Test Pilot's Daughter: Revenge (27 page)

As people across America were celebrating with picnics and fireworks, the search team had only about eight hours before the weather moved in. Around noon, after zooming past twelve more islands and examining three false alarms, time was short. The wind was blowing like fury, and Watkins made it clear they’d have to head back to Congo Town soon.

“
We’ve only got time to hit these three on the chart.” He marked the islands with a pen. “The water’s relatively shallow in this region so the waves shouldn’t get too high until the hurricane gets here.”

“
Okay, if you say so,” Benson agreed reluctantly. There was a lot of money at stake, and he didn’t want to go back empty handed.

The next island was bigger than most, about two miles wide and ten miles long. Approaching close enough to see details, Wells started waving his arms shouting, “Stop right here!”

The powerful boat plowed to a stop, rolling in the building waves.

“
I feel something here. I need absolute silence.”

What a joke,
Benson thought.

Wells put his hands on his head and closed his eyes. His face turned red, his temples throbbed, and it looked like he was about to explode. Finally, he relaxed.

“
What’s goin’ on, Bill?” Benson asked. He was having a hard time with this psychic detective bullshit.

“
This is it!” Wells shouted over the wind. “I’m sure of it. Carl would you please hustle up to the other end and look for a beach? I believe we’ll find them.”

“
Sure,” Benson mumbled to himself rolling his eyes.

They pulled around the leeward side to get some protection from the wind and made a mad dash for the north end. Benson pulled out his video recorder and started shooting.

“
Head over there,” Wells said, pointing.

Even from a distance, it was obvious there was an abundance of debris. Carefully picking their way through coral heads, they pulled right up on the sand.

“
My God!
” Benson exclaimed. “Look, there’s stuff scattered everywhere.” He tried to keep the camera rolling as he jumped over the side. He saw a huge fire-pit that looked like it was smoldering. He dug his hand in the ash and jerked it out when he touched hot coals. There were four graves, two of which were marked JW and HR, carefully inscribed with colored pebbles. “Well, I’ll be damned,” he said. “Guess this psycho shit really works.”

Wells looked at him with a sad face and said, “Jessica Ward and Hank Rogers. . .they didn’t make it.”

“
So who’s in the other two?”

“
Don’t know, but there’s an evil presence there,” Wells answered. “You’d do well to keep your distance.”

Benson was beginning believe this weirdo. He quickly backed away and started looking through the debris. There was a piece of luggage with a nametag,
Christina Matthews
. He looked at Wells and asked, “Now that we’ve found the island in question, where the hell are they?”

Jamal came running toward them from down the beach, waving his hat and screaming at the top of his lungs, “Somethin’s weird down there. Tire tracks. Looks like somebody drove a Hummer right up on the beach.”

When Benson worked for the Atlanta Police Department, he had photographed and set tire tracks on numerous crime scenes, but he’d never seen tracks like these. They looked quite odd. Where the veins were normally zigzagged, these were straight. As he walked further up the beach, there was something even weirder. A third track seemed to skip along between the other two. Now he was really going to test the skill of the alleged psychic.

“
What do you make of this, Bill?”

“
Simple. I thought you were an investigator,” Wells yelled over the wind. “You don’t recognize it?”

“
No, never seen one like. . .”

“
It’s an airplane. . .landing gear. They started at the top of the beach, lifted the nose there and took off down at the other end. Probably on their way home.”

“
Well, I’ll be goddammed! That’s why there’s been no aircraft debris. You’re right, these tracks are fresh,” Benson stated, squatting down with his hand on the sand. “They had to be laid after the rain showers went through no more than two hours ago.”

“
They’re gone,” Wells said emphatically. “Let’s take some pictures and gather up anything that looks valuable.”

“
Time to get the hell out of here,” Watkins yelled. “I’ll give you five minutes.”

Chapter Twenty

The Piper Saratoga purred like a kitten,
blue sky above and pearly white clouds below. Christina was itching with anticipation.
My God, just one hour away from a hot shower.
Even though she had come to believe the radio gear was inoperable, she decided to try the emergency frequency. She knew it would be dangerous to fly into the busy airspace of Miami International without contacting someone.

She checked to make sure the microphone was plugged into the console, pushed the button and said, “Mayday, Mayday, this is November Two Eight Niner Niner Kilo. Anybody read?”

“
November Two Eight Niner Niner Kilo, Miami Center, loud and clear. Are you declaring an emergency?”

She was dumbfounded. Of all the times she had tried the radio on their fateful descent and on the island, she had never heard one word of response. Now, the voice was crystal clear.

“
November Two Eight Niner Niner Kilo, this is Miami Center. Do you read?”

“
Aren’t you gonna answer?” Billy asked with a puzzled look.

Christina choked as she mumbled to herself, “What did Furgeson say?”

Tell them who you are, where you are, type of aircraft and what you want to do.

She went for it. “Niner Niner Kilo is a Piper Saratoga, 145 miles southeast of Miami in route to Miami International.”

“
Niner Niner Kilo, this is an emergency frequency; are you declaring an emergency?”

What an understatement,
she thought. “You damn right.”

“
Then state the nature of your
emergency!”
the controller barked impatiently.

“
Okay!”
she shouted.
How can I sum this up?
“Let’s see, the pilot of this plane is dead. Got it?
D.E. A. D.
We’ve been stranded on an island and just had to fly through a
thunderstorm
to get away from a
hurricane!
On top of that, I’m trying to fly an airplane I know very little about. Does that qualify for an emergency? Over,” Christina made her case indignantly.

“
Niner Niner Kilo, squawk 7700 and ident.”

“
Roger.”

Billy followed the instructions, and the transponder flashed showing they were under radar surveillance.

“
Niner Niner Kilo, Miami Center, we have radar contact. You’re ninety miles due south of the Freeport VOR. State your altitude and your request.”

“
We’re at 12,000, and I’m requesting all the help I can get for landing at Miami. I also request we be met at the airport by the police, customs and the fire department in case I crack this thing up on the runway.”

“
Niner Niner Kilo, we need to divert you to another airport. Miami is Class B airspace.”

Christina remembered another of Furgeson’s mini-lectures:

Don’t forget. When you’re in the left seat of that airplane, you’re God. The Pilot-In-Command is legally responsible for the lives of the passengers. Don’t let a traffic controller, or anyone else for that matter, tell you to do something you don’t think is right. You’ve got the responsibility and the authority to do whatever it takes to get your passengers down safely.

Christina bolstered her courage and cleared her throat, “Unughn, I don’t give a shit what
you
need. You don’t seem to understand. I’m a student pilot with twelve hours total time. I have no IFR experience. I’m going to have to fly through these clouds and land this airplane. I’ve got the GPS programmed for MIA with the autopilot on, and I intend to land straight-in on the longest runway you got.”

“
Niner Niner Kilo, Miami Center, read you loud and clear. Miami’s reporting 5,000 feet overcast and ten miles visibility with light winds. We’ll get our traffic rearranged and call your descent. You keep that autopilot on until you break under the deck. May I ask your name?”

“
Christina Matthews,” she said with a sense of pride.

“
Oh my God, you were on that plane lost in the Bermuda Triangle. You’ve been all over the news for weeks.”

“
It’s a long story, but the only remaining survivors, Heather Daniels, William Rogers and myself managed to fly this plane off an island just before the hurricane hit.”

“
Roger, Niner Niner Kilo, expect to start your descent seventy miles out. When you break out of the clouds, we will vector you to Runway 27 Left. Do you need us to get someone on the horn familiar with the systems on the Saratoga?”

Christina looked over at Billy with a big smile. “My co-pilot, William Rogers, is familiar with this airplane, but that wouldn’t be a bad idea in case something crops up.”

“
Roger, Niner Niner Kilo. Just relax, and we’ll get you down safe and sound.”

“
Christina, time to switch tanks,” Billy said.

“
Who designed this fucked up fuel system anyway?” Christina complained with a frown as she reached down to switch the lever. “This is a pain in the
ass!”
She was beginning to feel like they were going to make it. Even if they had a problem on the way in, radio contact assured they would be quickly rescued. The Saratoga was performing flawlessly, and she had already proven they could use the autopilot to help traverse the cloud layer. Her excitement continued to build as she watched the GPS countdown to Miami.

“
Niner, Niner Kilo, Miami Center, we’ve got you seventy miles out, start descending at your discretion.”

“
Roger, Miami, we’re going down.” She pushed the nose forward, and they were screaming at 175 knots. Forty miles out, Christina started to tense again at the top of the cloud layer. She double-checked the autopilot to make sure it was working.

“
Niner Niner Kilo, Miami Center, contact Miami approach on 120.5.”

“
Roger,” said Christina. Billy put in the new frequency. “Miami approach, this is Saratoga Two Eight Niner Niner Kilo, descending through 9,000 just above the clouds.”

“
Niner Niner Kilo, Miami approach, make sure you leave that autopilot on and give me a call when you brake under the bottoms.”

“
Roger that.”

“
Guys, tighten up your seat belts. It could get rough again.” Christina looked back at Heather; she looked terrified. They penetrated the cloud deck with a jolt, and visibility went to zero. But the air inside was smooth, and the autopilot continued to track perfectly. She kept forward pressure on the yoke. Staring at the artificial horizon and the vertical speed indicator, she trimmed the nose down for a constant descent rate. After about ten minutes, they broke under the ceiling, and an incredible panorama unfolded right before their eyes. Not only could they see land, but the City of Miami popped out of the horizon only fifteen miles away.

Heather and Billy cheered with excitement.

“
Hallelujah!” Heather said. “I can’t wait to sleep in a clean bed.”

“
I want a Big Mac with a large order of fries,” Billy said. “Swear to God, I’ll never eat fish again.”