THE BRIDGE TO CARACAS (Volume 1 of The King Trilogy)

CHAPTER 62

"What was that?" Karen asked, startled by the sudden movement of the airplane.

Mike raised himself high enough to peek out the window beside him. "We're being towed out of the hangar," he said.

Dale and Liz Casey entered the cabin seconds after the plane came to rest. They waved and smiled at their passengers, and then disappeared into the cockpit without a word. Seconds later, the motors roared to life and the plane started to move slowly forward. After a long and monotonous period of slow and bumpy rolling, the plane finally came to another brief stop. The sound of the motors grew to a deafening pitch, and then the plane lurched forward.

Mike and Karen had been through many take-offs, but never on the floor of an airplane. They gasped as their prostrate bodies were thrust backward and upward at a steep angle. When Mike could no longer stand the sight of the roof of the plane, he climbed to the seat beside him and looked out the window. "We did it!" he shouted, staring downward at the tall buildings of downtown Toronto.

Karen pulled herself to her feet and looked over Mike's shoulder. "We may regret it. For the rest of our lives," she said with a frown.

Mike privately agreed. The odds were heavily stacked against them, and he couldn't help but know it. Was Servito even really in Caracas? Even if he was, and they were lucky enough to find him, he wouldn't hesitate to kill. "We're going to need a lot of help," he said, still staring downward.

"What kind of help?"

"Neither of us has ever been to Venezuela. I hardly know where it is. Do you speak Spanish?"

Karen shook her head.

"We're going to need an interpreter."

Within three hours, the sleek gray and gold Cessna was streaking southward over the Atlantic Ocean. The comfort of the airplane and the smoothness of the flight had conspired to dull Mike and Karen's anxieties. They had just finished their breakfast of apples and tuna sandwiches when the door to the cockpit opened and both Dale and Liz Casey appeared. When Liz removed her extremely dark sunglasses, she revealed a tanned and very attractive face. Her straight, long blond hair hung down over her white turtle-neck sweater, and her well preserved body fit perfectly into her tight, faded blue jeans.

Beside her, Dale was an imposing figure. Tall, handsome, and extremely athletic, he wore a heavy red sweater and baggy beige trousers. His salt and pepper hair complemented his ruddy complexion. "Are you two reasonably comfortable?" he asked with a warm smile.

Both Mike and Karen nodded.

"Who's flying the airplane?" Karen asked.

"Nobody," Dale replied with a grin. "It's flying itself—on autopilot. I just told the on-board computer what to do, and let it take over. It's far more accurate than me."

"Dale and I thought we should come back here and get to know our passengers," Liz said.

"Well, that's thoughtful of you," Karen said with a smile. "May I ask, have you been doing this very long?"

"A few years," Liz replied. "My father owned a ski resort in Aspen for a number of years, and Dale was a ski instructor there when I met him. After my mother passed away, Dad couldn't handle the stress of running everything on his own. That's when Dale and I took over. We bought the plane with the idea of selling exclusive and expensive ski vacations. It worked really well until the energy crisis."

"What did the energy crisis have to do with your business?" Mike asked.

"A real bummer. The price of aviation fuel and the resort's bottom line went in opposite directions. We had to either sell the resort or do something to supplement our income, so Dale got us started in the private transportation business. He loved this plane so much he couldn't part with it. The business was small and unprofitable at first, but through Dale's connections and hard work, it grew. Now it's in the process of becoming a very lucrative business. There are a lot of very wealthy people who like to travel incognito."

"When do you expect we'll be in Caracas?" Mike asked.

Dale glanced at his watch. "We're going to land and refuel in Nassau in about two hours. That shouldn't take long. From there, we'll fly to Santo Domingo, in the Dominican Republic. If you two don't mind, we'd like to have dinner and spend the night there. We should land at La Guaira about two or three hours after takeoff tomorrow morning.

"Where's La Guaira?" Karen asked.

"It's an airport on the north coast of Venezuela. It's very convenient, only a short drive from Caracas," Dale replied.

Casey landed his plane at Las Americas Airport in the Dominican Republic at five in the afternoon. After moving quickly through Customs, the four took a taxi along the Avenida de Las Americas, a fourteen mile journey to Santo Domingo. When they reached the outskirts of the sprawling city, Dale turned to the taxi driver. "Hostal Nicolas de Ovando y Calle Las Damas, por favor," he said.

The driver smiled and nodded. "Si, senor."

Dale turned to face Mike and Karen. "We have reservations at the Hostal Nicolas de Ovando. I think you'll like this hotel. It's a restored sixteenth-century mansion in the oldest part of the city. It's comfortable and small—only sixty rooms."

Mike and Karen proceeded directly to their room after checking into the hotel. They showered together, and then flopped on the bed. They were awakened an hour later by jangling of the telephone. Reluctantly, Mike rolled over and lifted the receiver. "Hello," he groaned hoarsely.

"Hi Mike, it's Dale. Liz and I are just starting to dress for dinner. Could you and Karen meet us at the desk downstairs in half an hour?"

"What's the dress code?

"Casual."

"Good. See you in thirty minutes."

The four took a taxi to Meson de la Cava, an upscale and unique restaurant constructed inside a natural cave. While they all enjoyed pre-dinner drinks, Mike turned to Dale. "How do you know Dan Turner?" he asked.

"Both Liz and I have known Dan for years. He's been coming to our resort for a long time. It's through him that we got a lot of our passengers." He winked. "Which brings us to you and Karen. I don't suppose you'd like to share why you're going to Caracas?"

Despite his reluctance to answer the question, Mike took a chance. "Sure. Maybe you know someone in Caracas who could help us."

Dale gave Mike a suspicious stare. "Are you running or looking? Maybe you should tell me."

"Looking," Mike replied, acutely aware that he and Karen were doing both. "We're looking for Karen's son. Her husband kidnapped him and we believe he took him to Venezuela. We're going to try to bring the boy back to Canada."

"Have you asked the police for help?" Liz asked.

Mike shook his head. "The police are out of the question."

Having learned from their previous business experience when to stop asking questions, Dale changed the subject. "I know only one person in the entire country. If he can't help you directly, I'm sure he'll know someone who can. He's very well connected."

"I'll take all the help I can get," Mike said, sitting up straight and twisting to face Dale.

"His name is Adi Blankenship. I'll call him and set up a meeting for you when we get to La Guaira. We go way back."

"Thanks, Dale. It's extremely kind of you to do that," Karen said, thrilled and relieved to know she and Mike would have an immediate foothold in Caracas. The relief made it possible for her to enjoy a sumptuous dinner, which was followed by dancing to live Latin American music, into the night.