Chapter 8

‘Well, he’s back, I can relax now,’ Abby thought... ‘and maybe get in some time behind the stick.’

It had been two weeks since she’d flown and she missed it. If Australia had only one thing ... it was space to fly ... open space ... aerobatic space.

As soon as she had her private pilot license, she’s decided she’d like to fly someplace. Flying between Bathurst and someplace the first time had been interesting ... like a road trip. And like a road trip ... the second time was boring. ‘Been there, done that ... even bought a tee shirt in the airport lounge boutique.’

Boring enough that she hit up her wifi and connected with ‘aerobatics.’ An SNJ-6 is fully aerobatic, and the ones for the Chilean Navy were ... abet, two seat trainer versions ... armed against possible insurrection. Her 20 SNJ-6’s were equipped with two 7.62 NATO cowl mounted Browning AN/M2 machine guns firing through the propeller arc and two 12.7 NATO AN/M2 machine guns in the wings. (Her Bearcat’s were armed too.) Aerobatics changed a boring trip from here to there into an adventure.

The Civil Aviation Safety Authority (CASA) is the Australian national authority for the regulation of civil aviation. Although distinct from the government, it reports to the Federal Minister for Infrastructure and Transport. CASA is responsible for monitoring civil air operations in Australia, issuing appropriate licenses, enforcing safety requirements and protecting the environment from the effects of aircraft use. And somebody saw me and didn’t like it.

Ton of bricks.

When I landed at home ... Bathurst (YBTH), I was met.

“License?”

I forked over.

“Logbook?”

I handed that over, too.

“Come with me,” he said.

“I don’t go anywhere with an unknown man ... let me call my dad.”

I fished out my phone. “I hope he’s home.” I said as I punched number one. When he picked up, I put him on speaker.

“Daddy, I need you at the airport,” I said.

“Abby?” He wasn’t asking if it was me ... he was asking what I’d done.

“I think I’ve been arrested,” I looked at the man ... he looked appalled.

“Maybe not, but I need you to be here when I talk to him.” I looked and he nodded.

“What did you do?”

“I went flying and got bored.”

“Ah ... Google?”

“Yup.”

“Looped it?”

“Uh huh, and some other stunts.”

“Twenty minutes.”

“Thanks, Daddy.”

The man said, “Wow ... Google?”

“Nope.” I said, “I’d rather not talk until daddy gets here.”

“Where did...” he nodded at the SNJ.

“I bought 40 of them from Chile’s Naval Aviation.”

“What?”

“I paid for 40 ... they delivered 20 ... and some other stuff.”

There was a long pause while he looked at me.

“Forty?”

“Twenty SNJ’s and 19 F8F Bearcat’s and an F7F Tigercat night fighter.” I said. “I’ve been suspicious of the actual ownership. I’m not positive the Admiral I bought them from was authorized to sell ... but Hollywood bought the other 20 I was supposed to get. Nobody complained about them ... so I’m probably good.”

My phone rang.

“Daddy.” I said. “Hello.”

“Where are you?”

“At the plane.”

“Ok ... I see it.” He said, “On my way.”

Minutes and he was there,

The introduction wasn’t ... I had no idea who my interrogator was.

“David Austin.”

“CASA Inspector Arnold.”

“Do we shake of do I call a lawyer?” Daddy said.

“I think we’re good. From our conversation I think Miss Austin learned some aerobatics from Google,” Mr. Arnold said. “Lets have a seat in the lounge while I decide what the regulations require.”

We walked off. I asked the desk to tie it down. “I have no idea how long it’s going to be out there?”

Jeannie, the Desk, said... “We can put it in Hanger D with the fliers.”

“Mr. Arnold?”

“Yes?”

“May I have it stored?”

“Tie it down ... depending ... it may be leaving with me.”