Chapter 26

 

Elaine and the pilot lugged the container through a gate in the chain link fence that had to be opened by a security guard, and then they carried it across the tarmac to the waiting private aircraft.

It was a mid-sized Gulfstream jet, just like the one Spyro had used to escort her from London to Santorini Island after he’d hired her as a governess. She could vaguely make out a pilot in the cockpit.

As they reached the lowered stairs, Elaine glanced at the tail and took note of the registration code: SX-LND. Each country had its own prefix—SX was used for all aircraft registered in Greece. This was a different jet than she’d flown on before, which had a registration code of SX-ALX. She hadn’t thought about it at the time, but now she realized that ALX stood for Alex, and LND must have stood for Leandrou.

Evangelos also carried Elaine’s suitcase along in his free hand, and he looked winded—he didn’t seem to be in the best of shape.

“Sophia!” he yelled up the stairs, to the cracked passenger door. He shouted something in Greek.

Elaine figured that Sophia was a flight attendant he was calling for help. She began to panic—she couldn’t let them put the container in the cargo hold.

As her mind raced for some reason to insist that it be stowed in the cabin, the passenger door swung open farther and the pilot appeared, in full uniform, including a cap.

To Elaine’s surprise, it was a woman. She was tall, with broad shoulders and seemed like a seasoned professional, at least fifty years old.

With an annoyed look on her face, she came down the stairs, gave Elaine a formal nod, and grabbed the free handle on the container. For a split second, Elaine thought she was going to carry it across the tarmac to the cargo hold, but she raised her end and they began to lug it up the stairs.

When they entered the cabin, they set it down in front of the nearest leather chair.

Evangelos trailed behind, lugging Elaine’s small carry-on as if it weighed one hundred pounds.

Elaine glanced around the interior—it was even more luxurious than the other jet’s, the chairs and couches in cream-colored leather, the tables and fuselage trimmed in walnut.

Despite the below-freezing temperatures, Evangelos was now sweating. He set her suitcase down, wiped his round, moist face with a handkerchief and stepped out of the cabin and into the cockpit.

The pilot glanced down at Elaine’s American Red Cross vest. “I am Sophia,” she said, and offered her hand.

Elaine introduced herself as Megan Sommer, to match her passport. She had no idea what the woman thought was inside the container.

“You have all your documents in order?” she said, looking down at the container again.

“I have my passport,” she said, motioning to the box, “and the documentation for the…blood, is there, on the side.”

“Good. Since it is just a domestic flight…” Sophia lowered her voice. “…or at least will start out that way…there will be no customs inspector, only airport security guard to check passports and the manifest.” She glanced out one of the windows and then looked at the large chronometer on her wrist. “I hope the lazy man arrives soon—we don’t want to miss our departure slot.”

This was the way Spyro Leandrou bypassed customs on the ground—his pilots filed a flight plan to another city within Ukraine before takeoff, and then changed it en route. All official flight plans filed with ATC included an alternate landing airport, and pilots had the option of switching to the alternate en route due to bad weather, a change of plans, or any other reason—there were no restrictions. Of course, Spyro’s alternative airport was always the Santorini Island Airport, and of course he had an “arrangement” with the customs officers there...

The en route flight plan change was a clever trick, Elaine had to admit, taking advantage of a loophole—she had never heard of it before. There was no reason to assume it wouldn’t work—Spyro had assured her that they “did it all the time.”

At that moment, a minivan with a flashing yellow light pulled up on the tarmac.

“Ah, there he is,” Sophia said, and she stepped over to the door and smiled down the stairs. “Good morning!”

A man in a wrinkled olive green airport security suit clambered up the stairway, a clipboard in his hand.

Evangelos stepped out of the cockpit, muttered a good morning, and handed him a paper. Elaine assumed this was a manifest.

“Destination—Odessa?” the officer asked.

“Correct,” Sophia said. “Domestic flight.”

“Pilot, co-pilot, and one passenger aboard?”

“Also correct.”

He glanced at Elaine, looking down at her Red Cross vest.

“Passports,” he said, extending his hand.

Sophia pulled hers from her pocket, collected Elaine’s and Evangelos’, and handed the booklets over to him.

He quickly compared faces to photographs, seemed satisfied, and then said, “You have any illegal or dangerous cargo aboard?”

“No,” Sophia said.

Elaine tensed, wondering if he was going to have a look around the cabin.

To her relief, the man simply nodded and handed back the documents.

“Have good flight,” he said, and clambered back down the stairs.