Chapter Twenty-eight
Hamilton and Brian had been flying for nearly an hour.
“How’s our passenger doing?” he asked.
“Hard to tell,” Brian said, straining to look. “He must be lying down. I can’t see him.”
Hamilton maintained his course and watched the display screen doing his best to determine which blip was the one he was looking for.
Suddenly, another message came through. “Did you get that?” Brian asked. “M-I-B-B?”
Hamilton frowned. “Yeah. It’s Frank. Respond with M-I-B-H.”
Seconds later a different reply came. “M-I-B-G.”
“Hector again,” Hamilton said. “I thought I told them to go silent. Respond with the word ‘fuzzy’ followed by ‘lights out,’” he said.
“Fuzzy?”
“Just do it. Let’s see if my brother figures it out.”
Brian complied.
Moments later the response came back, ‘copy.’
“Okay, so what was that all about?” Brian asked.
“Fuzzy was the name of my favorite stuffed animal as a kid. I took that thing everywhere.” He chuckled keeping an eye on the electronic display. “You remember that nursery rhyme don’t you? Fuzzy Wuzzy was a bear. Fuzzy Wuzzy had no hair. Fuzzy Wuzzy wasn’t very fuzzy, was he?”
Brian stared at his companion. “You’re losing it.”
Hamilton laughed. “Maybe so, but Fuzzy was a comfort to me and as long as I had him with me, I was happy. I slept with that thing and ate with it sitting next to me at the dinner table. We were practically glued at the hip. Anyway, at bedtime, mom would tuck us in, give me and Jimmy each a kiss, then give Fuzzy a kiss at my insistence. She’d tell us she loved us then say, lights out, which meant to quiet down.” He laughed. “In other words, stop talking and go to sleep.”
“Okay,” Brian said. “Sounds like they must have understood.”
“Jimmy should.”
“So... the other message...” Brain began.
“If it is Frank... and if he’s with Daniel...” He didn’t finish his thought.
Brian remained silent.
“Either they’re trying to draw us out,” Hamilton said, “or...”
“Another message came in and Ham looked at Brian with concern. “That’s not good. B-I-M-B means he’s in trouble... or he wants us to think he is.”
“So now what?” Brian asked.
“I’d like to know where he is and where he’s headed.” Hamilton took a chance sending another message. “Location?”
They waited for a full minute before a response came back. Brian was confused at the message. “Make my call first? If he’s in so much trouble, why does he have to make a call first? What call?”
“It’s a clue,” Hamilton said. A cough from the cabin indicated their passenger was waking up. Hamilton, though, was more interested in the message. “I have to make my call first,” he repeated. “Make my call first.” They heard another cough, accompanied by a gagging sound.
Brian looked at Hamilton and jerked his head toward the cabin. “That doesn’t sound good either.”
Hamilton nodded. “I’ll set down but only for a few seconds so you can get back there with him.”
A two lane road below was their only immediate option. Moments later they were on the ground and Brian was out his door. He jumped into the passenger compartment, belted up and grabbed another headset as Hamilton lifted off and resumed his heading. Checking the display Hamilton continued to mumble the response. “Make my call. Make my call... my call.” He suddenly stopped and broke into a grin. Adjusting his heading, he tapped a response, ‘E-T-A.’ then called out to Brian. “How’s he doing back there?”
“Not too bad,” Brian replied as he stroked Buster’s head and back. “How are you doing, fella? Huh? Feeling any better?”