THE SUN ROSE on day three for Peter Lawrence, hot, bright, and baking the southern state in its radiance.
Two men approached the proprietor of an old hotel in downtown Miami, showing him their badges. One asked, “Have you seen this man?” giving the manager a photo.
The proprietor looked closely, the face seemed familiar, especially the eyes, but the wealthy looking man in the photo had never walked through the doors of his establishment. What would a man like him be doing here anyway?
“No. Sorry, I’ve never seen him before,” he told them.
In the hotel room, the sun beamed brightly onto the face of a man, sprawled over an unkempt bed, as he slumbered from exhaustion and inebriation.
Slowly the light made him uncomfortable enough to try and open his eyes. Stabbing pain shot through them, the light making him cower as he held his head, feeling as if the movement would make it explode. His mouth tasted like cotton, dry and foul. Moaning, he rose to a sitting position, holding his head.
The scream of a machine, kept repeating its screeching sound, over and over again. It was unbearable until he realized it was the telephone in his room. Fumbling, he picked it up and mumbled, “Yes.”
“Mr. Lewis?” a voice asked through the buzzing in his ears. “There’s no one here by that name,” Phillip said as he hung up.
Looking at the clock, he vaguely realized he was waiting for 11 o’clock, but why? It was just after noon now. What was he waiting for, again? He went into the bathroom and threw cold water on his face. Looking in the mirror, he couldn’t recognize the image looking back at him.
Then it dawned on him, he was Phillip Lewis and he was supposed to be in the air, flying away from the troubles hounding him.
Fear of being left behind, woke him completely. Tossing a couple of aspirins down with the water from the tap, he found the phone number of the Blackthorn Airplane Rental and called.
When the agent answered, Peter asked, “Did you just call for Phillip Lewis?”
“Yes, we did. We’ve been trying to reach you for the last hour, Mr. Lewis,” the agent seemed annoyed.
“I’m sorry, I took a sleeping pill late last night,” he lied. “I didn’t mean to oversleep. Is the plane ready to go?”
“We were just in the process of renting it out to someone else,” the agent told him.
“Please don’t do that, I can be there in just a few minutes,” he said frantically.
“Okay, but we do have another client if you’re unable to make it.”
“I’ll be there, I said,” Peter spoke with fear and some anger, slamming the phone down.
Quickly packing, making sure he had everything, he paid his bill and took a taxi to the airport. As he got out of the cab, taking his things with him, he looked around. Everything seemed okay, no police yet.
With the final paperwork and the flight plan filed, the agent handed him the key to N8262BR, along with his Airworthiness Checklist. Peter thanked him and walked out onto the tarmac, looking for his Cessna.
The single engine, fixed wheel, low wing aircraft was waiting for him in the hot sun. Stepping onto the wing, he unlocked the door, swinging it up and open, then loaded his luggage behind the pilot’s seat, before climbing in.
The desire to just take off and forget the checklist was strong, but being out there, over the ocean with hours of flight time to get through, he took the time to make sure the plane was ready.
He kept looking over his shoulder, peering at the people walking by, no one seemed to be paying attention to him, but he sure would be glad when he was out of here and in the air.
Placing his briefcase next to him on the passenger seat, he closed the door, buckled up, and started the plane. The engine kicked to life and whirred with the force of the propeller. He tested the tail rudder, with the pedals at his feet, and all the other moving parts of the plane with the stick control of the Cessna 400 series. The ailerons and flaps moved freely on the wings, as well as the elevators on the tail. Once the check list was complete, he talked to the tower, asking permission to take off.
Taxiing to his place in line with the other traffic leaving the airport for destinations unknown, his heart raced with excitement. Presently it was his turn to takeoff as he pulled up to the runway.
Increasing the engine speed, releasing the breaks, he sped down the runway and into the air. He was off, leaving his past for good, and moving toward his new future in the Caribbean.
As he climbed to his cruising altitude, he relaxed. Patting his briefcase and calculating all he had with him, he was a very happy man.
Looking down below, he watched the water traffic for a while, until the ocean became empty. Once in a while he’d see a ship’s white wake streaking in the deep blue sea, below.
This ocean is a vast and magnificent place to get lost in, he thought happily.
Then, the thought of what he had left behind, undone, returned to haunt him.
Why couldn’t that girl have gone to bed like she was supposed to? And why did she have to put up a fight. There wasn’t any reason for her to die!
Peter sat there remembering back to three days ago. He had just come into the study, after seeing Ann leaving in such a hurry.
“What happened? Why is she tearing out of here in such a hurry?” he asked Carla, who was sitting at the desk, reading a note. “Obviously, you weren’t able to drug her,” he said sarcastically.
“No!” she said in frustration. “She’s gone and she won’t be back for days,” Carla told him.
“You’re kidding, where’s she going? For days, you say? This might work out after all,” he said smiling.
“She on her way to Jordan, for another grandchild,” Carla said cynically, “They’re coming out of the woodwork!”
Peter thoughtfully said, “I still need that document. They may be planning on sending it with someone else, or her lawyer may come here for it.”
“But, she has the keys,” Carla said in frustration, then a memory stirred. “Wait, I remember a duplicate key in Nessa’s jewelry box. Wait here, I’ll go and get it. Stay out of sight,” Carla told him, turning off the light, then exiting the study.
Running upstairs, she sneaked into Nessa’s room and found the key.
Quickly, she returned, closing the door and turning on the lamp on the desk. Using the key, she opened the drawer and took out the document and checks.
Peter grabbed them from her hands. She started to protest, and he was trying to shush her, when someone knocked on the door of the study. Carla jumped in fear, while Peter quickly stepped into the closet.
The study door opened and Jamila walked in. She stood there surprised to find the nurse and not Ann.
Carla gathered her wits and asked, “What can I do for you?”
“I’m sorry. I was looking for Ann to say good-bye. Do you know where she is?” Jamila asked.
“She had to go into town for a while. She asked me to stay here in case you came down, before she got back. She wanted to give you a good luck cup of coffee. It’s a tradition here in this country when we’re saying good-bye to someone who’s going on a trip. It’s for luck,” she lied.
“I’ve never heard of it,” Jamila said, but everything in this country was so new to her, and she had lived such a sheltered life at the school.
Carla poured the drink, saying, “I’m sorry there’s no milk or sugar, but drinking it black is the best way to keep the luck,” she told the girl.
“Shouldn’t I wait for her?” Jamila asked.
“No, I think she would want you to get as much sleep as you can,” Carla suggested.
Jamila giggled to herself, take coffee to sleep? But, she wanted to make everyone happy, so she drank it.
“Good night Jamila and have a safe trip tomorrow,” Carla told her.
Jamila smiled and returned to her room. Soon she was in a deep, silent world, which no one could wake her out of, for now.
Peter came out from the closet, “What was that all about?”
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“This is the coffee I drugged for Ann. Jamila will be asleep within five minutes.”
“Did you have to do that?” he asked in exasperation.
“What did you want me to do? She saw me in here and could alert someone before we’re ready, even tonight. And when they find this drawer empty, probably tomorrow, if they talk to her, there would go your precious days,” she told him crossly.
“But didn’t you tell me she was leaving early this morning. She won’t be here to see the things missing,” he said in frustration.
“Do you want to take the chance she won’t be asked? It’s up to you. We can leave her to sleep it off, or we can put her somewhere for a day or two, until we can get away and guarantee our safety.”
Peter fumed for a second, and then said, “Fine! Let’s just get this over with,” he told her crossly. “Are you packed?”
“All ready to go. I can’t wait to get out of here,” she said, the tension getting to her.
Putting the checks in his coat pocket, he picked up the document. “Here, give me the key,” he demanded as he took it from her and locked the empty drawer. “Now, put it back where you got it. And give me that note too, before you go.”
While she was gone, Peter took out his lighter, walked over to the fireplace, and lit the document and Ann’s note, eventually dropping them onto the grate. He stood there, watching as the flames consumed them, and then he leaned down crushing them to pieces.
When Carla returned he said, “Go to the kitchen and see if the cook’s still there. We’ve got to get rid of this coffee, wash these things, and put them back.”
“What if she catches me?” Carla demanded.
“Just say Ann’s done with them and you brought them back for her, trying to help,” he suggested, not caring very much what she did.
“Me? Helping? She’ll never believe it,” Carla spat.
“You’ll think of something. You’ve every right to be helping,” he said, wanting to get out of here and on his way.
Soon she was back, breathless. Closing the door, she leaned back on it, saying, “It’s all done, and the girl’s out of it, now what?”
“Take your things and put them into Jamila’s car. I’ll go get her and put her in the trunk. Then we’ll get out of here and pick my car up outside.”
The house remained quiet, as they both went up the stairs, their hearts beating hard.
Peter realized, There’s so much to do, so much to avoid, if I don’t want to go to jail. And now I’m adding kidnapping to the list. I can’t get caught! I’ve got to make it out of here and the country soon!
Carla had bound and gagged the girl. Peter didn’t say a word, but he hated what Carla was doing. There’s no reason to tie her up, if she’s really asleep, but he wasn’t willing to argue the point anymore.
Peter put Jamila’s unconscious body in the trunk of the Camry, then told Carla to drive. “If anyone sees you, it won’t look too suspicious.”
“What! You’re kidding, me driving Jamila’s car not looking suspicious,” she said sarcastically.
“Don’t argue,” he said getting in the passenger seat. “Let’s get out of here!”
Carla complied and stopped next to his car, once they were off the estate. Peter got out, telling her, “Follow me.”
“Now, wait a minute!” she complained. “You drive this car! I don’t want to be caught with her in here, if something should go wrong.”
“Don’t be silly, Carla. I’ll drive my own car, thank you,” he said hotly.
“Peter! Don’t you leave me behind or lose me,” she complained, in panic, since she had no idea where this mine was. But, there was nothing she could do but follow, because he was leaving.
Hours later, in the mountains of southern Idaho, they pulled up to the property fence of the old mine. On the old rusted chain-link gate the sign read, “The Albatross, Private Property, Keep Out.”
With his headlights illuminating the gate, he got out and tried his key. It opened the padlock. Swinging the gate open, he got back into his car and followed the road toward the mine.
About ten minutes later, they came to a clearing with a large shed to the right, where the mine machinery had been housed at one time. In front of the mine, was another chain link fence with a gate over a wooden door, blocking the entrance. Again his key worked, pulling the chain-link gate open, he tried the handle of the heavy wooden door. It was locked.
He tried his key, but it didn’t fit.
Now what? To have come so far, and not be able to get in!
Carla stood beside him, holding a flashlight she had found in the glove compartment of Jamila’s car.
“Won’t it open?” she asked irritably.
“No, it’s locked and I don’t have the key,” he said angrily. Storming to his car, he popped the trunk and got out his tire iron. Prying at the door, he forced it open. He didn’t care at this point. Hopefully the guard won’t notice, from a distance.
Inside the door, on a shelf, sat a few old lanterns. Shaking one, he found it contained oil. Lighting it, he raised it high, walking into the interior with Carla close behind. About one hundred yards down the tunnel, they found a stone room on the left, and an old elevator resting at the top of an old mine shaft to the right.
Walking over to the shaft, he dropped a stone down the hole. It thunked and plunked its way down the shaft for a long time, while the noise of its fall diminished into the depths.
“This will do,” he said.
Pulling his jacket off, he laid it by the rubble on the floor, and told Carla, “Wait here, I’ll be right back with the girl.”
“I’m not waiting here,” she said with conviction. “Besides, you’ll need someone to hold the lantern, while you carry her.”
“Fine! Come on, then.” he said as he walked away rapidly. Carla had to trot alongside of him to keep up.
Opening the car trunk, he reached in and pulled the unconscious girl from the vehicle, hoisting her to his shoulder.
“Pull her car into that shed, over there, and hurry up, we need to get out of here. I don’t know if and when the guard may show up to check on the place,” Peter scolded her.
“It’s the middle of the night, no one’s going to know,” she complained.
“Just hurry up!” Peter was tired and getting angry.
Carla moved the car, and ran back to him, picking up the lantern. Holding it high as she guided Peter, while he huffed and puffed, carrying Jamila into the stone room of the mine.
As he laid the girl down on the stony floor, Carla picked up his jacket. She started to take the cashier checks out of his pocket.
“Put those back,” Peter commanded her.
“No, I’m keeping these. You’re holding all the cards and I want some assurance that I’ll get something out of this fiasco. I’m beginning not to trust you, sweetheart,” she sneered, taking the checks.
Peter lunged at her, grabbed her arm and pulled the checks from her hand, then let her go.
Carla pulling away from him at the same time, lost her balance, then tripped over some rubble on the floor. She fell backward so fast and so quickly, she didn’t even have a chance to catch herself. Her head took the full impact of her fall. It cracked with an ugly, loud whack, which sickened him.
Watching, he saw her life evaporate before his eyes, until only her mortal shell remained, her dead eyes staring at nothing.
“You stupid fool,” he said under his breath. “I wasn’t taking you anywhere, you were going to be left behind, but you didn’t have to die like this! Nothing is working out like it should!” he cried out loud, with no one to hear.
Looking down at the beautiful girl, laying near Carla’s body, he almost changed his mind about leaving her there.
It’s a cruel thing to do. But, it’s only for a few days. I won’t leave her here forever. I’ll tell them where to find her, as soon as I’m out of the country, he vowed.
Turning, he picked up the lantern, looked down at Carla??
?s body one more time, then he walked away, taking the light with him, and Jamila’s future, if she was ever going to have one.
* * * *