He nodded. "So… there is no… record of our arrival?" "Nope. Why do you ask?" "In my country, there is a record of all aircraft." "This is a private airfield." She began a slow, banking turn. She said, "It's a guard-gate community. You know? If you drive in, the Nazi at the gate wants to strip search you unless you've been cleared by one of the residents inside. Even then, you get the once-over and the third degree."
Khalil nodded. He knew this, which was why he was arriving by air.
Stacy Moll went on, "I used to drive here once in a while to see Mr. Wonderful, and the idiot sometimes forgot to tell the Nazi I was coming. You know? I mean, Mr. Wonderful is going to get lai-he's going to… anyway, you'd think he'd remember I was coming. Right? So, whenever I could, I'd just fly in. I mean, you could be an ax murderer, but if you have an airplane, you fly right in. Maybe they should put in anti-aircraft guns. You know? And you need a password for the automated voice. Friend or foe? If you don't have the password, they open fire and blow you out of the sky." She laughed. "Someday I'm going to drop a bomb on Mr. Wonderful's fricking house. Maybe right in his pool when he's swimming in the raw. Him and his newest. Men. God, they piss me off. Can't live with 'em, can't live without them. You married?"
"No."
She didn't respond to that, but said, "See the country club there? Golf course, tennis courts, private hangars right next to some of the houses, swimming pools-these twits have themselves a good deal. You know? See that big yellow house there? Look. That belongs to a famous movie star who likes to fly his own jet. I'll bet the good old boys here don't like him much, but I'll bet the ladies do. See that big white house with the pool? That belongs to a New York real estate tycoon who owns a Citation twin-engine jet. I met him once. Nice guy. He's Jewish. The boys probably like him about as much as they like the movie star. I'm looking for this other house… guy named… can't remember, but he's a US Airways pilot, wrote a couple of airplane novels… can't remember the names… he was a friend of Mr. Wonderful. Wanted to put me in one of his books. What was that going to cost me? Jeez. Men."
Khalil looked at the expanse of large houses below, the palm trees, the swimming pools, the green lawns, and the aircraft parked near some of the homes. The man who may have murdered his family was down there, waiting for him with a smile and a beer. Khalil could almost taste his blood. Stacy said, "Okay, everybody shut up for the next few seconds." The Piper drifted down toward a runway marked 23, the engine became quieter, the runway seemed to rise upward, and the aircraft touched down gently. "Great landing." She laughed, then slowed the aircraft down quickly with the wheel brakes. "I had a rough landing last week in a bad crosswind, and the wise-ass customer asked me, 'Did we land, or were we shot down?'" She laughed again.
They stopped adjacent to the center taxiway, then exited the runway.
Stacy asked, "Where's this guy going to meet you?" "At his home. He lives on a taxiway." "Oh, yeah? Big bucks. You know where to go?" Khalil reached into his black bag and pulled out a sheet of paper on which was a computer-generated map titled
COURTESY MAP-SPRUCE CREEK, FLORIDA.
Stacy took it from him and glanced at it. "Okay… what's this guy's address?"
"It is Yankee Taxiway. At the very far end." "That's not far from where Mr. Wonderful lives. Okay… let's make like a taxi cab." She reached across her passenger, popped open the door to vent the cockpit, which was already becoming too warm, then glanced at the map in her lap and began taxiing the Piper. She said, "Okay, here's the fueling area and maintenance hangars of Spruce Creek Aviation… here's Beech Boulevard…" She taxied onto a wide concrete road and said, "Some of these things are taxi-ways only, some are for vehicles only, and some are for planes and vehicles. Like I want to share a road with some idiot's SUV-right? Keep an eye out for golf carts. The golfers are stupider than the SUV owners… okay, here's Cessna Boulevard… clever names, right?" She turned left on Cessna, then right on Tango Taxiway, then left on Tango East. She took off her sunglasses and said, "Look at these houses."
Khalil was doing just that. Passing on both sides of them were the backs of expensive taxiway homes, with large private hangars, enclosed swimming pools, and palm trees, which reminded him of his homeland. He said, "There are many palm trees here, but none in Jacksonville."
"Oh, they don't grow here naturally. These idiots bring them up from south Florida. You know? This is north Florida, but they think they need to have palm trees around them. I'm surprised they don't keep flamingos chained in the yard."
Khalil didn't reply, but once again thought of Paul Grey, whom he would be meeting in a few short minutes. Indeed, this murderer had gone to Paradise before he died, while Asad Khalil had lived in hell. Soon this situation would be reversed.
Stacy Moll said, "Okay, here's Mike Taxiway…" She turned the Piper right onto the narrow asphalt strip.
A number of the hangar doors were open, and Khalil noticed many types of aircraft-small single-engine aircraft, such as he was in, strange aircraft with one wing above another, and medium-sized jet aircraft. He asked, "Do these aircraft have any military purpose?"
She laughed. "No, these are boys' toys. Understand? I fly to make a living. Most of these clowns fly just to give themselves something to do, or to impress their friends. Hey, I'm going to school for jet training. Big bucks, but some guy is paying for it… wants me to be his corporate jet pilot. You know? Some of the big shots want military guys, like I said, but some of them want… like a toy inside the toy. Get it?"
"Excuse me?"
"Where you from?"
" Greece."
"Yeah? I thought the Greek millionaires… anyway, here we are-Yankee Taxiway." She veered to the right, and the taxiway ended at a concrete apron attached to a large hangar. On the hangar wall was a small sign that said PAUL GREY.
The hangar was open, revealing a twin-engine aircraft, a Mercedes-Benz convertible, a staircase that led to a loft, and a golf cart. She said, "This guy has all the toys. That's a Beech Baron, a Model 58, and it looks pretty new. Big buckeroos. You selling him something?"
"Yes. The vases."
"Yeah? They expensive?"
"Very."
"Good. He's got the dough. The money. Hey, is this guy married?"
"No, he is not."
"Ask him if he needs a co-pilot." She laughed.
She shut down the Piper's engine. "You've got to get out first, unless you want me crawling over your lap." She laughed. "Just take it nice and easy. I'll hold your bag." She took the bag off his lap.
He exited the aircraft onto the skidroof section of the wing. She handed the bag to him, and he placed it on the wing. Khalil stepped off the aft end of the Piper's wing and dropped onto the concrete. He turned and retrieved his bag from the wing.
Stacy followed him and jumped off the low wing onto the concrete, but lost her balance and found herself stumbling forward into her passenger. "Oops." She bumped into Khalil and held his shoulder to steady herself. His sunglasses slipped off, and Asad Khalil stood less than six inches from Stacy Moll, face-to-face. She looked into his eyes, and he stared back at her.
Finally, she smiled and said, "Sorry."
Khalil stooped down, retrieved his sunglasses, and put them on.
She took her cigarettes out of her pocket and lit one. She said, "I'll wait here in the hangar where it's shady. I'm going to help myself to something to drink in his refrigerator and use the bathroom in the hangar. They all have toilets and refrigerators. Sometimes kitchens and offices. So when the missus kicks their butts out, they don't have far to go." She laughed. "Tell this guy I'm taking a Coke. I'll leave a buck."