Dream Town

Chapter 40

As they rose off the tarmac Archer gripped the armrest of his seat. He was directly behind Everett and could see out the front windscreen. The Beechcraft was surprisingly spacious, especially with only two people on board. The seats were comfortable and there was a small credenza which Everett had told him contained tumblers and a bottle of Bart Green’s favorite scotch.

As they climbed toward their cruising altitude he looked out the side window. There wasn’t a cloud in the sky. The last time Archer had been on a plane was during the war. It was a troop transport. The flight was fairly short, around two hours, and there were fifty other fully geared-out grunts on board with him. As the plane was descending to land, they had taken unexpected enemy fire from a couple of German fighter planes. Archer had watched as rounds had pierced the fuselage and killed four of his comrades, including one man sitting beside him. The plane had crash-landed short of the runway, killing more men. And then Archer and the other survivors had dutifully marched off and gone straight back to fighting a war.

He hadn’t liked riding in planes much after that, but this was a breeze. Even when they hit some rough air and downdrafts and the Beechcraft bumped, swayed, and jostled some, Archer just kept looking out the window thinking of other things. He eyed the thermometer set in the ceiling of the plane and saw that they were already well into frostbite territory. When the plane reached its cruising altitude of nine thousand feet and leveled out, Everett said, “You want to sit up here? Nice ride and views at a hundred seventy knots.”

Archer changed seats and looked at the instrument panel. “Never could figure out how all this mumbo-jumbo works.”

Everett laughed. “The most important things in this plane are me and this here yoke. Either one of those gets screwed up none of that stuff will save your ass.”

“So, when was the last time Lamb flew up here with Bart Green?”

“Not exactly sure, but it’ll be in the passenger log. It’s in that compartment over there.”

Archer opened it and pulled out a leather-bound book. He flipped through the pages to the most recent flights and worked backward from there.

“A month ago tomorrow,” he said. “It was her, Green, and a guy named Tony Gleason.”

“Yeah, Little Tony. He’s Mr. Green’s bodyguard.”

“So exactly how little is Tony?”

“About four inches taller than you with about a hundred extra pounds and none of it fat that I ever saw, so of course he’s called Little Tony.”

“Why does Green need a bodyguard?”

“Man’s rich. Makes you a target.”

“Ever have any problems?”

“None that I heard of, but I wouldn’t necessarily.”

“You ever talk to Lamb?” asked Archer.

“Just to say hello. She didn’t strike me as a chatty Cathy.”

“Green talk to her while you guys were up here?”

“When the boss is on board I just do my job as the flying chauffeur and try not to listen. And he mostly reads scripts and drinks his scotch.”

“Anything between Lamb and Green?” asked Archer.

Everett laughed. “Don’t think they’re either one’s type, if you know what I mean.”

“He take anybody else up on the plane? A Cecily Ransome from his office?”

“Nope, never met her.” Everett looked at him slyly. “But he’d have some other gals. Gals a man, married or not, would love to hang out with for a good time.”

So was that why Bender was interested in the plane? Because Green was ferrying his honeys to Vegas on it?

He leafed through the pages of the flight log while Everett concentrated on his flying.

He was about to put the book back when he saw a name he recognized.

Simon Jacoby? He thought back. Alice Jacoby’s husband. He finances films, so it makes sense he’s pals with Bart Green.

“Simon Jacoby flew with Green?”

“Oh yeah. They’re good friends.”

“His wife ever fly with him?”

“No. But I have flown Mrs. Jacoby and Mrs. Mars with Mrs. Green to Lake Tahoe.”

“Just to confirm — Gloria Mars? Married to the director Danny Mars?”

“That’s right. Bart Green and Danny Mars are best pals.”

Archer had a hard time envisioning Gloria the warrior and Alice the dreamer getting along, but maybe the older and cynical Mallory Green was the glue that held them all together.

“What’s in Lake Tahoe? I’ve driven past it, but that’s all.”

“A lot of water surrounded by mountains. Part of it’s in California and part in Nevada. From the sky the lake sort of looks like a heart shape. It was pretty empty a few years ago, but it’s really getting built up, especially on the California side.”

“But why do you fly up there, is what I mean.”

“Oh, the Greens got a big house right on the water. It’s like what you call a chalet or something.”

“Does Simon Jacoby gamble, too?”

“Oh, yeah. I heard him and Mr. Green talking about what they were going to do this time.”

“Wait a minute. Jacoby flew here with Green on this trip?”

“Yeah. He’s staying at the Sands, too.” He eyed Archer, who was scanning the last filled-in page of the logbook. “He comes up with Mr. Green so often I just started putting his shorthand name in the logbook as SJ. That’s probably why you didn’t spot it.”

“What’s he look like?”

“About your height, early forties, brown hair, graying at the temples. Running to fat. Why your interest?”

“It’s a bad habit of mine. How about Danny Mars? He flies up, too?”

“Oh, yeah, all the time. He and Mr. Green are as thick as thieves.”

“I bet they are. Gambling, boozing, the ladies?”

“Yeah on the gambling, at least for both of them. The booze and the ladies are more Mars, at least what I’ve seen. Mr. Green isn’t really into that. Never seen the man gassed. But I’ve watched Jacoby and Mars get lit up like a pair of firecrackers.”

“Did Mars come up on this trip?”

“Nah, understand he’s shooting some movie.”

Archer put the logbook back and stared out the windscreen.

As they started their descent into Vegas a bit later, Everett pointed to his left. “About seventy miles north of Vegas they have the Nevada Proving Grounds.”

“Who’s trying to prove what?” asked Archer.

“You know atomic bombs?”

“Not personally, no.”

“Well, they drop ’em over there from a plane or else explode them underground. You can see the mushroom cloud all the way to Vegas. People come out for a look. It’s pretty neat.”

“Yeah, but is it safe?”

“Government says not to look directly at the detonation, but that’s about it. I was coming in for a landing once when it blew. Really surprised me. That mushroom cloud is something. But I really had to hold on to the stick because the Beechcraft was bucking all over the place with the wind coming out of that sucker. First time I was ever scared up here. Good thing I didn’t have any passengers on board. They would have been puking and screaming. Felt like I was back in the war with the Nazis in a dogfight.”

“I bet,” said Archer, looking around at the interior of the plane and hoping it would not suddenly disintegrate if a mushroom cloud appeared on the horizon.

As they landed smoothly and taxied to the terminal Everett said, “Short flight.”

“Beats driving,” said Archer. “And you’ve sort of restored my faith in air travel.”

“Anytime. Hey, you need a ride back later? The plane is equipped for night flying.”

“Not sure. Is there a number where I can contact you?”

Everett wrote on the back of a card and handed it to Archer. “Just leave word at the terminal. I can’t hang here overnight, though. I’m flying Mrs. Green to Lake Tahoe tomorrow.”

Archer walked to the terminal, hailed a cab, and headed to the Sands.