Flying Too Close to the Sun by George Jehn (most inspirational books TXT) 📗

which meant approximately four million dollars of Uncle Sam’s cash would again make it to its final New York City resting place.

.     .     .

As she carefully maneuvered the big tri-jet into the gate after landing at LaGuardia, Christina recalled David might be attempting his scam, tonight. She saw him at the wheel of his tug and glancing in her direction. She also saw what appeared to be an armored vehicle off in the distance, waiting. Should she sound the warning? She held her breath, knowing this was not worth the risk. Only seconds remained. Would he get caught? If apprehended would he implicate her? After reaching up to sound the horn she had second thoughts and stopped.

As the sky marshal hurriedly disembarked onto the Jetway, the umbilical cord that attached the 727 to the passenger terminal she saw David pull into a murky corner under the terminal building where his movements were concealed by the shadows cast by the concentrated lighting illuminating the outside ramp. He jumped off his tug with a piece of baggage in each hand, unzipped one and stuffed something into his pocket. As he went to open the second he glanced up, then quickly returned it to the cart and drove off. An instant later the sky marshal was standing next to the belt loader while an armored truck pulled up planeside and men in uniforms unloaded the large bags into it. She immediately got out of there.

At home, Christina found David clad in checkered boxers and his usual muscleman tank, nursing a lite beer while lying on the dilapidated couch, watching a Mets game on TV. She plopped down alongside him and took a slug of his brew.

“You see me tonight?” he asked.

“Yes. But I’m very uncomfortable with this whole thing.”

He reached into his top pocket and pulled out a ring. “Oh yeah? Take a look at this baby. It ought to bring us an easy five hundred, maybe even more?”

She picked up a ring with what appeared to be an emerald setting and gave it a quick once-over. “I thought we agreed there would be no cheap shit like this?”

Ignoring her he said, “I was about to open another fancy-looking suitcase, but some guy came down the steps and walked right in front of your plane. Did you see him?”

“He was listed on my flight paperwork as a sky marshal. But he also—”

“A sky marshal? Holy shit! Those guys carry guns. I could have been shot! Why didn’t you—?”

“He’s been on board before.”

“Why the hell didn’t you warn me?” a fuming David demanded.

Christina heatedly replied, “Warn you? I thought we agreed it would be twenty-five grand or better, in cash? If you didn’t heist this cheap piece of garbage you wouldn’t be worrying.” Quickly cooling down, she changed the subject. “I think he also acts as some kind of guard?”

“The sky marshal? For what?” a now-composed David asked.

“I don’t know. The guy’s listed on the paperwork only as a marshal.”

“If I didn’t see him in time I might’ve been caught. And if I get nailed, you also—”

“I figured he would be busy supervising the unloading of some bags,” she answered, taking note David would implicate her if caught. Pointing to the ring she repeated through gritted teeth. “I told you I do not want to run a risk for something petty like this.”

As if ignoring her comment, David took another slug of beer and belched. “Any idea what’s in those bags?”

Placing her anger on the back burner once again, Christina told him, “No. Have you heard anything?”

“Not a word. It must be some hush-hush deal. Let me see if I can find out anything.”

She took another slug from his bottle. “I’ve got to get my hands on money. Fast. Not something like that,” she again repeated pointing to the ring. “I do not like living with this epilepsy hanging over my head and never knowing if or when I might have a seizure. And you have got to stop buying all this pricey stuff and putting it on my credit card.”

“But I needed those things,” he whined trying to engage her with his dark eyes, like she was the most important person in the world. But the ploy didn’t work.

“Just like this goddamned television? The expensive laptop computer, bedroom set and high-priced membership at the pricey PUMP health club in New York City?” she said waving her arms. “All those things went on my credit card.”

“C’mon. You like the TV. And I need the laptop for my college courses. And don’t you want me to work out so I keep my sexy actor’s physique?” a smiling David asked, standing up and flexing his biceps.

Christina didn’t smile back, only removed her shoes and asked, “Did you get the check for four grand I left for your tuition?”

“Yeah, and thanks for making it out to me. The last time you wrote it out to the school and it created a whole shitload of problems. The names didn’t match and the records were screwed up because they thought I never paid. This time everything will match up.” A smiling David quickly added, “I went to the gym and worked on these babies for an hour. Look at the size,” he said, flexing his huge biceps. “But I didn’t work out my love muscle,” David said scratching his crotch as he dragged her into the bedroom.

As usual, David fell asleep immediately after having sex, so Christina got out of bed feeling totally empty and went into the kitchen where she poured herself a glass of Evian water. In the bathroom she opened an unmarked small vial of pills and removed one 30-milligram capsule of a powerful sleeping tablet. As if having epilepsy continually on her mind wasn’t enough, she saw the ring lying on the table and it frightened her. A few hundred lousy bucks—maybe? But was there was something worth taking a big chance for in those mysterious sacks?

CHAPTER EIGHT

The weather was