Let the Music Play - 26. Whitsundays

The final two days at the Bunyip Beach Resort had been paradise for the members of Instinct and their friends. All too soon, though, their stay was over, and it was time to move on.

The packed cases had been loaded into the resort’s mini-bus while they ate breakfast, and at last, it was time to leave the resort and head north to the Great Barrier Reef.

* * *

In the clean room at the Toowoomba facility, the engineer changed one set of tan plastic wire-ties for a green set. He then stood back while Dimitri took a single picture with the disposable camera, and then the engineer made similar changes to the other two nuclear bombs. Once Dimitri was done, the engineer complained, “This is wasting precious time. I’ve spent half an hour changing these ties when I could have been working on installing the neutron initiators. The bombs will work as designed without these photos, but they most assuredly will not work without neutron initiators to start the reaction once criticality is achieved. I cannot waste any further time on this nonsense.”

Dimitri knew that he had to act. The photos were critical to their plans, as critical as the bombs themselves. He decided to try reasoning with the Engineer one last time. “Vladimir, the photos are essential. I cannot tell you why because of security reasons, but we cannot do without them. I will also remind you that our employer is paying you an enormous sum of money to do as you are told. If you cause any trouble on this issue, it would not surprise me in the least if your payment were reduced. Do I make myself totally clear?”

* * *

The members of Instinct, along with Günter, Helen, and Barbra, all felt a little sad, to varying degrees, as the mini-bus pulled out from the resort. They had a lot of fond memories of their days in the sun, though their sadness was tempered by the fact that their vacation wasn’t over. Some work remained to be done, including a photo shoot and a video shoot, but they would have a lot of free time. The concert in Perth was still a week away.

Brandon was seated with Chase, in the front row of seats, next to Helen. Watching the lush green foliage pass by, it occurred to him that he had no idea where they were headed. “Where did you say we were going, Helen? Is it a long drive?” Brandon asked.

Helen chuckled. “Actually, I didn’t say; it’s a surprise. It would be an all-day drive and then some, so we’re flying on a charter from a small airfield.” Helen had chosen her words with care; she really did want their destination to be a surprise.

Eric and Jon sat in the back of the mini-bus, the few empty rows in front of them providing a little privacy. Lowering his voice so that he wouldn’t be overheard, Eric said to his brother, “I hope Jerry shows up in that Land Rover, or we’ll never get a chance to retrieve the GPS.”

At first, Jon had backed Eric out of loyalty and faith in Eric’s intuition more than out of any sharing of Eric’s concerns regarding Jerry, but now he shared them without reservation. Jerry’s early departure had been the final deciding factor, and with that in mind Jon said, “Yeah, it was weird how he left the morning after we planted it. He acted really uneasy when Helen insisted on riding with him as far as Gympie so she could buy that sick kid some more stuffed kangaroos. She was taking a taxi back, so it wasn’t like she was asking him to go out of his way or anything.”

Staring out the window at the passing Australian countryside, Eric replied, “Yeah, he was uneasy. He’s hiding something, sure as hell.”

* * *

The engineer paused for a moment, mulling Dimitri’s recent hostile attitude and the threat to his retirement, which the engineer was at a loss to explain though it reinforced some lingering concerns. With those concerns in mind he backed down quickly. “There is no cause for threats, Dimitri. I am merely trying to do what I have been asked to do. Very well, I will do as I am told.”

Seeking to sooth the engineer’s ruffled feathers, Dimitri made an offer. “Vladimir, that is all we ask. If you can get the initiators installed by tomorrow afternoon, we will be several days ahead of schedule. I think you need a break, so if you can get that done, I’ll take you for a drive in the Land Rover out west of here, where I have often seen herds of kangaroos. We’ll spend a couple of hours with them, just you and me. Would you like that?”

The engineer’s face lit up with delight, and with a smile and a happy nod, he redoubled his efforts on the bomb, pausing only to point out to Dimitri, “A herd of kangaroos is called a ‘mob’.” Ignoring the correction, Dimitri congratulated himself for thinking up a bribe that the engineer would love.

* * *

The mini-bus raised a little dust as it crunched to halt in the small airfield’s gravel parking lot. Helen was relieved to see that the twin engine turboprop she’d chartered was waiting.

Everyone carried their own bags, and after bidding goodbye to Judy, the resort’s owner, the members of the Instinct party ascended the plane’s steep fold-down metal stairs. Stooping to enter the plane, Brandon couldn’t help but remember how he’d felt like a fish out of water the first time he’d boarded a private charter plane, right before the Phoenix concert. So much had changed for him since, but he still felt the wonder and the thrill that his new life had bestowed upon him.

Instinct had traveled twice more by private planes since the Phoenix concert, and Brandon had availed himself of the opportunities to sit in the right seat and get a little hands-on time at the controls, which he loved. After waiting for Helen to enter the plane, Brandon glanced meaningfully at the seat to the pilot’s right, and Helen, who had expected this, said, “Go on, you know you want to.” Watching as Brandon rushed forward, Helen wondered how he’d react when he found out what she had planned for him later that day. She’d chosen the aircraft type with that in mind, even before learning that their destination didn’t have a runway large enough to handle a jet. Smiling at the thought, she had no doubt he’d love her surprise.

As he reached the doorless cockpit, Brandon asked the pilot, “Mind if I take the right seat? I’ve done that a few times, and.–“

Looking back at Brandon, the pilot smiled, “G’day, sure, slide on in, I’m happy for the company.”

Brandon buckled in and sat back to watch and listen as the pilot, with practiced ease, completed his pre-start checklist, fired up the engines, and began to taxi. Brandon was surprised that, unlike the previous flights, the pilot did not communicate with the control tower. Glancing out the window, Brandon looked around, and realized that there wasn’t a tower to communicate with.

The pilot read Brandon’s puzzled expression and said, “It’s an uncontrolled airport so just Unicom, which is a common frequency for this airport. Pilots just announce their intentions as needed.

As the plane, a King Air 300, lined up at the threshold, Brandon watched as the pilot cycled the flaps and ailerons before declaring his takeoff roll on Unicom.

The turboprop lifted off, roaring into the clear sky, and the pilot had Brandon handle the raising of the gear. During the climb-out, the pilot explained the controls, and once they had leveled out and were on course he let Brandon take over, keeping a keen eye on everything.

* * *

At the Toowoomba facility, Dimitri strolled into the work area, finding the engineer staring pensively through the glass, watching his assistant work. Noticing that the engineer seemed uneasy, Dimitri asked, “Is something wrong, Vladimir?”

Shaking his head as he turned to face Dimitri, the engineer replied, “Everything is still ahead of schedule. I’m just bothered by some of the things our employer has said. Sometimes, I do not think that he likes me very much. Doesn’t he appreciate the work I am doing for him?”

Sensing that trouble could be in the offing, Dimitri placed his hand in the engineer’s shoulder as a gesture of friendship and concern. “Vladimir, our employer is under tremendous stress. You must learn to respect that, and try not to be abrasive. He does like you, Vladimir, and I am sure that in a few weeks, when this job is over, we can all be friends. He bought you the three new stuffed kangaroos, didn’t he? In fact, Vladimir, this morning he told me to make sure I took you out to see the kangaroo herds as we promised, whenever you have some free time. Are you busy now?”

The engineer’s eyes lit up, his reservations regarding his employer forgotten, and as he smiled he said, “I am not busy now, Dimitri. Let’s go see some kangaroos.”

* * *

Far below, the coastline slid past as they soared over the Coral Sea more than halfway into their flight, the pilot began to explain the fundamentals of flight to Brandon, concentrating on takeoff procedures. It was, after all, how one normally began as a student pilot.

In the back of the plane, the passengers sat mesmerized by the spectacular sights below; endless coral reefs, varying in depth, set against areas of darker, deeper water and dotted with an occasional island or cay surrounded by brilliant white sand.

The pilot took over the controls and began the descent to their destination, which had yet to come into view.

Helen’s instructions had been specific; the destination was to be a surprise. The pilot kept an amused eye on Brandon as their descent, aimed at nothing but open sea, continued. As he’d expected, Brandon asked, “I don’t see any land ahead. Where are we going?”

“You’ll see,” the pilot said cryptically. Brandon looked out at the sea again, and noticed an island passing to their right. Moments later, as the plane drew parallel to the island, the pilot rolled the plane sharply to the right, lining up on the island’s small runway as he told Brandon to add a third notch of flaps and lower the landing gear.

The plane rolled to a stop, and Helen announced, “We’re staying somewhere a little different. This is the Crown Isle Resort, and it is a private island. It’s a little larger than the last resort, and this airfield, or a boat, is the only way on or off the island. We’ll be filming near here, so this is perfect for us.” That news was greeted by smiles and approval from the members of Instinct, none of which they actually felt, for they realized immediately that Jerry wouldn’t be driving up to the island in his Land Rover, thus sinking any chance, for now, of retrieving the GPS they’d planted.

The pilot unbuckled and stood up, noticing that Brandon was about to do the same. With a grin, the pilot said, “You stay right there; your manager has something to tell you.” He quickly walked away, chucking at Brandon’s puzzled look.

While the pilot opened the plane’s door and lowered the stairs, Helen strolled forward to the cockpit. Smiling at Brandon, she told him, “You’re not getting off with us. I’ve made arrangements for a public relations piece, and I had an idea how to make it a real eye-catcher.”

Brandon leaned back against the seat and chuckled. “Okay, how much skin do I have to show?”

Helen laughed, savoring her little surprise. “Nothing like that today, hon. Rolling Stone wants to do a follow-up article on you. However, it will be a little different. You’re going to fly over to the Hamilton Island Airport in the Whitsundays area, about half an hour from here. You’ll meet the reporter and her photographer, do the interview in the plane, and then if all goes well you’ll take them up for a ride. If the pilot, who also happens to be an instructor, thinks you can handle it, you’ll do the takeoff. That will be a surprise for her and be an extra hook for the article; you flying a plane.” Helen resisted the urge to laugh at Brandon’s shocked expression, and proceeded to fill him in on her plan.

Just before he ducked out the door, Eric hollered, “Don’t crash and burn Brandon; it would be a nuisance for us to find a new lead singer at this late date. I’m just glad I’ll be nice and safe on the ground.” With a laugh, Eric dashed down the steps.

Turning to flip Eric the bird, Brandon saw that he was too late; only Helen and Chase remained aboard. Chase grinned and said, “Have fun Brand, and be careful.” Chase ducked out the door and descended the steps, having decidedly mixed feelings about Brandon’s flying. He was a little worried, but figured it had to be fairly safe, or Helen wouldn’t be pushing the idea. Looking back up at the turboprop, which was comparable in size to a small business jet, Chase let go of his reservations; if flying made Brandon happy, then he’d support Brandon doing it.

Helen wished them luck and left. The pilot sealed the door before returning to the cockpit. “First things first. Get up and move over; you’ll be flying from the left-hand seat, because that’s where a pilot sits, and you are now officially a student pilot.” With a flourish, the pilot handed Brandon a small black book and added, “This is your log book. All pilots have them for recording their hours.”

Sliding into the now vacant right-hand seat, the pilot waited while Brandon slid into the left-hand seat before saying, “I’ll handle the radios, switches, prop pitch, and pre-flight. You need to concentrate on maneuvering the plane on the ground, and the takeoff. Most folks start out on small single-engine planes, but for a first lesson, this should suffice. You’re already okay at level flight and staying on course, and takeoffs are actually pretty easy except for details like pre-flight, trim settings, flap settings, etcetera. Many students take off at least hands-on on their first lesson. What we’re going to do here is let you try a few take-offs from the island to get the hang of it. This is primarily being done as a PR stunt according to your manager, but I’ll make sure it’s a good first lesson for you, too. I hope you’ll follow though on it when you get back home.”

With his head still awhirl with excitement, Brandon replied, “You bet I will. As soon as the tour is over, I’ll sign up for lessons. I’ve been hoping to do that anyway.”

The pilot punched the electric starters, and listened with a practiced ear as the turbines spun up. Easing the throttles forward and adjusting the prop pitch, he wheeled the plane around to begin taxiing back down the runway. As soon as he had the plane pointed down the centerline he said, “Slip your feet gently onto the rudder pedals. The brake bars are right above them, so if you place your feet right you’ll have the brake bars under your toes. For a plane like this, we steer on the ground with a combination of brakes and nose wheel steering, and the latter is linked to the rudder pedals. Now, give it a try, but gently.”

Sliding his feet into place, Brandon tensed up a little, staring out the window as they taxied down the runway. The plane began to drift off center to the left, and doing as he’d been told he used a light pressure on the right rudder pedal to bring it back to the right. He succeeded, almost; he tried to straighten out as they drifted back towards the centerline, but overcompensated. After several gentle drifts, Brandon got the feel for it, and had the plane on centerline as they neared the end of the runway. He began to relax a little when the pilot said, “Now we need to turn it around. Keep your feet on the pedals and feel what I do. You’ll be doing it next time.”

The pilot steered to the left, applied both brakes to slow down, and then applied the right brake firmly while releasing the left, and the plane swung around in a smooth one hundred and eighty degree turn, lining up perfectly on the center line. After cycling the control surfaces, he said, “I’ll talk you through this, but take-offs are easy. I’ll have my hands on the controls at all times, and I’ll make any needed correction. I’ll also handle the radio, throttles, pitch, gear, and flaps, so you just concentrate on keeping us on the centerline. I’ll tell you when to pull back on the yoke, and I’ll tell you what I tell all my students; always use gradual input on the controls. Okay, I’m giving us one notch of flaps. Ready?”

Brandon nodded, not taking his eyes off the runway, and tried to relax a little. The pilot pushed the throttles forward to the stops, and with the engines roaring Brandon released the brakes and they began their takeoff roll.

The pilot only had to help once to keep the plane on centerline as they picked up speed, and Brandon’s grip on the yoke was painfully tight as he watched the end of the runway approach. Two thirds of the way down the runway the pilot said, “Gradually pull back on the yoke until the nose comes up.”

Breaking into a nervous sweat, Brandon eased back on the yoke, as they hurled towards the end of the runway. The pilot’s hands were on the right-seat yoke, but he made no corrections as the nose wheel left the concrete. The vibration from the main gear grew fainter, and then ceased entirely as the plane began to rise, and Brandon bit his lip as he concentrated on keeping the wings level. As they cleared the end of the runway, the pilot said, “Maintain about a fifteen degree climb, and I’ll take care of the gear and flaps. When I dump the flaps, you’ll feel it and you’ll need to pull back a little more.” Brandon managed to keep the plane somewhat steady as the gear came up and the flaps were raised, and the pilot then ordered, “Keep an eye on your airspeed. Try and keep it at three hundred by adjusting the rate of climb. I’ll ease back to ninety percent on the throttles.

By that point in the climb out, they were essentially doing what Brandon had done on prior flights, so he began to relax a little, even taking the time to rub a hand across his sweaty forehead. At ten thousand feet, the pilot told him to level out and then spent the next fifteen minutes coaching Brandon in maneuvering, mainly turns and descents. After a few of the pilot-training standard turns about a point, which entailed orbiting a fixed spot on the ground (which happened to be a sea-swept coral outcropping in this case), he felt Brandon was doing fairly well, for a first-timer.

The pilot talked Brandon through the return to the airstrip, the descent to fifteen hundred feet, the downwind, and base legs of the landing pattern. With considerable difficulty and a few over-corrections, Brandon kept them on course until, as he turned base-to-final, he found himself wee off-center and heard the pilot say, “I’ll take it from here.”

After landing, the pilot talked Brandon through taxiing back to the end of the strip, then they took off again, and the pilot had Brandon handle the gear, throttle, prop pitch, and flaps. They stayed in the landing pattern, and Brandon did fine until the base-to-final turn when the pilot took over again. After touchdown, the pilot said, “We’ll take off once more, but the resort will cop a wobbly if we keep making all this noise, so after takeoff, roll out on a heading of two hundred and seventy degrees, which will take us towards Hamilton, then climb to twenty-five-thousand.”

Fifteen minutes later, feeling much more comfortable at the controls, Brandon asked, “Do you think I can do it – fly for the reporter?”

The pilot nodded, “Probably. You’re doing okay, and this plane is a little easier to fly than a jet. Your manager had some ideas, and we can use a few, and I know what she’s wanting us to accomplish. Here’s how we’ll do it...” For the next ten minutes, they worked on the details of their plan.

As they neared Hamilton Island Airport, Brandon said, “I kept blowing the base-to-final rollout. How hard is it to land one of these, anyway?”

The pilot laughed before replying, “A heck of a lot harder than it looks, I’m afraid. You have to stay lined up on the centerline which is hard to do, and fly a steady rate of descent and keep your airspeed steady too. Landing is usually the last maneuver a student pilot learns before their first solo, because it’s the hardest. It usually takes a lot of practice even in a small plane. You’ve probably read books or seen movies where an untrained passenger is talked through landing a jet. Well, let me tell you, that only happens in bad fiction. There’s no way in hell an untrained person could get one of these down in one piece, let alone a jet.”

Interested in the revelation, Brandon asked, “What would really happen in a case like that?”

The pilot shrugged, his voice losing its normal levity as he pictured such a crisis. “They’d probably try and talk ‘em down anyway. In a little plane like a Cessna 172 or a Piper Cherokee, the runway is huge in comparison and the landing speed is far lower, so they’d have a chance. However, in a plane like this or worse, a jet, due to the high landing speeds there’s just no margin for error and they’d wreck; probably over-controlling just prior to touchdown or ground-looping into a cartwheel once they were down. It would be what we pilots like to refer to as a non-survivable event. To put it in your terms, it would be like expecting someone who had never picked up an instrument to fill in as a guitarist at one of your concerts. Without proper training, no way.”

“Would they be any better off ditching in the ocean or a lake?” Brandon asked.

“In a big jet, that would be their best hope. It would break up but many of the passengers would at least have a chance. In a small one? Nah, the nose would dig in too early and at that speed, it would be like hitting concrete. They would be goners no matter what.”

Nodding while shuddering at the thought, Brandon concentrated as he entered the landing pattern for Hamilton Island Airport, and the pilot talked with the control tower.

* * *

Bouncing along a rough dirt trail in the Land Rover, Dimitri and the engineer kept an eye out for their quarry. The engineer, with considerable difficulty due to the rough ride, scanned the horizon with a pair of binoculars. Several minutes later he cried, “Stop the vehicle. I see some kangaroos, off to the right, near the eucalyptus trees.”

Feeling like a little kid at Christmas, the engineer jumped out of the Land Rover as soon as it stopped, pointing at the large reddish-tan specks in the distance, “There must be a dozen, and they are the large ones, the Red Kangaroo, I think, judging by the size and color.”

The two men set out on foot, hiking across the grassy plain, and Dimitri, who had spent years in both the KGB and the soviet communist party, quipped, “Red has always been my favorite color.”

The engineer had a broad smile on his face, and a twinkle in his eyes. Dimitri smiled at the engineer’s evident excitement, marveling that such a brilliant man could be so childlike at times, and regrettably so socially inept and difficult at others.

Nearing the herd, the engineer was stunned to see many more kangaroos in the eucalyptus forest’s edge, partially hidden by the shadows behind the first clumps of trees. Coming to a halt, he whispered excitedly to Dimitri, “There must be close to a hundred of them. How wonderful! I have never seen so many. They are truly magnificent, are they not?”

Looking around at the kangaroos, the nearest of which were within fifty feet and watching the two men intently, Dimitri couldn’t help but share in the engineer’s wonderment and enthusiasm. He listened with more interest than he’d expected as the engineer gushed in a hushed voice, “The big ones are the males. They are often two meters or more tall, and weigh more than a man.”

Staring at the large, powerful animals that did not seem to fear their presence, Dimitri whispered back, “You are quite sure they aren’t dangerous?”

In his patronizing way, which for once did not offend Dimitri, the engineer replied, “We are quite safe. I have been reading about them, they will not attack unless provoked, so you need not be afraid.”

Spying an extra set of eyes, and a small set of alert ears, Dimitri pointed. “Look, Vladimir, a joey in his mother’s pouch. They are both watching us.” Under the hot blue sky, and surrounded by low rolling hills bedecked with dry grass and eucalyptus trees, Dimitri was surprised to find himself sharing the thrill of seeing the kangaroos up close.

After watching the two interlopers for several minutes, one of the large male kangaroos twitched his ears, turning his head away before bounding off towards the lowering sun. The rest of the kangaroos followed his lead, and the engineer watched with an odd mix of wonder and regret as they bounded noisily away. Dimitri noticed the melancholy expression on the engineer’s face, and put to use something he’d spotted a few moments earlier. “Vladimir, I know that you are sad to see the kangaroos go, but they are not the only fascinating creatures to be found in this strange land. Look up.”

Puzzled, the engineer raised his gaze to the high canopy of the eucalyptus trees. He didn’t see them at first, but a few moments later his face brightened as he exclaimed, “Koala bears! I see them, Dimitri, I see them. This is indeed a wonderful land. Even the birds are strange and exotic. I saw a cockatoo the other day, and some kind of green parrot the day before that. I think I will be very happy living out my life in this country.”

With a tinge of hidden regret, Dimitri nodded, “Yes, it is indeed a land of many wonders.”

After watching the sleepy koalas for a while, Dimitri and the Engineer began the long walk back to the Land Rover. The engineer glanced back towards the east, where the kangaroos had gone, and asked in a wistful tone of voice, “Do you think we could catch a kangaroo? We could keep it at the assembly facility as a mascot.”

Envisioning The Scar’s likely reaction to discovering two hundred pounds of live kangaroo bounding around in his secret nuclear assembly facility, especially while the nuclear weapons were in their final, delicate stages of completion, Dimitri shuddered, and acted fast to head off that line of thought with a few carefully chosen words. “No, Vladimir, we can’t do that; they are wild creatures and would not do well in such a setting. It would be bad for the kangaroo as well as being quite dangerous for us. There is also the law to think about; keeping a wild kangaroo in a business park is surely against the law, and we do not wish to draw attention to ourselves. However, once the project is complete and you have your money, you could buy a home with some land and have a kangaroo as a pet.”

Accepting the logic with a happy nod, the engineer replied, “Very well, I shall wait; it is only a few weeks after all, is it not?”

* * *

Bounding down the plane’s staircase as soon as the pilot lowered it, Brandon met the reporter and her photographer on the apron beside the turboprop aircraft. A quick round of introductions ensued, and then the photographer, a fit, tan guy in his early twenties, dressed in shorts and a tank top, took over. The photographer snapped off a few shots of Brandon by the plane, and even talked him into lifting his shirt for a shot of him showing off his tan torso against the aircraft’s white fuselage. Once the photos had been taken, the reporter, herself dressed in casual attire in deference to the tropical heat, said with a practiced smile, “Let’s get started.”

Ushering them aboard, Brandon led them to the table in the rear of the plane for the interview. The interview itself turned out to be the same kind he was used to, and he handled it with an ease he’d have never thought possible just a few months before. The reporter began to ask where Instinct had been staying, and Brandon answered obliquely, as Helen had suggested, “A beach resort north of Brisbane. We’re even further north as of today, but my manager told me not to tell anyone where.”

“So how are you enjoying the Australian beaches?” the reporter asked, as Brandon noticed her slight lisp.

Seizing on the opening he’d been waiting for, Brandon replied with enthusiasm, “They’re fantastic. We’ve even been learning how to surf. Everything is so spectacular. Have you seen the Whitsundays from the air? I’ve never seen anything so beautiful.” The reporter, unused to being asked questions, answered with a surprised shake of her head, and Brandon jumped to his feet, giving the reporter a practiced wink as he said, “I can fix that,” and turned to jog to the cockpit. The puzzled reporter followed, standing back from the cockpit door and watching in surprise as Brandon slid into the left-hand seat. As they’d planned, he asked the pilot, “Please handle the radios for me, otherwise I won’t be able to hear our guests with the headphones on.”

Displaying far more confidence than he actually felt, Brandon taxied to the threshold, and soon had them in the air. Climbing out over the bay as the photographer snapped a few pictures of Brandon at the controls, and once clear of the airport he concentrated on giving them all great views of various parts of the spectacular scenery, trying his best to act enthused and relaxed. After a few minutes over the bay, he said to the pilot, “Could you do me a favor and take us back to the airport? We’re running short of time and I need to finish my interview,” Brandon stated as he activated the autopilot as the pilot had instructed as part of ‘the plan’.

The pilot changed seats as Brandon joined the reporter back at the table, feeling relieved that he’d pulled it off. As they sat down, the reporter smiled as she said, “Good try, and I’d have fallen for it if I wasn’t a pilot myself. I saw the death grip on the yoke, you’re unsteady at the controls, you were sweating like a whore in Sunday school, and you can’t work the radios. I’m not rated in anything like this, but I know how they handle. However, if I’m wrong, just get back in the saddle and land this puppy and I’ll happily eat my words.”

Slumping back in his seat and a little surprised at the reporter’s earthy turn of phrase – he’d yet to learn that reporters, when off the record, could often make a sailor blush –, Brandon knew the jig was up. With an embarrassed shrug he said, “I never actually said I was a pilot.”

The reporter laughed, “I smell Helen’s handiwork here. She’s always looking for angles. Okay, so tell me the real story; when did you start flying?” Brandon told her the truth, about his prior times and that day, and she laughed in reply, “That’s all? You did pretty well then. Okay, I’ll use that in the article; after just one lesson, you took us up for a spin. Helen should be pleased, but part of the article will say that you are taking lessons, so you’d better follow through and keep doing so.”

With a delighted laugh, Brandon replied, “Count on it. As soon as the tour is over I’m signing up.”

With a sincere smile, the reporter advised, “Pick a low-wing to learn in, something like a Piper Cherokee; they handle a lot more like bigger planes such as this. I’m a low-wing fan, always have been.”

By the time they were back on the ground, the interview was wrapped up, and Brandon, seated once more at the controls, took off to return to the Crown Isle resort.

Upon landing, the pilot filled in Brandon’s first logbook entry. Brandon stood by the runway as the King Air 300 took off, winging its way back towards the coast. As the plane receded into the distance, Brandon realized that he had no clue where to go.

* * *

Watching as Dimitri wheeled the Land Rover into the Toowoomba Facility, The Scar hoped that the kangaroo excursion Dimitri had suggested would make the engineer somewhat more tolerable to be around.

The engineer bounded out of the Land Rover, wearing a delighted grin, and he excitedly told The Scar about the kangaroos and koala bears he’d seen. The Scar forced himself to appear interested, though he was delighted when the engineer finished his monologue and walked into the main building. Dimitri, taking his accustomed place by The Scar’s side, said, “I think that went well, Vozhd. With any luck, I can bribe him with excursions when he becomes difficult.”

The Scar nodded his approval, and then, as an afterthought, told Dimitri, “We are at a critical stage here and we must not become lax with our security precautions. That said, I realize that I neglected to sweep the Land Rover for listening devices after my trip. Make sure you check those stuffed kangaroos, too. We can’t be too careful.”

With a nod, Dimitri reached into his pocket for his detector and said, “I’ll take care of it right away.”

* * *

Turning around, Brandon saw a few small sheds and a gravel roadway leading towards some low, modern-looking buildings in the distance. Setting off at a jog, he reached them five minutes later, and walked into the marble-clad lobby of the largest building. Inside, he found a three-story wall of glass framing a perfect view of the beach and the ocean beyond. He noticed an empty counter that looked somewhat like a hotel reception desk.

It indeed proved to be a reception desk, but it was unmanned. Glancing around, Brandon saw a few guests on the beach and considered asking them, but a voice from behind startled him from his reverie. “Brand, how did it go?” Chase asked.

Throwing caution to the wind because he thought they were alone, Brandon hugged Chase before letting him go and beginning to tell him about the flight and the interview. Brandon began to grin as he took in the sight of Chase; his blond hair and dark golden tan, and wearing nothing but board shorts and his tiger’s eye necklace. Peeling off his shirt and letting his boyfriend lead the way, Brandon strolled out of the building into the dazzling Australian sun and sultry tropical breezes of the Crown Isle Resort.