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We’re wearing glow-tags which’ll show in your NVE. Please don’t shoot us.”“Hey, Jonny. You want us to shoot the others? Oh, by the way, a large car arrived a few minutes ago and pulled in front of the house. I couldn’t see who got out, it was out of sight.” As I spoke, two more cars appeared on the road and turned in. “Two more just arrived, Jonny.”“Good enough. I’m trusting you to cover the rear on the north side. I’ve got an operative on the south side. I’ll trust you to use your discretion. I’d rather have them dead of lead poisoning than free.”“Understood.” How did I end up here? “Out, here.” Then to Yelka, “The Mannlicher, Yelka, with the night-sight.”“Yes, Papa.” I knew Sally had exercised the girls, more Yelka than Lena, with the long guns, and Yelka was at least familiar with the Mannlicher. She fetched the bipod, and fitted the night-sight to the rifle before handing it to me. She then fetched two five-round rotary magazines. I was nervous; I was quite familiar with the old. “Yeah, but Cindy’s plane burns sixty gallons an hour. We’re doing less than a third of that. And a hundred K instead of six million.”“There is that,” Deena smirked. “But just sayin’...”“This one does pretty good for being older than Bill,” I posed. “Quite nice.”She is. Trimmed up, the old girl holds her altitude, the engine grumbles in a steady roar, and the miles pass down below us.We started our descent, called Mister Russ on a cellphone, started looking for the airstrip. According to Google Maps, it’s just a strip of grass alongside a farm path, a few chicken sheds nearby as landmarks.There it is. Facilities? None whatsoever. A quick look at weather on the iPad has us landing to the southeast, and as we’re doing a pattern, I see Mister Russ’s pickup truck driving up the dirt road. The strip we’re now on final for is just grass. I’ve been landing on grass since I started flying, so it’s a yawner.By the time we’re down, wheeling around to taxi back to the other end where Mister Russ.
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