Christopher Moore: Island of the Sequined Love Nun

“Can we get something that size?”

“Not legally,” Jake said.

“I’m not worried about legally. I’m worried about logistically.”

Jake stood up. “I’m not flying it. I get you a plane, I get half. Deal?”

“I’ll give you one of the account numbers as soon as we get the plane. You take your chances whether there’s money in it or not. If I don’t make it, and the money’s in my account, you’re screwed.”

Jake considered it, then nodded. “I can live with that. Let’s go watch the big planes take off.”

Tuck was amazed at the way Jake’s mind worked. The second he’d accepted that they were going to steal a 747, it became a problem, and when it came to solving problems, Jake was the best. They stood on an open walkway that overlooked the tarmac, watching the 747s taxiing into the terminal.

“The best thing,” Jake said, “about stealing a 747 is that no one assumes that anyone is crazy enough to try it.”

“I thought people tried to steal them all the time. It’s a league sport in the Middle East, isn’t it?”

“They hijack, they don’t steal. With hijacking, you have to take a pilot with you.” Jake pointed to a row of planes docked at the terminal by rolling walkways. “These guys? Out of the question,” he said.

“Why?”

“Because they’ve just come in and they’re low on fuel or they’re being fueled to take off again, and most of the time, if you can get in them, there’s a crew on board.” He pointed to some jets parked near hangars at the far side of the airfield. “Those are our babies. They’ve got fuel, but they’re waiting for a crew and passengers. After midnight nothing goes out of this airport except FedEx. The advantage of a vacation destination. Nobody wants to fly in our out at night.”

The planes were a good half a mile away. “That’s a long way to go across an airfield without the tower seeing us and calling security. And we have to drive a ramp over to it to get inside.”

“No, we don’t. There’s an emergency escape hatch for the pilots in the roof over the cockpit.”

“That’s four stories up. How are you going to get up to it?”

“Down to it,” Jake said.

“Down?”

“The problem is how to get the hatch unlatched. They only open from the inside.”

“I’m still a little unclear on the ‘down’ part of the plan,” Tuck said. At some point he was going to be on top of a 747 and heights made him nervous.

“Let me worry about that,” Jake said. Then he snapped his fingers as if conjuring the answer to his problem out of thin air. “I’ve got the answer right here in front of me. What was I thinking? I’m working with the master.”

Tuck looked around, thinking that Jake was talking about someone else. “Are you talking about me? I don’t know how to do anything.”

“But you’re wrong, Tuck, you’re wrong. For this part of the plan we need the cooperation of a flight attendant. Come on, let’s get my bag. I’ve got an extra change of clothes you can wear.”

“What’s wrong with these clothes?” Tuck asked. He was still wearing the oversized and now distressed hand-me-downs of Sebastian Curtis.

“Like you have to ask.”

Jake spent an hour studying flight schedules and talking to counter people at the different airlines. Tuck took the opportunity to call the hotel to check on Sepie. She answered on the second ring. “Hello. How much is washer-dryer combination?”

“What?”

“Maytag washer-dryer combination with minibasket and wrinkle guard. How much?”

“I don’t know. Maybe a grand. Are you okay?”

She’d put the phone down and he heard her shouting at the TV, “Is a grand! Is a grand! You fuckin’ mook! Oh, no.” She picked up the phone again. “You wrong. Is eleven nine nine suggested retail. You lose.”

“You’re watching ‘The Price Is Right’?”

“They give you things if you know how much. Is very hard.”

“Do you need anything?” Tuck asked. “I can call room service from here and have them bring you some food.”

“Perfume and lipstick,” Sepie said.

“That’ll have to wait. I’ll be back soon, okay?”

“Okay. Tuck?”

“What, Sepie?”

“What is washer-dryer combination?”

“I’ll explain later. I have to go now.”

She hung up on him. Evidently, her fascination with plumbing and television didn’t extend to the telephone. He found Jake talking to a girl at the United counter who was obviously taken with the grungy pilot’s charm. He saw Tuck and said good-bye.

“I’ve found our plane and the crew assignments. We have a ten-minute window to get to Gate 38 so you can work your magic.”

The plan was for Tuck to spot a flight attendant coming off the plane, get to know her, and convince her to go back into the jet and throw the latch on the emergency hatch before the plane was cleaned and moved away from the terminal. They waited at the tunnel into Gate 38. The passengers had long since deplaned, as had the pilots.

“Remember, you want to go ugly,” Jake said.

“I know,” Tuck said. He’d changed into Jake’s clothes, which fit him, at least, even if he looked like a guitar player for a Seattle grunge band.

“And old if you can get it.”

“I know,” Tuck said.

“You want a woman who looks like she couldn’t get laid in a men’s colony.”

“I know,” Tuck said. “Would you back off? I haven’t done this in a while.”

“Like riding a bicycle, buddy.”

The first flight attendant out of the tunnel was a pretty blond woman, about twenty-five. “Pass,” Jake said.

The next was a man, and the next a tall black woman who could have been a runway model.

“They’re killing us here,” Jake said. “How would you feel about going for the guy? He’s our best chance so far.”

“Fuck off, Jake.”

“Just an idea.”

They waited for five more minutes before a tired-looking woman in her fifties came down the tunnel pulling her flight bag behind her.

“Go to it, stud,” Jake said. He gave Tucker a little shove.

Tuck shoved back without taking his eyes off the woman. “I can’t do this, Jake.”

“What?” Jake Skye grabbed Tuck’s wrist and pretended to be taking his pulse.

Tuck pulled away from him. “I can’t do this.”

“Don’t pull this shit on me, buddy. She’s getting away. This is what you do.”

“Not anymore, I don’t.”

“Well, I sure as hell do.” Jake pulled off the flannel shirt he was wearing open over his black T-shirt and threw it to Tuck. “Go back to your hotel and wait for me to call. What room are you in?”

“Twelve-thirty.”

Jake pushed the T-shirt sleeves up just enough for his biceps to show and took off down the concourse after the middle-aged flight attendant.

Tuck went outside and found the shuttle to the Hyatt Regency. During the ride back to the hotel, he realized that he had no idea how to explain a washer-dryer combination to someone who had never worn shoes or a shirt until two days ago. He decided to go with magic.

Malink found the old cannibal in a small clearing in the jungle, urinating on a young banana tree. “I brought you food.” Malink dropped the basket and sat down under a tree. Sarapul seemed to be taking a long time at his task.

“Sometimes it’s hard,” Malink said.

“Sometimes I can’t go at all,” Sarapul said. “It hurts.” He shuddered and turned around with a grin, smoothing down his thu . “But not today.” He sat down next to Malink and reached into the basket for a hunk of fish.

“I heard the music last night,” Sarapul said. “The white bitch comes more often now.” He offered Malink a piece of fish and the chief took it.