Rex Chase: A Novel

by Tim Wheat

  With a slight smile, but a definite look of determination, he put the B-18 in a slight right turn. Feeling the aircraft slipping underneath him, seeming to skip through the air, instead of cutting through it, he adjusted his feet on the rudders and smoothed the turn. Bringing the plane back to level, he looked down at the altimeter. The entire cockpit was an exact copy of the one in the picture, and he noticed they were flying at one-hundred and sixty-one miles per hour at fourteen thousand feet.

  Remembering something he had read earlier, he eased back on the stick, gave the old girl a little more fuel, and started a slow climb. He felt the airplane pass through fourteen thousand five hundred, and leveled out at fifteen thousand. His first climb had been nowhere near the plane’s capabilities, but Rex Chase smiled to himself at having performed it with ease.

  “That man must be some kind of psychic,” Chase spun around as the pilot’s voice interrupted his flight training. Behind him stood the other man, leaning against the cockpit door, an ear to ear grin on his face, as he took his seat. “Or, maybe he’s a medium, you know, one of those people who speaks to ghosts or something? You just cost me a case of Turkey.”

  “I’m sorry,” Chase replied with a sheepish grin. “I swear I didn’t do anything crazy. I just wanted to feel the yoke.”

  “Don’t be sorry. The General told me if you came up here I should leave right away, and guaranteed me you would fly this plane the instant I left. He swore up and down that you’ve never been in a plane before. You’ve never been in a plane before right?” The sentence ended in an accusing fashion.

  “No, sir, I have not. First-timer.”

  “Well, you’re the first first-timer I’ve ever seen just jump in and start flying a military aircraft he doesn’t know a thing about.”

  “That’s not quite true, though, sir. This piece of equipment is the Douglas B-18 Bolo. First introduced into the U.S. fleet in 1934, she has had her ups and downs. Her biggest problem, I think, is that she’s underpowered. The Wright R-1820 series, air cooled, radial piston engines, just don’t have the get up and go this big bird needs. I mean, they make a thousand horsepower a piece.” Chase could almost see the statistics, and the pilot now looked at him, his smile still present.

  “Go on, man. Go on.”

  “Well, Douglas needs to take a page from their most current passenger model, the DC-3. It’s pretty much the same plane, it’s just not underpowered.”

  “So you’re an airplane junky or something?”

  “No sir, just things I’ve read.”

  “You mean the stuff you read back there,” the pilot motioned toward the rear of the aircraft. “Did you read all of those books, just now, and then come in here, fly the plane, and spit all of that out of your mouth? That’s incredible.”

  “It’s just something I’m able to do,” said Chase.

  “Well, it’s incredible. I’ve got to warn you, though; I argued a good bit with The General about this.” The pilot pushed the right rudder to the floor, pulled back on the yoke, while twisting it to the left, and when the plane had done half a barrel roll, set the trim and pushed it into an inverted, twenty degree dive. “She’s all yours,” he said.

  Chase’s stomach leapt into his throat, and the urge to vomit became immense. He blinked his eyes hard and stretched his jaw to equalize the pressure from the dive. To his left, the pilot sat with his arms folded, his gaze straight ahead. Again, on this day of days, Chase found himself thrust into an abnormal, and death defying situation. He had no doubts that the pilot was not going to let the plane crash, so Chase did the only thing he could.

  He found the artificial horizon on the control panel right where it should be. Stopping the dive was the most important thing right now, as he remembered the structural integrity failings of this model aircraft. Stresses in the vertical would be handled with ease, whereas the horizontal strains of this maneuver could pull the plane to pieces. In his haste, and because he had never flown before, he pulled back on the yoke. He recognized his mistake in an instant. In an inverted dive, the controls would be reversed.

  The pilot looked over at Rex Chase, and didn’t see what he expected. He expected a scared, out of his element, kid. What he saw couldn’t have been any different. A man, determined in his actions, and confident in his abilities, was sitting in the co-pilot’s seat. This was his element.

  Chase reversed his earlier mistake, pushed in on the controls, and brought the horizon into parallel. Still inverted, and flying at two hundred and thirty miles per hour, fifteen over the planes maximum speed, he relaxed, and met the gaze of the pilot out of the corner of his left eye.

  “I think I’ll bleed some of this speed before I roll her back over.”

  “That would be best,” was the aviator’s nonchalant reply.

  “Edward Rex Chase, sir, but you can call me Rex,” Chase extended his left arm, holding the plane steady with his right.

  “Bryan Eugene Morris, it’s nice to meet you, Rex,” he replied as he shook hands with the younger man.

  ***

  Chase’s adrenaline had fueled him for the last time that day, and after putting the aircraft back on course, he had relinquished the controls, and fallen into the deepest sleep of his entire life. On more than one occasion Morris had stepped into the rear of the aircraft to check on the man. The General had briefed him on the events of the day, and The Organization was not going to be taking too many chances with this one. Smiling to himself, Morris leaned his body out of the cockpit.

  “Rex. Rex. Rise and shine sweetheart. It’s time to put that big brain of yours to work.”

  Rex Chase yawned, stretched his legs, and strode into the cockpit.

  “I’ll have sausage, bacon, two hash browns, and eggs over easy, waitress. I’m starving,” he enjoyed the laugh he received from the pilot, and took his seat.

  “A sense of humor, too. The women must just be falling around your feet.” Morris sensed the mood change. Looking over at Chase he could see the anger in his eyes. “Sorry, man, that just kind of popped out. I didn’t mean anything by it.”

  “No, you’re right. I’ve always done just fine in that department. Mind if we get to learning what I’m going to be learning?”

  “You’ve got it. OK. Who’s ready to learn how to land a plane?” The pilot smiled as Chase raised his hand in the other seat. He did have that special something you just couldn’t teach. It was an innate gift that very few men possessed, but the younger of the two had in droves. “Give me the checklist, Mr. Chase.”

  Rex recited the procedures to land the plane, in the correct order, and at the correct times. He had contacted the flight control at the appropriate times, and they had a runway. Morris had given him the controls back, and with slight vocal adjustments the aircraft moved into position to land.

  “Well, I remember landing my first plane, and it was bumpy. That was just a little single engine job. Watch your crosswind too; I don’t want to cartwheel down the pavement. Sure you’re up to this?”

  The resolve in Chase’s voice was unmistakable in his reply. “Piece of cake. I’ll land her softer than the skin on a baby’s bottom.”

  The B-18 descended from the sky as if being flown by a twenty year veteran. Its nose raised a few degrees, its landing gear in place, Chase just needed to be careful of a stall. He dialed back the throttle a touch, and only feet from the ground, made a miscalculation. He had pulled the nose too high, while decreasing the power a little too much, and the tail wheel touched the runway first, causing the two front tires to slam to the hard surface below, bouncing three times before solid contact.

  “Well, baby’s butts must be more sandpaper like than I remember, but at least we didn’t cartwheel.”

  Chase took the friendly quip in stride as he taxied down the runway. He couldn’t keep the smile he had from covering his entire face. Fifteen hours ago he hadn’t ever stepped foot on an airplane, and now he had navigated an inverted dive, and landed a troop transport. Not a bad start to his n
ew career.

  “Where to, Captain?” You could almost hear the smile in his voice.

  “Looks like we’ve got a date with the fueling station over at dock… Um…” Morris flipped through some pages in his orders before taking the radio mic in his hands. “Bravo two, three, seven, makin time, over. “

  “Rodger Bravo, two, three, seven. One moment. Over.” A few seconds passed. “Bravo two, three, seven, continue to dock eighteen. Over.”

  “Alright Rex, take us to dock eighteen.”

  Driving across the uneven surfaces, the Bolo was not in its element. Chase had thought the aircraft seemed sluggish in the air, but as he guided it to rest next to the fueling station he was happy to be done. He and Captain Morris went through their post-flight checklist of shutting down the airplane, and Chase felt some satisfaction that the Captain was reading it from a book while he had it all memorized. Morris quickly took that feeling of satisfaction away from him.

  “I know you think it’s real neat that you have this whole thing memorized kid, but you gotta do it from the book. They change these things almost every time I get in an airplane, which is often. Somebody, somewhere, is always learning something new and useful. Now, I know you’ve read this one, and you know everything about this one, but that doesn’t mean the next one is going to be just like the one you think you already know.” Chase took his scolding, and he knew that he deserved it.

  “I’m sorry, sir. Point taken.”

  “Don’t worry about it. A few things in this world can’t be learned in a book. I’d say you’re doing just fine.”

  The two men finished, and ten minutes later Chase watched as Morris spoke to one of the other men. He saw the captain and the other man shake hands, and then watched as Morris strolled across the tarmac. Moving with fluidity and ease, Chase concluded that the aviator had been a fine athlete in his younger days. He wa just a bit shorter than himself, and though his eyes were still bright, Chase noticed his face seemed weary.

  “Well, kid, it was an honor to meet ya. I hope you enjoyed your flight training. I assume you know we’ll be parting ways here?”

  “Yes, sir, I do.” Chase extended his hand once again to a man he’d hope to work with again. “It was an honor flying with you. I hope to work with you again sometime.”

  “The honor was all my own, Rex. Take care of yourself out there.”

  With that, Chase turned and began walking to the main terminal of the airport. He moved with a purpose he had never felt before. It seemed as if he was one step closer to achieving something, and that felt good. Whistling as he made his way, two jackrabbits crossed his path, and Chase paid notice to them.

  “Well, hello there, Mr. Jackrabbit. Do you wanna come with me to catch some bad guys?”

  ***

  His investigation had gone well, and with few suspicions aroused. Chase, upon entering the main terminal, had first made his way to the information desk, where he had found a very helpful young woman by the name of Edna Louise Colvis. He had complimented her on the cut of her blouse, flashed his smile, and introduced himself by taking her hand in his and kissing it. Within twenty minutes he knew that she was eighteen years old, but soon to be nineteen. She had three younger brothers, and two younger sisters, but they were just her half siblings as her mother had died in childbirth, and her father had remarried. Miss Colvis had no intention of staying in this dump, and couldn’t understand why anyone would ever want to visit, let alone live there.

  More important, though, he had learned that two military aircraft had flown in a few hours before. She had mentioned it wasn’t strange for one aircraft to stop if it were experiencing difficulty, or had fuel issues, but two military planes was very odd. Chase had mentioned his plane was the third, and she had smiled, noting that he was nothing like the others. They had been rude, and had not paid for their fuel yet. Her boss thought that maybe they had left in too big of a hurry and had forgotten, but wasn’t too worried since they had left both of their airplanes, taking up his entire largest hangar.

  When Chase asked where they had gone, she noticed the conversation moving in that direction, and seemed disappointed that he was there on business. He read her like a book, though, and backpedaled.

  “You know what, Edna Louise Colvis? I’m not here to talk about military planes.” He smiled at her again and met her eyes with his. “I’m on leave and a friend of mine said that I could stop through here and see some neat Navajo Indian landmarks.” In an instant she was back in his grasp.

  “Well, Mr. Chase. I guess if it’s Navajo Indian landmarks you want, you’ve come to the right place. You know, those Navajos have become quite popular as of late.”

  “How do you mean?”

  “Nothing, just that one of the men earlier was talking about the Navajos, and then a couple of weeks ago there was a young Indian man looking for a Navajo landmark.”

  Chase smiled again. She confirmed that Chief had been alive at least up until a couple of weeks before. He leaned over the desk, and ran his fingers through his hair.

  “I don’t suppose I know anything about that, but I do know I could use a little sack time and a shower. Do you have anything around here like The Ritz?”

  The young woman smiled, and blushed at the idea of the man in front of her taking a shower. She lingered on the thought for a moment, and then replied.

  “We have a few motels, but nothing like The Ritz, I’m afraid,” she motioned to her left. “Over there we have some payphones, if you’d like to give them a call. I can give you the number.”

  “I would appreciate that very much, Edna.”

  Chase strolled to the bank of phones a few feet away. He could feel the woman’s eyes burning a hole in his back, and he waved to her as he dropped a nickel in the slot.

  “What city, please?”

  “Boston, Massachusetts,” he was sure to enunciate to make sure she understood.

  “Do you have your party’s name and number?”

  “Yes ma’am. Robert Poppen 555-7693.”

  “One moment, please.”

  Chase could hear the woman working, and in short order the other line was buzzing. He hoped Poppen would be around, and then the other line picked up.

  “Hello.”

  “Hey, is Bobby there.”

  “Bobby who?”

  “Bobby Poppen.”

  “Poppen. Poppen.” The phone made some noises, and the operator came back on the line.

  “Sir you need to add another nickel.”

  Chase put in a quarter.

  “I put in a quarter.”

  “Yes sir.”

  The phone on the other end of the line continued to make static noise, and sounded like it was bouncing off the wall, which it was. Thirty seconds passed, and footsteps could be heard nearing the line.

  “Hello?”

  “Bobby, is that you?” Chase asked.

  “Yeah, who is this?” Poppen said.

  “Hey, yeah, it’s Chase. I have some errands for you to run and some things I need you to do for me. Do you have a pen and paper?”

  “Man, where the hell have you been? Did you know that…”

  Chase interrupted him before he could say any more, knowing he was going to inform him of the murder last night.

  “Bobby. I need you to listen to me. Do you have a pen and paper?”

  “Yes I do. Whatya need?”

  “First of all, I have a math problem for you. What do you know about E8?”

  “E8 the math problem? Well, I know it might be the most difficult math on the face of the planet. We never even talk about it in my theories classes because my teachers don’t understand it well enough to lecture us on it. You mean that E8?” Chase could hear the dry wit all the way across the continent.

  “That’s the one. I need you to solve it for me.”

  “Piece of cake, man. You need me to walk on water, or feed the five-thousand, or maybe raise a few people from the dead or anything?” Under normal circumstances Chase wo
uld appreciate this banter with Poppen, but today he wasn’t in the mood.

  “Will you do it or not Bobby?”

  “Yeah, man. I’ll see what I can do. You realize this math problem fills up entire books right? Just the question.”

  “I do, Bobby, I’ve seen it. How long do you think before you figure it out?”

  “I’ll have to get back to you on that one. Anything else you need?”

  “Yeah, write down this number. 555-8305. you can contact General John Reagan at that number.”

  “General John Reagan. You’re kidding me right?” the incredulous voice asked.

  “No, I’m not, Bobby. I know you can do this, and trust me, time is of the essence. You know I understand math, man, but I don’t have a clue on this one, and I know you can do it. You’re smarter than those dolts who think they’re teaching you.”

  Pride welled up inside of Poppen. Of course he himself knew that he was smarter than his teachers, but Chase was the first third party to acknowledge it. He had always wanted to focus his efforts on the E8 problem, but life had always gotten in the way. Besides, it could very well be unsolvable.

  “OK, anything else?”

  “Yeah, go to the library and check out a book by Nicholas Sarff, ‘Scalar Waves in Nature’. I’d recommend reading it, anything you can get your hands on by my father, and then working on your math problem. I have some of my dad’s unpublished stuff at my house, too. I think they all have something to do with each other, but if you get stuck you can walk to my house and speak to my old man. He might be able to help.”

  “Roger, boss. You need your back scratched or anything? Where are you anyway?”

  “Don’t worry about it, Bobby, I’ll see you soon.”

  “OK, bye.”

  Chase hung up the phone, turned, and noticed Edna was still watching him. She averted her gaze, but it had been noticeable.