Deadly Detail by Don Porter Read Free Book Online Page B

Air Cargo. An office with large windows and an entrance was on the right. The rest of the building appeared to be a warehouse with an overhead door that could admit a truck, and beside it a pedestrian door into the freight area. That was the door Stan had used. I turned away from it, and entered the office.
    A gray Formica counter reached from wall to wall, with a hinged section at the left end for employees to go through. Two sharp, attractive young women sat at desks, a no-nonsense brunette at a computer, a breathtaking blonde working on a ledger. The back of the room had two doors, apparently to two private offices, and to the left of them was the fateful door into the freight area. The ledger lady gave me a smile and came to take my shipping order. Time to think fast.
    “Hi, I’m in town for just a few days, but I’m running short of cash and wondered if you happen to have a temporary opening? I’m familiar with shipping, but I’m also good with a broom and a mop.”
    “No, I’m sorry, we’re fully staffed, and we use Pierson’s janitorial service. I really don’t think….”
    The door of the private office on the right popped open and the shout startled both of us.
    “Hey, Alex, what’s happening, man?” It was Freddy. We’ve known each other since he was dispatching for Hawley Evans at Fairbanks Air Service and both of us were flying for the Tanana Valley Air Search and Rescue. We were flying free, building up hours. That’s not an FAA requirement. We both had our commercial licenses, and the required hours for those are laughable. In Alaska, it’s the insurance companies that rule the charter business, and their mandate is two thousand hours before they’ll even talk to you.
    “Hi, Freddy, in town for a few days and looking to starch up the bankroll.”
    “Oh, oh, let me guess. Was the problem named Jody?” He’d come to the counter and plunked his elbows down to make a chin rest of his hands.
    “A gentleman would never tell, but yeah, I do need to earn a few hundred bucks to support my lavish lifestyle.”
    “Alex, I never thought you were the type, but you must have been sent from heaven. Pipeline is running us ragged. How the devil did you get time off in the fall? Everyone here is trying to beat winter with last summer’s projects.”
    “Yeah, well, you guys have a pipeline. All Bethel has is a pipe dream, but I really do have just a few days off. Do you have something?”
    “Show me some paper.” He pulled a big ledger-type logbook from under the counter. I handed him my license and medical. He started copying numbers. “You’re current on the turbo-twin Otter, of course.”
    “Well, not….”
    “Good.” He didn’t want to hear me say no. What he was proposing isn’t quite kosher, but it is standard procedure. In theory you have to stay current in each aircraft you fly, but in fact, it’s sort of like renting a car from Avis. You don’t care who made the car. Switches may be a little strange; it might take a minute to figure out the wipers and the AC. The gearshift may be different from the Masserati you drive at home, but you get in and drive with no lessons. With thirteen thousand hours in the air, and experience in at least twenty different aircraft, you can do the same with airplanes.
    “There’s a new turbo-twin out front with a load of pipe fittings that they’re screaming for in Wiesman. I was going to send Tommy up when he gets back from Prudhoe, but if you’ll run it up, it’ll save a lot of arm twisting.”
    “It’s already loaded?”
    “Yep, actually about five hundred pounds overloaded, but I promise it’s perfectly balanced.” He closed the ledger and stuck it back under the counter. Apparently I was now employed. He handed me a ring with two keys. “Second key is to the office. It may take a while to connect with their people and get off-loaded. If the office is closed when you get back, just fill out a flight ticket and put it on Celeste’s desk.”