Yes, the coke! How it felt when it entered his nostrils, the euphoric explosion of his senses. The girls fed it to him! They carried it in their purses and formed neat lines for him on their creamy thighs. And the guys at the airport loved to look at the plane, crawl around inside, talk flying. Señor Doctor, want a blow before you take off? And he would take a hit and fly hundreds of miles to the Caymans in what seemed like minutes, alert like he had never been before, feeling like he could fly on to Alaska if he had the fuel. Cocaine just didn’t seem to be a big deal south of the U.S. border.
One day a guy he had befriended during a previous trip was at the airport and asked if he could take a package of “product” with him back to Birmingham. “C’mon, man. No one is going to suspect you, Mister Save-the-Children Surgeon!”
The guy tossed a worn duffel bag in back with his other luggage and handed him a black zipped-up folder. Wheeler glanced inside and quickly closed it, but once he got airborne with the autopilot engaged, he laid the contents out on the seat next to him and counted: five hundred Ben Franklins and one typed note.
“Mike” met him at the FBO in Birmingham to park him and to service the aircraft, just like the note said. He smiled as he pulled the bags from the compartment, placed the duffel in his tractor, and helped Wheeler button up the airplane. Chatting away, he was a really friendly guy, one of the nicest guys Wheeler had ever met. When they were finished, Mike offered his hand, just as a golf partner would coming off the 18>th green. “Enjoyed it!” he said.
Wheeler had found yet another double life to lead, one that paid very, very well, more than enough to cover any of Tammy’s activities. Sure, Honey, go to Lenox Square Mall in Buckhead. Take Cullen. Anything you want. Have fun!
Tonight Wheeler was on his fourth “mission,” and it was a big one. He had told Tammy he was going to spend a couple of nights in the Caymans and rest — and get something nice for Cullen — before he took off for home. Once he arrived at George Town and parked his plane, “Luis” met him and led him to a different King Air, one loaded with product worth over $100 million on the street. With a box lunch and a five-hour energy drink, he set off in the aircraft for a dirt strip along the Mississippi coast called Goombay Smash Field. He would abandon the airplane there — the cost of doing business — and “Rich” would pick him up, drive him to Diamond Head, and put him in a G5 for a sprint back to the Caymans. The morning sun would still be low in the sky by the time they landed back at George Town.
After a day of rest at the hotel, maybe a little senorita overnight, he would fly his own plane to Birmingham the next day for another hero’s welcome — and a $5 million payday. A yacht. Yes, a yacht would look good parked next to their condo in Orange Beach. He would go to Miami next week and make a down payment on a 53-footer. Once the purchase was sealed, he would make a house call on a former augmentation client — to perform an important post-op examination, of course. That client, and many, many others, inspired the name with which he would christen his new yacht: Two for the Show.
A sudden whoomm on his right startled him. He studied the eastern horizon but saw nothing but ghostly clouds overhead — no lighting flash. He held his gaze and strained his eyes for several seconds. Nothing. He wished this airplane, expendable or not, had weather radar in it and cursed the cheap screw narcotrafficales for not getting him a suitable plane for a long, overwater flight. Instead they had put him in this rattle-trap to save overhead dollars. He checked the INS and noted he was making 265 knots ground. The wind must have shifted to the east. And, for the umpteenth time tonight, he checked the fuel, doing a mental time-distance calculation.
What was that? he thought. A bird? Did I hit a bird? The airplane hadn’t twitched, so he reasoned it may have been an engine surge… but all seemed normal. There were no indicator lights. He shifted in his seat uncomfortably, wishing he had a blow right now, and turned his thoughts back to Miami.
