Ken Douglas - Scorpion

“ There’s always me,” Underfield said, his gaze turning to knife blades.

“ Right,” Broxton said. And he turned away and started back toward his seat.

“ I work for the attorney general, you know.”

“ You said that,” Broxton said, without turning around. And he quickly forgot about Underfield when he eyed a little girl sitting next to her father. Her hand was clasped tightly in his and her lips were moving. She’s praying, he thought. He smiled at her and she smiled back, lighting up her freckles. Then she gave him a thumbs up sign. He stuck out his right thumb and flashed it back.

He returned to his seat, thinking about the Barbie doll. He took it out of the magazine pouch and fluffed the doll’s hair with a finger. Then he straightened her dress. He felt the stewardess’ eyes on him. He didn’t even know her name.

“ Yours?” he said, smiling at the girl. She nodded and he handed it back to her. He was rewarded with a smile back. Would the girl’s mother be waiting for her husband and daughter at the airport? Would the airline tell waiting friends and relatives about the trouble on board or would they just say the plane was delayed? Would they make it to Port of Spain at all?

“ It’ll be okay,” the stewardess said, as if reading his mind.

“ I know,” Broxton said, but he didn’t know.

“ I’m Maria,” she said.

“ Bill,” he said, “but most people call me Broxton.”

“ You made an enemy back there,” she said.

“ Sometimes I have a big mouth, like today. My job is supposed to be kind of secret and not one day into it and I’ve not only told you, but I’ve managed to get in an argument with the attorney general.”

“ It looks like Mr. Ramsingh’s being well taken care of.”

“ You mean the muscle man?”

“ He looks like he can handle himself.”

“ He does at that,” Broxton laughed, “and I guess I’ve upset him a little, too.”

“ It would seem so,” she laughed, and he swore her eyes were sparkling.

“ Ladies and Gentlemen,” it was the captain’s voice over the speakers again, “we’re flying at eight thousand feet and although it’s possible to breathe without your oxygen masks I would recommend you keep them on. Our speed is two hundred and fifty miles an hour, less than half of our normal cruising speed, and I’m afraid that will put us forty-five minutes behind schedule for our landing in Port of Spain. So our new ETA is 2:45, If you haven’t already reset your watches, now would be a good time to do it.”

Maria took his hand again and he felt her leg pressed up against his.

“ I’m sorry, I shouldn’t kid you,” the captain continued, “we have a problem and we don’t know what it is, but we seem to have control of the aircraft. I don’t want to risk climbing or adding any more power. The situation is delicate, but I’m confident we will arrive safely, and in that light I’m requesting that you all, flight attendants included, stay seated with your seatbelts securely fastened until we are on the ground and the engines are off. Thank you very much.”

This time he was telling the truth. Broxton preferred the lie.

“ It’s going to be a pretty tense hour and a half,” Maria said. She was still holding his hand. She gave him a half smile, as if she just realized it, and relaxed her grip. He noticed her face turning the embarrassing shade of pink.

He smiled back, “Thanks for the moral support,” he said. “I don’t know what I would have done without you.”

“ Thank you for that,” she said, her color returning to normal. Then she asked, “Will she be waiting at the airport, your girl?”

“ No, she doesn’t know I’m coming. It’s a surprise. How did you know about her?” he asked.

“ You were fiddling and fidgeting with that engagement ring, like it was a hot rock burning your fingers, all during take off, remember?”

“ I’ve known her all my life.” He let go of her hand and dug the ring out of his coat pocket. He looked at it, turned it over in his fingers. “Our folks always assumed we’d be married, but things just didn’t work out.”

“ What things?” she said. She pulled her long hair back and met his eyes.

“ Another woman,” he said.

“ Ah,” she said.

“ But that was over a long time ago.”

“ She knows this, your girl?”

“ Dani? Sure. She never stopped loving me and I guess I never stopped loving her. She’s been part of me almost as long as I’ve been alive. When someone’s been that close for that long, well, I took her for granted. I’ll never do it again.”

“ Good for you,” Maria said, “I hope it works out for you.” And she started to get up.

“ Where are you going? The captain said we should stay seated.”

“ Someone has to check on the passengers. I’m the senior flight attendant.”

“ But the captain said.”

“ He’s got his job and I’ve got mine, and besides you sure didn’t stay seated.” She smiled.

He unbuckled his belt and stood to let her pass.

“ I’ll be back soon,” she said, squeezing his arm. He watched her make her way back toward second class, working her way down the aisle, steadying herself by grabbing on to the seatbacks.

Then the plane jerked to the right and started to go down again.

They were doing fifty on the interstate when the ’65 Chevy Impala flew by at eighty-five. Windows down. The driver was sipping a coke. The rider was hunched down low. The car was over thirty years old, but it looked as if it had just been driven off the showroom floor, candy apple red with tinted windows, reverse chrome rims, enough polish to supply a car wash and it was wearing California tags.

“ Let’s go!” Jackson White said.

“ Hold your water.” Sheriff Earl Lawson smiled to himself. Speed always got Jackson’s heart a pumping. He eased off the gas and let another car pass. Solitude was a small town, most folks knew his unmarked Ford and he didn’t want to take any chances.

“ Did you hear that engine rumble?” Earl said. “I’ll give you dollars to donuts that it’s a full tricked out 327 ’Vette engine powering that baby and it sounds like he’s got glass pack mufflers in front of them chrome tailpipes. I woulda killed for a car like that when I was in high school. Hell, I still might.” He laughed. As a kid he loved cars and he’d been particularly partial to Chevys. The first time he’d gotten laid was in the back seat of his own ’65 Impala, but his wasn’t souped up like that, he couldn’t afford it.

“ Come on, Earl, you’re gonna lose him,” Jackson said. Jackson White was the only black deputy on the small force. He was the darkest black man Earl had ever laid eyes on, and although he didn’t like blacks in general, he made an exception in Jackson’s case. The man was a good deputy, a good friend and knew how to keep his mouth shut. Earl liked riding with him, they made a great team, but he was going to have to talk to him about that newspaper girlfriend of his and her story in last night’s Evening Standard.

“ Stop champing at the bit, Jackson, he’s not getting away.” The sun was hanging directly overhead. It was August hot, but the heat never seemed to bother Earl. He drove with a casual flair, left elbow flopping over the side of the open window, two fingers on the wheel, seat pushed all the way back, like he was out for a ride in the country.

“ They’ll be across the line in a couple a minutes, then we’ll have to call in the county,” Jackson said. He clenched his hands into fists, relaxed them, then clenched them again. He was sucking in deep, fast breaths. He was ready and hoping for a high speed chase.