Flying Blind Read online

  Flying Blind

  by Howard Hammerman

  Published by Bold Venture Press

  boldventurepress.com

  Copyright 2017 Howard Hammerman. All Rights Reserved.

  This book is available in print at most online retailers.

  All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means without express permission of the publisher and copyright holder. All persons, places and events in this book are fictitious. Any resemblance to any actual persons, places or events is purely coincidental.

  License Notes

  This ebook is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. This ebook may not be re-sold or given away to other people. If you would like to share this book with another person, please purchase an additional copy for each recipient. If you’re reading this book and did not purchase it, or it was not purchased for your enjoyment only, then please purchase your own copy.

  Contents

  Flying Blind

  About the Author

  Bold Venture Press

  Flying Blind

  Prologue

  Here are some things you need to know about flying:

  1) It is the forward motion of the airplane that keeps it in the air. The wings are flat on the bottom and curved on the top. The air takes longer to go over the top than the bottom and that, in turn, creates the partial vacuum called “lift.” If a plane travels too slowly, it will have the aerodynamics of a rock.

  2) The Second World War and then the Korea conflict produced a lot of pilots. Many people thought that a significant number of these men, once they returned home, would purchase personal airplanes for family vacations. They were wrong. There was a period of about two decades when virtually no single-engine airplanes were manufactured.

  3) Cessna was a leading manufacturer of single-engine airplanes. The one that Dan owns in the story is a Cessna Cardinal. It is a four-place plane with two large doors and a back seat. It sits low to the ground with the large wing above the cockpit. The interior has about as much room as a 1960 Volkswagen Beetle.

  4) The Federal Aviation Administration (FAA) regulates all aspects of flying. Pilots must pass recurring tests, and almost all airplanes must receive inspections at least once a year.

  5) Flying is very expensive. Flying one’s own airplane can be a wonderful experience. You get to pick your time and destination. You are an active participant in the methods of flight. When everything is going well, you feel like a god. Then there are the moments of terror.

  Chapter 1

  Richard

  Monday, June 16

  Gaithersburg Maryland

  “Hey, mon, dat you airplane?”

  “Yes, it is.” I continued to secure my single-engine airplane to the tarmac. The taxi driver was parked nearby and was waiting for me. I chose to ignore him. I was not in the mood to make a new friend.

  “Me name’s Richard,” the driver persisted. “What you call yo’self?”

  “Dan Goldberg. Just call me Dan.” There was a time when I would introduce myself as Dr. Dan Goldberg. But I was no longer a college professor. My position had been eliminated during a round of state budget cuts. Rather than uproot my family to take another teaching job, I decided to become a self-employed consultant — one of the thousands plying their trades in and around our nation’s capital.

  “Okay, Daniel, we be friends, right?” He spoke in a musical way. Every third syllable was emphasized transforming my name into something more exotic. It reminded me of rum-filled nights the one time my wife, Beth, and I visited Jamaica.

  I shook his hand, and we both smiled. His smile stretched from ear to ear, and it was impossible not to smile back even though my smile was a faint reflection of his broad grin. It seemed that we were at opposite ends of the emotional spectrum. Yet, it felt good to smile. It was my first smile in many days and, in this our first encounter, I was grateful to Richard for changing my mood.

  We loaded my baggage into the taxi’s trunk and headed for the Marriot. “Look at dat giant, white building mon. Dat a gold statue on top. Do you know what dat is?”

  “Yes, it’s the Mormon temple. Richard, I’ve lived and worked in the Washington area for more than a decade.”

  “Oh, okay, just so you know. I’ll get you to the hotel real quick.”

  “That’ll be great. I have a lot of work to do.” To emphasize my point, I extracted a notepad from my computer case and pretended to work. But Richard didn’t take the hint.

  “Daniel, you married?”

  “Yes.”

  “How long you been married?”

  It was really none of his business, but I answered anyway. “Fourteen years.” The year we were married I was a graduate student, and Beth was a newly minted third-grade teacher. We were happy then. No airplane, no children, no debts, no house, no lawn. We never fought about money because we had none.

  “Ah, dat’s good, mon. You got children?”

  “Yes, I have two daughters. Amy’s ten, Sarah’s twelve.”

  “Dat’s good, too. A mon needs a family.”

  I wasn’t sure I still had a family. At the end of our fight the night before, Beth said, “Can’t you see that we can’t afford your stupid aviation hobby? We’re living on our credit cards and not putting anything away for the girls’ college. You need to sell the airplane and get a job. Get rid of the plane, or I’m leaving! Or better yet, you’re leaving! You can sleep in the hangar with your aluminum mistress.”

  In many ways, the airplane was my mistress. Most pilots learn their craft in the military. Even though I came of age during the Vietnam War, I avoided the draft and the military. Yet I always wanted to be a pilot. Once I started my own consulting business, I took the lessons and earned my wings. Then I needed an airplane.

  I fell in love at first sight. We met at a rural airport in Virginia. Vines covered her landing gear. Her paint was chipped and faded. A bird had built its nest in her right wing.

  I had to have her. “When did you last fly her?” I asked the broker.

  “I’ve never flown the plane. I’m just showing it for the owner. I think he flew it about a year ago. That was before his heart attack. He died soon afterward, and his widow needs the cash. That’s why it’s for sale.”

  She was just the plane I wanted. She wasn’t fast, but her large doors and high wings would make it easy for my wife to get in and fly with me. I gave the broker a deposit and prepared a sales pitch to my wife. “Think of all the money we’ll save by flying ourselves rather than using the airlines. We can visit your parents more often. And when the girls go to college, we’ll be able to fly to visit all the time.”

  Beth said “yes,” and I bought the plane.

  I housed her in her own hangar, cleaned her and bought her new electronics. We spent many Saturdays together just hanging out at the airport. I would polish her wings and side and show her off to the other pilots. She returned my love by flying straight and landing safely.

  I tried to share my love with my family. Beth flew with me a few times but never felt comfortable in the air. Besides, threesomes never work.

  Once I started paying off one credit card bill by taking a loan through another, Beth’s attitude moved from indifference to hate. I guess only rich men can afford to have mistresses. The previous night’s fight made it clear to me — the plane will have to go.

  Richard shouted a question over the divider as I started to draft a for sale ad in my mind. “Hey, Daniel how fast can it go?”

  “How fast can what go?”

  “Your airplane, how fast can it go?”

  “Oh, it can fly about 110 miles per hour. Why?”

  “If you had to go to Miami, Florida, how long would it take you?”


  “A lot depends on the weather, but normally about two days.”

  Richard returned to his driving, and I returned to the depressing realization that my girlfriend and I would have to part ways. After a while, he asked, “How many kilos can you carry in dat airplane?”

  I had heard about pilots getting asked to transport drugs. I decided to play along.

  “I don’t know about kilos, but I can carry about three hundred pounds,” I said this with a smile. This will be a good story to tell my wife.

  Richard punched numbers into a small calculator as he drove. Then he called someone using his cell phone. I lost interest and started to draft a “for sale” advertisement for my plane on a scrap of paper.

  The driver ended his conversation at the same time that we pulled up to the front door of the hotel. I was ready to leave, but he stopped me. “Okay, mon here’s the deal. You fly to a small airport near Miami. Me friend, he gives you two suitcases. You bring them back, and I give you $100,000.”

  My mouth dropped open. Was this the answer to my problems? I could tell my wife that I had a client in Florida. Two days down, two days back, and all our money problems would be solved. We would pay off our credit cards and get rid of the monthly payments on the plane. I could buy my wife the new car that she wanted and maybe even put some money away for my daughters’ college funds.

  But, of course, he wanted me to carry drugs. If I were caught, I’d go to jail.

  “No, I can’t do that,” I said and started to open the back door.

  The driver was ready for me. “Okay, mon,” he countered without taking a breath, “I can see that you’re a smart businessman. You deliver the suitcases, and I give you $200,000.”

  That got my attention. I could buy a new, faster plane. I wouldn’t have to look for a job. I wouldn’t have to sleep in the hangar. Maybe with a new plane, Beth would become more interested in flying. The money would solve so many problems. I got my family into this financial mess, I had to get us out.

  But what kind of a drug dealer solicits a mule minutes after he meets him? Richard could be an undercover cop assigned to entrap naive pilots. The image of Beth visiting me in jail had a sobering effect.

  “How do I know that you’ll pay me?”

  “Look, we be businessmen. We pay you half before you leave and half when you get back. Just dis one time, mon.”

  “Can I think about it?”

  “Sure ting, mon, you tink about it,” Richard said releasing my arm. “How long you be here?”

  “Four days. I’m teaching at the Parklawn Building in Rockville.”

  “Da Parklawn building! I know that building real good, mon. Don’t worry! I be your driver all dis week. No charge for dis trip. How I reach you?”

  His hand was out, and I gave him my business card, pausing only to write my cell phone number on the back. It was a reflex action, the result of years of soliciting business around the Washington Beltway.

  Richard waved as he drove away. Only then did I realize that he had my home address and cell phone number while I had only his first name. As I pushed a cart loaded with my suitcase, computer, and a box of books into the air-conditioned lobby, I started shivering, but not from the change in temperature. I had a plan.

  Chapter 2

  Change of Heart

  I called my wife as soon as I got into my room. She picked up on the first ring. Her voice conveyed anger and concern. “Are you okay?”

  “Yes, I’m fine. No problems with the flight. I’m at the hotel.”

  “Then you landed some time ago. Why didn’t you call?”

  “I’m sorry. I got to talking with the taxi driver and forgot. Is everything all right?”

  “Dan, you promised to call when you landed.”

  There was a silence while I tried to find the words to apologize harder.

  Beth continued. “I took Sara to the orthodontist to be fitted for braces. They needed a thousand-dollar deposit, and when I tried to put it on my MasterCard, it was declined. Didn’t you pay that bill?”

  “I paid the minimum, but we’re carrying a large balance. I guess we’re too close to the limit. Can we pay them next week?”

  Beth sighed. “Yes, with all the business we give them, they trust us. When will you get your next check?”

  “Friday. I’ll get online and move some money around tonight.” In the back of my mind, I visualized walking into the orthodontist’s sleek office. I would dump a plastic bag full of hundred-dollar bills on the smug receptionist’s desk and say, “Is that enough?” I smiled thinking about the look on her face.

  “Dan, the car stalled when I was at a red light.”

  “Did it stall every time?”

  “No, almost every time. Should I take it to the shop?”

  “No, we can’t handle another bill right now. When you need to stop, just put the car in neutral and keep your foot on the gas. Keep the RPMs over 2500. That should keep it from stalling.”

  “Yes, and I’ll use more gas. We really need a new car, Dan. You know that my Dad has offered to buy us one. Think of it as a safety issue for the girls.”

  Beth’s father was rich. He was a partner in a prestigious law firm in White Plains, New York. He showed his disdain for his son-in-law by writing checks. I hated him.

  “Let’s hold off for now. You know I don’t like to be obligated to your father. Besides, I just got a great lead on a new project.”

  “I thought you just got to the hotel.” Beth was quick, but I was quicker.

  “I checked my email before I called you. I’ll have more details tomorrow.”

  Beth didn’t press for details. If she did, I would have told her about Richard’s offer. She would have told me that I was crazy, and we would have laughed about it. But she didn’t ask. We were both tired of fighting. Instead, we said that we loved each other in the mechanical way that married couples do and said good night.

  ***

  It’s important to maintain a routine while traveling on business. That afternoon I unpacked my suitcase and stored my clothes in the dresser and then arranged the desk the way I liked it with my laptop in the center. I checked for email messages and contacted previous clients to see if I could find new consulting assignments. That’s the hardest part of being self-employed. When working, you don’t have time to market your talents, and when you’re marketing, you don’t have time to work. That afternoon there were no new leads.

  But I wasn’t really interested in my consulting business. I was distracted. My mind was flying to Florida. Just for fun, I opened the navigation program on my computer and started planning the trip. A thousand miles at 110 miles per hour would require a bit more than nine hours of flying. That’s too much for one day. I could stop overnight in South Carolina and visit my brother. I would do the same thing on the way back. My brother owned a successful restaurant and catering business.

  My calculations filled two pages of scratch paper. In my mind, I was already spending the money. But was Richard’s offer real? How could I trust him?

  ***

  An hour later, I was sitting at the bar in the hotel’s restaurant eating dinner when I heard someone ask, “Excuse me, can you please pass the ketchup?” Turning, I saw an attractive woman two stools away. I smiled and handed her the condiment. Our eyes locked and she smiled at me. “Is your book interesting?” she asked.

  “Not very, I just hate to eat alone, so I always bring a book.” The first thing I noticed was her long black hair and the silver clasp that held it back from her face. She was about 35, moderately fit. She had a slight bulge over the waistband of her gray skirt rather similar to the way extra pounds displayed themselves on my wife’s torso. A jacket matching her skirt hung over the back of her chair and contrasted nicely with her short-sleeved white blouse.

  Her jewelry consisted of an expensive looking watch on her left wrist and a set of silver bracelets on her right. She wore a small gold cross attached to a gold chain around her neck. I noted all this and conclu
ded that she was traveling on business.

  But most of all, during those first moments of our first meeting, I was captivated by the color of her skin. It had the color of cappuccino when the barista uses too much milk.

  “I know what you mean. I also hate to eat alone,” she said. “Can I join you?”

  “That’ll be great. Let’s take a table.”

  Did those words come out of my mouth? Normally, I’m shy when meeting new people, especially women. But the conversation with Richard must have changed me. In my mind, I was a highly paid drug transporter. I felt a boldness I hadn’t felt in a long time.

  As luck would have it, there was an empty table nearby. I brought my hamburger, fries, and beer. She brought her salad, purse, and jacket. We sat across from each other. I sank into the depth of her eyes.

  “My name’s Maria Sanchez, what’s yours?”

  “Dan Goldberg.” We exchanged business cards. Hers proclaimed that she was an account manager for Juarez Properties, Inc. based in New York City.

  She asked me about my work, and I gave a slightly exaggerated version of the truth. In contrast to most people, Maria seemed interested in the statistics classes that I taught for the Federal government.

  There was an awkward moment when we finished eating. I signed my check and got out of my chair. “It’s been really nice meeting you. Maybe we’ll meet again this week.” I held out my hand for a business-like handshake.

  She ignored it. “Let’s have some wine in the lobby. My boss is buying. It’s too early to go back to our rooms and watch TV.” She had a cute mix of accents. Sometimes I could hear the streets of New York. Sometimes there was a hint of the Caribbean. Two glasses of Chardonnay appeared, and we found an unused couch.

  I told her that I was a pilot and owned my own airplane. It’s possible that I exaggerated about the size and speed of my plane.

  “That’s so exciting,” she said, “Tell me about flying.”

  I described my more interesting flying adventures but stopped when her gaze began to wander. I searched for a way to redirect the conversation and said, “You sound like you’re from New York.”