Chapter 50
Chapter 50
A shley sat in the pilot’s seat, Bill to his right. Camp, Gunner, and I filled the middle seat, and three agents filled the rear. When I told Gunner to “load up,” he looked at me like I was crazy. The look on his face said, “You don’t really expect me to get in that thing, do you?”
“Yes, I do.” I knelt down. “I know it’s cold, but so are Miriam, Ruth, and Sadie. Come on. Time to go to work.”
Gunner bounced inside and sat in the middle seat where I gently put earmuffs over his ears. He didn’t like them but didn’t shake them off, either. Looking dubious, Camp pulled me aside. “I know he’s your friend, I know he’s a pilot, and I know he’s the vice president, but has the power gone to his head? I mean, do you hear this thing? It’s earsplitting.”
Ashley turned and tapped his headset. The rest of us reached above our heads, pulled down our headsets, and adjusted the volume. Ashley spoke calmly as he manipulated the stick and watched the mechanic standing off to one side give him a thumbs-up indicator when the rear flaps responded. “I want to thank you all for going.” A pause while he collected himself. “Esther and I...” He didn’t finish. He just stared out the windshield and shook his head. Ashley pushed the stick forward, sliding us along the snow toward what looked like a runway. As he pushed the throttle forward to max power, he spoke calmly. “I know you all have questions about our approach.” A pause. “Fear not. I’m going to turn this thing into a whisper.”
Our takeoff was short, so Ashley gave it full power, what he would call a maximum performance takeoff given the short field. The conditions were less than desirable—icy lake with blowing snow. He set the flaps to extra lift in an effort to force us airborne in as little distance as possible. Knowing our payload was maxing the capabilities of the plane, and that conditions were going to make lift a little more difficult than usual, he pointed the nose into the wind, ran the engine up to max power, released the brakes, spun the airplane 180 degrees left into the wind, and took that momentum to launch us forward, slingshotting the plane.
As we rocketed forward, my phone rang. It was Steve. Calling from prison. I had no idea how he’d obtained a phone. All I heard him say before the line went dead was, “Be careful.” Then I thought I heard him say the word trap . I pocketed the phone, knowing full well what we could be walking into. I also knew that meant somebody had either eyes or ears on us, or possibly both, but we’d have to tackle that when we returned. While I wasn’t all that worried about me, I was worried about the man flying the plane. And if I’m honest, I was worried about Camp. Had his whole life in front of him. A life with Casey. Which I very much wanted the two of them to live and live happily.
As the bumps increased, I spoke what we were all thinking. “You sure you can fly this thing?”
“Like riding a bike.” Aaron paused then spoke to all of us. “Men?”
Camp answered for the group. “Sir.”
A pause. “Thank you.”
The sound of his voice told me more than his words.
Camp nodded. “We’ll bring ’em home, sir.”
We were heavy and Ashley was fighting sink, which is pilot-lingo for sinking air complicated by competing downdrafts. Not the best conditions. Rather than fight it, Ashley continued to accelerate, hovering five to ten feet off the ground. An inexperienced pilot would have tried to climb prematurely, but not Aaron. He buried the nose, filled the front window with the horizon, allowing the tree line to get closer and closer. Then, just as we thought we were about to plow into the trees, Aaron pulled back on the stick, leaving earth behind.
Had it been anyone else but Ashley, I’d have been suspicious. Given our history, I knew what probably no one else did. Ashley had learned to fly at the academy late in his freshman year. His first planes? Gliders. He spent two years in gliders before ever touching a single engine, eventually becoming an instructor before his senior year. We would have been hard-pressed to find a better glider pilot anywhere on the North American continent. I didn’t know how that experience translated into our present flight plan, but I trusted Aaron. I spoke loud enough for everyone to hear. “Just get us on the ground, sir, and we’ll take care of the rest.”
The ground distance was twelve miles from takeoff to cabin. The first five were rather delightful minus the cold. When we reached the seven-mile barrier, Ashley climbed to eight thousand feet and crackled over the headset again. The temperature had dropped considerably, and I was starting to shiver. Our breath was freezing on the inside of the windows.
Ashley spoke while studying the landscape below him and the instruments before him. “Gentlemen, I don’t want you to be alarmed by what you’re about to experience.” A pause. “The only way to silence this bird is to shut her down. Which I’m about twenty-two seconds from doing. When I do, we’re going to drop, and you’re going to think I’m not in control.” He shook his head. “Don’t think that. I am. I’m generating energy.” He began flipping switches. “Any plane can become a glider if you have enough elevation and someone who knows how to ride the updrafts.” A nod. “Which I do. I once turned Air Force Two into a glider, although you never heard about it.”
Stackhouse nodded in affirmation.
Ashley paused thoughtfully while he pointed to mountains in the distance. “On the upwind side of that ridgeline is an updraft. We’re gonna hitch a ride down into the valley.”
Camp leaned forward. “No offense, sir, but how do you know the updraft will be there?”
Ashley continued his shutdown and smiled. “God put it there.”
Camp nodded. “Yes, sir.”
Ashley again. “That said, the problem is not getting her safely on the ground; it’s stopping her once we do. So buckle in. ”
Without another word, he completed the shutdown, bringing the propeller to an awkward stop in front of us. This caused the propeller to windmill, or slowly spin as air flowed over it, which increased our drag. Something Aaron didn’t want, so he pulled back on the stick slightly, trading current airspeed to stop the propeller from spinning, which it did. Creating a strange emotion. Sitting in a plane several thousand feet in the air and staring at an unmoving propeller. My brain couldn’t make sense of it.
Then Aaron did something he’d not communicated, which was probably a good idea on his part.