Chapter 5: Little Sister – Charlie, For Now

Elena finished school. She lettered in basketball and was voted MVP her senior year. She was named to the all-conference, all-district, and all-state teams based on the input from all the coaches involved. They made it through the sweet sixteen, great eight, and final four, winding up third in state, but with all those accolades for her as a player. She was looking at two invites to two different schools, but told Vanessa and me, and of course Amy, since it was at the dinner table at the time, that she wanted to fly then maybe go to school part time if I wanted her to. She let us know, in no uncertain terms, that she wanted to be my wife, well, concubine and lover, the mother of my children, at least one of them, and my pilot, in that order. Anything else was just not necessary. She had no reason to go to school other than to be the best she could be at those three things, and wife college and mother university were mostly in the school of hard knocks. She called it something else, but it translated roughly the same.

“Carl, love, you have teacher to teach your people. You have manager to manage your business. I will never think of idea to be changing the world. But, I love the maths, and I want to fly for you. Do you understand?”

“I do. You’ll be my flying housewife? How wonderful. Vanessa, darling, this is your house, your family, you have a lot of say in this.”

“Personally, I think it is wonderful. We can really use that, especially at times when we have things to do but you need to be somewhere, or we’re all busy and you need to send a couple people somewhere. Elena, would you mind flying someone else somewhere for Carl if he needed your help?”

“No, Vanessa. I am not nutty child. I want to be his pilot and fly for him, but he does not have to be in plane for me to go somewhere. I am not baby. Maybe. We will see on first trip when I am away how many tissue I use.” The girls all got a kick out of the humorous nature of the comment.

Then it was decided. Starting now, summer was here, she would begin training to fly full time. She had soloed and was working toward her instrument training. We took the Caravan back from the company for a couple months, and she flew it most all summer. Early August she was checked out in that and mastered her instrument test. In August, we hired a Pilatus instructor to come out and spend two weeks with her. She was a natural, learning it quickly, and with a different instructor helping her out over the next two months, in early November, she was checked out to fly alone in the jet. Just turned nineteen years old, she was our go to pilot, with one of us always available for a long flight, or if she wanted help.

The company hired her, and in her off time, which there was a lot of, she started taking courses in self-defense, firearms, hand held weapons, just all kinds of things. She had become our family’s protection service by the time she turned twenty. Amy asked her if there were any degrees or licenses for what she was learning and doing, so she started looking into it, and there were. Including the ability to carry her grease gun if she wanted. She did. She earned an NFA waiver and with a little help from our project office was helped to qualify for a federal carry permit and learned a bit more about her trade at every stop. When we flew, we were protected by the weapon I carried, her nine-millimeter Walther with Cor-Bon Glaser Blue rounds in it, and her machine gun in a little case, usually very close to her.

We were probably the best armed and best protected civilian contractor team in history, but, with me running all over, not always in the best of places, her being young and taking care of the planes, cars, classified information we were carrying and all that, it made sense. To us.

Then there were the times that Vanessa or Amy had to go with Dad to Washington when I was off lollygagging around at 1200 miles an hour ‘dropping nuts on squirrels’ and making sure ‘crows don’t poop on our picnic’. A week, or two at a time, every couple of months was becoming the norm. We had more going on in Southeast Europe and Southwest Asia than you could shake a stick at. We took turns, as reserve and air guard units, but there were a lot of turns to take, and a couple times I was called out to help in an F-22 squadron due to a shortage of pilots and my familiarity with the vehicle. That was fun. A bit faster. Different. Fun.

When I wasn’t around, they could all fly; Vanessa, Amy, Elena, and Dad, yet, with appointments, work, preparation, and just plain being busy, Elena flew, and the others would second for her when needed. She did all the planning, preparation, all that, which left them time to prepare for meeting and the like.

Amy had taken over as our primary briefer as well. It was her manner, presence, and stature, as short as it was, that we think may have won a couple lucrative contracts. One of them, the Army was waffling on, but the Marines thought it would be nice to have, and when Amy went back through it again, she expounded on the parts the Army was hesitant about, and very carefully, without them knowing it, shoved it down their throats. It was a good thing, too. The Marines wanted it but could not have afforded the entire project on their own. Bottom line was her showing us that she could teach, learn, project, read, and provide a convincing argument. She usually knew what she was talking about, as well. She said she didn’t need to know, not all of it, just the fine points and the parts she had to extol to the intended audience. It worked. A couple times that we could identify, but probably more. Plus, she was saving money and making a difference at the plant with her education and training program.

Vanessa was a wonder. She’d gotten each of the departments talking to each other better, communications and staff meetings were streamlined and scheduled for when they were the most beneficial and she ran the place from behind Dad and me. It was working. She was going to be a great Chief Operating Officer when Dad moved on and I took his place. In her first year, full time as the Information Systems Manager, with a little side duty as the bosses’ daughter and wife, she made strides in changing a couple areas, but flow of management and financial information stood out. She was big on making sure there were no kings. If someone knew something that would benefit another area she made sure it was shared. She knew what to watch out for in that arena, a lot of it being in attitudes and appearances. She had two junior managers removed after catching them sitting on information to feather their nests, if you will. A project was held up because of a change needed and in researching the ‘saviors’ records she found they’d been sitting on the problem and a solution for two weeks just to make sure the stoppage occurred, as they thought it would, and they were there to save the day, AFTER the panic started, so they’d get the kudos. Sounds trivial to some, but that is the way politics in business is played. One hopes they don’t get caught. When two get caught together it’s worse. In every case, they get a very bad review, a bad name, and sign enough paperwork on the way out the door that if they share anything but their birthdays, they go to jail.

Then Elena proved her mettle. She proved a lot more than that, actually. She had just turned 21. It was early fall, and still warm at home. She flew us into the east side of the San Diego area. They had a little airport, Gillespie field, very close to a facility we needed to visit. There was an army electronics contractor that was integrating one of our packages into a defense system for a new generation armored vehicle with an automatic cannon. We arrived, parked on the apron where we were led, and shut down. The field manager had our schedule, tentatively. A three hour stopover was all we planned and might return and depart earlier than that. As we disembarked, and Elena helped us with briefcases and a couple of project boxes, our rental vehicle pulled over from the airfield’s offices. It was Enterprise, but she had her own ride, as we didn’t need that headache and they knew it. Elena looked over the car, signed the paperwork and then looked over toward a nearby hangar. A couple of times. Looking back, it should have gotten my attention, too, but I was thinking of tanks and guns and radar and all sorts of things. Certainly not a far off, unknown threat that was already one step past where it should have been. Nope, I didn’t catch it.

We went to our meetings where the models were handed over for design and integration. Testing parameters were traded, and we’d be able to help from our shops back home over a comm link that would be provided by the Army. It was a great day, and I’d look forward to working with them any time. They were just good people to work with.

Back at the airport, I saw what she was looking at. There were three people by the side of the hangar earlier. Now there were two. Different, but not earthshattering. It didn’t raise any alarms. The rental agent arrived to pick up the car, right on time, in more ways than one. She got Elena’s signature and drove off behind her partner. Elena asked Amy and me if we needed either of the briefcases we were carrying. We didn’t, so she unlocked the luggage area and put the briefcases back there, placing a little strap over them and tying them down. Ever the perfectionist. She closed it, locked it, and started the preflight. Once all three of us were on board, she raised the stairs and climbed into the pilot’s seat next to me.

That’s when she heard the scream, and looked back into the barrel of a gun. A man was holding Amy by the neck.

“Start the plane and get ready to leave. You fly us to Sinaloa. Do what I say or the little one here will die. Questions?”

Elena reached for her checklists, the plastic covered paper ones, stalling for time, then started her power up and engine start routines, leaning forward for a switch a little over toward my side, smiling at me, she was pulling her nine millimeter pistol out of its seat holster and as soon as she looked up and saw him looking back and away, shot him in the knee. Before he stopped reacting to that, she reached up and at point blank, shot him in the heart. Looking back to make sure he was alone, she told us, “Go. He said ‘us’. He is dead, but he is not alone. Someone is coming. Drag to back of plane out of way and lay down.” I started to speak. “No, Carl, I know what to do. Go. She looked out the windshield and saw the car leave the tower toward us. “Gillespie control, we have an emergency. Calling authorities.”

“Yes, we do. They are on the way. Are you people all right?”

“Affirmative. Hijacker is dead. Calling police.” She used her cell phone and called 911. She knew the satellite phone may not have worked for that. “Yes, this is Elena Martin, Pilot of Pilatus aircraft at Gillespie Field. Hijacker has been killed onboard and more are on the way toward the plane. Please contact Gillespie tower.” She didn’t hang up, but set the phone on the galley cabinet. Then watching from the first seat window, saw three men pull up in a big sedan. Two got out and approached the plane with guns at their sides, pointed down toward the ground. She opened the stairs a little.

“Rodrigo, prisa, rapido. Necesitamos poner a Don Marco en el avión.” (Rodrigo, hurry, quickly. We need to get Don Marco into the plane.) That was all my precious little Elena needed. She dropped the stairs and as soon as the field of fire was clear took them both out with two short bursts from her PPS-43 Tokarev sub-machine gun. She stood there, aiming at the car, just hoping Don Marco got out, but he didn’t. We waited for the police. In about eight really, really long minutes, they arrived, finding her sitting on the stairs, pointing a machine gun at the drug lord, with me holding and rubbing her neck and shoulders. Amy sat behind me and talked to her. Just soothing sounds telling her everything would be OK, and we could go home tomorrow. Vanessa would be fine at home with Mom and Dad.

During the eight-minute wait, Amy had called Vanessa and in four or five minutes told her enough to get Dad on the horn with our lawyers and get lawyers out here working. Good God knows we’d need them. Then she came up and talked to Elena for the last couple minutes. As the police closed in, they met the good don, weapons drawn, and took him into custody. They approached the plane telling Elena to lower her weapon. She did and laid it on the steps of the plane, gently. EMS personnel came out of the woodwork.

“May I open cargo hatch for you. Hijacker number one is in there, dead already. That is number two and number three you have there.” One of the policemen nodded then asked Amy and me to come down slowly while they watched us carefully. Two officers came for us and walked us over by two cruisers. I looked around at what must have been at least ten police cruisers and new Explorers. It was crowded, and it was an apron at an airport. Empty concrete as far as you could see ... Wall to wall black and whites.

“OK, I need to know who is in charge and who owns this plane,” a brusque voice said, and a big burly officer with his gun out walked over to me.

“It’s my plane and she’s the captain. She protected us at gunpoint. We’re done talking until the lawyers are here to tell you we’ve done nothing wrong. Elena!”

She nodded and made the motion to zip her lips. That’s one of the first things they told her in classes on using firearms as civilians. Declare there was a threat on your life and you were acting to protect yourself, then wait for legal assistance. That’s not word for word, naturally, but that’s the gist of it.

“Well, fuck me. Said they didn’t do anything wrong, then lawyered up. Cuff ‘em and confiscate that weapon.”

“Sir, may I speak?”

“What? You already lawyered up, didn’t you?”

“Yes, but why are you putting us in cuffs when you know who they were and we were protecting ourselves. We aren’t the bad guys.”

“You said you wanted a lawyer. To us that makes you the bad guys until I learn different.”

“But, you already know different, you’re just being a jerk about it.”

“You little shit. One more word out of you and I’ll slap the shit...” He looked like he was pulling his hand back to strike me. Good way to get shot, I thought. Self defense while being arrested. Ewww. Nightmare material.

“Sergeant, calm down. No cuffs. I heard most of that, Sergeant, and you might want to go over there for a bit.” The captain pointed over to a couple of cars by the front of the plane.

“Yes, ma’am, but if they try anything...”

“I doubt they will, Baxter. Please go.” She turned to me. “The tower operator is in bad shape. They held him hostage while you were away from the plane, then threatened him and his family if he said anything when they left. When he saw them both shot and go down, he said he breathed a sigh of relief. Are you Mr. Martin?” I nodded. “And you are Elena, the pilot?” Elena nodded. “And, who is that?”

“Amy Martin, my Director of Education and Training,” I told her.

“Same last name all of you?”

I nodded. “Long story, Captain Torres.” I got that from the bars and the name tag.

“I have all afternoon. It’s a nice day. Not too hot on the parking area. Tell me, Elena, why does a little girl run around with a machine gun?”

“Ma’am, while I’m sure you have our best interests at your heart, I would rather wait until I am represented to speak to the authorities. As Mr. Carl has said, already, we were hijacked at gunpoint. I stopped him. Those two,” She pointed at the two on the concrete, “came to put him,” she pointed to the don, “on my plane, and make us fly to a place called Sinaloa. I know where it is and do not want to go there or let them take my people there. They were threatened by their life and I protected them.”

The captain’s phone went off. She answered it and said yes and OK a lot. Then she pushed the screen and put it in her pocket. “There will be some help in a minute. Are you all going to be okay without handcuffs on?” Elena and I both nodded. Amy shrugged. She didn’t even really know how to process the question.

A Mercedes pulled up as close as they could and approached us, and the Captain. “Maria Torres. How nice to see you. I’m glad we are graced with El Cajon’s finest on this glorious afternoon.”

“Can it, George. I said next weekend. I’m busy with my family Saturday and Sunday. Do your job and quit flirting with the one person out here you’re afraid of.” The three of them laughed. Two lawyers and a lady cop, in the middle of a damned crisis. The only thing on my mind was ... Why were they in such good moods?

“Mr. Martin, I’m George Alejandro. This is Tom Manners, and we’re here to make sure you go home tomorrow. It won’t be tonight, I’m afraid, because the DC bureau that controls that thing,” he pointed to Elena’s Tokarev, “won’t be open until five a.m. our time in the morning. It’s six back there now, and it’s not a twenty-four-hour shop. You won’t be in jail, though. I’ll put you up in the Marriott across the street. Maria, she does have a permit, and a license to carry it, but we can’t prove that until morning, so ... If I can get you to ask Roger to ROR these three until morning, we’ll get this all cleared up. I’d appreciate your help.

“By the way, Mr. Martin, Elena, you just caused the capture of the most wanted man in the southern United States. His airplane was confiscated last week and he’s been running and hiding since. Elena, you have a reward coming, whether you ask for it or not now, but I know for a fact that I heard on the radio that one of them is worth twenty grand, dead or alive.” Elena frowned. “What’s wrong, miss?”

“I do not need the money. I have all the money I want. I just did not want them to hurt my Carl and my Amy.” Tears fell. Amy went to her and held her.

“I’d say you did pretty well. You won. They lost. All four of them. Here’s Roger now. Carl Martin, Roger Delton, City Attorney, or DA, if you will. Roger, I haven’t gotten it down on paper yet, but the eye witness, according to the police, said it was a pure and simple attempted hijacking to get Marco Esquella out of the country. That little girl thwarted the whole thing using weapons she’s authorized to carry and training she’s worked really hard getting through. I’m asking for ROR and a night in the big house across from Maria’s until I can prove Elena Martin was within her rights to use it, then they go home. Tomorrow. It is her weapon, it is legal, she used it legally, and it needs to go home with her. Obviously.”

“OK.”

“OK?”

“That man in the car over there is far more important than harassing a little girl for killing his men, all three of whom were armed and dangerous. I see thirty-five thousand dollars laying on the pavement. Did that one bleed in your airplane, miss?”

Elena shook her head. “I shoot him in leg to scare him then in heart to stop him so not shoot, and no blood, too. Indoor bullets.” Roger nodded thoughtfully. “Mr. Carl pull to back of plane on back, so no blood on floor. If there is, I do not care, I will buy new carpet.”

“You have your permit and such with you, Miss Martin?” She nodded and pointed to the plane. “Go get them. It’s OK.” George nodded to her. She went to get them.

“Mr. Delton, may I ask why...”

“No. Actually, I’d rather you didn’t, Mr. Martin. Let me say this, though. You are in one of the last bastions of reason in this state. On this coast would be more like it. I’m tired of harassing the good guys. This is a ‘sanctuary county’. If you don’t get out much, that means that even people like him can walk if things get into the wrong hands. By the way, he’s not staying here. He’s on the way to a federal facility in Phoenix. He doesn’t know it yet. See the smile?” I looked over at the cartel leader. The guy was smiling. I nodded. “He thinks his lawyers are planning his getaway now. Plead not guilty to a crooked judge, post an exorbitant bail. Not happening. I’m stalling, here, with you, and Maria, her people and your lawyers, and all this, because, sir, he will be out of here before you are.” Maria smiled. He looked at his phone. “Ten minutes and fifteen minutes. So, where was I. Oh, thank you, Miss ... Elena.”