Chapter 12

The line of dust-covered trucks rolled through the gate. The drivers were tired, and it showed.

Chuck dismounted and walked ahead to where Frenchy waited. “I think we should wait until morning to offload. These guys are beat and they need to be fed. They can bunk down in their cabs for the night. Let’s just park the trucks inside and turn everything over to security until tomorrow.”

“Works for me, Chuck. You know we don’t really have a kitchen crew, don’t you? The only thing we’ve got is microwave ovens and MRE’s.”

“I remembered. I didn’t want to stop for dinner, so I had the trailing security Suburban load up on pizza as we passed through Roswell and they got a few cases of beer too. These guys have earned it.”

“Sounds good. Warm the pizzas and pass out the beer, we’ll unload tomorrow.”

Chuck turned and signaled down the line. Miming chugging a drink, he waited for acknowledgement. “They’ll pass the word on by radio. We’ve been operating under radio silence to keep the chatter down; I didn’t want to take a chance that a spy would realize I was gone.”

“Smart, Chuck. Wait one...” Frenchy glanced at his ringing cell phone and looked surprised. “Frenchy here. What can I do for you?”

The distant voice talked for at least a minute before Frenchy said, “Oh, shit. Is she badly injured?” Another pause followed. “I’ll get there as soon as I can. Let her know, please.” The conversation continued, then Frenchy responded with “Thank you,” and terminated the conversation. The pain on his face was obvious.

“Frenchy, what’s wrong?”

“It’s Lina. Chuck, I’ve got to get to Albuquerque. I’ll call for a helicopter to pick me up here...”

Chuck interrupted. “Don’t do that; you don’t want a pilot to see all these trucks and wonder what’s going on. I’ll fly you to Clovis and you can catch a plane there for Albuquerque.”

“You’re right, but how ... you mean the Bedstead?” Frenchy asked. “I’ve only flown it a couple of times, and never at night.”

“I’ll fly it. Get your jacket and meet me at the hangar building. Don’t say anything to any of the drivers, I’ll take care of it. I suggest you call that lawyer in Clovis and have him lay on a plane for you. I think they have jets there, but even if they don’t it won’t take you long to reach Albuquerque. He can also arrange for a car to meet you, and you’ll be there in three or four hours. This is an emergency, right?”

Frenchy nodded and said, “Can we chance using the Bedstead, Chuck?”

“It’ll be tight, getting there and back, but I can do it. I’ll be ready when you get to the hangar building.” Chuck turned and walked away as Frenchy began punching numbers into his phone. Chuck tapped the combination into the lock and headed inside the hangar. Mel was drinking a cup of coffee in the break room when Chuck walked in.

“Status on the Bedstead’s batteries, Mel?”

“Two fully charged batteries installed, Chuck. I swapped the depleted ones out last night after my last flight. Why?”

“I’ll be taking the Bedstead out as soon as my passenger gets here. We’ll need straps attached to the seat back and a couple of blankets from the break room. He’ll sit on the blankets and the straps are to make sure he doesn’t fall off. He’ll need a helmet too, so can I borrow yours?”

“Sure, Chuck. Who’s going?”

“Frenchy. As soon as he gets here, you strap him in and I’ll roll up the door.”

“Where are you going?”

“Clovis, it’s the closest airport. I need to look at a map.”

“Use the computer, it’s got an app,” Mel said. “You going to print out a map?”

“I guess so. I’ll use the GPS to lay out the course, but as long as I steer south-southeast, that will get me close enough to see the town’s lights. I’ll use Ned Houk Park, it’s a big dark area that’s just off the highway, as my final checkpoint when I reach Clovis; the Airport is almost a straight line from here if I cross over Ned Houk.”

“Got it. You know you’re stretching the range, don’t you?”

“I figure I’ll have maybe a ten percent charge remaining after I get back here, enough to land in the hangar. If I don’t pick up headwinds, I should be OK. You stay close to the radio, and if it looks like I’m not going to make it, I’ll give you a call and you can meet me with the van.”

“You’ve been on the road all day, Chuck,” Mel said, his concern obvious. “You’ve got to be tired. Are you sure? I could do, I think.”

“Yeah, this is not the first all-nighter I’ve pulled. I’d let you fly, but I’ve had more outdoor stick time, especially while using the night vision glasses.”

“I suppose you’re right, but if you need me I’m only a couple of hours away in the truck. Too bad the King isn’t ready.”

“Yeah. We’ll have to remember to add mounts for rear seats in case we have to haul passengers.”

“Shouldn’t be a problem. For that matter, I’ll bet we could mount a seat and separate windscreen on the Bedstead.”

“When we have time, Mel. I need to fill the thermos.”

Morty walked up to the gate entrance and spoke to the senior guard. “How long have the trucks been here?”

“Let me check the visitor log.” The man clicked the mouse, waking the computer from sleep mode. He glanced at the entry and did a quick calculation in his head. “About four hours, Morty. Chuck and Frenchy talked about it, and Chuck told the crew to bag out after they ate. They’re sleeping in their trucks.”

“Where can I find Chuck and Frenchy?”

“No idea. I haven’t seen them since the trucks pulled in. Maybe they’re in the main building.”

“I just came from there, and there’s no sign of them. I also checked the power building and the duty operator hadn’t seen them.”

“Want me to try the radios?” At Morty’s nod, the man thumbed the transmit button. “All units: anyone seen the director or Chuck?” He released the button and waited for a reply. He listened to the earbud for a minute, then looked up at Morty. “No one’s seen them recently, but they didn’t go out the gate. They have to be here somewhere.”

Morty mulled that over. Maybe they were in the hangar? The security team wouldn’t know what went on in there, and if they were asleep they might not be answering the radio. “I want to get the trucks unloaded before daylight if possible,” he said. “I don’t want someone to fly over and see all those trucks parked in a place that’s not officially being used yet. Find Chuck’s deputy for me, the guy who helped control the convoy, and ask him to roust the drivers; I’ll authorize a bonus if they can get the trucks unloaded and out of here before daylight.”

“I’ll send one of the guys,” the guard said. “If you’re paying extra, they’ll be willing to lose some sleep and four hours is long enough anyway.”

“I appreciate the help,” Morty said. “The locations inside the main building are chalked in place, so if the crews can drop off the equipment where it’s supposed to go, that will be helpful.”

“I’ll see to it, Morty. Where do I find you if I need to ask something?”

“I’ll be around, and I’ll have my radio on.” Morty patted the holstered low-powered radio he used for local communication within the site. The guard nodded and beckoned to one of the off-duty gate guards.

Morty left the building and walked a circuitous route to the hangar. Glancing around, he saw no one who might be interested in his activities. He punched in the code and opened the hangar building’s gate, then locked it behind him before walking around the hangar building. The personnel door was locked and the rollup door secured in place. Morty unlocked the door and walked inside.

“Mel?” Morty called out, then spotted the man working on the frame of the next-generation Bedstead, the King. He walked over as Mel stood up. “Seen any sign of Chuck or Frenchy?”

“Yeah, we strapped Frenchy on the Bedstead and Chuck flew him to Clovis. I expect him back in an hour or so. Frenchy had some kind of emergency, neither one said what it was, but Frenchy was in an all-fired hurry to get to Albuquerque. Chuck’s supposed to drop him off at the airport and Frenchy will catch a plane from there.”

Morty scratched his head. “You think the Bedstead can make it there and back?”

“Chuck thought so. He’s got the most experience flying it and the batteries were fully charged, so I’d say he’s got a good chance. If he gets low on electrons, he’ll call and I’ll pick him up in the van. The Bedstead fits in the back, and no one will be able to see what I’m hauling.”

Morty nodded. “Got any coffee made?”

“New pot. I could use a cup too.” Mel laid his drill down and the two men walked to the break room.

“What are you doing to Bedstead II, Mel?”

“Punching holes to mount a pair of passenger seats behind the pilot’s seat. I got the dimensions from the last mount we put on, the one for the pilot’s seat. That damned stainless steel alloy does a number on drill bits, though. Even by resharpening them, I’ve gone through half a dozen tonight. Not your ordinary bits either, these are the carbide industrial ones.”

“Yeah,” Morty agreed, “I had that problem too. You have to keep the drill bit cool. I kept the tip cool with cutting oil and that helped, but it was still slow. What are you using for coolant?”

“Light machine oil. It works, even if it does smoke a lot, but you have to go slow and keep a lot of pressure on the drill.”

The conversation was interrupted by a call over the radio. The tone control opened the channel, then Chuck’s voice came through. “Mel, I need you to open the big access door. I’m down to maybe 5% charge and it’s dropping fast. I’m only a mile out, so hustle it.”

“Copy, Chuck. Be open when you get here. Do you need lights?”

“Negative, I’m using the night vision optics. Just get the rollup door open.”

“Roger. Standing by.” Mel trotted over to the control panel and punched the button, raising the big door. Five minutes later, the Bedstead drifted slowly over the fence and eased inside. By the time Mel finished securing the door, Chuck had flipped off the circuit breakers and climbed wearily down from the pilot’s seat.

“Cut it pretty close, didn’t you, son?”

“Hi, Grandpa. Yeah, it was touchy there toward the end. I had to slow way down, just barely keep flying and milk as many miles as possible out of the batteries. I doubt I could have made another five miles.”

“Any idea of what was bugging Frenchy?”

“Something to do with his daughter Lina. He didn’t say what it was, but it was important that he get to Albuquerque fast.”

“I hope she’s not sick,” Morty said.

“Yeah, he dotes on her,” Chuck agreed. “If there’s something wrong, I expect it will hit him hard. He’s probably there by now, in Albuquerque I mean, and whatever the problem is he’ll tell us if he wants us to know. I’m going to bed, I’ve been about as low on energy as the Bedstead’s batteries during the last couple of hours. No offense, Grandpa, but I’m dead on my feet. I’ll talk to you after I wake up.”

“Get some sleep, Son. I just wanted you to know I’ve got the drivers unloading the trucks. I want them out of here before daylight. We can talk tomorrow.”

Chuck stretched out on the couch as Morty nodded to Mel and walked out. Mel turned off the overhead light and headed for the Bedstead. He would change out the depleted batteries, then continue drilling the mounting holes for the passenger seats. The mounts should be removable, something easy to change ... now how should he do that? Mel muttered to himself as he headed for the controls to the overhead crane. Swapping out the heavy battery packs was routine by now.

Chuck had been asleep almost eight hours when his cell phone rang. Sleepily, he fumbled, then pressed the button to accept the call. There was only a slight hesitation; few people had his number. “Hello?”

“Chuck, this is Frenchy. Did I wake you?”

“I need to get up anyway. What’s up?”

“I’ve got a problem, and I need your help.”

“You’ve got it. What can I do?”

“I’ll be here in Albuquerque for a while, dealing with the police, but I need to get Lina out of here and I don’t want her to be left alone in Clovis either. I was wondering if you could meet her and take her to the site?”

“Sure, no problem. What time will she arrive?”

“It’ll take me a while to arrange for a plane, probably fly her out this afternoon, so she’ll arrive in Clovis sometime about dark. I’ll call you as soon as I put her on the plane. You’ll have to land in the fields this time and hike to the airport. Chuck ... you might as well know. There’s been trouble, and we’ve been threatened.”

“I ... see,” Chuck said. “Okay, I’ll deal with it at this end. Do you expect someone to be waiting for her when she gets to the Clovis Airport?”

“I doubt it, I don’t see how anyone could know what we have in mind. I haven’t even contacted the pilot yet. You’re the only one who knows, and we don’t yet have a timetable.”

“What about you, Frenchy? Will you be all right?”

“I’m with the police now. I’ll ask for an escort to the Sunport, and the officer can stay with me until I board the plane. Anyway, I’ll be on a private plane and I’ll have a pistol. One of my friends is friends with the chief. Best not to say more about it, except that I’ll have a pistol and two extra magazines.”

“You know how to shoot, Frenchy?”

“I know how to shoot.” The grimness was there, audible even through the phone. “I spent some time on an indoor range when I wasn’t playing golf or handball. I won’t hesitate if I have to shoot someone, not after what’s happened.”

“Enough said, then. Give me a heads-up before the plane takes off. I’ll take it slow this time, getting to the airport, and that will give me more battery cushion. I’ll also need time to hike the rest of the way after I park the Bedstead, but don’t worry, I’ll be there when she arrives. Tell her how to recognize me, all right?”

“Will do, and thanks, Chuck. I owe you one.”

“No sweat, we owe each other a few by now. I’ll have my phone on and I’ll let grandpa know where I’m going before I leave, but I’ll be waiting when she gets there.”

“You’ll recognize her?”

“Sure. I’ve seen that picture on your desk, Frenchy.”

Chuck brought the Bedstead to a hover and landed it in an alfalfa field, a mile northwest of the airport. The low silhouette was hidden among the plants, so that only the pilot’s windscreen and the upper part of the seat back were visible. Safe enough, he thought. There was no reason anyone should be in the field during darkness, and he’d be gone long before daylight. Crossing the field’s barbed-wire fence presented few problems and he soon found the road he’d spotted before landing.

The hike to the airport helped him stretch out the kinks in his legs. His limp was barely noticeable, more stiff than painful, and in any case few people were around to see; Clovis’ airport was not a hotbed of activity after dark. He bought a can of soda from a vending machine and found a bench to sit on while he waited. He sipped his soda and wondered idly what had upset Frenchy.

An hour later, a small twin-engine plane landed and taxied to the terminal building. The propellers stopped, the pilot got out, then helped his passenger deplane. Folding up the steps as she walked away toward the terminal, he climbed back in the plane.

Chuck went to meet her as the engines started and the plane taxied toward the self-service fueling point. Lina, Frenchy had mentioned the name on occasion, was slender and tall, probably somewhere around 5’9” by Chuck’s estimate. She wore dark slacks and a lightweight jacket, and her dark hair was already windblown by the light breeze across the open landscape.

“I’m Chuck,” he announced. “If you’re Lina, I’m your welcome wagon. Sort of.”

“My dad sent you?”

Chuck nodded. “He told me when to expect you. No luggage?”

“No, he said he’d bring my stuff later on by car. You have a helicopter?”

“Not exactly,” Chuck said. “We’ve got about a mile to walk, too.” Chuck looked at the flat-heeled open-toed shoes she was wearing. “Maybe it won’t be a problem. I didn’t see any cactus on the way in, but as soon as we’re off the road you follow in my footsteps, okay?”

She nodded and fell in beside Chuck as he walked down the road, leaving the airport behind. “It’s ... kind of dark,” she said nervously. “You said my father sent you?”