that claimed to run planes out of Caracas’ Francisco de Miranda Airport.
Brodie thought it would be better security to use the sat phone to call the U.S. toll-free number listed on the Apex website and he went out on the balcony to get clear sky. Taylor followed.
Brodie dialed, and a woman who sounded American and efficient answered. “Apex International Air Charter Service. This is Ann Muller speaking. How may I help you?”
“My name is Clark Bowman, Ms. Muller, and I am currently in Caracas. That’s Venezuela. I need to charter a flight from Francisco de Miranda Airport to a place called Kavak, also in Venezuela, and I need to leave as soon as possible.”
“Yes, sir. And what type of aircraft will you need?”
“Well… a teeny-tiny aircraft.”
“Okay… how teeny-tiny?”
“Kavak has a teeny-tiny airstrip, so the aircraft has to be teeny enough to land on the tiny airstrip.”
“Yes it does… Let me go into my program and find Kavak. Can you spell—?”
Brodie spelled it for her, adding, “This is not the Kavak in Poland.”
“Yes, sir. You said Venezuela… here it is. Yes, this is very tiny. Sixteen-hundred-foot grass runway… no control tower… no runway lights… no refueling—”
“It’s just an airstrip, Ms. Muller. Hopefully with a wind sock. If it was an international airport, I wouldn’t be calling you to charter a puddle jumper.”
“Yes, sir. I’m looking at what we have in Caracas… It appears that we have only one pilot operating out of Francisco de Miranda Airport, and he flies a single-engine, six-seat Cessna Stationair, but he also has access to other aircraft that may be more suitable for this landing and takeoff. He’ll know.” She asked, “How many passengers will there be?”
Brodie glanced at Taylor, who was staring out at the city but undoubtedly listening to his conversation. “Two.” Unless they could take Carmen along. “Me and my wife, who is light as a feather. Speaking of which, we’re bird-watchers.”
“All right, that’s… interesting… Will you need a return or ongoing flight?”
“We will, but I don’t know when.” Or where, for that matter.
Taylor had obviously figured out the question and said to Brodie, “We are leaving the same day we get there.”
“Hold on, Ms. Muller.” He covered the mouthpiece and said to Taylor, “I want to spend the night in Kavak like Carmen did. I want to reconstruct her trip, take some photos, see how you get a boat, see how fast the river flows—”
“I think we can do that in one day. But… all right. One night. Then we leave in the morning. No boat trip on the river.”
He nodded, and said to Ms. Muller, “The next morning. Returning to Caracas.” But probably Bogotá, Colombia, though that was not information Brodie wanted to share with Ms. Muller or anyone.
“Then the pilot should stay overnight.” She explained, “Even with you paying for the pilot’s overnight accommodations, that will be less expensive for you.”
“The pilot can sleep with my wife.”
“Sir?”
“Just a bird-watcher joke. Okay, so can do?”
“I need to contact the pilot to check his and the aircraft’s availability before confirming any booking.”
Brodie wondered if this was the same pilot that Kyle Mercer used to fly to Ciudad Bolívar, or from there down to Kavak. That would be interesting. He said, “A friend of mine went from Caracas to Kavak by first flying to Ciudad Bolívar, then he took a smaller plane to Kavak. Why would he do that?”
Ms. Muller replied, “He may have taken a scheduled commercial flight to Ciudad Bolívar, then gone on to Kavak by private charter because there are no commercial flights to Kavak.”
“Why would he do that instead of flying a charter directly from Caracas to Kavak as I want to do?”
“I don’t know.”
“Well, I do. He was trying to cover his tracks.”
“Sir?”
“Just thinking out loud.” He asked, “Is your pilot a local guy?”
“No, sir. He’s an American. Captain John F. Collins. FAA certified, very experienced—”
“Good. Down here taxi drivers are allowed to fly a plane.”
“Really?”
Brodie wondered what John F. Collins was doing in Caracas. Probably running drugs or guns. The world of private aviation, especially in third world countries, was a world of no questions asked. He thought about Worley’s pilot and the Otter. “Does Captain Collins have access to an Otter?”
“I’m not familiar with that aircraft. Are you requesting an Otter?”
“No. I’m just asking dumb questions. Okay, so can you get hold of Captain Collins and get us out of Caracas tonight?”
“When I contact Captain Collins, I’ll get back to you. But you won’t be able