Blaine brought the plane in and set it down. It settled so lightly he wouldn’t have broken a china plate. He smiled to himself. Still got the touch, ol’ man. A plane is like a good horse, a good dog, a good lover. Responds to the right handling every damn time.
At first he’d thought he’d miss the sheer power of the military jets he used to fly, but this old prop plane was the sweetest bird he’d ever flown. Even though it might not be as fast or capable of busting the sound barrier in a flash of balls-to-the-wall full military power, he could thread it through a canyon and counter crosswinds and unexpected updrafts at minimal altitudes no jet could maintain for long.
As he climbed down, Mike Morrissey, his second-in-command, came running to meet him. “Hey, I know you want to get in anothe
