Collins knew the old joke and said, “They are ants. We’re on the ground.”
They both laughed. Brodie knew how to bond with men. Women were more of a challenge.
Collins contacted ground control, then turned the plane onto a taxiway and headed toward a row of hangars where other small craft were parked. He steered toward a tanker truck and the propeller spun down as he stopped and cut the engine. “Welcome to nowhere.” He added, “They say they have fuel. Let’s see.” He said something in Spanish into his headset, then told his passengers, “I’m gonna hop out and monitor the refuel. You can get out and stretch, use the baño in that hangar, but stay together. I’ll stay with the plane to make sure nobody steals it.”
Brodie asked, “How long is this layover?”
“Maybe fifteen or twenty minutes—unless the fuel crew is on siesta break.”
“Okay. Are you topping off?”
“No.” He explained, “That might make us too heavy for a takeoff at Kavak. The plan is to refuel again here on the way back to Caracas.” He added, “It’s all about weight, runway length—just enough fuel for a margin of safety if we run into weather.”
“Right.” Brodie didn’t want to tell Captain Collins yet that they weren’tgoing back to Caracas, so he said, “We’re going to want to fly around Kavak before we land. A little sightseeing, maybe a little terrain recon. You know? Oil and birds. So why don’t you top off?” He reminded Collins, “I’m paying for the fuel.”
Collins thought about that. “Okay… shouldn’t be a problem if we burn off enough fuel.”
“Good. And with a fill-up you get your windshield washed and they’ll check your oil and tires.”
Collins smiled.
Brodie asked, “Are there security cameras here?”
“Yeah. There’s lots of stealing here.”
Plus, thought Brodie, the police would want to know who’s arriving and departing. He said, “We’ll stay here.”
“Okay.” Collins climbed out and shut the door behind him.
Taylor said, “We could call Dombroski from a landline.”
“The last pay phone here was stolen two years ago.”
“Scott—”
“When you lived at home and were out on a hot date, did you call home?”
“Actually, I did.”
“Really? And when you came home with a Gideon Bible in your purse, did your grandma think you spent the night in church?”
She smiled. “I never stole a Bible from the motel.”
“You’re a good girl. Meanwhile, we are traveling dark. For security reasons. End of discussion.”
“Yes, sir.” She added, “But I do have to pee.”
“You’ll have to do it here.”
“I’ll wait.”
If they’d had sex, she wouldn’t have been so modest. Should he say that? Probably not.
Brodie watched Collins speaking to a guy in a green jumpsuit who was speaking into a walkie. They were probably negotiating the gringo price of the aviation fuel. The only thing you could be sure of here was that you couldn’t be sure of anything. Finally someone unhooked the long hose from the tanker, which reminded Brodie that he, too, had to pee.
He found the urine tube under the seat—he didn’t think that Taylor, who’d peed behind rocks and in drainage ditches for a couple of years inmixed company, would mind if they shared a pee together. Good bonding. But she suggested he go into the cockpit, and he agreed. “I guess that’s why it’s called a cockpit.”
Brodie squeezed into the cockpit and Taylor used the female tube, and as they were tinkling, a guy appeared outside the left-hand windows on a rolling ladder with the fuel hose in his hand to fill the wing tank. The guy waved at them through the windows.
