Leg 12: MUCU-MKJS
Pilot: Bryan K.
What else can I say! For a few hours this afternoon, I forgot all about my adventures of the last two days. Spending the afternoon in a city as beautiful as Santiago, and with a guide so… knowledgeable as Teresa was what I needed to clear my mind.
I could of spent a few days here (like my original plan intended for), but I had to be back at the airport for 20:00.
Teresa was great company all along the afternoon. She had left Cuba with her family by boat, when she was only 10. Their small and overcrowded vessel had been severely damaged in a storm, and only her and her Mom had survived and been able to reach the Florida coast. At 15, she had been “found” by Tom in the streets of Miami, and became a member of his “company”. Always interested in flying (her late father was once a member of the Cuban Air Force) she had received her PPL before she was 20, and then proceeded to help out Tom and Paul in operations in Southern Florida and Cuba.
By now, all my perceptions were confirmed about Tom and his group. I had figured out who their “company” was, and I also realized that the pilot life I had been enjoying for the last few years had abruptly come to an end when I had answered my cell phone early yesterday morning (was it only yesterday?).
At 19:30, Tom called and said we should stop “whatever” we were doing, and start walking back to the airport. I got the feeling that now that my part of the job was done, these guys wanted me out of here ASAP.
At 20:05, I was back at the hangar, and my Conquest had already been readied for start-up. In just a few minutes, Cuba would be just a bad memory, and I would be heading for some much needed r&r in Montego Bay, just a 150 nm across the Cayman Trench. Tom was waiting for me, accompanied by a few of the goons I had flown over earlier today.
- “Thanks for the ride Flyboy! You did quite good job. I know it’s not the way you had planned to visit Cuba, but that’s all we could do to help”, Tom simply told me.
- “Am I suppose to thank you?”, I replied.
- “Hey, you volunteered for this!”
Before I could interject, Tom and his boys had turned their back and were walking back inside the hangar. The only one that stayed behind was Teresa.
- “Muchos gracias Senor Bryan. What you did today will help many people. I want you to remember that”, she softly said, before heading out for the hangar herself.
I just stood there, and watched her walk away. Then, the reality of the last two days just hit me. Since 6:15 the morning before I had: flown from Tampa to Miami, spent the night in a “undisclosed” hangar, participated in a “dark op”, crossed the Florida Straights at 800’ and illegally landed in TWO Cuban airports, used a false identification to fly across Cuba… and played the tourist with a “hot” Cuban operative! How on earth am I now suppose to fly to Montego Bay without crashing!?
- “Senor… Senor… You must leave now”. One of the locals working at the airport brought me back to reality.
I boarded (again!!) my Conquest and absorbed myself in my start-up checklist (again!!!). The airport was dead quiet when I started taxiing towards runway 09.
At 20:25, I was cleared for take-off, and left the Cuban soil, after a lest than ten hours “visit”.
With a cloud base at around 4000’, Santiago Del Cuba quickly faded away, as I started turning south towards Jamaica.
The skies were empty and the airwaves silent when I settled at my cruising altitude of 12 000’.
That’s when my satellite phone rang. The “bip” startled me, just like it did yesterday at 6:15, when this “adventure” began.
- “Nice take-off Flyboy!”
- “Good evening Tom, if you are calling to tell me Jamaica is revoking my landing rights, I won’t turn around…”
- “Listen, I just noticed I forgot a package in your bird. Check under your seat… and have a nice flight!”, he said before hanging up.
For just a second, the picture of my airplane turning into a huge fireball flashed in front of my eyes. I checked my instruments, and then started to check under my seat, looking for “something”.
The bulky package was badly taped together. I tore open the envelope. It contained 10 000 US$, wrapped together with a rubber band. The money was rolled into what looked like a used piece of paper. I was about to throw it on the floor when I noticed the paper appeared to be an official Government of Cuba document, and that my name was typed in the middle of it!
Throwing the money bundle on the passenger seat, I took a closer look at the document. IT WAS A PERFECTLY VALID GOVERNMENTAL VISA FOR A ONE MONTH STAY IN CUBA!!!!
I had been framed from the beginning! Why the hell had I not called fellow Six Packer John after I received that first call yesterday morning?
I felt dizzy for a few moments, and my instruments seemed to be coming out of the panel and jumping at me. Making sure that the autopilot was well engaged, I closed my eyes for what seemed to be an eternity.
Once again, it’s the ring of my satellite phone that brought me back to reality.
-“Hey Flyboy! You haven’t crashed yet?”
- “Go the hell Tom. You used me!”
- “No one said that life was fair Flyboy.”
- “Why me Tom?”
- “Welcome to Air America Flyboy. Don’t worry, we’ll be in touch”
With that, the phone went dead.
Air America!? I thought that was part of the tales and legends of the ‘70’s. How could I have been so naďve? What was I suppose to do now?
The “bip” of my GPS informing me it was time to start my descent into MKJS brought my thoughts back to flying the plane.
At 50 nm from Montego Bay, I started a nice slow descent towards Jamaica. The ATC chatter was minimal, so I was looking forward to a nice (and fast) landing. At 10 nm, MKJS Tower instructed me to enter the downwind pattern and land on runway 07.
The sight of the luxury hotels and the yachts in Montego Bay reassured me. I was not going nowhere for a few days, if not a few weeks. The hell with the Six Pack for awhile!
Thinking too much about Air America… and about rum, I came in WAYYYY too low and had to dramatically pull-up on final to avoid a crash. But I had enough time to correct, and line-up for landing.
At 21:06, my main wheels touched the Jamaican ground, and I thanked God when I was directed to a parking spot right next to the taxiway I had just turned on.
Now… I need rum!!!!
To be continued…