Without knowing that she had done so nearly two weeks prior, the three black suburban’s that had been unloaded from the twin trailers in Amarillo had followed the nearly identical route of Courtney toward their destination south of Denver. The only minor difference occurred within the final dozen miles of their trek, as Courtney had turned north from highway-86 onto highway-83 at Franktown while the trio of suburban’s stayed west to Castle Rock. Arriving on Wednesday evening, rooms had been reserved for a three night stay with a Saturday morning checkout at the Best Western, Hampton Inn, and the La Quinta Inn. False identities had been created for the fifteen travelers, so one suburban could check into each hotel. During the course of their road trip, the helicopter had also advanced further north. While flying low, the six men within had passed over mostly uninhabited regions of land along the Colorado and Kansas state line. Then after crossing above interstate-70, the bird set down in the remote rolling foothills near the South Fork of the Republican River, but had nearly reached the maximum fuel range of the helicopter in the process. In so doing the men and their arsenal became well-hidden from curious eyes roughly fifteen miles southwest of St. Francis Kansas, and would most probably encounter no interruptions while addressing the fuel issue. With a planned overnight stay and a hold on their current position for the majority of the following day; there would be plenty of time to resolve the problem by unstrapping the fuel containers to quench the thirst of the helicopter. Then when the time was right, they could liftoff and easily reach the southern reaches of the Denver area on the night of Friday November thirteenth.

On Thursday morning in Castle Rock, one of the black suburban’s departed with a driving pair and the two female pilots after they had all enjoyed a restful night. The four ladies were headed west toward Aspen, a journey of slightly more than two hundred miles, as twin Cessna Citation Latitude jets that two of them had flown in from southern California in August were waiting to become airborne once again. The road trip through the mountain passes of interstate-70 was beautiful with earlier snow falls having created accumulations at the higher elevations, but they had been lucky with clear road conditions and a favorable weather forecast for the upcoming days. Once at the Aspen-Pitkin County Airport, the two pilots checked in with flight operations and filed a flight plan for the following morning. Then the suburban was driven onto the tarmac so that stores of food, water, and clothing could be loaded onto the planes. As the foursome then prepared to split into pairs, one of the drivers said, “Here’s to our collective success and that of the overall plan. Happy flying and we will see you back in Texas.”

A pilot replied, “Thank you for the lift ladies, and good luck with the next few days.”

Then after the two in the suburban had departed for the trek back to Castle Rock, the other pilot asked her partner, “Well, should we eat dinner in your plane or mine?”