Contraband

26

Al Dix was sound asleep when his cell phone made a noise like a jet engine firing up. He rolled over, glanced at the bedside clock, which read 1:50 AM, and looked at the phone. NO CALLER ID appeared on the screen. He pressed the button. “What?!” he yelled.

“Good evening, Dixie,” a deep male voice said.

“‘Evening’? It’s two in the morning!”

“Remember, Dixie, we operate on my schedule, not yours.”

“Yeah, yeah, whadaya want?”

“First of all, I called to apologize.”

“For what?” Dix asked warily.

“I’m afraid the nurse at the hospital misunderstood her instructions.”

“You mean about knocking me off?”

“She was asked to keep you out of pain, and she misunderstood what I meant. We have no problem with you, Al.”

“Well, okay, I guess. What do you want now?”

“Another shipment is being prepared. Same pickup point, same destination, only this time you land on the airstrip, not in the sea.”

“Land? Is that what you call it? That was a controlled crash! I was nearly killed!”

“Then this time, take sufficient fuel.”

“It was not a matter of taking insufficient fuel!” Dix said, still angry. “There was a fuel leak in the starboard tank. I was out over the Atlantic when I saw the gauge start to move. I switched tanks to manage it, but I was still ninety miles short of the strip. That’s called lousy maintenance.”

“The aircraft has been replaced with another Stationair, and it has been thoroughly inspected. Last time was a mere oversight; there will be no fuel leaks this time.”

“When are we talking about?”

“You’ll pick up the airplane the day after tomorrow.”

“Hang on, pal, you don’t seem to be aware of my physical condition.”

“I don’t care about your physical condition. You sound just fine to me.”

“I’m not sick, I have three broken ribs.”

“I understand you can ride a bicycle.”

“What you don’t understand is that my left arm is in a sling and immobilized, strapped to my body to keep a rib from puncturing a lung.”

“I don’t care.”

“Let me explain to you how flying an airplane is accomplished. You fly it with your left hand; the right is used for the throttles and tuning the avionics. It can’t be flown with one hand.”

“The new airplane has a better autopilot; that will be your left arm.”

“Autopilots fail. Autopilots turn themselves off, if you hit rough air or, sometimes, if they just feel like it.”

“Then you should be prepared to handle that emergency, like any good pilot.”

“Get somebody else.”

“Dixie, if we wanted somebody else, we would just shoot you.”

“So shoot me! Just leave me alone, until I’m well.”

“Be at the airstrip the day after tomorrow, same time. Flight plan is the same, unfiled as usual. Landing at sea is the same. Landing back at the airstrip is the same. I suggest you unstrap your left arm and use it as much as necessary.” He hung up.

Dix rolled over on his back, causing shooting pains to run up and down his body. “Shiiiiit!!!” he screamed. But, he reflected, he did need the money.

Stone’s Latitude flew back to Teterboro the following day, and Max reluctantly said her goodbyes to Stone after arrival. Stone’s driver, Fred, was waiting and drove her to LaGuardia, while Stone hitched a ride home with Dino.

Max left the passenger terminal at Key West International, towing her suitcase, her makeup kit slung over her shoulder. Tommy was waiting for her in the parking lot across the street. He put her bags in the trunk and got in beside her.

“Thanks for meeting me,” she said.

“Why didn’t he just fly to Key West and drop you off?” Tommy asked, putting the car into gear.

“That’s kind of a big detour from the L.A. — New York route,” she said.

“I guess so.”

She looked around her. “You were right. This is a new car, isn’t it?”

“Every two years, like clockwork. Elsewhere they run them till they drop, then sell them for scrap metal, but not here.”

“If I were running for mayor I could use that knowledge,” she said. “But I’m not running for mayor. Have you done anything stupid while I was gone?”

“Well, I had a stupid idea,” Tommy said.

“Oh, God.”

“I thought, just to stay out of trouble, I would tip off that young investigative reporter at the Key West Citizen. She just moved down here from Miami.”

“She must not be much of a reporter, if she considers the Citizen a promotion.”

“Nah, she’s a single mom, and she likes the school situation for her kid better here than in Miami.”

“So, how does a new-in-town investigative reporter know who to talk to in Key West?”

“I thought I might give her a tip or two.”

“Are you fucking her, Tommy?”

“I wish.”

“So you’re going to meet her surreptitiously at little cafés and slip her bits of paper with the names of possible witnesses scribbled on them?”

“I thought I’d buy a couple of throwaway phones, and we could communicate that way.”

“Well, I don’t guess your wife can shoot you for talking on the phone to a reporter.”

“I’m not so sure about that. I don’t plan to tell her.”

“Okay, so who are you going to send her to question?”

“I know a guy in fleet sales at the Ford dealership. He might be aware that something funny is going on.”

“Sure, and in that job, he might be getting his cut from the operation. And if it’s a big enough operation, maybe dealing with other city departments besides us, he might do her in instead of talking to her.”

“He’s not the type,” Tommy said.

“The type to be on the take or the type to kill her for finding out?”

“He’s not the type for either one.”

“What type is he?”

“All-American boy, a few years on. His dad was a Miami cop.”

“Does he have a family who could get hurt?”

“Divorced, no kids.”

Max sighed. “Okay, Tommy, you can try it, but warn her that if anybody so much as looks at her funny, she should back off.”

“I’ll do that.”

“Seen any more of Al Dix?”

“Neither hide nor hair. He hasn’t turned up at the Lame Duck, either.”

“He must be on the wagon.”