Chapter XXIII
illiam hailed a cab, and within fifteen minutes was dropped off in front of the airport. He shouldered his bag, looked for the entrance for those already having their tickets purchased, and joined himself to the queue. The line was long but moving fast. William entered the little security area where the baggage is checked in and the whole progression stopped.
Two men came across to where he was standing, and asked for some I.D. As he fumbled for his drivers license, his bag was being unpacked. "Are you looking for something in particular officer? William asked. The officer just ignored William and kept on digging. There was not that much in the little bag, yet, the officer kept on searching, and re-searching through the pile of clothes on the counter.
A man stepped up with a wand, and scanned Williams entire body. Only when it reached his neck did the thing sound. The officer searching the bag started putting everything back into it, only this time the clothes were not folded neatly as they were originally. "Mr. Travis, will you come with us?"
William rolled his eyes and asked irritably, "what for. I've done nothing wrong"
"Right this way sir," the older gentleman said casually.
William stopped. "No I will not! Why can't you just tell me what's going on. What do you want?"
"Right this way sir, please." the older gentleman said a little more sternly.
"No, I won't! I've done nothing wrong, I'm not carrying anything wrong, I'm not under the influence of anything, so no, I won't!" said William emphatically.
About then a genuine police officer showed up and spoke directly to William. "Sir, we can go peacefully, or we can drag you. Your choice."
William asked "Sir, why can't you just tell me what is wrong, why I'm being pulled out of line to miss my plane. Is there a bounty on my head you're all going to split or something?"
About that time two more policemen showed up, one was a K9 officer. The dog snarled at William, and the handler said "sir, you can mess around with us, but you can't mess around with him!'
At that, William turned around, pulled his hands around to his back and said, "if we're gonna do this, let's do it right. Any of you rentacops got any leg chains or a stock to put around my neck?"
"That won't be necessary William." It was Len Mathers. "It's okay men, I'll take it from here. He won't be riding the heavy, he'll be going compliments of the FBI."
"Thanks, but no thanks. I've already obtained my own ticket, and I'll be flying by myself. I won't be flying with you" he said.
"Suit yourself." Len turned and walked off. The policemen closed in around him again. William was still standing with his wrists behind his back, and felt the bite of steel when they were clamped down tight. He was then jerked around and led to a waiting police car. He heard a cell phone ring, and heard one of the officers say "yes sir. We can do that. Thank you sir."
William was stopped, felt the cuffs loosen and fall away, then the officer was saying, "okay, get in the car."
From the back seat William could tell they were heading toward the municipal airport into which he and Sharon had flown. The black and white cruiser was allowed through the gate without even stopping, and William saw his little plane sitting right out in the open. He had an idea the whole deal had been set up to get him to fly it back to Stillwell Creek, where he lived.
"Do you mind telling me what that was all about?" asked William as the cruiser pulled up close to the little plane.
"I would mind, but, I don't know. All I know is you were making a scene simply because someone wanted to ask a couple of questions, then refused free plane fare in the FBI jet with one of the nicest FBI men I've ever met. Talked to him like he was a dog, you did. Now why did you have to show out like that. I'm a good mind to arrest you just for that."
The officer paused for a second and just shook his head. "Okay, you're free to go. Now get on out of here, but, don't go back to the airport. You will spend the night in jail if you do."
William was dumbfounded. He couldn't believe he just got a real dressing down by a real nice cop about a real nice FBI agent that he thought was rogue. He stumbled out of the cruiser and walked slowly over to his plane. He instantly remembered how pretty she was painted. A deep blue over white with a gold and red stripe dividing them.
He loved the way the stripe wound from the tip of the vertical stabilizer catching half of it in blue, then winding down in a swirl over the fuselage making a point down under the nose of the craft. It was a very nice paint job. And, she was a graceful bird too. He was very proud of her. She glistened in the light, and he was sure she had just been detailed.
But he didn't know how he was going to fly the plane without keys. He looked in and saw his keys hanging on the ignition. The door was unlocked, so he opened it far enough to throw his bag in. He reached behind the seat into the little box he kept there and pulled out the fuel drain vial, a rag and a flashlight. Soon, he was in a much happier frame of mind as he set about doing his pre-flight inspection.
Both tanks had been topped off, the oil was fine, the pre-flight was fine. He didn't waste any time, and didn't even file a flight plan. Soon he was in the cockpit, hollering 'clear' as he started the engine. She settled forward, and the rush of the experience of flying with all it's noise, vibrations, sights, smells and feels, exhilarated him all over again. He was almost his old self again.
Las Vegas Municipal, this is Cherokee niner niner three Foxtrot Mike, ready to taxi for run-up. He let off the brakes, taxied to the run-up area, and proceeded down the checklist. Within ten minutes, he made his call. Las Vegas Municipal, this is Cherokee niner niner three Foxtrot Mike, ready to take off.
He did a once around looking for incoming craft who'd not announced, and advanced the throttle enough to move out to the runway and line up.
He pushed the throttle all the way to the panel, and the little plane leapt forward. At eighty-five knots, he eased the yoke back, and the little plane lifted gracefully off the runway. He pulled his flaps in, trimmed the little plane and let her climb into the night. William was on his way home, and he was alone . . . or so he thought.
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