Refiner's Pyre

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  Buck arrived in New York eight hours past the scheduled departure of the Wave Schooner but weather delays were in Buck’s favor. Good luck seemed to be holding. Exhausted by a lack of sleep on the train, and the thought of spending un-numbered hours on a bench in the airport, did not help fluff him up.

  Buck hadn’t been on an international flight for some time. The requirements were strange to him, but after slowly laboring through the inspection information poster and watching the travelers ahead of him, he managed to negotiate the station with a minimum of embarrassment. His Weapons Transfer Exemption was worth a hundred times its weight in gold. He was never able to understand the shoe thing, or the pat-down, but he ran the gauntlet and somehow survived it.

  He arrived at the gate early. After locating a seat he began the nesting ritual, struggling to find the least uncomfortable position in hopes of doing a little power napping.

  In spite of several sharp announcements over the PA system, fatigue overtook Buck. With some gravitationally induced adjustments in his posture, he slept.

  The bag that he rested against suddenly made an exit as its owner launched it free. The rudest of awakenings announced the departure of his flight. Lifting his tortured body from the floor, Buck was forced to re-seat himself if only to gather his wits and do a quick primp. With his shirt in a half tuck, drool spots festooning his lapel, and one shoe untied, Buck teetered to a standing position and strained at his two pieces of luggage.

  He had fashioned a security chain of sorts for his attaché. The chain and lock had been improvised with acquisitions from train depot shop. Though it was mainly for show, he felt that at least he wouldn’t be separated from his case without knowing it.

  At the boarding gate, Buck fumbled through his coat for his ticket as the announcement was made that the passenger list had an emergency adjustment. Probably VIP’s, he thought, throwing their weight around. Volunteers for the bump would get full reimbursement for their tickets plus a bonus coupon, or a reassignment to the next available seats on subsequent flights, plus a coupon.

  Two passengers had volunteered and four were bumped by random selection. The ticket numbers were announced but only two passengers exited the immediate area.

  Buck watched as the passengers boarded. He needed to reduce the number of possible targets for his surveillance. In his hand he held the photo enlargements of his mark, hoping to see a match. To his disgust the boarding was too quick and the potential matches were too many. In the end none seemed to strike his trained but aging eye. Maybe, once aboard the flight, he could move about and further refine his search. Once he was in his seat, he would take stock of the situation and zero in on his prey.

  This might prove to be a quick kill, he mused. With his attaché case still strapped to his wrist he settled into his seat in preparation for launch.

  During the obligatory announcements a stewardess stepped to his side to explain that he would not be allowed to carry his attaché case in his lap. It was necessary for him to put it under the seat for launch. With his head still rummy Buck didn’t resist the requirement.

  Heavy lifters rumbled overhead torturing the air. The Wave Schooner shudder from the turbulence caused by the lifters and slowly they broke free from the tarmac. The vertical acceleration increased but never reached an uncomfortable level. As five minutes passed the rising lessened and a lateral movement began, evidenced by a disorienting feeling of being off balance. As the giant wing rotated into the wind the gentle tug of the lower tethered took over and the shuddering reduced to nearly inaudible. The heavy lifters released and everything went silent. Had Buck been awake he would have seen through the overhead view ports and watched the heavy lifters moving off into the distance.

  Almost as if held in a trance the passengers remained in a hushed silence for a few more seconds. As if on cue the suspended conversations rekindled. Buck didn’t notice; he snorted once and then settled in to a low purr; his reconnoiter would come later.

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  Chapter 12 – The Departure Gate

  There is no doubt that God works in our midst. The miracle is that we notice.

  A servant of our Lord