Freedom

 

When the Kentucky legal system spit Griff back out dressed in civvies with his personal belongings returned, Lance was there waiting for him.

“Where’s Johnny and…”

“Maura? Yeah, you know, she’s kind of cute—in a wayward daughter sort of way.” Lance correctly read disappointment in Griff’s eyes. “They're soaking up the lime light of the local news media over his victory. Man, the guy looks so happy. But I figured you really wouldn't want to be part of that whole circus.”

“No. Not at all.”

“So, let's make this pop stand a memory.” Lance put his arm around Griff and pulled him towards a back exit. “Besides, I could have sworn I caught the aroma of fresh baked pecan pie when I left the office.”

Forty minutes later they were on the ramp at Lunken Field in the cockpit of the Stein, Baylor & Stein King Air, Lance in the left seat going through the checklist to bring the Pratt and Whitney PT6 engines to life and Griff in the right slowly coming to the full realization that his legal ordeal was over.

Ground control told Lance to stand by as his IFR clearance to Chicago Executive Airport was on request.

“Chicago Exec?” Griff asked.

“What? Did you think I was kidding? Hannah’s got a special home-cooked meal all planned for you. Or did you develop a liking for institutional cuisine and all male companionship?”

“I just want to get home.”

“Sure, I understand. Tomorrow. It’s been a long day, and I’ve got the Citation on call in the afternoon to take you.”

“Thanks.” Griff watched a Gulfstream G-5 taxi across their nose heading out of Signature Aviation. He recognized the N-number from the NTSB accident report. “That’s Hornet Investment’s bird.”

“Cliff Junior, riding in style,” Lance said.

“Rat bastard.”

“Eh…”

“Johnny says I owe you for the FAA data dump.”

“Big time. I got rope burn pulling strings for you.”

“Well, thanks.”

“Oh, I’ll get my payback. Don’t you worry your pretty little head about that.”

“Just not today.”

Lance gave Griff a sideways glance and smiled. “Not today.”

Ground control called with their clearance. After Lance repeated it back, she said, “Eight-Six-Bravo, read back correct. Taxi to Runway two-five via Alpha. Give way to the Lear turning off Charlie.”

The props bit the air loudly as Lance increased the blade pitch to get them rolling. He pulled a U-turn to exit the Signature Aviation ramp just in time for them to see a very familiar Learjet 31 make a right turn onto taxiway Alpha.

“Looks like everybody hung around to catch the compelling conclusion to your little legal drama,” Lance said as he pulled out to follow Helena’s jet to Runway 25. “I do hate rush hour traffic.”

Griff stared out the windscreen, his face set hard in an unsmiling expression.

“I wouldn’t think too harshly of her. She might not exactly have been a willing nor particularly cooperative witness for the prosecution.”

Griff thought for a moment, then asked, “Was that by design?”

“I don’t know,” Lance said in a sing-song voice. “Maybe.”

They stopped behind Helena’s Learjet at the departure end of Runway 25.

“Eight-Six-Bravo, contact tower at the line. Number three. Waiting on release.”

“Anyway, she asked me to give you this.” Lance reached into his flight bag and pulled out a bottle of fifty-year-old Balvenie single malt scotch. He handed it to Griff. “We’ll crack that bad boy when we get to Chi-town. Never had fifty thousand dollar a bottle hooch before.”

JR’s Gulfstream departed in a roar. Lance crept forward as the Lear pulled up to the runway hold line.

“My bonus.” Griff looked at the bottle, then set it back into the flight case.

“She instructed me to put Johnny’s fee on her tab and doubled yours.”

“Soothing a guilty conscience?”

“No. I don’t think so.”

“A pat on the head for a job well done. Good boy. Good dog.”

“Lear Six-Papa-Romeo, right turn to three-zero-zero. Cleared for takeoff,” came over the radio from the tower controller.

The Lear rolled onto the runway and spooled up its engines.

Lance turned ninety degrees and pulled up to the hold line.

Griff watched out his side window as Helena’s jet jumped off the runway and flew away to the west.

 

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