Caribbean's Keeper (23 page)

She nodded yes. “I will go home, to Colombia.” When she said the word Colombia, she teared up again and Cole knew Maria meant it.

The woman returned with a credit card and a checkbook, discussing it for a minute with Maria in Spanish before all three stood up and shook hands. Outside the bank, Maria hugged Cole and didn’t let go for some time. Cole embraced her firmly with his good arm and managed to wrap his left arm around her as well.

Cole asked, “Are you good to go from here or do you need a ride?”

Maria replied, “No, I’m good. I’m going to get my things and say goodbye to some friends. I will fly home tomorrow, maybe the next day.”

“To Colombia?” Cole asked.

Maria smiled, teared up again for a second, and then shook her head, saying, “Yes, to Colombia.”

She paused for a second to compose herself, then hugged Cole one more time. As she held him tight, she asked, “Will you come with me?”

He patted her back, but shook his head to say no. “I can’t. I have to take care of some things. But maybe I’ll see you again one day, Maria.”

She hugged him again with force and kissed his lips. It caught Cole by surprise, but he kissed her back and it only reaffirmed the feelings he held for her. With one last hug and a smile from Maria, they parted ways. Maria looked back twice as she walked down the sidewalk and disappeared. He stood there for some time until David called out from the van and motioned for Cole to get moving. Cole stood for a few moments more, replaying the last few minutes over in his head, before he climbed into the van. With his drug money now gone, Cole was left with his severance, which was honest—albeit bittersweet—money to get along with for the time being.

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As they drove east to the airport along the Pacific, Cole thought about the Caribbean and wondered if he would have the chance again to roar across the waves under a full moon. If he was washed up and simply didn’t know it, he felt sorry for himself. It was short-lived, but in many ways he was just happy to be alive. Even from inside the van, he felt a weight off his chest by being outside the city. It was time for something new. Maria would be his lasting memory of Panama City. One day he hoped to forget the blood and the death and the drugs, but he would hold onto the thought of Maria.

As they motored along in and out of afternoon traffic, David asked Cole for the gun back. “You gotta dump that thing. The cops are looking for it now.”

David extended his hand out for Cole to give it to him. Cole instinctively didn’t like the idea of not having a gun with him and reassured himself by patting it with his right hand.

He looked back at David. “I’ll give it to you at the airport.”

David laughed and said, “You worry too much my friend. Besides, now you got no money, so why would I even mess with you?”

They both laughed a bit at the joke. The truth was Cole felt better being broke than if he left a rich man. It was money he’d earned, but he valued a cleaner conscience more than cash.

The rest of the drive was uneventful and when they approached the airport, the van turned down a separate road from the main terminal.

“Where are we going?” Cole watched as they drove right past the main passenger area.

David pointed further down the road and said, “We don’t bother with customs. Everything is good, my friend. Don’t worry.”

When they finally pulled up to a nearly empty ramp, Cole saw a man step out of a smaller twin-engine plane and walk towards the van. David stepped out first and walked over, shaking hands with the guy. Cole was next and they all stood around the hot ramp in the afternoon sun sizing each other up.

David made introductions. “Cole, this is Murph. He’s one of our pilots.”

Murph extended his hand and Cole obliged. Murph was older than Cole by probably ten years, balding a bit, and wore sandals with khaki shorts and a wrinkled short-sleeve shirt. He was tan, but looked to be an American. He had a smile on his face. Cole could tell that Murph was trying to figure Cole out just as much as Cole was trying to sort out a new face.

“He’s running to Curacao and then to Martinique with some papers and documents for us,” said David. “You can ride along and stop wherever.”

Cole nodded to accept and walked to the van to grab his bag. As he walked back over to the plane with his bag over his shoulder, he reached into his holster and handed David the Glock. David took it, slipped it into the small of his back, and exchanged a firm nod with Cole. Without much in the way of goodbyes, Murph showed Cole to the step up behind the wing and Cole climbed in. He couldn’t stand up straight in the cramped cabin, but there were a few seats scattered about and two briefcases off to one side. Cole took a seat right behind a bulkhead that separated the cabin from the cockpit.

Murph pulled some chocks out from under the landing gear and threw them into the back of the plane. Through the small round windows, Cole saw him pulling at things and smacking different parts of the plane, giving it a once over. Once up into the cabin, he walked forward and whacked Cole on the back of the head and pointed forward. “This ain’t the fucking airlines, kid. Sit up front and do something useful. I don’t trust you if I can’t see you.”

It caught Cole off guard, but he followed Murph further forward, and after seeing Murph climb over a console and sit down, Cole repeated the same balancing act and settled into the right seat. Murph was furiously flipping switches and pulling handles and soon enough both engines roared to life. For the first time, Cole found himself somewhere hotter than Panama City. With no air flow, the cockpit must have been over 100 degrees. He was soaked in sweat, wiping it from his eyes and trying to figure out how to put on the headset Murph had handed him. For Cole it was completely foreign, but as Murph began a slow taxi, Cole realized he had his ticket out of Panama.

Chapter 11 – Fort-De-France

MURPH TAXIED FOR WHAT seemed like an eternity. It was hotter than hell itself and the sun baked everything under the windshield. Ahead and to the left, Cole watched intently as a massive airliner lumbered up into the sky and disappeared into a scattered layer of clouds. Even over the two engines of Murph’s plane, Cole could hear the jet roaring up and away. After a few minutes more, the air conditioning was finally blowing cool air into the cockpit, and Cole could feel the temperature dropping. Murph continued on at a steady clip down the taxiway. He seemed busy talking with the ground controllers and running through his checklists, so Cole kept to himself and took in his surroundings. Jet fuel smelled remarkably different than the gasoline he burned in an outboard engine. He thought back to the P-3 that buzzed him weeks ago. It seemed like an eternity had passed since that night.

Looking back to his right, Cole saw that he was only a few feet from the propeller turning on the right wing. It seemed odd that he was so close to it, and for the life of him, Cole couldn’t figure out how it was going to lift this plane into the air. He’d flown commercial flights more times than he could count, but from the passenger seat of an airliner, he had always assumed things would work out. Now, in the copilot’s seat, he looked around at the gauges and needles that flickered back and forth and wondered what the hell was going to happen. He sat there looking down at the instruments until Murph punched him in the shoulder to snap Cole out of it.

Glancing over at Murph, Cole saw that he was pointing up ahead and to the right. “See that blue building over there?”

Cole looked ahead and could see a two-story structure that looked just as run down as everything else in Panama outside the main drag of the city. Antennas protruded from the top, but the grounds around it looked better maintained than most of Panama. It was most certainly military.

“Yeah, the two-story one. What is it?”

Murph grinned and said, “That’s the Panamanian military. That’s their air base. They’ll fuck you up if they catch you. Shoot you without thinking twice about it.”

As Murph taxied past, Cole had a good view of the base. There were a few old planes laying around on the sidelines, most worn down beyond recognition and certainly not in any flying condition. But there were two Hueys, straight out of a Vietnam War movie, with some guys in flight suits walking around them. For a moment, they looked straight at Cole as he looked back at them, only 40 or 50 yards away as Murph taxied past. All Cole could do was wave. One of the guys in a flight suit threw a wave back at Cole and went back to securing something inside the helicopter.

“Funny,” Murph said without looking at Cole.

Still looking out the window at the various planes and helicopters lining the ramp of the military base, Cole asked, “What’s funny?”

Murph took a 90 degree turn at the end of the taxiway and stopped the plane just short of the massive runway. “Funny that they’re gearing up to go look for you and you’re sitting right here in my damn plane.”

Cole was looking straight ahead now and settled back a bit in the seat. “I’m glad you find it entertaining, Murph.”

Murph punched Cole again. From inside the cramped cockpit, Murph practically had to lean all the way to his left against the cabin to get enough space to rear back his right hand and punch Cole, but still he did it again and laughed out loud.

“Seriously man, they’re stone cold killers. You’re lucky to get out of here alive.”

Before Cole could say anything back, Murph was talking to the tower and he popped the parking brake loose. Pushing the throttles up a bit, Cole felt the tail sway back and forth as the plane accelerated in a lazy turn to line up with the runway centerline. Before Murph even was aligned with it, he jammed the throttles up and the plane swerved hard as he turned it further left and they accelerated even more. The dashed centerline began to pass underneath the nose faster and faster.

Cole felt himself pressed into the seat as Murph pulled her up and with a subtle thump, they were in the air. The wings dipped back and forth for a moment or two and she swayed a few more times as Murph worked the rudder with his feet and the wings with his left hand on the yoke. It was uncomfortable at first, but soon Murph found the plane’s sweet spot and they were on their way.

Murph called out, “Gear up.” He had his left hand on the yoke and his right hand draped over the two throttles. Cole didn’t know what he was talking about.

“Gear up, you dumbass.” Murph was looking at Cole now with a stern face.

“What the hell are you talking about?” Cole had no idea what Murph was looking for.

Murph reared back like he was going punch Cole again, but he stopped short of it and instead pointed with his finger to a handle with a round clear plastic knob on it just in front of Cole’s left knee.

“You see that knob there?” Murph was pointing straight at it.

“Yeah,” Cole replied.

“Well, flip it up, you retard.”

Cole reached down and flipped it up. A few clunks followed and the handle glowed red briefly before three indicators all displayed ‘up’ and the clunks stopped.

“Never flown before, huh?”

Murph was settled back into his seat as he flipped a few more switches and they climbed up into the setting sun. The Pacific was a sea of yellow sunlight reflecting off the surface below them and daylight was showing its first signs of retreat. Cole didn’t respond to Murph as he was consumed by the view of the vast sea in front of him. They were flying out into the Pacific and Cole leaned up and forward a bit to look down at it. No sooner had he caught a glimpse of the water below them when Murph checked in with air traffic controllers and started a turn to the left.

They climbed even higher, and as Murph came through 180 degrees of a turn, they were facing a giant wall of mountains on the nose. Cole looked down out the window to his right and saw nothing but green. He could make out some dirt roads leading in from the coast and the rusting metal roofs of houses dotting the landscape, but not much more. Most of the landscape was just a dark shade of green in the late afternoon light. Panama City was to his left across the cockpit, and he couldn’t make out any detail other than the mass of buildings and light reflecting off windows. But to his right was a part of the country he’d not yet explored. It looked different from the air. He was all at once entirely relieved to be out of the city and took a slow deep breath. Panama’s never-ending party wore him down more than anything, and now that he was out, he felt like he’d made the right decision. It was indeed time to get out.

In a few short months, Panama had chewed him up and spit him out. He was lucky to be alive, just as Murph had said. He thought for a moment about the gunfight, but now not even 24 hours later, it too was a blur and he struggled to remember the details. The muzzle blast from the car, the recoil from his gun as he ducked for cover and did his best to make his shots count, the brass clinking off the pavement, the smell of gunpowder in the humid thick air, and the silence afterwards when the shooting had finally stopped was stuck in his mind. His shoulder too was a reminder of how close he came to not making it out. He ran through it again in his head then just as quickly sent the thoughts away and stared out the window at the green country below.

With the air conditioning finally getting full control of the cockpit, it cooled off nicely and Cole sat forward for a second to pull his shirt off of his sweat-soaked back. The bandage felt like it was holding up all right. He sat back again, much more comfortable.

“I’ve never flown in the cockpit before.” Cole looked for a second at Murph then back ahead at the mountains in front of them.

“First time for everything,” replied Murph and he seemed more relaxed now that he was in the air.

Cole asked, “So what’s your story then?”

Murph grinned a bit and pushed a few more buttons before taking his hands off the yoke. “She’ll fly herself from here.”

“Autopilot?” Cole wasn’t sure what he was talking about.

“Yup, this thing is the shit. King Air with all the bells and whistles,” Murph quipped as he settled back a bit more in his seat.

He went back to Cole’s question. “I’ve been flying down here for a little over ten years. Started running shit back and forth to Hispaniola when I was about your age. Never really done anything else.”