“It probably isn’t for a turbocharged airplane,” Cat replied, “but a normally aspirated engine like ours loses manifold pressure as altitude increases and the air gets thinner. I just don’t want to have to try and gain altitude in a hurry under those conditions.”
The weather was in their favor, though, and as the airport hove into view, the terrain around it was clearly visible. Cat set the airplane down on the short runway and taxied to a low cluster of buildings, which turned out to be the local flying school, Aeroandes. He arranged for fuel and tie-down and ordered a taxi.
“What’s your plan here?” Meg asked.
“Plan? Jesus, I haven’t had a plan since I got to this country. I guess we’d better start at the airport and see what we can learn there.”
“We’ll do better without all this gear. Why don’t we drop it at a hotel. The Tequendama is good.”
Driving into Bogotá in the taxi, Cat was, first, charmed by the flower sellers on either side of the highway, their stalls crammed with colorful blossoms, then appalled by the-amount-of security equipment on the local houses as they entered the city. The ground floor of every house was festooned with bars on every window and door. It didn’t seem a pleasant place to live.
Downtown Bogotá was mostly modern and high-rise, with a scattering of older and more colorful buildings. Green mountains, ringed with clouds, hovered over everything. The Tequendama Hotel was one of Bogotá’s older modern buildings and seemed to offer everything one could want. They spent half an hour getting settled into a suite, then Cat slipped into his shoulder holster again and checked that the automatic pistol was loaded. He felt he was getting close to something, and he wanted to be prepared. He checked the aluminum case into the hotel’s safe.
Meg looked at the case curiously. “You a camera buff?” she asked. “I haven’t seen you take a photograph yet.”
“Nah, just some personal valuables. All you hear about is how good the thieves and pickpockets are in this country.”
“Yes, and it’s both true and a shame. It’s a lovely country with wonderful people that’s being eaten alive by drugs, poverty, and, nibbling at the edges, political terrorism.”
They moved through the cavernous lobby toward the taxi entrance. “I wish I could feel more concern about Colombia,” Cat said, “but all I want to do is find Jinx and get out of here as quickly as possible.”
A modern, four-lane highway took them quickly to Eldorado Airport.
“I hate to keep harping on this,” Meg said, “but what’s your plan? What do you hope to learn at the airport?”
“Well, the Gulfstream got in late last night, which indicates to me that our man with the ponytail intended to sleep in Bogotá. First, let’s find the airplane, then let’s see if we can find out where in the city the guy is staying. If we can find him, we might find Jinx. That just might have been her getting on the airplane with him last night.”
“Okay, that seems reasonable.”
“I just hope to hell he doesn’t have another fortress in Bogotá like the one in Cali. We wouldn’t have much of a chance of getting inside a place like that, what with all the guards and dogs.”
“If last night was any example, he’s not going to be without a lot of heavy help wherever he is,” Meg said.
“I’ll cross that bridge when I come to it,” Cat said, not at all certain how he would cross it.
At Eldorado Airport, Meg pointed at a group of hangars. “That’s where the business aircraft get serviced.”
A policeman looked briefly inside the cab, then waved them through the gate. Meg asked the taxi to wait. They entered a lounge area, obviously intended for passengers on private aircraft.
“What’s our excuse for being here?” Meg whispered to Cat.
“We’re looking for a business associate.”
Meg pointed to a business office. “Let’s try there.”
At the counter a young woman came to help them.
“I’m looking for a friend who’s supposed to be landing in a business jet. They may even have landed last night.”
“Do you have the registration number, señor?”
Cat flipped open his notebook and gave it to her. “It’s a Gulfstream.”
“No,” she replied, pointing to a wall chart of arriving aircraft. “We haven’t had a Gulfstream in here recently, and I’ve no way of knowing when to expect your friend’s plane. We don’t know who’s coming until they call us on the Unicom.”
“Is there anyplace else on the field where the airplane might be serviced?” he asked.
“Well, sometimes the larger planes are serviced by the airlines, Avianca or Eastern, at the main terminal. They have a full catering service there. Both the Avianca and Eastern hangars are on the other side of the main terminal, and you might have difficulty getting through the gate without a pass.”
“How can we get a pass?” Cat asked.
“The easiest thing would be to go into the main terminal. If there is a Gulfstream either at a service hangar or at a gate, you should be able to see it through the windows of the lounge. If your friend’s plane is there, you can apply at the airport manager’s office for a pass.”
“Thank you very much.”
They left the office and the taxi took them to the main terminal entrance. The airport was mobbed. Well-dressed businessmen stood, cheek by jowl, with peasants from the countryside, all squirming to get through security to their respective departure gates.
“Is it always like this?” Cat asked as they picked their way slowly through the crowds.
“Usually. The road system is not very extensive, and not as many Colombians own cars as Americans. They take Avianca, instead.”
With some difficulty they made their way, foot by foot, to the windows overlooking the apron, where jets were embarking and disembarking passengers. They looked carefully up and down the row of Avianca and Eastern aircraft and those of half a dozen South American countries, then at the airplanes parked in and around the service hangars across the apron. None of the jets was a Gulfstream.
Cat stood, looking, willing the airplane to be there. If it wasn’t, he was at a dead end; he had nowhere else to go.
“Look,” Meg said, pointing down the apron.
Cat looked and saw, being towed down the ramp toward them by a small tractor, the Anaconda Gulfstream.
“It looks as though it’s being towed to a gate,” Meg said. “Maybe it’s picking up the owner and his party.”
As they watched, the airplane was towed into an empty gate, about a hundred yards down the terminal from where they were standing. A hatch opened at the rear of the airplane, and a catering truck began passing provisions through it.
“I’ve got to figure a way to get onto that airplane,” Cat said. “If it’s just arrived at the gate, chances are the passengers aren’t on it yet, and I want to be there when they come aboard.”
“What will you do then?” Meg asked.
Cat patted his shoulder. “I’m armed. If Jinx is with them, I’ll take her off the plane, one way or another. If she’s not, I’ll just have to talk my way off.”
“We can try the airport manager’s office for a pass, like the lady suggested,” Meg said.
“No, that will take too long.”
“Look who’s here,” Meg said, pointing out the window. A stretch limousine had driven up to the aircraft. A chauffeur was unloading the trunk, but the doors to the car remained closed.
But Cat’s attention seemed to be elsewhere. “Cat, look out here a...” Meg stopped when she saw the look on Cat’s face.
He had turned away from the windows and was staring into the crowd.
“What is it, Cat?” she asked.
Cat watched silently as the young man picked his way through the mob. “There, the young guy in the light blue, three-piece suit, no necktie.”