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The Mysterious Flight of 1144Q

by Rick A. Oates

218 pages; quality trade paperback (softcover); catalogue #03-0079; ISBN 1-55395-716-4; US$23.00, C$26.00, EUR19.00, £13.50

Steve Mitchell, an adventure-seeking pilot, finds more than he bargained for when a sudden springtime thunderstorm happens upon him in flight while on his way to deliver a mysterious crate. The storm brings about change in his life that starts a series of events that are truly remarkable and hard for the imagination to comprehend!

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about the book      about the author      sample excerpts or Table of Contents      catalogue info

About the Book Steve Mitchell, an adventure-seeking pilot, finds more than he bargained for when a sudden springtime thunderstorm happens upon him in flight while on his way to deliver a mysterious crate. The storm brings about change in his life that starts a series of events that are truly remarkable and hard for the imagination to comprehend! What is reality? How can one explain the unexplainable? How much will the mind allow us to accept? These are question Steve must answer not only for others, but also for himself. The perception of what he believes to be real triggers a cosmic collision of time. The mystery, adventure, and romance he incurs along his journey shape his heart, emotions, and course of life forever. He never will be the same again.

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About the Author Rick Oates has been using his creative talents for several years on stage and screen. He has been able to translate the passion he exuberates in his acting career into his writing. He is an experienced multi-engine pilot, enhancing the adventures the fictional character, Steve Mitchell, encounters. His sensitivity to romance propels the books characters to a sense of realism.

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Sample Excerpts or Table of Contents

Finally after a long pause George spoke up again. "Steve, just so it's clear, yes I did say $75,000 in cash. I can assure you, it's a totally legit proposition. I told you the piece has sentimental value to us. Our business is doing well and we'll settle for only the best. Simply put, you're the best and we're willing to pay you for that. So what do you think?"

Steve was still a little dumbfounded. "Hmmm. $75,000 for a trip to California? That's a lot of money for what seems to be a simple job. I just don't know."

George chuckled as he answered "I know, crazy huh? But that's us Californians. We make a lot and we spend a lot. I can have the money delivered to you tomorrow if you like. How about it?"

Steve answered, "Can you hold on a minute?"

"Sure," George responded.

Steve placed the phone on hold. He got up from his desk and moved to the office window. He watched a sparrow outside wrestle a worm from the ground as he pondered his own struggle. He had a lot of questions as to why a stranger would pay him so much for transporting a piece of artwork. He wondered if this guy was for real or was it something illegal.

Maybe it was a hoax. Steve was unsure how to handle this. Finally he decided to accept the offer at face value. If it was a hoax, oh well. If it was illegal he could always back away. But if it was true, well, that was too much money to pass up for such a simple flight!

Steve picked up the phone, pressed the button for line one, and told George, "Okay, you've got yourself a pilot."

"Great, Steve! We'll set everything up and have a courier deliver the money and instructions to you by noon tomorrow. Oh, one more thing. Do you think you can leave this coming weekend?"

"Well, Saturday I have a family reunion in Albert Lea that's been planned for a long time. I'm sorry, but I'm not going to miss that," Steve said.

"This Saturday, huh? Hold on a minute," George responded.

Steve could tell George had placed his hand over the telephone mouthpiece by the muffled conversation he heard. The discussion he was having with someone seemed to be a heated one. Steve could hear two men arguing but couldn't make out what they were saying. Finally George returned to the phone call.

"Okay, Steve. That shouldn't be a problem as long as you can be on your way by Sunday. Is that doable?"

"Yeah, that's doable. I'll leave directly from Albert Lea and head your way first thing Sunday morning."

George instructed, "Okay, I'll send a courier tomorrow. He'll be there at noon. Look over everything, and if you have any questions you can reach me on my cell phone, (916)555- 4638. Any questions?"

"Uh, yeah. How big is this thing?"

"No bigger than a passenger," George said confidently.

"Okay. I guess that's it. I'll wait for your courier to show up, take delivery, give him a receipt, and call if I have any other questions at that time. So I guess I will see you Sunday in San Francisco?"

George's voice momentarily turned from being business-like to cautious. "Don't worry about a receipt. That's fine. We don't require one."

Steve questioned, "But you're giving me $75,000 and a priceless piece of whatever. Aren't you a little concerned about protecting that?"

"Steve, don't worry. We're protected. See you Sunday."

"Alright then. See ya."

Steve hung up the phone still questioning the validity of the deal.

The door to the office opened precisely at noon the next day. A man in his early twenties wheeled in a wooden crate banded with steel straps, and placed it up against the filing cabinets.

The two-foot by two-foot crate was smaller than what Steve expected. It was surrounded top-to-bottom and side-to-side with the metal bands. A hefty lock clasped them in place. It was evident no one would be opening the crate except the person who had the key to the lock. The crate showed signs that this wasn't the first time it traveled. The corners were well-worn and the steel bands were rusted. The African label markings solidified in Steve's mind the crate's originality.

The courier spoke first. "I'm looking for Steve Mitchell."

The long gray overcoat draped on his shoulders hid the jeans and flannel shirt he wore. He spoke with a low and gravely voice. A scruffy beard covered his face. His eyes shifted back and forth as he waited for a response.

"I'm Steve Mitchell."

"This is for you," the man said as he slid the two-wheel cart from underneath the crate. "Careful with that now. It's a bit heavy," he told Steve.

The man reached inside his overcoat, pulled out a large envelope, and handed it to Steve. He turned and walked out the door, two-wheeler in tow, without saying a word.

By now, Steve was convinced this wasn't a hoax. He was unsure of what he was getting involved with but his curiosity wouldn't let him stop.

Stephanie, his receptionist, asked, "What's up?"

Steve was reluctant to tell her the story about his phone conversation regarding the mysterious crate. He didn't want her to worry.

"Oh nothing. I need to deliver that for a client," Steve told her as he pointed to the crate. He turned, walked into his office, and shut the door behind him. He sat at his desk and undid the clasp to the large envelope. Out fell 15 stacks of $100 bills, 50 bills to a stack, and a smaller envelope. Steve was a bit stunned at the sight of $75,000 in cash in the middle of his desk. It was beginning to sink in. This was for real.

He opened the smaller envelope and slid a single sheet of paper out. It contained a typed-numbered list of what to do. No business letterhead, just a single white sheet of paper with instructions printed on it.

It read:

1)You are to use your Cessna 310 for this trip.
2)Fly to Lake Tahoe, California.
3)Arrive at 2:00 p.m. local time.
4)Go to gate 3 and ask for Rich Versetti.
5)Rich will have the instructions for your final leg to San Francisco.

Steve turned the paper over to see if anything else was written on the backside. He found no other markings.

He didn't know what to make of all this now. He sat at his desk with a pile of cash, a simple note of instructions, and all of this mystery surrounding an African crate in the other room.

Why did he have to use a particular aircraft? How did they know he had a Cessna 310? It was his fun plane. He used it a couple of times for some charters but that was only because he was flying to remote locations that only had short grass airstrips.

Steve thought about calling the number George had given him yesterday. He picked up the phone, paused, looked at the cash on his desk, and placed the phone back in its cradle. He decided calling at this time was not a good idea. He had questions alright, but they weren't ones he wanted to ask. The money loomed too big in his eyes for such a simple trip. Granted, flying the 310 would make for a longer flight than he originally thought, but he had $75,000 to do it! Flying the 310 would be just fine.

He wrote George's phone number on a piece of scratch paper and slipped it in the middle drawer of his desk. Steve gathered the cash and placed it in his briefcase along with the letter of instructions. He then grabbed a two-wheel cart out of the storage room and left that afternoon without saying much more to Stephanie. He told her he had two stops to make, his Cessna 310 and the bank. As he pulled from the parking lot he had $75,000 in a briefcase and the crate in his trunk.

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Catalogue Information

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