The Last Flight of the Ariel. Joseph Dylan Dylan. Читать онлайн. Newlib. NEWLIB.NET

Автор: Joseph Dylan Dylan
Издательство: Ingram
Серия:
Жанр произведения: Контркультура
Год издания: 0
isbn: 9781456625696
Скачать книгу
it would have to be Saint Jude, the patron saint of lost causes.”

      “I was speaking of gods, not saints,” said Davis looking up. A hard rain now pummelled the corrugated metal shell of the hangar. It made the air inside seem to hum. Both Hewlett and Skeeter had to yell to be heard by each other.

      “And I just cleaned the Ariel.”

      “Let’s pull her inside.”

      “You’ll get wet.”

      “I’m already wet. This will just cool me down.”

      They ran out to the Ariel. Skeeter steered from the tail wheel while Hewlett pushed on the port side strut. Together they maneuvered the plane back into the hangar. Ignoring their soaked clothes, Davis went into his office, returning with two metal coffee cups and a bottle of Johnny Walker Red Label. He poured a couple of fingers of whisky into each mug. “Here’s to something,” Davis said.

      “Soft landings and happy endings?” Hewlett offered.

      “Nothing wrong with that. It’s just that Goddamned cousin and partner of yours is like a rock in my shoe. When I see you, I think of him.”

      “You’ve got to get over that. He’s not part of this equation. Think of him as an X on a chalkboard that just got erased.” And so they toasted.

      Skeeter grabbed some dry rags and plastic buckets. “In Miami, rust never sleeps; it doesn’t even rest. I’m going to clean this beast off while it’s still wet. And if you want to be useful,” he pointed to the buckets, “put these where they’ll do the most good.”

      Hewlett had a lot of choices. The leaks far out numbered the buckets. He put them where the water rushed through the hardest. Then went over and took some rags from Davis and helped him with the Ariel

      “You know, there’s a few things I don’t get. Women would be number one. But how your cousin hasn’t been popped is sure up there. He’s too flashy and careless for this. And all this short-changing people will get you is a short lifespan.”

      “That’s one reason I’m trying to get out. The thrill of the deal died in me a long time ago. But Jake’s addicted to dealing. Most people buy or use drugs to get high. But selling is what gets him off.”

      “Why haven’t you stepped away?”

      “I had one foot out the door when a man appeared and dissuaded me.”

      “He must have been a good talker.”

      “Extremely. It wasn’t so much what he knew, which was pretty well everything, but the way he explained it all. Just so matter of fact. A little guy but like a logo on the front of a semi. There was something huge in back of him. He did promise to let me go when he found a man to replace me. I told him I’d stay a year.”

      “How’d that work out?”

      “This is year two. I don’t think he’s looking all that hard for the new me. He’s got me where he wants me. I keep working on an angle. Something to get me out from under, but nothing’s hit me yet. The last thing I want is to be an old drug dealer. Every day moves you up on the endangered species list. What would you do?”

      “They haven’t given you a lot of choice, have they? You’re dancing on a very small pin.”

      “Jake is just a chip on the table. They’d kill him just to remind me not even to think of moving on. When I bring up retirement, they promise me soon. But right now I’m evidently too valuable. It’s because I’m everything Jake’s not — reliable, trustworthy, cautious. The only way I ended up on their radar was because of Jake and his stupidity.”

      “Why does that not surprise me?”

      Hewlett sighed.

      “Give me your clothes. I’ll throw them in the dryer.”

      Hewlett took a deep pull from the scotch and pulled off his polo shirt, his khaki pants and his cotton boxers. Putting on a terrycloth robe, he handed the wet clothes to Davis. Looking out the window of the office in the hangar, Hewlett said, “Maybe I should be going before I see Noah and his ark float by.”

      “Wait it out. It will be gone in a minute. Besides Noah isn’t going to let you on anyway. He only does couples.”

      “Spoken from experience?”

      “Right on.”

      Hewlett snorted at the joke. “The mob probably has some people on it anyway. They’re taking over everyone’s operation. Even Scruffy is talking about getting out of the business. After Davis disrobed he wrapped a towel around his waist. There was a large scar that ran across his chest. He caught Hewlett looking at it. “Sometimes you’re lucky. Sometimes you’re not.”

      “Looks nasty.”

      “You might as well call me Skeeter. You’ve earned that at least. I think we’ll be all right. You’re a long way from being your cousin. I just can’t tolerate fools.”

      “I understand.”

      “Do you?”

      “I don’t suffer fools gladly, either,” said Hewlett. “Unfortunately, the world is full of them. You know, I could use another beer. I’ve also got the specs on the strip in Colombia and a sectional you can look at.”

      “I don’t need them. I know that countryside like I know the faces of my children. I have the sectionals in the drawer down there,” he said pointing down at the desk. “More importantly, though, I have them etched in up here.” He pointed at his temple. “God knows I’ve flown into it enough to know. You ever been married Mr. Hewlett?”

      “Unfortunately. Divorced. Once was enough. She was a lawyer. She took off one day and married another associate partner in the firm.”

      “That must have hurt.”

      “Did at the time. That was a long time ago.”

      “How long?”

      “A little over a year.”

      “And you think that’s a long time?”

      “Seems like a lifetime.”

      “Being a lawyer, she must have taken everything you had. Did she?”

      “Close to it. She put me through hell.”

      “Never trust a man who hasn’t been married.”

      “Why?”

      “Never trust a man who has never been through hell.” Hewlett let out a low chuckle, but Davis just responded by taking another drink of his beer.

      “Did she know about your dealing?”

      “Only at the end. That was the kiss of death for the marriage. She held it over my head like a Damascus sword. She said that if I didn’t cooperate with her, if she didn’t get everything she wanted out, she’d go to the authorities. I barely have visiting rights for the dog.”

      “As I said: Never trust a man who hasn’t been through hell, Mr. Hewlett. Never. That’s got to be one spoiled, pampered dog.”

      “Hell, he was a rescue. Some sort of retriever. I found him down at the pound. Can you believe that?”

      “Every marriage is different; every divorce is the same. Every divorce nails you to the cross. At least that’s been my experience. Now, you’re the rescue.”

      “Once cured me.”

      “I’ve