David Lindsey - An Absence of Light

“You don’t think there will be changes in the guards’ routines too, like there were in yours?”

“I can’t say about that I just know it wasn’t mentioned when we were going over the plans.”

“What about the amount of time you’ve got to make the pontoon flight from Las Copas to Kalatis’s beach house and back to Las Copas? Is that enough time?”

Shit, barely. It’ll be damn close. The jump across Chocolate and West Bay’s not the problem. It’s the time on Las Copas going in, off-loading the client and cash, going the seventy-live yards to the ‘tooner and on-loading the client and cash. They’re giving us twenty minutes on that, then there’s the fifteen-minute jump to Kalatis’s dock, ten off-loading at the dock, fifteen-minute jump back to Las Copas, ten to dock the ‘tooner, get back to our planes, and get outta there. Then they’ve given us a ten-minute cushion from the time one plane leaves to go home and the other lands on Las Copas.”

“And that’s not enough.”

Redden dragged on the cigarette and then shook his head as he pulled down the corners of his mouth. “Nope, not enough. Doesn’t leave time for screw-ups… There’s always screw-ups, especially when you’re running out of a little ol’ dirt strip like Las Copas. You’ve got to be careful with radio contact in there. It’s crazy. And those damned generator lights. It’s gonna be touchy.”

Graver nodded and studied Redden a moment.

“Okay,” he said. “What about a contingency plan? What happens if something goes wrong somewhere along the line?”

“Yeah, always a backup plan. Actually there are two.” He used the toe of his boot to tap an ash off the cigarette. “If something goes wrong before the money’s delivered, we call a coded number and tell Kalatis what happened. He makes a decision. If he’s going to change airports, he’s got to coordinate the money delivery, and he’s got to make sure the guard who’s going to be baby-sitting that load knows the score. Then he calls us back and tells us the alternate pickup site.

“If something happens after the pickup, there’s a prearranged destination. It’s prearranged because after we’re airborne everybody’s got to be thinking the same thing. Personnel will be spread thin because the guys at the original drop site-Las Copas-will be out of pocket. Kalatis’s troops will be spread thin. That’s another reason the inflight alternate destination will be the same for all three pilots. Kalatis wouldn’t have enough people on the ground to spread them out to cover three alternate delivery sites.”

Graver looked at him. “You mean everyone meets at one airport.”

“That’s right. But the timing stays the same.”

“Which airport?”

Redden raised his hand dangling the handcuffs and pointed an index finger down to the concrete in front of him.

“I’m sittin’ on it,” he said.

Graver stared at Redden. “Have you ever had to use a contingency plan?”

“Once.”

“How did it go?”

“Clockwork.” He shrugged. “Everybody’s a professional. They can handle contingencies.”

Graver nodded. The tin walls of the hangar crackled in the heat.

“Did you tell Kalatis you had your doubts about the schedule of the timing at Las Copas?”

Redden nodded stoically. “Yep.”

“What did he say?”

Redden’s expression was grim. He took a last pull on the cigarette and mashed it out next to the other butt on the concrete.

“He doubled our fee,” he said. “Hell, we were already getting paid like damn CEOs, now we’re getting paid like two damn CEOs.” He looked around at Remberto and then back at Graver.” Just goes to show you, don’t it You pay a guy enough money, and he’ll risk hell and high water to do the job. The bigger the money gets, the more he tells himself he can beat the odds… even if the odds get bigger too. All he can think about is coming out on the other end-smelling like brimstone and steam-with all that tax-free cash.”

7:50 P.M

The five of them sat on the veranda facing the bay. Pizza boxes and hamburger carry-out sacks were scattered around on the small rattan tables along with cans of soft drinks. Graver leaned back in his chair and looked through the kitchen into the main room of the oversized bungalow where Redden and Ledet were sitting in the middle of the floor, their ankles and wrists cuffed together, looking like hostages in the fading light Alice was handcuffed too, but she was in the bedroom watching television. She had been told she was a material witness, and it was necessary to hold her for a while longer. Not being too bright, Alice accepted this without demanding to see a lawyer or screaming about her rights. And it helped that she had the television. It turned out she liked television a lot.

When they first arrived at the beach house and secured the three people inside, everyone had gone to the veranda and handed out the pizza and hamburgers. Graver had explained to Victor Last, who had remained with Alice, what had happened, and Last had listened without asking too many questions. Graver could tell that Last had sensed that questions were not the proper thing at this point in the proceedings, though it was not clear to Last just exactly what the proceedings were. Which was fine.

Then they had eaten their food, which was quickly growing cold, and talked about how Redden and Ledet’s stories had jibed and what they thought about Kalatis’s security, what they thought about his elaborate planning, what size plane the others might fly, and what the airspeed of the planes might be. In short, they talked about everything except the most important thing on their minds-what they were going to do-a matter that was totally absorbing Graver’s thoughts as he ate in silence, staring out to the dying light in the bay, while the others talked.

After finishing his hamburger, Graver sat back in his chair and opened his notebook. He started jotting down an outline of the schedule of flights, when each pilot left Bayfield, landed at Las Copas, off-loaded and on-loaded cash and clients to the pontoon plane, departed Las Co-pas and arrived at Kalatis’s pier, off-loaded cash and clients, and returned to Las Copas. At each juncture he noted the timing as related by Redden, keeping in mind that it was a schedule to which Redden doubted they could adhere. The plan was tight and efficient But something about it was terribly wrong.

“Okay,” he said finally, leaning forward in his chair and holding his notes in his hands in front of him, his forearms resting on his knees. Everyone stopped talking, wadded last bits of paper, put away boxes and sacks from in front of them.

Graver began reading the flight plans, stopping once in a while to listen to someone’s different recollection of what Redden had said was going to happen at a particular point In this way everyone reviewed a plan that was confirmed by consensus, no points remaining so unclear that anyone thought it was necessary to go back to Redden for clarification. When Graver was through he sat back in his chair again.

“Any observations?”

There was a momentary pause, and then Murray spoke up.

“Yeah, one.” He was careful to keep his voice down. He wiped his mouth one last time with a paper napkin, wadded the napkin, and tossed it into a paper sack between his feet “I personally think that seventy-five percent of this plan is total bullshit.”

Graver almost smiled with relief. “So do I,” he said. “Let’s hear it.”

“First of all,” Murray said, passing a thick hand over his short haircut, “Kalatis has got this thing on a schedule that looks too tight. We know how Redden feels about this.” He pulled his chair a couple of feet closer to Graver so he wouldn’t have to worry so much about being overheard by the two men inside the bungalow.