The Cin Fin-Lathen Mysteries 1-3 (62 page)

We
walked around the Cessna 210 as Luke inspected this and that.  He gave us a
mini lesson.  I supposed I should have paid more attention, but I tend to have
ADD when Luke starts talking about planes.  I just can't keep focused. Harry
asked intelligent questions, but I wondered if he really understood the
answers.

I
was just so happy to be at the airport dressed in touristy clothes and wearing
outrageous sunglasses.  I had on pink capri pants, a white sleeveless blouse that
tied in the front and a baseball hat in which I had secured all but the most
wayward curl.  Luke had the pilot thing going with blue Dockers and a white
short sleeve aviator shirt and aviator sunglasses.  Harry did a great imitation
of Luke, except his glasses were more surfer than flyer.

Harry
called shotgun, so I squeezed myself in the back and let the boys play Sky King
in the front.  I'm not too proud to admit that I love trying to spot our house
from the air.  We live on one of the approaches to Palm Beach International
Airport, and when I’m flying, my face is pressed against the window looking for
our neighborhood and, yes, our house.  This is sometimes to the disgust of the
person riding in the window seat beside me, but I don't really care.  After
all, I’m kind enough to put up with being climbed over for countless trips to
the bathroom or having snaps of the grandkids shoved in my face.

We
passed our neighborhood as we traveled west to Lake Okeechobee.  Next came Lion
Country Safari where for a nominal sum tourists could pack their car and drive
through a fenced in area filled with wildlife you would normally find on an
African plain.  I took my son Alex there when he was younger.  He held the
video camera while I followed the bumper-to-bumper procession of cars through
the maze of the animal habitat.  The lions were always last.  They lay there
and wait for someone to forget to close the gate.  Yes, they did get out
sometimes.  Whenever we saw a helicopter circling the neighborhood west of us,
we just assumed that a lion hunt was going on.

Past
the Safari were some rock quarries, sod fields, and then the sugarcane started,
miles upon miles of sugarcane boxed in by small and large canals of water.  It
looked like a beautiful green quilt of calories.  I could see several producing
sugar mills in the area as I scanned the horizon.  Their gray smoke shot
upwards in the sky and joined a dull gray cloud that stretched from mill to
mill depending on the wind.

Luke
centered our search on the east end of the lake.  The previous year of drought
brought the lake level dangerously low.  Empty boat docks stretched across mud
and sand.  The cattails that had overrun the lake due to the phosphorus
leaching into it from the north were few in number.  I could see the clean
outline of the massive dike that surrounded the lake broken only at the boat
locks. If there was a terrorists' operation, it wasn't going on in the lake.

Abutting
the outside of the dike was a much-traveled two-lane road.  This road came down
from the town of Okeechobee to Interstate Seven.  Fishing camps and permanent
housing broke up the wide expanse of green vegetation that ran along either
side of the road. To the east, the cane dominated the landscape.  This was
mostly US Sugar, a large cooperative that was owned by its employees.  It had
to compete with the larger farms owned by the cane families from Cuba.  Banded
together, the average man was just able to eke out a living alongside the lake.

I
remembered Dwayne’s lesson on the migrant workers as I saw small groups of
houses and confirmed that many were unoccupied.  I wondered when some
enterprising developer would bring about another retirement village, call it
Jamaican Acres.  I figured the present high crime and drug statistics kept that
from happening.  Belle Glade, a community south of the lake, had the
distinction of being the HIV capital of Florida.

Luke
banked the airplane as we lined up for our approach to the small Pahokee
airport.  The three of us had agreed to behave as we would any other time we
landed in a new airport.  We would split up and find the amenities, snack
machines and get a general look around.  If we saw anything odd, we would file
it away mentally until we had left the airport.  In short, we were a happy
family enjoying the day flying to and fro. 

The
hot Florida sun beat the tarmac to ten degrees above the air temperature as we
landed.  The humidity was a nine on a scale of one to ten.  My curly hair
shortened as the curls wound tighter, nourished by the hot wet air.  Once I had
pulled myself free of the back seat of the plane, I was off to find the
bathroom and, of course, to snoop.

I
had been at the airport before with one of my many jobs of the last twelve
years.  I was the liaison between the USDA NRCS and some visiting politicians.  They
had been there from Washington to check out how the country's money was being
spent in Everglades restoration.  The best view was from the air, a relief to
those who had already ridden in an airboat in gator country.  Anyway, I pretty
much knew the layout and waved at a clerk as I wound my way through some small
offices on the way to the bathroom.

I
didn't see anything out of the ordinary in the small airport set up.  There
were phones for the pilots and areas for the local flight instructors to help
their students through ground school.  I assumed the office for the jump school
must be outside in a hanger or another out building.  I stepped into the
bathroom, washed my hands and returned to the lobby area.

Luke
was talking to the clerk when I arrived, and I stood there during the usual
pleasantries, trying not to let my mind wander.  I gazed out of the window
wondering how Harry was getting along when I saw a group of men that were
landscaping the grounds of the airport.  They were mowing and trimming, clothed
in loose cotton work clothes and wearing noise-suppressing headsets, which in
itself was unusual because of the cost.  I wandered outside to get a better
look, and the group chose to take five and walk away just as I approached.

They
were quick to move off, but not quick enough because I had already taken in
that these men weren't the normal type of worker we in south Florida are used
to seeing.  The men that worked in my area were thin small Guatemalans.  They
did beautiful work and were the hardest working people, considering the hot,
humid climate that we lived in.  I got the idea these men were giving the
illusion of being Guatemalan but were rock hard, and their skin color was
close, but not close enough.  Also, they were doing a crap job.

I
turned on my heel and pretended to be caught up with the landing of a small
aircraft.  I no longer looked their way, but I could feel their cold hard
stares.  It wasn't an appraising stare as I was sometimes lucky enough to get
from some man with failing eyesight or an Italian.  This was of a hunter
watching his prey.  Needless to say, I walked back and found Luke and enjoyed
the safety I felt being with him. Soon after, Harry bounced in, and after a few
more pleasantries we headed back out to the plane.

"If
anyone has anything to say, I suggest we hold our tongues till we’re well out
of the area," Luke said as he inspected the plane for take off.

Once
safely in the air, it was too loud to have a normal conversation, so I bit my
tongue until I could share my information with the others.  I did notice Harry
noting some things on Luke's sectional map and Luke nodding as Harry pointed
them out.  It started to get bumpy as the heat from the ground was creating
some turbulence, so I sat back and closed my eyes until we started our final
approach for Palm Beach International airport.

Luke
let Harry take the landing, and, although there were a couple of moments when I
thought that Alex and Noelle would be enjoying their inheritance early, we
touched the ground safely.  Luke smiled and gave a "good job" pat on
the shoulder before taking over for Harry.

"I
wish you would have warned me," I said grouchily as I eased out of the
plane.

"He
did fine," Luke said offhandedly, patting a beaming Harry on the back.  "Besides,
everyone who flies in a small plane better know how to land one."

"Yeah,
yeah, I know.  But I at least wanted a little time to square things with my
maker."

"It
would take too long to cover your crimes my dear," Luke said and tried to
put an arm around me as we walked into the lobby of the group we rented the
plane from.  I shrugged off his arm.  We were no longer acting.  I didn’t want
the traitor’s arm around me.  He rolled his eyes and recommended, "I
suggest we get in touch with your friends and talk real soon."

I
turned around.  "Harry, call the boys.  Tell them it is time for
church."  Harry pulled out his cell and made the call.

I
wasn't quite prepared for the vision that awaited me as I exited the restroom
and headed over to our table.  The four priests were decked out in a
combination of golf and boating clothing while Betty created quite a stir in a
floral sundress.  Absent was Michael who was still recovering under the
watchful eye of his aunt.  We had chosen to meet at a Park Avenue Rib
restaurant, and Harry snagged us a large round table in the back corner. 

Luke
couldn't have been more pleased with the choice of restaurant.  Baby back ribs
are his favorite.  I wanted to point out that this was a business meeting, but
he just gave me a look that said, "If I don't get my ribs there will be no
meeting."  So I gave in.

After
we all ordered and our drinks arrived, Harry recounted what we had seen out at
the airport.  He substituted the phrase “those guys”
for the suspected
terrorists, but otherwise he told it the way we saw it.

"So
you headed over to the jump school while Luke and Cin checked out the
terminal?" Father David sorted out.  "Cin, you suspect that those
guys were posing as landscapers?"

"It's
hard to explain without sounding un-PC, but I wasn’t convinced by their
impersonation that they were Guatemalan laborers.”

"How
close did you get to them?"

"Not
close, they moved away as soon as I walked out of the building."

"What
do you think they were doing there?" Father Thomas questioned.

"Watching. 
That’s only a gut feeling, but they were watching and waiting.  For what I’ve
no idea."  I looked over at my ex.  "Luke?"

"I
didn't notice the men.  I only saw what was a suspicious amount of activity for
a small airport like that.  From the air, Harry and I saw areas of encampment,
whether it's those guys or legit groups.  We marked out the areas on this
sectional map."  Luke pushed the map over to Father David.  "I take
it one of you can read a sectional?"

Father
David nodded.  "So far all we have are some landscapers and campers.  Not
exactly an invasion or a reason to kill the bus driver or Father Michael."

"There's
more," Harry interrupted.  He waited until all eyes were on him before
continuing.  "I went over to the jump school, and while I was waiting for
some information brochures to be found, I had the opportunity to nose around
some of the out buildings.  At the edge of the airport just a few yards from
the canal is a Quonset hut.  I didn't feel bold enough to open the door and
walk in, but I did get a look in the window.  The place was filled with old
scrap metal, basically junk, except for these new crates on the back wall.

"I
was walking back to the school and was met by the instructor.  Instead of
acting innocent, I just asked him if there were any antiques in there, pointing
at the building.  I explained that my father was wild about aircraft memorabilia. 
He told me that was just scrap in there but offered to let me look inside.  He
was going back to get the key when he stopped, remembering something.  He told
me that they had leased a spot to the landscape crew for their stuff, and it
wouldn't be kosher to let me in there without their permission.  I told him to
forget it.  It was too hot out anyway.  He agreed, and we went back to the
school so he could go over the information with me."

"What
did the crates look like?" Father David asked.

"If
this was a movie set, I’d say they were gun boxes.  But I’ve no idea, since my
only exposure is through the media."

Father
Thomas sighed.  "Still doesn't sum up to anything we can report to
Homeland Security though.  Boxes could have yard equipment in them or maybe
some smuggled goods."

"I'd
like to get a look at those crates." Father David drummed his fingers on
the table.  "I think it would be worth a look-see."

"We're
heading out there tomorrow, so why don't you tag along," Harry said
smoothly.

"Wait
a minute.  What do you mean by
we
?" I asked.

"I
signed us up for jump school."

"
Us
as in you and Luke?"

"No,
Luke says he can't see any reason to jump out of a perfectly good plane.  You
and I are taking lessons.  Father David can come along.  He can be your
boyfriend or something."

Father
David choked on his ice tea, and I put my head in my hands.  "Won't
work," I mumbled.

"Why?"

"They
know me there.  They know Luke," I explained.  True we were divorced, but
I was just there with him being all chummy. 

"Okay,
then he can be your brother.  Uncle David," Harry nodded his head as the
name rolled off his tongue.

I
looked at Luke expecting him to support me in the argument.  He just looked
thankful he wasn't included in Harry's plans.  "How about I take the rest
of you up so you could see the area for yourselves," he volunteered.  "Of
course,” he said as he looked at his group, “we will need a bigger plane, and
it could get expensive."

"Don't
you worry none about money.  I have money," Betty spoke up.  "Lots of
it."  She smiled.

"So
you're going too?" I asked surprised. 

She
nodded, and her eyes lit up as the waitress arrived with our meals.

"You
better have a lot of money," I said as I handed her the check.  "Luke
eats a lot of ribs."