Magnolia Gods (River Sunday Romance Mysteries Book 2) Read online

  “She said, ‘You get paid to think of these things.’

  “I started to tell them about the village and that they should be careful about the people living there but Jessica didn’t want to hear. I began to realize what I was up against. She wanted to know about the diary too and what it said about a man named Wall. I told her what I remembered. She got furious. She told Bullard that if he had been doing his job this never would have happened and the plane would be taken care of long ago.”

  “Then Bullard said, ‘How was I supposed to know these fanatics had the thing. That was Hiram’s job. Face it, even the Navy couldn’t find the seaplane.’

  “I asked when I was going to get a job with Aviatrice?”

  “Bullard looked at Veal and said, ‘We got another one to take care of.’

  “I realized real quick they weren’t going to do me any favors, and I was not going to get any job. I figured out I had made a real dumb mistake coming to these people. I started to stand up to leave.”

  “Bullard said, ‘Where you going, boy?’

  “I didn’t even look at him. I started running. I ran right out the door before they could get to me. Outside on the porch of the hotel two other men began to chase me. Bullard called from the window upstairs, ‘Get that kid.’

  “I knocked down a woman tourist and her baggage fell in front of the two men chasing me. They tripped and went down, cursing me and the tourist, who started screaming. I got away. That’s all that happened.”

  “Look, son,” said Mike. “What we have to do is to correct the effect. Nothing we can do about the cause.”

  “I’ll help any way I can,” the kid said.

  “By the way,” said Mike. “What’s your name?”

  “Jim.”

  “Jim, we’ll get through this, I want you to know that.”

  “Yessir.”

  A distant rumble made them stop and listen. The noise grew louder and in a few moments the tassels of the corn plants were lit in sparkles of white light. Winds whirled from every direction around them.

  Two big helicopters were above, searchlights circling the field. The machines slowly moved away from Mike and the others and towards the river.

  “Here we go,” said Mike.

  “They haven’t seen us yet or they would be coming in here,” said Jesse.

  “The real worry is whether they see the seaplane,” said Mike.

  “To see it, they’d have to be right on top of it,” said Jonathan. “We put that tenting over it pretty good. Looks just like the river from up above.”

  “Let’s hope you’re right,” said Mike.

  One helicopter rose high and its lights blinked well up into the air. As it rose Mike could see the woman in the passenger seat. Jessica Veal was talking to the pilot. The other machine landed across the field from them. The rotor wind swept the corn flat against the ground, tearing some plants out of the earth and tossing them through the air.

  “Bullard came down in the first one. I can see him out there,” said Mike.

  “What do you want to do, Mike?” asked Jesse.

  “We’ve got to stop them,” answered Mike. “They will keep us from getting the seaplane off the creek. We have to disable them long enough to escape. I’m sure Robin has seen them come in so she’ll be ready to go when we get down there.”

  Mike thought for a moment, then said, “Let’s get the one in the field.”

  “They’ll have shoulder rockets,” said Jesse.

  “What about the other helicopter?” asked Jonathan.

  “We’ll worry about her when she comes back,” Mike said. “Jesse, take Jim and Jonathan to the other side. I’ll try to divert Bullard. Then you move in and see if you can take out the helicopter.”

  “How?” asked Jesse.

  “Try to start a fire near her,” said Mike. “That will delay them. They’ll have to work hard to put out the flames near all that helicopter fuel.”

  “All right, “said Jesse. He reached down to his waist and pulled out an automatic pistol. “Here, Mike. Take this. You’ll need something like this to get the job done.”

  Mike hefted the weapon.

  “That was the Captain’s sidearm,” said Jesse. “He left it at the farm when he disappeared.”

  Mike smiled as he flicked off the safety and chambered a cartridge. “I won’t disappoint the Captain. See you at the beach,” he said.

  After they left Mike found an old tree at the edge of the field and climbed to a lower branch. He could see the helicopter clearly. Light was coming from the pilot’s compartment as well as the cargo area and illuminated the mashed cornstalks under the long rotor blades. These men are careless, overconfident, Mike thought. He counted five of them, outfitting themselves with weapons by the helicopter door. One had a shoulder fired rocket he was unpacking. Mike could not mistake the large man who was directing the others, even though he was dressed in camouflage and his shoulders supported several bandoliers of cartridges. Mike knew the man was Bullard.

  The other helicopter came back and was hovering above and in front of Mike. Inside he saw Jessica sitting next to her copilot who was controlling the machine. She was talking into a mike and pointing at the helicopter on the ground. Bullard was adjusting his earphones and waving at her. So far so good, Mike thought. If she’s here, she hasn’t seen the seaplane yet.

  Jessica ordered her machine back up and was far above Mike in a few moments. The men on the ground assembled in front of Bullard as he gave orders. Mike knew what he had to do. If he could not manage to divert the men toward his position, Jesse and the others had little chance to attack the helicopter from the other side.

  One of the security men was coming directly toward Mike’s hiding spot. Mike could no longer see Bullard. Mike raised the pistol and took aim. A thought of his father flashed across his mind. His father would have described this as the moment of danger. Mike knew that after he fired, he would have no way to turn back. As his father would have said, Mike would be committed. His safety would be gone. He wondered if this was how his father felt after he launched his bombs at the Japanese? He had no fear, no trembling. He felt aware of every sense in his body and he knew what he had to do. He knew that his father must have been this way too when he went into battle. Mike slowly aimed low, not wanting to kill the man, just slow him down, just hurt him enough to make him stop in pain, just make enough noise to attract and draw the soldiers away from the machine.

  He pulled slowly back on the trigger. The gun went off and the man immediately fell, holding his knee. The lights of the helicopter went off. Mike jammed the pistol in his belt and fell to the ground just as several shots ripped at the tree above him. Torn pieces of branches fell around him. He crawled into the brush behind the tree and moved slowly away from the helicopter. He could hear the men calling behind him.

  “You son of a bitch. You’re going to be dead.”

  Vines tore at his face as he tried to move faster. He heard more shots, then another voice, “We got one of them.” Then more shots were fired.

  He heard an explosion and intense light bounced off the brush and leaves. His body was struck by the force of a strong wind. He felt the wave of heat from the white hot fire. He looked back for a moment and saw the wild flames bursting up from the helicopter. He knew Jesse and the others had done their job.

  He heard thrashing in the bushes behind him. The man had almost reached Mike’s location. Then Bullard yelled, “Let him go. Come one back here and help us with the fire.” Mike heard the man curse and turn back.

  He looked up. The other helicopter had stayed high. Jessica was no fool, Mike smiled. She would not know how many men she was up against. She also knew that the flames would attract outsiders. Probably every farmer in the area was calling in to the local fire department, reporting a large fire at the Tabernacle, near Magnolia Creek. The fire department trucks would come out the highway and would be followed by reporters and television cameras. Mike guessed that Jessica would stay back o
ut of sight, that publicity was the last thing Jessica wanted, at least until she had the seaplane.

  He moved forward again. The brush opened up and he reached the trail to the water, the same one on which they had brought the plane down yesterday. Soon he climbed down the bank, through the vines, to the waters edge. He kept low, watching for the Aviatrice men and entered the creek. He swam quickly out to the channel. The plane, he assumed, would be upstream at least a mile. He tried to swim without splashing or creating any wake to show reflections in the darkness. After a few minutes in the water, he passed by the former location of the small fishing boat where he and Robin had been yesterday. The boat had been moved, anchored closer to shore and away, he figured, from the seaplane flight path. No one wanted to repeat the accident that had caused Captain Lawson’s original crash. Mike grew tired as he swam, and he thought about Robin, the mental images of her giving him strength.

  Finally, he thought he saw a reflection of metal in the darkness ahead. The glint did not appear again. He moved toward the spot where he thought he saw it. He kept thinking that he had imagined this spark of light. The lights from the helicopter fire flashed out over the water. Perhaps that was what he saw glimmering on the waves. On the shore he saw movement, a shape against the flames as a figure slipped into the water and moved out to the channel where he was. He prepared to fight this new intruder.

  Just as he was ready to pull up the wet automatic pistol and fire it at the head of the swimmer, he heard a voice.

  “Don’t shoot,” said Jesse, his voice low.

  “Where are the others?” Mike whispered. “I heard shots.”

  “Hobble’s boy is dead,” said Jesse.

  “Jim had guts,” Mike said.

  Jesse said, “He climbed up on the chopper and lit off the fuel. One of the bastards shot him when he was halfway back down the fuselage. Jonathan hid him over at the side of the field. He thought he should stay with the kid to keep the bastards from doing anything to the body.”

  “I’m sorry about that,” said Mike.

  “They got me too,” said Jesse. “In the shoulder.”

  “Can you make it?”

  “Don’t worry about me,” said Jesse. “Bullet glanced off. I can still run the radio.”

  “How far is the plane?” asked Mike.

  “Not far.”

  Then the shape of the great plane appeared dully in the night. The glare of the old metal started first as small glints and then large shapes, finally looming above them. A makeshift cloth covering was stretched over the whole seaplane, its folds providing cover. They swam in under an edge of the covering.

  Inside the cloth the air was moldy and stifling. Above them on the top of the plane, Jeremy and Regal were quickly dissembling the cloth of the cover, and, already, starlit sky was visible through a large opening.

  “We were worried,” Jeremy whispered down to Mike. “Get aboard quick,” he said. “Robin was worried she’d have to fly this plane all by herself.”

  “Do you have the papers?” Mike asked.

  “Right,” said Jeremy. “They’re up in the nose. We didn’t want to leave them behind. Hobble was afraid the documents might be captured.”

  Mike helped Jesse board the ladder at the gun window. Then as he clambered inside, he heard Jesse say, “Jeremy, I hope you got those leaks fixed, friend, because this plane is the only way any of us are going to get out of here alive.”

  Chapter Twenty-One

  10 PM, July 4

  The Tabernacle, Maryland

  “Come on up here, co-pilot,” said Robin.

  Mike smiled and reached across the old fashioned seat to give Robin a hug. He was glad to see her, to know that she was unharmed.

  “This is going to be rough, old friend,” he said.

  “I’m not worried. We’ll get out of here.” She picked up some of the charts and pilot checklists.

  “Here. Sit down and help me get her airborne.”

  “Ready to start the countdown?” Mike said.

  “Jeremy stored the box of documents right in front of you,” she said, pointing to the small metal safe.

  Mike moved the box to the side, away from his control pedals.

  “OK,” he said.

  Regal poked his head into the pilot’s compartment. “We’ve got the tent down. I’m ready with the turbines.”

  “Where’s Jeremy?”

  “Down here,” came a familiar voice. Mike looked down into the bombardier compartment. Jeremy grinned back at him, his earring twinkling, his face white against the dimness.

  “I’ll be here trying to keep these seams closed.”

  “Your professor at school would be impressed, Jeremy,” said Mike.

  “You really should be pilot, Mike,” said Robin.

  “We already talked about that. OK, folks. Jesse, what are you doing back there?”

  “I’m trying to get the radio up.”

  “What about the regular aviation frequencies?”

  “The radio won’t get them because some of the coils are ruined. We’re staying off the air anyway in the major frequencies where the Aviatrice people might be tracking us. I’m telling you, we’ll be lucky to get any signal out of this old set.”

  “OK,” continued Mike, reading from the checklist. “Is the auxiliary power running to spec, Regal?”

  The small gasoline engine was putting along. “Sounds all right to me,” said Regal. “We got enough power for the burners and the lights. We can go.”

  “The radio is working, Mike,” said Jesse.

  “OK so we have electric power. Jeremy, this is your party. It says here to check the hull interior for signs of leaks. Any accumulated bilge water should be bailed out by use of the bilge pump and hose.”

  “We better skip that part,” said Jeremy.

  “Are we sure the loads are balanced?” asked Mike.

  Regal shouted from the engineer’s compartment, “Mike, I’ve studied all the Captain’s load leveling schematics. The water and fuel are set as trim as she can be. One fuel tank below the water line was emptied to allow Jeremy a place to work inside the hull. I’ve adjusted for that, and by my figures we still have enough fuel to get up the coast.”

  “Let’s get all loose gear secured,” said Mike. “All the controls free. Make sure nothing interferes with rudder and elevators, ailerons.” Robin and Mike moved the controls side to side and set them for takeoff.

  “Regal says we got enough fuel. You agree, Robin?”

  “Regal already read me the tank levels,” she replied. “She’s full of mineral oil for the steam generators. Turbines are lubricated. Water tanks are topped off with distilled water.”

  “Hydraulic system looks to be ok,” said Mike, checking off the list.

  “Batteries?” Mike went on to the next item.

  “Full charge,” answered Robin.

  “Any radio yet, Jesse?” asked Mike.

  “I’m trying to find a ham radio band that we can get into.”

  “Let us know as soon as you get something we can use,” said Mike. “Compass reading set, says we’re headed north to northwest up this river.”

  “Signal lights work, Regal?” Mike then asked.

  “I just discovered we have no internal communication,” replied Jesse. “We’ll have to yell at each other. The Captain flew alone a lot so I guess he let that alone. Probably never hooked it in. No radar either. We’ll fly by dead reckoning like the old seaplane pilots did.”

  “Blackout curtains over portholes so they can’t see us,” said Mike.

  Mike looked up at the sky through the pilot window. “Keep a lookout for that second helicopter.”

  Regal called, “Steam increasing to takeoff level.”

  “Are we headed into the wind?” asked Mike.

  “What little breeze we have, yes,” replied Robin.

  “Windshield wiper?” asked Mike, looking for the control. “We’ll get a lot of splash taking off.”

  “First thing I che
cked out,” answered Robin. “Yes, it works.”

  “Boilers are running with pressure at full level, 1600 pounds per square inch,” Regal reported.

  “Set starboard turbine to operate gyroscope instruments and set vacuum line for gyroscope on port turbine,” ordered Mike.

  “I don’t think we ought to trust the autopilot,” said Robin. “We should fly hands on all the way.”

  “Roger,” said Mike. “Begin operating starboard turbine. Hydraulics appear ok from starboard engine.” A whining sound grew in intensity.

  “Starting port turbine to turn at one thousand rpm,” said Robin. “Pray they don’t hear the turbines over on shore.”

  “Check to see landing gear up and nose wheel door is locked. Jeremy, any leaks there in the nose wheel?” asked Mike.

  “No, I found it dry.”

  “Ok,” said Mike.

  Mike continued, looking back at the checklist. “Turn up revolutions to two thousand and check oil pressure and cooling of turbines. Regal, are the boilers all right?”

  Regal called back, “All reading fine.”

  “Water pressure?” asked Mike.

  “OK. Hydraulics a-ok at 80 pounds pressure.”

  Mike said, “Move propellers to high pitch and back to low pitch and back again. Check feathering.”

  “Ok,” said Robin.

  “Gyro pilot vacuum gage OK,” Robin then said, looking at the dials in front of her.

  “Fuel pressure OK,” said Mike.

  “We’ll have to cut loose that anchor,” said Robin.

  “I can do that,” said Jeremy.

  Jeremy clambered out the forward hatch. After a few moments, he reported back,

  “We’re drifting, guys.”

  Mike climbed out of the seat, “I’ve got to go aft and seal the gun blisters. If they are open when we take off, we’ll flood the stern fuselage.”

  “I’ll keep her taxiing against the current, as long as I can. Then, I’ll have to fly her out,” said Robin. “Hurry. We’ll drift into shore.”

  As he went back, he passed Jesse working in the dim radio room light, trying the different coils in the radio. “I can transmit. It’s receiving that’s the problem.”