Chapter 11
"Read the bottom paragraph," Jack Lockwood said.
Guy once again studied Lockwood, trying to measure this man that he had followed all across the South American continent. He wasn't handsome, yet strangely attractive with a magnetism like that of Charles Bronson in the movies. He was of medium height, slender, and powerfully built. His eyes were at times intense, and at other times veiled. He wore Levi's, stylish but well-worn boots, a denim shirt and a leather jacket. There was a quality to Jack Lockwood that said he was a man to be reckoned with in any situation.
And yet once the contact had been made and Lockwood had read the documents in the envelope, there was an immediate relaxation of the tenseness in the room. Guy noted that a distance seemed to exist between Lockwood and Barbara Salton. It was as if they had declared a tacit truce.
The small, nondescript room was poorly lighted and Guy took the paper from Lockwood and walked over to the small table light. Just the three of them, Guy, Jack and Barbara, were in the room. Several men had been with Lockwood when Barbara brought Guy to the room, but they had left a few moments later. Guy turned his attention to the page that Lockwood had handed him.
"The man who delivered this into your hands is one of our ranking executives," the paragraph began. "We have made use of his services rather than a courier because he is about to be promoted to top management and we wanted him to gain some field insight into the industry. The urgency of this contract is such that you may be pressed for time, and we place this man at your disposal if needed. He has instructions to help you in any way he can...."
Guy lowered the page. No names had been mentioned, obviously for security reasons, but it was apparent that the promotion he had hoped for was about to be his.
"How much do you know?" Lockwood asked.
"Nothing," Guy replied.
"That's par for Maxwell," Lockwood said with a disarming smile. "No names, nothing. If these documents had fallen into other hands, they wouldn't mean a thing."
"Thus far," Guy said, "nobody has believed that I didn't know what I was doing. I assume it was one of your people who took a shot at me in Bogota?"
"Overreaction," Lockwood laughed, "but that's better than no reaction. I'm not quite the mystery man circumstances have led you to believe, Guy. I'm what you'd call an independent adventurer. A man who works in the area of calculated risk for high return. I smuggle everything from art objects and guerrilla leaders to arms. I know my enemies, and they know me. The only time I get nervous is when a complete stranger starts looking for me. I'd rather have an entire security police force after me than one stranger asking questions."
"He's afraid of jealous husbands," Barbara remarked.
"And teenage idealists," Jack said with a broad smile.
Guy saw the interchange between the two of them and wondered just what the relationship was. He doubted Barbara's claim that they had split. She was, after all, responsible for bringing Guy here. Yet the friction between them was evident.
"Okay," Jack announced, picking up the documents once more, "let's get down to business.
What do you weigh, Guy?"
"One-seventy, give or take a pound. Why?"
"Because the load factor here will be critical. This shipment weighs just a little under six thousand pounds. That means two planes, and even then we'll be at maximum payload. I never fly this type of mission at maximum payload. No flexibility if you need it. But we don't have any choice on this one. We have to pick them up before dawn tomorrow and deliver in the afternoon. Christ, you sure took your time finding me!"
"Now look, Jack," Guy said quickly, "that sure as hell wasn't my fault!"
"Okay, okay," Jack said smiling. "But I'll need you with me on the mission. Ever fly a plane?"
"I logged about eighty hours in a Piper Cub about six years ago," Guy responded. "I'm rusty as hell, though."
"At least you know the basic principles. You'll go with me. Enrique and Paco can take the twin Beech."
"Look, Jack," Guy said, standing and searching through his pockets for a cigarette. He only smoked when he was nervous, and his nerves were building by the minute as he listened to Jack Lockwood organize what he called a "mission". "Is it too much to ask to be filled in on the background on this?"
"Not if you're going."
"I'm going," Guy said. "I don't have much choice, do I?"
"Not if you want that promotion Maxwell mentioned," Jack responded.
"Then he's going," Barbara added. "Prince Valiant is very much an organization man. I think William Whyte had him in mind when he wrote the corporate bible."
"Thanks, Barbara," Guy said sarcastically.
"Look, we haven't much time," Jack said. "What it boils down to, is that we're flying a small arsenal manufactured by your company to a group in Chile."
"But the military just took power in Chile," Guy remarked.
"That's why the other group needs arms," Jack commented. "Five months ago I flew arms to the military."
"Which emphasizes my point that you have no morals or ethics at all!" Barbara exclaimed. "You would have armed the Christians in the arena and then conducted lion hunts for the Romans."
"Absolutely," Jack agreed, "and both would have paid me handsomely. The crusaders slept on beds of rocks and ate insects. Morals and ethics in politics are luxuries. The politicians seldom indulge themselves. I don't delude myself that my small efforts can in any way change the course of history. The Chilean military, for instance, used Soviet arms in their coup, arms sup plied the Marxists by Russia and subsequently captured by the military. I'm an opportunist, Guy. And I'm afraid Barbara has no use for opportunists."
Barbara was about to respond, but Guy cut her off.
"Okay, Jack. So what are we supposed to do? How? When? And what are we likely to run into?"
"Right down to the basics, huh? Okay. Maxwell shipped the arms by water. According to these documents, they were off-loaded about thirty miles south of Lima yesterday. We've used this particular beach a dozen times. We land on the sand, load, then fly to Chile. No problems at this end, but we could run into some in Chile. Having been a client, the Chilean military knows my operation. They have an interest in keeping this shipment out of the country, and if our planes are spotted anywhere inside the country they'll have a damned good idea of what's going on. That means we can't use the best route because they know it. Our destination is in the Andes, about two hundred miles north of Santiago."
"Can we make it over the Andes?" Guy asked.
"Not with these payloads," Jack replied. "Too much altitude. We'll come in from the ocean, low enough to keep out of their radar network. The trick will be skirting any area where they might make a visual spot on us. Here, let's look at this map."
He spread the map out on the floor and Guy joined him to study the route. The route that they finally chose required an extra hour-and-a-half flying time.
"It will be close on fuel," Jack remarked. "We can refuel here just before we enter, and we can make it back there with about thirty minutes fuel to spare. You asked what to expect, Guy. If everything goes right, it will be like commuting to work and back. If something goes wrong, you'll find yourself in a traffic jam."
"Which is what you thrive on, Jack," Barbara said. "My God, don't you ever get tired of all this?"
"Sure I get tired of it, Barbara," Jack replied. "I've been shot at so many times I feel like one of those floating ducks in a carnival! I'd like a job like Guy's, but I can't stand wearing a tie. A couple more years and I'll have a flying school with a dozen planes in a decent climate somewhere."
"And then you'll get wiped out by some old lady making touch-and-goes," Guy laughed.
"Exactly!" Jack agreed. "Some fat Rotarian's wife will pay me off where the gunslingers have failed. That's what Barbara doesn't understand, it's all relative."
"I wish I could believe you," Barbara sighed.
"When do we leave?" Guy asked, looking at his watch. It was after two o'clock.
"Right now," Jack replied. "I have to round up Enrique and Paco and we need to be airborne before they change shifts at the airport."
"Is there a phone I can use?" Guy asked. "You won't believe this, but I'm on my honeymoon and my wife is waiting for me in the hotel." He blushed when he looked at Barbara, but she made no comment.
"Right there in the corner," Jack said. "Don't mind if we stay in the room. Security measure."
"Okay," Guy smiled, wondering what the hell he would tell Sandy. He wondered if she was asleep or sitting in a chair waiting for him.
Sandy Morrison was neither asleep nor sitting in a chair at that moment. She was kneeling on the bed with her buttocks raised and her head on the pillow. Hugh was kneeling behind her, holding her waist in his giant hands while he pumped his enormous prick into her vagina from the rear. Sandy was watching between her legs as his hard organ glided in and out of her body. The lips of her cunt were puffy and swollen from so much friction and they were wrapped snugly around the thick shaft that was giving her such intense pleasure.
"Don't stop!" she gasped when the phone rang. With a groping hand she managed to locate the phone on the bedside table.
"Hello?" she said breathlessly when she finally had the instrument to her ear.
"Sandy? Guy. Did I wake you? It sounds like you were asleep."
"No, Guy," she replied slowly, watching the thick shaft of Hugh Anderson's cock work its way deep into her body. "I wasn't asleep."
"Well, you should be," Guy chided. "Look, darling, I'm at the final stage of this thing. I found my man."
"Ooooohhhh!" she moaned when Hugh gave her a hard thrust.
"What?"
"I mean, I'm glad, Guy."
"I knew you would be, darling. I have to go somewhere with the man now and I won't be back until late this afternoon. I hate to do this, but it can't be avoided. Will you be all right?"
"I'll be just fine, Guy," Sandy gasped while she watched Hugh's heavy balls swing and sway between her legs. "When will you be back?"
"At the latest, this evening. Can you make it until then?"
"Oh!" she groaned as Hugh began a fast pumping motion with his throbbing penis inside her. "I'll make it somehow," she sighed.
"Sandy, are you sure you're all right?" Guy asked with concern building in his voice.
"Guy, don't worry about me," Sandy replied, fighting back a moan of pleasure as Hugh reached around her waist and began massaging her clitoris while he fucked her steadily. "I've never been happier than I am right now! Have fun, Guy. I am. See you tonight."
She replaced the instrument in the cradle without waiting for Guy's reply.
"Fuck me, Hugh," she said as she threw her buttocks back and up. "Fuck me as hard as you can! Oh, God, yes! That's it!"
Guy had been concerned about Sandy since he hung up. The only explanation for the conversation was that she was rip-roaring drunk. He couldn't understand why she had been breathing so heavily on the phone, but he was certain that it had something to do with her drinking. That was something that they would have to iron out when this was all over.
The antique Chevy sedan was now full. They had picked up Enrique and Paco at a whorehouse. Barbara sat between Guy and Jack in the front seat and the two men were sprawled out in the back seat.
"Will they be able to fly?" Guy asked as he glanced at the two men in the back seat.
"A gallon or so of Peruvian coffee will revive the dead," Jack laughed. "We're going to have to move fast. The crew changes in half an hour at the airport. Maybe Barbara will give the boys their plasma while you and I check the planes."
"Nurse Barbara on duty," Barbara said. "I'd like to have a dime for every gallon of coffee I've pumped into those two."
"Concentrate on Paco. He knows the beach and I want him at the controls when we take off. It isn't exactly a lighted strip."
Guy made the visual preflight check on the Beech and was surprised to see that he remembered as much as he did. The strain of the trip and his lack of sleep were beginning to tell on him. He was tired and a little groggy and yearned for a cup of that coffee that Barbara was pouring down Enrique and Paco. When he finished his check, he went to the corner of the hangar where Barbara was forcing the men to drink cup after cup of the hot strong brew. She smiled at him and took a bottle of pills from her purse.
"Take two of these," she said, "and you won't fall asleep for four hours or more. Put a couple extra in your pocket, and welcome to the pill generation. Better grab a cup of coffee. Here comes Jack."
Guy thanked her and gulped down a cup of the strongest, most bitter coffee that he had ever drank. Jack spoke sharply to the two men and they smiled sheepishly as they got up and quickly headed for the twin Beech. Jack exchanged remarks in Spanish with Barbara, and just as he turned to walk to the twin-engine plane she flew into his arms and they embraced.
Minutes later, Guy was fastening his seat belt in the right seat while Jack fired up the engines in the aircraft. Guy busied himself studying the instrument panel as they taxied to the end of the runway.
The pitch-black night was giving way to the dark charcoals of false dawn when they cleared the runway and were airborne.
"Thirty-seven minutes till dawn," Jack announced. "We'll cruise over the ocean for twenty-three minutes, then head for the beach. All we need is enough light to see the coast and I can bring it in. I guess I'll have to marry that bitch one day. She's got a good head, but sometimes she really frosts me."
"I was about to say Barbara is just confused," Guy laughed, "but who isn't today?"
"Right," Jack agreed. "I've changed my own values so many times in the past few years that I don't know who the hell I am. You just have to hang loose, that's all. Can you see the Beech?"
"Sorry," Guy replied. "Want to establish radio contact?"
"No," Jack replied softly. "We don't use radio contact unless it's an emergency. Paco will be okay. He knows where we're headed and he can fly that thing dead drunk and asleep."
Jack killed time by briefing Guy on the instrumentation in the twin engine Piper, then banked south and brought the craft to an altitude just above the water. Guy spotted the coast in the first gray light of dawn and watched Jack bring the plane around a cliff to line up on a long, flat stretch of hard-packed sand just above the water. Guy admired one of the most professional landings that he had ever seen as they touched down gently on the sand.
"Now we move fast," Jack announced as he killed the engines. "I want those crates loaded in less than thirty minutes. This has always been a safe spot, but let's not try to run our luck."
Guy pulled off his coat and tie and rolled up his sleeves. Within ten minutes he had worked up a healthy sweat lifting the heavy boxes and juggling them through the tight cockpit back to the storage area behind the cabin. The twin Beech landed while they were loading and the two men went to work storing crates without a word from Jack.
Within forty minutes from when they had touched down, Jack lifted the wheels of the Piper from the sand and they were once again airborne. Guy looked back to see that the twin Beech was right behind them.
"Was it safe to leave those crates on the beach like that?" Guy asked as they headed directly into the rising sun.
"It's an isolated beach," Jack explained. "No roads. Only access by water or air. Maxwell uses reliable tramp steamers. The captain anchors offshore and sends a boat in with the crates. Peruvian Coast Guard isn't much, and so far it's proved to be one of our best drops. Set the altimeter at twenty-seven-hundred feet. We refuel in about forty minutes. How about taking the controls so I can mark a map for Paco?"
"Sure," Guy replied, hoping that he could control the twin-engine craft.
"Hold it on one-seventy-five for ten minutes, then bring it around to true south."
Guy found the controls more sensitive and less forgiving than the Cubs that he had flown, and his first few minutes were spent in a series of corrections.
"Good," Jack commented when Guy made the turn exactly on time. "Level off at six thousand. We'll get our best milage there for a while."
Jack took the controls as they left the ocean and headed inland to the refueling point near the border. Guy remained in the cabin while Jack spoke to Paco and Enrique while the two planes were being fueled on the ground.
They were airborne again within twenty minutes. Once Jack had cleared the runway and gained a thousand feet, Guy took the controls again and headed due west for the Pacific Ocean. It was a beautiful clear day and they had a ten-knot wind from the southwest. Guy concentrated on his flying, enjoying it so much that he wondered why he had ever given it up. Lockwood put on the earphones and began monitoring all the local radio chanels.
"Okay," Jack announced, "this is where the fun begins. I'll take it now. I'm going to drop to about seven hundred feet above the water and we're going to enter Chile over what I hope is still a stretch of deserted coast. I want you to keep your eyes peeled on the ground, Guy. Look for populated areas, and for anything that remotely resembles a radio installation. A tall antena or a toWer. Got it?"
"Right."
"I don't think you'll see anything, but if you do, we may be in for some unscheduled excitement."
Guy watched the Chilean coast come at them. It was a rugged expanse of rocks and cliffs and seemingly uninhabited. He leaned forward and began scanning the area below them carefully as the plane left the ocean behind. Guy was thankful for the pills that Barbara had given him. He was awake and alert, even though his body was terribly tired and beginning to ache.
The land below was desolate, rocky, steep terrain. He saw nothing approaching civilization, and after Jack's remark he was damned glad that he didn't. The ground moved swiftly up to taller and taller mountains. In the distance he could see the majestic Andes towering above the horizon. The plane climbed with the terrain, maintaining a low altitude above the ground. Trees began to appear on the landscape. They passed over several heavily wooded areas and a number of small green valleys between the peaks.
"Looks like a city at one o'clock," Guy said the moment that he spotted the first evidence of civilization he had seen.
"Magdalena," Jack said. "Small farm area. They don't have radio, but I'll skirt it, anyway. No use taking chances."
The plane banked to the north and flew away from the small city on the plateau. A few minutes later, Jack brought it back on course. Guy kept his eyes glued to the ground. He saw several groups of huts near the edge of tilled fields, and at one point they crossed what looked like an important road.
"There's the strip!" Jack announced, pointing off to the left. "So far so good. We'll have to guess the wind. It can be tricky in these mountains and they haven't got a sock down there."
It took Guy a few moments to locate the strip. Then he realized that it had been cut out of the middle of a large cornfield. He spotted two large trucks parked in the trees at the edge of the cornfield and pointed these out to Jack.
"Our reception committee," Jack commented as he -lined the plane up on the strip and began cutting the engines back. "Your company's current clients. Well, here we go!"
The strip was rough and the landing was bumpy. Jack taxied to the end of the strip and looked back to make sure that the other plane was following him in.
"Start unloading," Jack said. "For obvious reasons, we aren't going to stay here very long!"
Guy unloaded the crates while Jack went over to speak to the men who had brought the trucks up to the planes. One of the men from the trucks stood below and received the crates as Guy pulled them out of the compartment. His physical exhaustion caused his muscles to ache and cramp as he lifted the heavy crates and he promised himself that he would sleep for twenty-four hours when this was over.
"Come on, Guy, move it!" Jack snapped. "We've got to get our ass out of here. Magdalena has a tower and we were spotted."
Guy's heart skipped a beat as he watched Jack run over to the Beech and issue rapid instructions to Paco and Enrique. He handed down the last box just as the commotion began. There were several shouts and the men on the ground began running. Jack Lockwood scrambled into the cabin just as two loud reports echoed in the cornfield.
"Start the engines and rev 'em up," Jack shouted as all hell seemed to break loose in the cornfield.
Guy's fingers hit the switches on the panel and his eyes darted over the instruments while Jack dove for the storage area and came up with a Maxwell automatic weapon. Guy watched Jack out of the corner of his eye while he flicked the ignition button and waited for the starboard engine to fire. As soon as it caught, he switched to the port engine.
A sharp burst from the automatic rifle in Jack's hands made Guy jump. He sinced the engines as he had seen Jack do, then began revving them up. Out of the corner of his eye he saw Jack take aim at a military Jeep racing toward them. The reports of the gun were almost deafening in the small cabin, but he saw the Jeep swerve out of control and run into the thick rows of corn.
"Here, you're the gun expert. Let me get this mother off the ground," Jack said, thrusting the rifle into Guy's hands and taking the controls of the plane.
The plane lurched forward as Guy opened the window and placed the barrel on the rifle on the aluminum edge. The engines roared as they bumped down the rough strip and it seemed to Guy that they would never gain airspeed. He felt the plane lift off just as they reached a point where they were no more than fifty feet from the end of the runway.
"Did Paco make it?" Jack shouted.
Guy looked back and saw the Beech lifting off. "Yes, but he had a Jeep with him all the way."
"Let's hope he didn't pick up a hole in his tanks. We'll need every drop of fuel we have! They'll expect us to head west and they'll have some jets waiting for us. So we'll do what they think is impossible, cross the Andes."
"Can we?"
"I hope so," Jack laughed. "I'm not going to tackle Sabre Jets with a Piper! There's a good field at Salta, Argentina, and we'll come close to making it on our fuel-providing we don't climb too high or run into bad weather. We've got a tail wind, which should help, but even then we may have to glide in. Close that damned window and keep your eyes on the sky. Is Paco behind us?"
"Right on our tail. I was so busy I missed what happened down there."
"They spotted us in Magdalena and hit the radio. Somehow they knew where we'd land. Probably had the area under surveillance for a while. Two Jeeps filled with military arrived while we were unloading. You know the rest."
"What about the people we delivered to?"
"They'll take care of themselves. Probably lose those last couples of crates, but they'll get the rest away. Settle back for some tough flying, Guy."
Guy settled in his seat and allowed his aching muscles to relax. He watched Jack with admiration as the experienced pilot made constant adjustments to the fuel mixture to conserve fuel as they climbed steadily. They maintained a relatively constant altitude above the ground and Guy found it one of the most spectacularly beautiful flights that he had ever been on. They were soon above the snow level and the towering peaks of the Andes were breathtakingly beautiful. They were flying a little too close to the mountains for Guy's comfort, but he knew that Jack was fighting a close battle with fuel. A glance told Guy that they were down to less than a quarter of a tank and he began to wonder if they would make it.
"That's the peak over there," Jack announced with a loud sigh of relief. "Once we pass that, it's all downhill."
As soon as they crossed the summit, Jack cut the power back and began a long, slow descent to the Argentine plain below. A few minutes later Guy spotted the city of Salta and he relaxed as Jack began lining up with the strip and making his approach.
"We'll leave the planes here," Jack commented as he turned into the final leg of his landing. "They might want to ask a lot of questions if we bring them into Lima tonight. We'll take a commercial flight in."
"Thank God it's over," Guy sighed with a smile.
"Amen," Jack agreed, setting the Piper down for a perfect landing.