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“Actually, I prefer ’em. What I’ve got an aversion to is a pilot who gets sabotaged and damn near killed in my plane, waits hours to call me with the details, and then when he does, takes me by the hand and leads me around the mulberry bush a few times and thinks—wrongly—that I’ll be satisfied with that.”
“I share your frustration, believe me. I don’t know what’s going on, either. I’d like to hang around till I find out who was at the other end of that laser and take a dull handsaw to his dick. But the best thing for me, and for you, too, is to soft-soap that in my accident report. Say it could have been a laser, not that it definitely was. I want to get away from here as soon as possible and write this off as a misadventure.”
Dash thought it over. Then, “You saw inside the box?”
“Yes.”
“Because I don’t want Dash-It-All to get caught up in anything illegal.”
“Hear you. I don’t want to get caught up in anything, period. I’ve been cleared of any wrongdoing. Free to go.” Without trying to sound desperate, he said, “Send me somewhere, Dash.”
“Where are you now?”
“ER waiting room. I dropped by to see about the guy who got clobbered.”
“That doesn’t sound like ‘writing it off.’”
“I owe him this much. Jesus.”
“Okay, okay. And then you’re ready to skip Dodge?”
“As soon as I’ve looked over the plane and talked to the FAA office in Atlanta. I doubt an agent will truck it up here before Monday, earliest. Probably he won’t come at all. Keep checking your email. I’ll send you pictures. You can forward them to your insurance adjuster.”
“Never mind what I said a minute ago. Breaks my heart to think of that 182 being junked. It was a damn good plane.”
“Breaks my heart for you. May be worth salvaging.”
“We’ll see.”
“You got a flight for me?”
Dash blew out a gust of breath. “Rye, why don’t you cut yourself some slack? You had a close call last night.”
“All the more reason to get back up.”
“I’m trying to do you a favor here.”
“Do me a favor. Put me in the air.”
Dash rumbled something that Rye didn’t catch, then said, “Okay. First thing that comes up is yours. But it’s Thanksgiving, and you’re stuck in that burg. How will you get out?”
“I’ll finagle a ride.”
“To where? My first choice would be to have you in Atlanta.”
“Mine, too.”
“Let me know when you manage it. In the meantime, get some sleep.”
“Okay.”
“I mean it.”
“I said okay. From Atlanta, you can send me anywhere. Doesn’t matter where.”
“As you’ve told me a thousand times.”
“And thanks for being so decent about the plane.”
