Free White Cargo by Stuart Woods

they want her for something.”
    Cat didn’t want to think about why somebody might want Jinx. “Why those three places?” he asked.
    “Because that’s where the drugs get made, and sold, and smuggled.”
    “Why do you think this has something to do with drugs?”
    “Because everything in Colombia—everything that’s dirty, anyway—has something to do with drugs.”
    Cat had heard that before.
    Holland reached down, unzipped his canvas bag, and removed a large magazine, printed on yellow newsprint, called Tradeaplane. Cat had seen it around the flying school. “We’re going to need an airplane,” he said.
    “What for?” Cat asked, surprised. “Don’t the airlines fly to Colombia?”
    “Oh, sure,” Holland said, “but I don’t have a passport; they took it away before my trial. And anyway, I expect my face would light up a few computers in both Colombian or U.S. Customs and Immigration. Then, once we’re in the country, we have to be able to move around without the police paying too much attention to me. There’s always police in airports.”
    “Then where would we land a light aircraft?”
    Bluey grinned. “Well, there’s airports and there’s airports.”
    Cat remembered that he had a passport for Holland, but he remembered Jim’s advice, too. “Okay, if you say so.”
    Holland waved a hand. “Your house, your car—you look as though you can afford a good airplane.” He beganflipping through Tradeaplane. “I reckon we’ll need to spend somewhere between seventy and a hundred thousand bucks, depending on what’s available locally. Of course if you want to go looking around the country, we could save some money.”
    “I’d rather save time. We’ll get whatever you want.”
    Holland stood up. “I’ll start looking today. You got a car I can borrow?”
    Cat went to his desk and got some keys. “There’s a Mercedes station wagon in the garage.” He tossed Holland the keys.
    Holland fingered his suit. “I’ll need to pick up some gear as well.”
    Cat took a banded stack of bills from his desk drawer and tossed it to Holland. “There’s your ten thousand,” he said. “You’ve got yourself a job, Mr. Holland.”
    The Australian stuck out his hand. “Call me Bluey,” he grinned.
    Cat grinned back. “I’m Cat.” He liked the man, but he still felt a little uncomfortable with him, knowing what he did about his past. Now, he was giving him ten thousand dollars and Katie’s Mercedes. What the hell, he thought, he could never do this on his own. He needed Bluey Holland, and he would just have to trust him.
    •   •   •
    That night Cat lay in bed and stared at the ceiling. He closed his eyes and conjured up Jinx’s face, but it was not the face he had most recently seen. It was younger—twelve or thirteen. He could not quite form her image at a later age in his mind. He wondered if, eventually, he would not be able to remember her at all.
    “I’m coming, kid,” he said aloud into the darkness. “I’m coming to get you.”

9
    “C AT ? B LUEY. I THINK I’ VE FOUND OUR AIRPLANE. ”
    “Great, Bluey. What’s it going to run me?”
    “The neighborhood of seventy-five grand—that’s purchase price—we’re going to need an annual inspection for five hundred to a grand, a loran navigator, and a fuel-flow meter—call that another six grand. Plus, we’ve got some fuel modifications to do south of here; say, a total of ninety grand all found.”
    “Okay, that sounds good. Can I have a look at her?”
    “Sure, I’d want you to. I’m out at—what’s this bloody field called?”
    “Peachtree Dekalb?”
    “That’s the one. The airplane’s sitting out in front of the tower. She’s red and white; her tail number is 1 2 3 Tango.”
    Cat laughed. “I like her already. I’ll be there in half an hour.”
    At the airport, Cat parked near the tower and started looking for a light twin-engine airplane with the right tail number, but to no avail. Then Bluey came out