Ground Effect

Chapter One

Walid’s running shoes were almost dry. The ride from Del Rio had gone well, so far, but when he glanced to his left, he saw Ghali’s eyelids drooping. They’d been awake for almost two days and had more than a hundred miles to go. The propane tanks in the bed of the stake body truck jingled when they touched as the truck passed over bumps in the road. It was early in the morning and, after crossing the border in the night, they found the truck where their instructions foretold it would be. Now, on the desolate highway moving east into the rising sun, Walid squished his toes inside the shoes and felt the coolness of the Rio Grande’s muddy remains, wishing he could get an American hamburger to fill his growling stomach.

In halting English Walid said, Wake up. Do you need coffee? The prospect of finding anything but scrub bushes and dust in this flat near desert seemed remote. The small town they just passed through was still waking up and the only place to eat was crowded with vehicles and men in broad hats and coveralls moving in and out. They had not dared to stop. The long straight road was carrying Ghali to dreamland.

Walid rolled down the widow and let in a greater volume of cool air. It would soon warm in the desert sun and the truck seemed to lack air conditioning. Even the beat up cars back in Benghazi usually had working air conditioning, when they could find petrol.

The truck hummed and jingled and Walid looked up to see the first curve in miles just ahead. He started to look over again at the driver when the truck drifted into the curve, but rather than follow the road to the right, it moved over the yellow center lines.

"Bulis!" came out in Arabic from the startled Walid as he looked straight into the front grill of a Texas state trooper car sliding to the side to avoid smacking head on into the truck.

~ * ~

The morning sun sent a glimmer from the gold bar on Ken’s left shoulder. Sam felt the shafts of sunlight warming the front of his trousers and pushing the chill away. It was going to be another beautiful day and Sam snuck a glimpse upward to the wisps of white beginning to form in the blue sky.

Then, by the authority vested in me, I pronounce you husband and wife. Ken, you may kiss your bride. The Chaplain smiled and closed his booklet. The small group sighed collectively as the blue uniformed Air Force second lieutenant swept the beautiful black haired bride into his arms and found her lips. Her white dress crinkled as she moved into him and the applause rose with shouts of joy and congratulations filling the air.

Sam couldn’t stop the big fat tear that ran out of his right eye and rolled into plain sight down his cheek. His nose was running too. His son was married and he was happy and sad at the same time.

Hey, boss, you got a hankie? Sgt. Walter Stanislaus Ozliewski, Sr. looked very uncomfortable in his state police uniform. Pieces of Ozzie’s 6’3", 235 pound frame seemed ready to exit the fabric at several places. The brand new sergeant stripes on his grey sleeve covered nicely the spot where just last week corporal stripes were in place.

Sam reached into his dress uniform jacket and came out with two white handkerchiefs and handed one to Ozzie, Here, I need one too. I guess you never get too old to cry.

Weddings and funerals. Every time. Ozzie slipped his Smokey Bear hat up and mopped his forehead too.

Second Lieutenant Ken Deland and his new wife, the former Grace Echaverria, made their way from the wisteria covered Eisenhower Arch toward the banquet hall of Varnum Military Academy just off the Main Line of suburban Philadelphia. The two lines of guests wore state and local police uniforms and were mixed in with Army and Marine dress blues. Civilians in suits and dresses joined in and applauded the couple.

State police Lieutenant Sam Deland took off his cap and watched the couple walk up the slight hill. He put out his arm and took the baby from Eileen and left her the hat. He hated the thing. The hat, not the baby. The dark haired eighteen-month old boy was asleep, for now. Sam snugged him into his shoulder and took his wife’s hand.

Now we can feed Ozzie. He was making noises. Sam grinned and Eileen Matthews Deland walked beside her husband, leaning her head into his unoccupied shoulder. His own gleaming silver lieutenant’s bar was there above her dark hair. She had on a dark blue silk suit with flared pants and shoes that had a heel. Unusual for her. She wore soft leather cowgirl boots most of the time but sacrificed for this day.

God, she’s beautiful. Her mom too. They’re gonna make great grandbabies, Eileen said.

Sam had heard that before. A little over four years ago when Ken and Grace met. How they managed to wait until Ken graduated from the Air Force Academy was a wonder. But they had and now they were soon off to Texas for his flight training.

Ozzie was just ahead walking with his whole tribe. Marie and Ozzie had six kids and if she hadn’t lost the last one…

Grace’s mom, Katrina, was a trim, blonde forty-five year old that looked like a movie star. She managed to slide up next to Trooper Calvin Livingston as they moved along the sidewalk. Calvin wore one stripe on his uniform sleeve of a Senior Trooper. Calvin was tall and trim and just one of several black faces in the small crowd. He also was still single and very happy about that.

Katrina was too, happy and single. She met Calvin at the rehearsal dinner and managed to keep him out much later than was good for either of them. Katrina sold real estate in Florida and was enjoying the crisp Pennsylvania air. It was hotter than blazes in Sarasota this first week of June.

Later? She said quietly as she passed Calvin. He gave her his million dollar smile and she felt that certain tingle in just the right place.

~ * ~

Not many were left. The heaps of black and grey tailings discarded and piled high from the now closed mines got picked over and hauled off. New technology producing power from the bits of coal left between the rocks and dirt. Lemme see. Normy Hansen reached out and tried to take the cheap binoculars from Darrell sitting next to him atop the pile.

Wait, she went back in, Darrell Pickford said and lowered the field glasses from his eyes and rubbed them with his dirty hand. She’ll leave now.

Normy leaned forward and pulled the round tin of smokeless tobacco from the hip pocket of his jeans. The tin would be replaced with another as soon as it was emptied and the succession of the habit had worn a lighter blue ring on the outside of the pocket.

Kay. Normy was big and fat with stringy yellow hair and pimples. The stench from the snuff only cut his sweat smell slightly and Darrell shifted a few inches away to a kneeling position and brought the glasses up again.

Darrell could see the woman come out of the nice house in the subdivision below them and slide into her already running BMW. Normy watched but had to squint a bit to even see the car from the distance.

Give it a while, then we’ll go down and see, Darrell said.

Normy peeled off his flannel shirt. The sun was up over the hills that ringed this part of Wilkes Barre. The roar of trucks on I-81 was echoing off the rocky slopes and the piles of tailings in the creases between them and the six-inch H&R .22 pistol was digging into his ample backside.

~ * ~

Ghali tried hard to keep the old truck from rolling onto its side and scatter them and the propane tanks into the ditch. The noise of the screaming tires mixed with the music of the bottles of explosive gas bashing into each other as the truck rocked back onto its wheels and went across the road pointed eastbound.

This was the first big thing Ghali had ever driven. A Mercedes van had been the only other commercial sized vehicle and that was just for a short run from Rabat into the deserts of Morocco to deliver it to the training camp. And the Mercedes had power steering and stability control. He’d been selected for this task because of his language abilities, not his driving skill and it almost cost them an early defeat. But now he had the brake lights of the police car in his rear view mirror and they would have to deal with it before the sixty-seven pounds of Semtex was discovered in the backpacks nestled between the propane tanks.

Get ready, the police are turning after us, Ghali said between gasps of air. Walid spun in the seat and tried to look out of the back window and between the tanks. Even though the sun was coming up now he could still see the headlights of the patrol car center up on the road and come after them. They were supposed to drive at the speed limit and stop at all the stop signs to avoid drawing attention to themselves. The plans for dealing with the police had been minimal. Stay invisible. Avoid. The mission is primary, evasion and escape secondary. Walid did not intend to martyr himself today. That was for the dirt Arabs with nothing but angry dreams in their heads.

The big heavy wrench clipped to the inside of the driver door was meant to twist open reluctant valves but was the only weapon they had. Ghali jerked it free from its metal clasps and handed it across to Walid.

They are stopping us, Ghali said as the overhead flashers lit up. As we have trained.

~ * ~

Walter Stanislaus Ozliewski, Jr. was hustling his twin seventeen-year old sisters into his crew cab Ram truck to head north. The twenty-year old was almost as tall as his dad but not nearly as heavy. Two years of junior college had been enough to convince even his mom that college was not for him, at least not now. Junior ran his dad’s side remodeling business. Decks, kitchens and a newly earned certificate in heating and air conditioning kept him busy full time. Since his dad had been promoted out of the crime room at Straus Valley barracks to a road patrol corporal in Monroe County, the hour commute each way had thrown the responsibility of the business heavily onto Junior’s shoulders.

Sam just recently rescued Ozzie with a transfer to Sam’s new unit. Sam used to be Ozzie’s crime corporal back at Straus Valley and they had been friends and partners. The state police handled traffic enforcement but also basic law enforcement and investigations in the towns and townships that did not have their own full time police department. Though most of the Commonwealth’s crossroad towns wanted their own local police and control of the budget and influence, the costs were enormous. Many gave up or cut back to part time departments and the state police had to take up the slack.

Crime, especially major crime, did not respect city limits and spread out into the countryside. Newly promoted Lieutenant Sam Deland had been there for the successful conclusion of several tough murder cases in the recent past and Headquarters finally saw the wisdom in putting his talent to good use.

Sam’s rise to sergeant had, like Ozzie’s to corporal, pulled him from investigative work back into uniform and an office job in Harrisburg. He didn’t like it and came close to early retirement. But other promotions put wiser heads in positions of influence and Sam now had his own statewide unit to run. Ozzie being its newest member.

Seat belts, Junior said and the twins scowled but complied. We’ll get first dibs on the goodies so don’t complain. The VMA banquet hall held the small reception put on by the Commandant and his wife. Champagne and sparkling cider for the guests and then pictures. The real party was back at Sam’s barn. His country house built from a converted German immigrant barn on the north side of Blue Mountain seventy miles to the north. Junior and the twins were the early scouting crew to make sure the catering company didn’t spoil the dogs too much.

The Commandant delayed his summer vacation to host the wedding. The early morning ceremonies would give everyone time to get on to what they had planned. A few had to get back to their units and others to the Jersey Shore for the summer. Congratulations, Lieutenant. Your bride is even more beautiful than your father described her. Grace blushed a bit of pink under her makeup over her light olive skin. Her Bambi brown eyes looked up at the army colonel and she smiled.

Thank you, sir. It was very kind of you to let us intrude on your summer weekend for the ceremony, Ken said. Ken had graduated from Varnum and gone on to the air Force Academy. Grace agreed to have the wedding at his alma mater. She would have been happy getting married in the chapel in Colorado Springs with the other couples that filled it each June as the graduating class were finally able to marry after earning their commissions.

Where do you go from here? the Commandant’s wife asked as Ken and Grace filled in beside them in the reception line.

To Atlanta to clean out my apartment and then to Texas for Ken’s flight training. I’m taking a leave of absence from the airline and finishing my degree online while Ken tries not to show up the instructors. Grace’s college swimming scholarship was left behind when her Cuban-American father was killed in a boating accident in her junior year.

The Commandant laughed. Ken had been flying since he was big enough to hold the stick, soloed in gliders at fourteen and worked up to multi-engine before leaving for the Academy. He even had some off the books jet time with his dad in the Lear Sam flew on weekends for the air charter company.

I have to learn the Air Force way, Ken said. They seem to know what they’re doing.

Grace looked past the Commandant’s wife as the people started filing in and hoped none of them noticed anything. Pulling the 1-26 sailplane on its trailer back from Colorado with Ken slowed them down and three nights in motels had been wonderful. Somehow she knew that Sam’s grandchild in her tummy was just forming and she smiled at her secret.

~ * ~

The fence wasn’t very tall but Darrell still had to give a bit of a jump to get his weight balanced on the top. Normy struggled but finally got himself over. They were both on this job, they needed the extra hands. Watch where you step, Shrimp, there’s dog shit everywhere.

Darrell clenched his fists and spun on Normy. Don’t call me that. You want me to call you Tub of Lard?

Normy had to think about that a minute and said, No, but…

Darrell was at the back door and slid down to the doggie flap at the bottom of the door. He pushed it and found it was not latched from the inside. The slightest noise came from the hinge at the top and the inside of the house erupted with the shrill barking of dogs.

Jesus, you think there’s more than two? Normy asked.

Darrell didn’t answer and pulled the flap up and began to work his head and shoulders into the opening. Shut the fuck up, damn dogs! Darrell yelled. The two Yorkies were at the other end of the kitchen and defending the doorway to the dining room barking and lifting their front feet off the floor in the effort. The noise was piercing, echoing off the tile floor and pounding Darrell’s ears.

Give us a little push, Normy, Darrell said back over his shoulder that had jammed into the corner of the opening. Normy bent down on one knee, the .22 punching his fat butt as he grabbed Darrell and shoved the stuck shoulder past the edge.

Ow! Darrell complained but when he looked up he could see white Yorkie teeth halfway across the floor, closer and moving toward him. He didn’t want to have to shoot them and Normy had the gun anyway. Darrell pulled himself through and struggled to his feet. From even that short height the dogs didn’t look quite so fierce and he yelled, Go lay down!

One Yorkie stopped barking and disappeared back into the dining room but the other stood its ground and kept barking. Darrell slipped the door latch and let Normy in. You get this one, I’ll find the other.

Normy looked at the little snarling set of teeth and froze. Darrell simply stepped over the tiny dog and went into the house in search of the other one. Normy finally regained his composure and pulled a pillow case from his back pocket. Here, doggy. We gonna go for a ride to Jersey…

The teeth hurt when they sunk into Normy’s hand and he had to whack the dog to get it to stop. He picked it up by the tail and dropped it into the pillow case. The dog stopped barking but feet and nails dug at the cloth bulging in all directions and almost pulling it from Normy’s hands.

Darrell appeared in the dining room doorway with the other dog resting quietly in his arms and said, Okay, open up the bag.

Normy held the bouncing pillow case out to Darrell but had it closed tight at the top. Blood dripped onto the cloth from a nasty bite on his hand. Fucker bit the shit outta me.

Darrell looked down at the Yorkie in his arms but before he could say something they both heard the front door lock click and the door open.

~ * ~

The state trooper car bumped its siren two quick burps before Ghali slowed and pulled onto the gravel and dirt shoulder. There was nothing but open prairie ahead of them and they had not passed anything but locked cattle gates since leaving the last town. Nobody out here but them and whoever was in the police car.

Stay down out of sight, Ghali said to Walid. Walid grasped the wrench and slid into the gap between the seat and dash. Ghali could see the driver sitting in the police car but wasn’t sure if there was a second man. Before the trooper could get out of the car, Ghali grabbed the door handle, opened the door quickly and slid out onto the ground.

Ghali looked back toward the trooper and saw he was alone and then watched him toss the radio microphone onto the dash and struggle to get out of the door. The trooper was trying to get his big hat on and stand at the same time and then began yelling.

Ghali walked halfway back the length of the propane truck and stopped by the rear dual wheels. The trooper came around his open door and said loudly, Sir, please get back into your vehicle.

Ghali smiled and held out his hands as if he did not understand. The trooper was within a year or two of Ghali’s twenty-six years. He was an inch taller and well built. A formidable enemy. The trooper repeated his demand in Spanish.

Ghali understood both languages. That had been one of the primary reasons he was chosen for this mission. His two years of engineering college and his ability to remember what he was told added to his resume. The trooper was a shade darker than Ghali but lighter than Walid, probably some Hispanic blood. He advanced in small slow steps and his right hand was on the grip of his holstered handgun.

Sir, do you understand? Get back in your vehicle! This was even louder and the trooper stopped about eight feet away just clear of the tailgate of the truck. Ghali knew Walid was moving now and Ghali took two steps back toward the open door of the truck and stopped again. This drew the trooper even with the tailgate and he again shouted in Spanish, Get back in the truck! and drew his pistol.

Ghali had him now. Ghali dropped to his knees and put his hands together on the top of his head. This drew a curious look onto the trooper’s face. He was not expecting this. It worked. The trooper stepped closer and said, Is there anyone else in the truck?

Ghali decided to use English and said, No, officer. Just me, and smiled. The smile was the trick. No aggression, meek and mild. Confusion, distraction, diversion.

The wrench came down hard on the trooper’s hand and the pistol went into the dirt at his feet. The trooper reached to grab his injured hand with his other and Ghali sprang forward, grasping them both. The wrench struck the back of the trooper’s head and he went down, folding into Ghali’s arms.

~ * ~

It didn’t last long. Toasts were made and the Commandant left with his wife. Sam shooed everyone else out and he stayed behind for pictures with the family. Sam’s parents were down from Wellsboro and the recently widowed Grandma Landis from Sellersville. Ken’s mother had been killed in a Turnpike crash when Ken was two and the grandmas helped raise him after Sam came home from flying jets onto aircraft carriers and made his way onto the state police. The trust fund from the settlement assured Ken and his children of a very comfortable future.

After most of the photographer’s work was done, Grandma Landis had to leave. She was tired and did not look well. Do you want someone to drive you? Sam asked.

No, dear, I’m fine. I just need to sleep, all this, excitement. She winked at Sam and slid open her purse revealing the bottle of Champagne. I won’t make it to five o’clock mass today.

Sam and Ken gave her a hug and she got a kiss from Grace on her way out of the door. Grace only had Ken’s grandmothers now. Her father’s Cuban mother in Miami lived long enough to know she was going to marry but not long enough to see the wedding.

Grace sat down next to her mom and took off her shoes. God, I could never work a flight in those nasty things. One use and done. She kicked the white high heels across the floor and intended on leaving them there for the janitor’s girlfriend. Grace usually wore much more sensible shoes on the airplanes where she worked.

Katrina was as blonde and blue eyed as Grace was black