Free The Toymaker by Chuck Barrett

was smart, like Bentley said…and obviously very rich.
    The golf cart pulled into the hangar. The Citation’s air stair door was open and Jake saw one pilot standing by the door while the other pilot was sitting in the cockpit. The Citation 750 was boasted as the fastest business jet in history with a top speed of over six hundred miles per hour.
    “This is my personal Citation.” Wiley climbed out of the cart and walked toward the aircraft door. “Wherever it goes, I go. This aircraft stays with me at all times. I never know when I might have to jump and run. Airline schedules are too unpredictable.”
    The whirl of the right engine spooling up filled the air. Cowboy handed Jake his bag. “Say hello to Kyli for me, would you?”
    “Sure. Whoever that is.”
    The Rolls-Royce turbofan engine fired flooding the tarmac with the smell of burning kerosene. Jake stepped up the air stairs as he heard the whirl of the left engine spooling. The co-pilot followed him into the aircraft, closing the door behind them.
    Wiley had already buckled his seatbelt. “Sit down, Jake. These two jet-jockeys won’t waste any time getting us in the air.”
    He slipped his bag into the compartment by the door and took the first seat next to Wiley. He twisted his neck around and observed the cabin. Four leather seats up front in club-style configuration. Behind the seats were two bunks in sleeper-car configuration. Located in the rear of the aircraft was a galley and restroom.
    In his years as an NTSB investigator, Jake had never encountered a cabin configuration like this one, certainly none with bunks.
    Jake looked at Wiley. “Looks like the toy making business is very lucrative, how old is your Citation?”
    “I bought this one new three years ago. Then it went to the shop for the retrofit. That took two months. But it’s ideal for my style of travel. If I have work that needs to be done then I have everything at my fingertips. Internet, phone, fax, the works. All encrypted, mind you. And at my age I need to get my rest or I’m not worth a crap the next day, especially with all the time changes I make.” Wiley looked at his watch. “Speaking of which, we lose eight hours between here and Belgium so when we leave Goose Bay, I suggest you follow my lead and try to get some sack time. The bunks are comfortable. You’re in the top bunk.”
    Jake gazed out the aircraft window while the Citation taxied into position. The surge of takeoff thrust from the Rolls-Royce AE 3007C1 engines forced him back into his leather seat. In a quick few seconds the Citation lifted off and banked to the left.
    He returned his gaze out the window. “How large is your ranch?”
    “Right now, as far as your eyes can see.” Wiley said. “I own somewhere around thirty thousand acres, give or take a couple of hundred.”
    “Holy cow. That’s big.”
    “This is Texas.” Wiley paused. “That’s considered a hobby ranch.”
    Four hours later, about one hour after finishing the onboard meal prepared for them from the Wranglers’ Steakhouse, the Citation landed at CFB Goose Bay. A former United States Air Force base, now a Canadian Forces Base. A Canadian Forces fuel truck pulled up next to the Citation and started fueling the aircraft.
    “How’d you pull that off? Jake asked. “The Canadian military fuel?”
    Wiley smiled. “Connections.”
    Within fifteen minutes, the Citation was in the air bound for Brussels. Jake was amazed at the efficiency in which Wiley’s travel had been conducted. Not a minute wasted by anyone, not the crew, not even Wiley himself.
    The phone next to Wiley beeped. Wiley picked it up, listened for a moment and said, “Thanks.”
    Wiley unbuckled. “Jake we should arrive in Brussels around 9:30 a.m. which is…” He looked at his watch. “A little over four and half hours from now.”
    Wiley stood up and put his hand on Jake’s shoulder. “You should get as much sleep as possible. In all likelihood if you survive the next