High Flying

by Kaylin McFarren

  Dylan steered them both through the maze of plastic tarping and uneven flooring, keeping a watchful eye out for any sudden movement—for any other men in this place. When he was able to pull the last curtain apart, the unmistakable sound of an airplane engine drew their attention to Dylan’s waiting plane. It was parked in front of the hanger below the ramp leading to the machine shop. Ethan sneaked out of the shadows, looking extremely relieved.

  “Man, am I glad to see you,” he told Dylan. “Just finished all the work on your plane when I heard gunshots. Then the ceiling came down.” He pointed to where they had just come from. “I was still breathing dust when this psycho attacked me!” He was out of breath, looking panicked. Not taking this situation well at all. “He had me on the floor—”

  Dylan interrupted him saying, “Man, he could have killed you!”

  “No! Listen! He told me to tell you something.” He took a few raspy breaths. “He said that if you value your wife’s life, you need to forget about Guatemala and honor your commitment to Alvarez. And if I didn’t get it right, he’d come back and kill me. Then he took off running.”

  Dylan’s eyes were dark, and his voice shook. “So he knows that I’m planning to leave a day early? That Lily is going with me?” He looked at the hangar’s ceiling and in a hoarse voice he asked no one in particular, “How?”

  Skylar and Ethan said nothing, letting him process this information.

  Dylan looked down at the concrete floor, bouncing his head like he was going over a list. “Okay, I know that I didn’t tell anyone. Maybe it was just a bluff. Just a wild guess.” Then he looked up and asked Ethan, “Where’s Diaz?”

  “I found him snooping in Skylar’s plane. When I confronted him, he took her backpack and went outside.”

  Skylar caught her breath quickly. “My backpack? He took it?”

  Ethan half shrugged. “I know. I’m sorry. There wasn’t anything I could do about it.” He looked ashamed nonetheless and then said, “Did you have something important in it?”

  Skylar racked her brains. The flight plans in her journal would give nothing away—nothing to indicate dates or landmarks, or her true identity. But the newspaper clipping about the airshow just might.

  Dylan regarded her with a puzzled expression. “Is there something you need to tell me?”

  She felt her heart sink, but she managed to shake her head. “No, nothing of value to anyone but me. I just…don’t understand why he took it.”

  “Don’t worry,” Dylan told her. “I’ll make sure you get it back.” Then he shifted his attention to Ethan. “What about the guy who grabbed you? Did you recognize him?”

  Ethan nodded. “Yeah. It was Cesar Capellan.”

  Dylan glanced at Skylar before turning to Ethan. “He attacked Skylar too.”

  “I’m sorry,” Ethan told her. “I met him three months ago at a hotel he owns. Actually, he’s the co-owner…it’s called the Downtowner.”

  Skylar wasn’t sure if she heard him right. She knew that Capellan flew all over for business, selling property to foreign investment groups. But nothing was ever mentioned about him being involved in the casino and hotel business.

  “He fronted me $50,000,” Ethan said. “But I didn’t have enough money to cover the advance. Two of my checks bounced and that’s when he came to collect. I lost everything. I was in too deep. That’s when they went after Dylan. They knew we had ties and he’d bail me out…if it came to that.”

  Dylan shook his head and huffed. “And now I’m stuck. They’ll never let me go now. Not ever.”

  “I’m sorry, buddy,” Ethan said. “He told me The Chaplain would erase my debt if you made one drop for him. I didn’t know it would turn into a full-time job.”

  Skylar gingerly touched her shoulder. “So Cesar Capellan knows The Chaplain? You didn’t mention that Dylan…and you didn’t either, Ethan. Does his wife know him too?”

  Dylan and Ethan exchanged looks, and then Dylan took a step back. “I just want this to be over. That’s all I care about. Once and for all.”

  For some weird reason, their interactions were beginning to look staged and over dramatic. Like a poorly-rehearsed play. But maybe it was just Skylar’s imagination, casting dark shadows over everyone around her.

  “Why would someone want Sophia Capellan dead?” Skylar asked them. “It seriously couldn’t have anything to do with my note.”

  “You know,” Ethan said, “maybe it has something to do with Alvarez.”

  “Why would you say that?” Dylan asked.

  “A few months ago, there was a rumor circulating about Alvarez having an affair with Mrs. Capellan. Maybe the attempt on her life came from someone close to home. Like maybe her husband?”

  “Speculations are a waste of time,” Dylan said. “I just want to be finished with this. I don’t want to think about The Chaplain or anyone else.”

  Ethan’s eyes lit up. “I might have figured it out. I found out recently that Capellan means Chaplain in Spanish.” He looked back and forth from Dylan to Skylar. “If it’s true, he’s been in plain sight all along! Working both sides against the middle. Plotting against his wife, threatening people, moving everyone around like chess pieces.” Ethan looked at Dylan. “Wiping out anyone that stands in his way.”

  “But this isn’t a game, Ethan,” Dylan told him. “This is my life!”

  “I get it. Believe me, I do. Just give me a chance to make things right. Trust me. I’m the one who got you into this mess.”

  “And just how do you propose to fix anything?” Skylar asked.

  Dylan’s eyes met Skylar’s. She could almost see the gears turning inside his head, debating on what to do next. Then he nodded toward Ethan. “Give him the package, Sky.”

  “What? Why?”

  “Because Ethan will make it right. Just like he said.”

  “Are you kidding? There’ll be nothing to keep The Chaplain from killing you. Nothing.”

  “I understand, Sky. But if Ethan can use my evidence as a bargaining tool for my freedom, I’d rather it be him, not you.”

  “Fine,” she huffed. “If that’s what you want. It’s still under your mattress at the house. I’ll get it to Ethan tomorrow.”

  “What about tonight?” Ethan asked.

  Skylar pulled Dylan away from Ethan and asked, “Do you trust him? I mean absolutely and completely?”

  Dylan smiled his half smile. “As much as I trust anyone.”

  Skylar glanced at Ethan, standing next to the wall, chewing on his cuticle. “Just take some time to think about it,” she told Dylan. “In a few hours you might feel different. You might even want to talk to Barillas about this yourself.”

  Dylan rested a hand on her shoulder. “I know you mean well, but Ethan and I have a long history together. If he says trust him, then that’s what we need to do.” He gently moved her aside and stepped close to his friend. “I think Skylar could use a break. I’ll drop her off at the house and be back in an hour.”

  A break? Is he kidding?

  Ethan nodded. “Thank you. I really appreciate it.”

  “Let’s go, Sky.” Dylan motioned toward the outside ramp. “I’ve got some calls to make and you should probably address that wound on your shoulder.”

  “I’m going to stay here for a while. Take a look at my plane and give Ethan some help with yours.” She watched his eyes hoping to see something in them—something to indicate that he hadn’t turned into a manipulating shrew like Barillas had claimed.

  “Suit yourself,” Dylan said. “But I want you to keep my gun in case anything else happens. Just try not to use it.” He glared at her and added, “Unless absolutely necessary. And I mean absolutely. Is that clear?”

  Skylar nodded.

  He strode off on a mission to find his car. When he was out of sight, she turned to Ethan. “Now that he’s gone, I’ve been wanting to ask you something,” she said, holding the gun at her side. “A question that’s been rolling around in my brain.” She stared int
o his eyes, daring him to look away. “On the day you were with Julian and Inspector Diaz…when they picked up Dylan after his flight class and convinced him to help you…who was driving the car?”

  A few seconds slipped by as he reviewed his story then he answered quietly. “Hector Vasquez. He’s devoted to The Chaplain. At least, that’s what I’ve heard.”

  Her grandfather’s driver? Skylar knew him as Señor Vasquez. She remembered him telling her that he’d been employed by her grandfather long before she was born. But she never thought to ask for how long, or in what capacity.

  Strangely, the pieces were starting to fit together. Yet she still needed to know more. “Does Alvarez chew wintergreen tobacco? You know, the kind that stinks to high heaven?”

  Ethan let out a dry laugh. “Hell no. Vasquez does. Alvarez likes to roll his own. Why?”

  “I think I saw both of them with Dylan’s father at Lynnie’s Diner. He was with a waitress who called him Jess.”

  Ethan added stiffly, “You know…I could really use a drink right now. Maybe you could go to the gift shop next door and grab us one? I’m sure you could use the fresh air.”

  Why was Ethan trying to get rid of her?

  “Let me get this straight.” Skylar moved the pistol in front of her, reminding Ethan that she still had it. “Two days ago, you told me you didn’t know The Chaplain. That nobody did. And now you’re claiming he’s Cesar Capellan.”

  Ethan stepped back and looked at his feet.

  She pointed the gun at his chest. “You tell me what’s going on here, Ethan. What are you hiding?” Skylar glanced around the hangar, making sure they were alone. “What happened to Diaz? Is he forcing you to do this? Does he want you to give him the evidence Dylan has?”

  Ethan spoke softly. “Diaz was never part of it. He wasn’t even in the car that day.” He swallowed hard. “Someone else was. Someone Dylan’s been protecting.”

  The door across from them cracked open, revealing a blonde shaggy-haired boy. He was dressed in a blue shirt with matching jeans, looking extremely frightened and confused.

  “It’s okay, JJ,” Ethan whispered, edging closer to Skylar. “She’s not going to hurt me, I promise.”

  “I wouldn’t be so sure about that,” she told Ethan.

  The door opened wider, revealing a man at JJ’s side. Skylar’s jaw slacked at the shocking reveal. It can’t be him. Not him!

  Volkov held a gun to the side of the boy’s head. His other hand gripped his neck. When he was sure he had Skylar’s attention, he slowly traced the gun across his face, allowing it to settle against his wet cheek. Volkov’s shirt was stained with blood from the wound that Skylar had mistaken for a fatal shot.

  “Ethan…” JJ whimpered, tears filling his eyes.

  “It’s okay, buddy,” Ethan soothed. His hands were shaking a bit, as he watched Volkov press his weapon against the child’s temple. “I did what you said,” he told the assassin. “Dylan is bringing everything. You can let JJ go.”

  Skylar swung Dylan’s gun toward Volkov’s head. “You heard him. Let the kid go!”

  “I’m not impressed,” he said to Skylar. “Drop your gun.”

  Skylar kept a firm grip on the trigger, convinced it was her only way to save the boy.

  “You should have killed me when you had the chance, Sky Brennen.”

  “To tell you the truth, I thought I did.”

  Volkov snorted a laugh. Then he pressed his gun tighter to JJ’s head, causing both Ethan and Skylar to gasp. His semi-automatic pistol had been replaced with a double action revolver. The damage it was capable of inflicting was irreparable and equally disturbing.

  “I don’t have any patience for you, Miss Brennen,” he said, glaring. “Drop it and get on the ground…or he dies. And believe me, I won’t say it again.”

  Ethan and Skylar slowly knelt on the concrete slab with their hands up. Skylar gently held the pistol by the grip and set it on the floor, spinning it across the room without taking her eyes off Volkov.

  He tossed each of them a pair of handcuffs and said, “Now stand back up and cuff yourselves to the radiator.”

  They reluctantly did as they were told, cutting off any chance of escape.

  “Good,” Volkov said. “Now we wait for Dylan to return with his precious little package.”

  “What do you want from us?” Ethan asked. “We’re sorry for what happened, if that’s what you want to hear.”

  “We’re sorry? I believe those are the two most inadequate words in the English language,” Volkov scoffed. “What a pitiful, useless thing to say.” He shook his head and rolled his eyes. Then he gave JJ a small push and smiled as he scrambled to Ethan, wrapping his arms around his hips. As soon as JJ took a deep breath and visibly relaxed, Volkov stomped over and yanked him across the room, flailing. He laughed at his startled scream and the whimpering that followed.

  “While we wait for our friend, we’re going to have a little fun. Kneel down!” he screamed at JJ. He pushed the child to the floor and yanked back his head. “Look at me,” he demanded. “Let me see those big eyes of yours.”

  JJ whimpered but did as he was told, scared green eyes meeting cold black ones.

  “That’s better,” Volkov said. Then he spoke to Skylar and Ethan. “You know, I love the look in their eyes when they’re scared.” He reached down and grabbed JJ by the arms and pulled him back to him kicking and screaming. He kicked a chair away from the wall and sat down, slamming JJ onto his lap. “Let’s play a little game my father taught me when I was about your age.” Volkov took his gun from his holster and forced JJ’s hand on the grip. “Here’s the barrel of the gun, six chambers, all empty.” He sounded as if he were reading a bedtime story to a toddler.

  JJ’s hand was shaking and his fingers looked very small curled up under Volkov’s meaty hand.

  “Now watch as I put two bullets into the barrel. I close it and spin it…like so.” He spun the barrel with an exaggerated flick. “Then we put the gun to your head…” He slowly turned the revolver until it was pressed against JJ’s temple. “And pull the trigger.”

  Click.

  Skylar gasped, clutching Ethan’s free hand.

  “Well, lucky you,” Volkov said with a smile. “Now I’m going to help you pull the trigger one more time. What do you think? Should we spin the barrel first this time or just pull the trigger?”

  “Stop it!” Ethan yelled.

  The boy began crying and struggling to get away. Volkov smacked him on the side of his head and quickly straightened JJ’s arm to aim at Ethan.

  He pulled the trigger.

  Bang! A bullet grazed Ethan’s thigh. He yelped and fell to the floor. Then Volkov spun the chamber and brought the gun back to JJ’s head. “Pull the trigger,” he said calmly.

  Skylar reached for Ethan’s hand and closed her eyes, unable to watch.

  Click.

  She flinched and relief washed over her.

  JJ slipped his hand beneath him and uncomfortably shifted his weight on Volkov’s lap. “Isn’t this exciting?” the maniac asked him with excitement. “That big surprise I told you about might be coming any second now. Won’t that be fun?”

  Skylar watched JJ shift his weight again. Volkov jumped up, knocking JJ to the floor. “God dammit!” he screamed. His hands cupped his crotch and his face was a mask of pain and anger. “You little bastard! Are you some kind of pervert?”

  JJ was sitting on the floor holding the revolver in both of his hands, quivering but keeping his aim fixed on Volkov.

  Realizing his mistake, the villain said in a gentle voice, “Come over here, JJ. Give that back to me before Ethan gets hurt.”

  JJ stood up and extended his arms. He awkwardly reached his fingers toward the trigger.

  “Aw, kid. Don’t be stupid. Give me the gun and nobody will get hurt.”

  JJ pointed the gun at the monster’s face and shook his head.

  “I said give that to me!” Volkov yelled.

  JJ cla
mped his eyes shut and pulled the trigger.

  Click.

  Volkov was quiet for a second, then he laughed.

  JJ looked directly into his eyes. This time his hands weren’t shaking.

  Volkov froze.

  Click.

  Volkov flinched. Then he slid his foot forward.

  Click.

  He flinched again and smiled.

  Bang! A bullet to the brain, the luckiest shot ever.

  Volkov’s legs collapsed under his weight and he dropped face first to the ground. The revolver hung at JJ’s side, while tears rolled down his cheeks. He stared down at Volkov’s body and asked, “Is he dead?” He remained frozen in place, seemingly unable to move.

  “He can’t hurt you anymore,” Ethan told him. “It’s okay, JJ. Put the gun down.”

  JJ looked at the gun in his hand, squatted and gently set it down by his feet. He found the keys on the floor and unlocked their handcuffs. Then Ethan pulled him in for a hug.

  “You saved our lives. You did good, Jake. Real good.”

  The sound of thumping footsteps startled all three of them. They stopped moving to listen. “Who’s that?” Skylar asked Ethan.

  “Not sure.” He looked frightened and was shaking again. “Could be Alvarez. Maybe some of his men. Damn…this is bad.”

  A man’s deep voice called out. “We found Diaz in a closet! He’s unconscious!”

  Another man asked, “Maybe The Chaplain’s men?”

  “We’ve got Capellan,” a third man called out. “He’s been shot! Was it one of our guys?”

  Panic stirred as Skylar recalled what Alvarez’s men had done to the two hustlers inside the North Peak penthouse on North Central. The ones missing their eyes. She couldn’t imagine what kind of retribution they would enact after discovering Volkov dead. “We have to get Jake out of here…fast!”

  “Listen to me, son,” Ethan told him. “I want you to get inside Skylar’s plane and hide there until I tell you it’s safe to come out. Can you do that for me? Just like you did before?”

  The young boy nodded. Then he rushed up to Skylar and wrapped his arms around her knees, nearly knocking her down. She wanted to rub his back and stoke his hair, like a mother would do for a child. But he reared back away from her and looked up at her face, as if registering her presence for the first time. His mouth opened wordlessly and for the span of six heartbeats, they simply stared at each other.