“Native-born Key Westers call themselves Conchs, too.”
“You’re a mine of information, Dino; what else do you know about Key West?”
“They have nice sunsets, and you can see the Green Flash, if you’ve had enough margaritas.”
“I can do that,” Stone said.
10
3
STON E W O K E A N D looked out his bedroom window. The gardens inside the U-shaped row of Turtle Bay Townhouses sat, resplendent, under six inches of fresh snow, made glaring by bright sunshine. He picked up the phone and called Jet Aviation, at Teterboro Airport, in New Jersey.
“I’d like my inboard and outboard caps topped off with JetA with Prist and the airplane deiced,” he said. He received an affi rmative answer, then went to his computer and created two fl ight plans, one for each leg, for the trip south, then called Flight Services for a weather forecast, which was highly favorable, even sporting a tailwind, unusual when flying north to south. The downstairs doorbell rang on the telephone system, and Stone picked up the phone. “Dino?”
“Yeah?”
“You have a key, use it.”
“I didn’t want to come in unannounced and interrupt something.”
“Fat chance,” Stone said. “Put your bags in the car. I’ll get a 11
S t u a r t W o o d s
shower and meet you in the kitchen. Tell Helene what you want for breakfast.”
Twenty minutes later, Stone stowed his bags in the car with Dino’s, then joined him in the kitchen.
“I made you eggs and bacon,” Helene said, as he took a seat.
“You’re psychic,” Stone said, sipping his freshly squeezed orange juice.
“How long a flight?” Dino asked.
“We have a bit of a tailwind, so around five hours, plus one fuel stop in South Carolina,” Stone said, gazing out the window.
“I can stand that, I guess. You’re looking at Tatiana’s house.”
“I wasn’t looking at anything in particular,” Stone lied, “just out the window.”
TH E Y A R R I V E D AT Teterboro Airport to find the airplane refueled and the deicing nearly complete. Stone stowed their golf clubs and tennis rackets in the forward luggage compartment and their bags in the rear. After a thorough preflight inspection and a call to Clearance Delivery, they taxied to runway 1 and were cleared for takeoff.
The departure controller turned them south and gradually gave them higher altitudes, but not until they were handed off to New York Center did they receive their final clearance to their chosen altitude, flight level 260, or 26,000 feet. Stone leveled off, adjusted the throttle and switched on the XM Satellite Radio. Dino was already doing the Times crossword puzzle, and Stone started on the front page.
“I hope you made a copy of the crossword,” Dino said, scribbling away.
“If I hadn’t, I would have already strangled you and dumped your body over Virginia.”
Stone had fi nished reading the Times when they started their 1 2
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descent into their refueling point, a small airfield at Monks Corner, South Carolina, which offered fuel prices a couple of bucks less than nearby Charleston.
Half an hour later they were climbing back to altitude, and two hours after that they were crossing the south coast of Florida at last over open water. Key West lay, invisible, another hundred miles south. Dino was squirming in his seat.
“I’ve never flown over open water,” Dino said.