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“Nothing official yet, but they’re conducting an investigation.”
“Into what?”
“What I consider to be a minor crash. Their opinion may differ. I wasn’t drunk, wasn’t using drugs, wasn’t running drugs. I’m not breaking the law now, only outrunning it to avoid a tie-up that Brynn doesn’t have time for.”
Rye looked over his shoulder at her before continuing. “I know your offer to help is earnest, Jake, and I appreciate it. But these aren’t small considerations. If lawmen come looking for us, don’t stick your neck out. Tell the truth. I was licensed, instrument rated, my money was good, and that’s all you asked. Tell them you sensed we were in a jam, you just didn’t realize how serious it was.”
“How serious is it?”
“Serious. Because here’s the other thing. We’ve crossed swords with people in high places, and they have knee-crackers and throat-slitters at their beck and call. I shit you not.” He held up his left hand so Jake could see the cuts across his knuckles.
“I’m lucky the fingers are still attached. So, if someone who doesn’t have a badge comes asking after us, lie your ass off. Don’t challenge a thing they say. You’re as dumb as dirt, as innocent as the day you were born, you never heard of us.”
“What happens when you get to Knoxville?”
“As far as you’re concerned? Nothing. I fly your plane back. It should take only a few hours to cover the round trip.” He took a breath. “Look, Jake, any other time, I wouldn’t ask a stranger—”
“I’m a stranger to you; you’re no stranger to me.”
Rye chuffed a bitter laugh. “About that legend stuff, I’m not the guy you think I am, not the man you heard stories about, most of which were barracks bullshit. The hero doesn’t exist. Never did. But I swear I can fly the plane, and I’ll return it to you in one piece, not a scratch on it.”
“I’m not worried about the plane. It’s the two of you. The thought of cutthroats being after you—”
Rye interrupted. “If you’re feeling any hesitation, say no. Don’t do it.”
“I’m not saying no. I only wish you’d let me help more.”
“The help we need is the use of your plane.”
Jake turned to Brynn. “Life or death, you said.”
“Yes. And time is running out.”
He looked at Rye. “Another rescue?”
Rye hesitated, then said, “Something like that.”
“You always did volunteer for the most dangerous missions. And that’s not barracks bullshit. It’s a matter of record.”
Rye didn’t say anything to that.
“You’ve got my plane,” Jake said.
Rye reached across the console. “Thank you.”
As they shook hands, the other pilot gave a dry laugh. “Don’t thank me. I just flew in from KC. Have you looked at the radar?”
8:28 a.m.
Jake rented hangar space at an FBO twenty miles west of Atlanta. It was controlled, but Rye would be the only pilot flying in or out any time soon.
When the three of them came in, dripping rainwater, two corporate jet pilots waiting out the weather were sprawled in armchairs in front of a TV, watching a football game being played someplace where the sun was shining. The woman at the desk was engrossed in a paperback novel.
Brynn and Rye stayed in the background while Jake explained to her their determination to take off, despite the weather. Brynn overheard the words “Family medical emergency” and “may be their last chance to say goodbye.”
Rye filed his flight plan. He and Jake put the plane through its preflight check. Because of the rain, Jake arranged for them to board inside the hangar and have the plane towed out.
When all was ready, Brynn hugged Jake goodbye. “You’re doing a tremendous service. Some day I’ll tell you all about it.”
