attractive roar.
“Now you got two choices. You can shift up with the right paddle and down with the left paddle, or you can push the D button on the panel, which will give you an automatic transmission. You lift your foot a little to change gears, or let the car decide. When you stop, pull on both paddles for neutral, or push the N button, apply the handbrake, and push the key again.” Stone tried that, and the key popped out.
“Got it,” Stone said, and drove over to the electric gate. A moment later he was cruising away, with Bob in the passenger seat.
By the time he spotted the stone eagle on the road above the village of Tesuque, Stone felt at home in the car. He pulled into the drive and Ed Eagle, all six feet seven inches of him, walked out of the house to greet him.
19
Stone and Ed shook hands and hugged, while Bob helped Ed’s man with the luggage. “Good flight?” Ed asked as they walked into the house.
“Perfect. The winds were easy on me.” Stone looked ahead into the living room. “Uh-oh,” he said. Bob was standing stock-still in the middle of the room, cautiously regarding a nearly identical Labrador retriever.
“That’s Earl,” Ed said. “Let them sort it out.”
Some sniffing and circling took place, then Earl found a ball, showed it to Bob, and let it bounce from his mouth.
“They’re fast friends now,” Ed said. “Earl doesn’t usually share his ball with visitors.”
“Where’s Susannah?” Stone asked.
“She’s picking up someone at the airport.”
“And what was it you wanted to show me?”
“All in good time.”
Two other couples came into the room; one pair was Nicky and Vanessa Chalmers, the other he didn’t know.
“I understand you and the Chalmerses have met,” Ed said. “These other folks are Carlos and Candela Munoz, from San Antonio.”
Everyone shook hands. “Nicky is my newest client,” Stone said.
“And he’s one of my oldest,” Ed replied. “I defended his company against a lawsuit the first year I practiced, and we had a favorable outcome.”
“Stone,” Nicky said, “you didn’t think I hired you without a reference, did you?”
“I’m glad you chose Ed for that,” Stone replied.
Ed’s man, Juan, came back into the room and took drink orders, and everybody took a seat while he served them. The two dogs rolled happily on the floor.
Stone heard a car door slam outside, and Susannah and a slightly younger and even more beautiful version of her came into the house. Susannah hugged Stone. “This is my little sister, Gala,” she said. They shook hands, and she sat down next to Stone and ordered a drink. Stone could not take his eyes off Gala.
Ed passed by and whispered to Stone, “That’s what I wanted to show you.”
“Where do you hail from?” Stone asked Gala.
“Interesting question,” she said. “I’m not sure. I’ve been living in Los Angeles the past few years, but I gave up the house there in a divorce. I got the Santa Fe house, and I’ve been redoing it, but I haven’t decided yet if this is home.”
“You could do worse,” Stone said.
“I have done worse,” she said, laughing. “I understand you live all over the place.”
“I can’t deny that, but I’m based in New York. I just keep getting offered houses I can’t refuse. In my defense, I did sell one this year.”
“You’re a lawyer, I understand. How do you get any work done?”
“It’s amazing how much work you can get done with a phone, a fax machine, and a computer. There seems to be less and less demand for face-to-face meetings, and even those can be done with the computer. What do you do?”
“I’m a screenwriter,” she said.
“How many face-to-face meetings do you have a year?”
“Not many,” she said. “I’m proof of your point, and my work is portable, so I can live wherever I like.” She nodded toward the two dogs. “Which one of those is yours?” she asked.
“Tell you the truth, I’m not sure. Oh, the one with the red collar is Bob, who flew out here with me. He’s a good crew.”
“What’s a good crew?”
“One who doesn’t complain about my flying.”
“Bob doesn’t look like the complaining sort,” she said.
“Not so far.”
“Have you known each other long?”
“Almost a week.”
“So you didn’t raise him from a pup?”
“No, I was visiting a client in East Hampton last weekend, and Bob seemed to prefer me to her. After I drove away, I found him in my backseat.”