being named a— What is it? Co-something.”
“Corespondent. No. I just want to know if there’s an angry husband out there somewhere.”
“He hasn’t heard your name from me,” she said.
“Has he ever mentioned my name to you?”
“Why would he do that? He doesn’t know you.”
“And I’d like to keep it that way.”
“My lips are sealed,” she said, “but not my other orifices.”
“Good to know,” Stone said, “but dessert is on the way.”
She sighed. “The longer I wait, the more ravenous I’ll be.”
“I’ll keep that in mind.”
Fred appeared with dessert, and she was quiet for a while. Coffee appeared, and Fred poured them cognac.
“What a good dinner!” Robbie said.
“Helene is a very good cook.”
“She certainly is. And Fred is very attentive.”
“Perhaps we can avoid his further attentions by taking our brandy upstairs.”
“I can’t wait,” she replied, standing and scooping up her coat, her purse, and her cognac.
“I’ll follow you,” Stone said. “I like the view.”
28
Al Dix’s jet-engine iPhone alarm woke him while it was still dark. He got dressed, had some breakfast, poured his coffee into a thermos and an aluminum to-go cup, and grabbed his flight bag, then drove up the Keys. He turned off at the appointed mile-marker and drove to the end of the road, where a little grass landing strip awaited. Parked at one end was a new-looking Cessna Stationair, with floats.
Dix parked his car near some high bushes and walked over to the airplane. He opened the pilot’s door and looked inside. It was equipped with the Garmin 1000 glass cockpit, two large screens onto which much information could be displayed. He turned on the master switch, waited for the computer to boot up, then checked the fuel gauges. Topped off. There was a fifty-gallon soft plastic ferry tank strapped to the rear seat, and he removed the cap and ascertained that it was full. He found the checklist for the airplane and began doing a very careful preflight inspection, starting with the outside and, in particular, checking the fuel tanks for any sign of a leak.
Finally, he unbuttoned his shirt and unwound the elastic bandage that held his arm against his chest, then he removed the sling. Gingerly, he moved his left arm, not overdoing it, and found that he had a reasonable, pain-free range of movement.
That done, he returned to the cockpit, closed the door, buckled his seat belt, and put on a headset. The engine was fuel-injected, so he didn’t need to prime it; he turned on the switches and cranked the engine. It started immediately and ran smoothly.
While it warmed up, he checked the Garmin’s flight plan page and determined that his routing had already been entered. He ran through the cockpit checklist, then, finally, he was ready to go. There was enough runway to take off on the little wheels attached to the floats, but it would be noisy, and he didn’t want the neighbors to notice what time he departed. The sky was brightening as he advanced the throttle just enough to get him moving. Toward the end of the runway he pushed in more power as he rolled into the water. A little more, and he had steerage with the rudder pedals.
He taxied a hundred yards offshore through shallow water, then he shoved the throttle all the way forward, and pulled the yoke back into his lap as the airplane gained speed. When the floats broke from the water he pushed the yoke upright and flew the airplane a couple of feet off the water, staying in ground effect until he had sufficient speed to climb. Once he did, he leveled off at fifty feet, set the heading bug for southwest, then switched on the autopilot and let the equipment fly the airplane while he searched the horizon for tall yacht masts and other obstacles.
He was on course and under the radar, unless the balloon in the mid-Keys was up and the down-facing beam was working, which he doubted. His radio was set to the Key West approach, which was operated by the Navy at their base on Boca Chica. He heard no chatter on the channel indicating that anyone had spotted him. Indeed, hardly anybody was flying at this hour.
He flew southwest, with Key West several miles off his left wing, and out of the Gulf of Mexico and over the Atlantic Ocean. At that altitude he was more likely to attract the attention of a Coast Guard cutter than other aircraft, so he climbed to three thousand feet