CHARIOTS OF THE CLOUDS For as long as she could remember, Colley Morgan wanted to be a pilot. Determined to achieve her childhood dream, she accepts a position flying for Aero Pacific Aviation in Southern California owned by Geoff Fillmore. Their first encounter draws them together yet at the same time sets a quirky pace for their relationship. While flying a charter flight to Baja California, Colley finds herself in jeopardy when her plane is forced down in an isolated area and then stolen. Alone in a strange country, Colley turns to the only person she can reach, Geoff. Colley and Geoff put their personal differences aside to pursue recovering "their" airplane. As the mystery of the stolen plane unfolds, their decision leads them into the treacherous world of smugglers. Chariots of the Clouds is the second book in the Morgan Family Genealogy Series.
Chariots of the Clouds
By Carole BaileyAuthorHouse
Copyright © 2009 Carole Bailey
All right reserved.ISBN: 978-1-4389-7679-2Chapter One
JUNE 1981 SOUTHERN CALIFORNIA
"Instrument flying, Babes, is ninety-nine percent boredom and one percent sheer terror." Colleen Morgan could hear the voice of her father stretching across her memory, instructing her in his wisdom of instrument flying. Well, Dad, she thought, I could handle some of that ninety-nine percent boredom right now.
Wind pelted rain against the windows and pitched the airplane like a toy ship at sea. Fluffy grey-white clouds enclosed the airplane, making it impossible to see the wing tips or the nose of the airplane. The red glow of the cockpit light made Colley secure as she scanned the plane's instruments. She knew from experience to trust what she saw on the instruments and not give in to any conflicting physical sensations of what was up and what was down.
The yellow on her radar scope told Colley they were far from the center of the storm but it would be hard to convince the passengers bouncing around in their seats. She knew bad weather always made the passengers a little nervous so anytime she received a weather briefing that included anything that might make the flight less than smooth and clear she always explained to them what they could expect. By speaking in an assured, upbeat tone her calmness usually became contagious. With the exception of one man, Henry Collins, the four passengers coming back from Las Vegas had tolerated the bumpy trip very well. She first noticed Henry leaning against a wall at the terminal before she knew he was one of her passengers. His lanky six-foot-two body, freckled face and sandy blond hair made him conspicuous in a crowd. When he boarded the plane his eyes darted around as if looking for the nearest exit.
A few moments after lift-off they entered clouds. From his seat behind her Henry began mumbling what she believed were questions. Not being able to make out what he was asking, she handed him an extra headset and invited him to sit in the right seat next to her after they leveled off enroute. A few minutes later he joined her in the cockpit. She explained what the controllers said and the plane's noises, and let him ask questions. He seemed to put logical reasoning to everything the plane was doing and commented, "That makes sense."
Detecting concern in his voice, she reassured him the trip was going fine but flying seemed to be his natural enemy. Finally, he relaxed a little and his grip on the armrest no longer seemed to cut off circulation to his hands.
Nearing the end of their trip, Colley turned on the intercom, and said informally, "Good afternoon gentlemen." With a little more authority in her voice she continued, "In a few minutes we are going to start our descent. You might notice a few more bumps. We will be arriving at the airport in about twenty minutes. Make sure your seatbelts are on and secured. Please put up any trays and tighten down anything loose." Thinking where they had just come from she added, "Like all the money you won in Las Vegas." She glanced over and noticed a small smile on Henry's taut face.
Rain drummed like an intense percussion player on the metal airplane as they came down through the clouds. Colley used a methodical scan on her instruments to make sure the plane was following her commands.
"Cessna six-zero Mike," began the instructions from the controller over Colley's headset. "Six miles from the outer marker. Turn right heading two-five-zero. Maintain four thousand until established on the localizer. Cleared for ILS runway two-eight approach."
"Cessna six-zero Mike. Heading two-five-zero. Maintaining four thousand. Cleared for ILS runway two-eight approach," Colley read back to the controller. Slender fingers of her left hand wrapped securely around the plan's control wheel. With her right hand she reached for the engine and propeller controls.
Flying was like nothing else in the world for Colley. It gave her a sense of freedom, like a butterfly emerging from its cocoon into a gentle afternoon breeze. Once her wings unfolded in the wind and let her fly, she felt free. And flying by instruments heightened that feeling because of the need for precision in the unknown. Each time Colley flew an instrument approach into an airport she got an intense feeling of euphoria as she sensed God's hand slip over her hand and guide her toward touchdown.
A silent smile broke across her radiant Irish face when the plane broke out of the clouds at 500 feet above the ground and the center white stripe of runway 28 was directly in front of her. "Amen," she whispered. "Amen."
The rain stopped by the time Colley taxied to the hangar. Stepping out of the airplane she stretched her long, athletic legs. Unconsciously she tucked her light blue shirt, with the three silver-stripped epaulets on the shoulder, deeper into her dark blue pants of the Aero Pacific Aviation uniform. The glances she drew when she got out of one of the larger airplanes wearing the pilot's uniform she knew were because she was a woman. Women pilots were making strides of acceptance, but still a lot of ground needed to be gained.
The second glances went to Colley, the woman; slender, ocean-blue eyes, dark hair that cascaded over her shoulders, and a complexion the color of golden honey. Her look caused men to walk into doors while at the same time women turned to admire her wholesome radiance.
Darting around the rain puddles, she stepped quickly to help the passengers unload. Before she reached the passengers a hand grabbed her arm, spinning her around.
"Seora Colley Morgan," a voice grumbled.
Colley was face to face with a swarthy man with black eyes that cast suspicious shadows from them. An icy chill traveled the length of her body. To shake her disquieting feeling, she stepped back away from him and took a deep breath.
"Yes, I'm Colley Morgan. What can I do for you?" Her voice was pleasant but cautious.
"I have come about your husband." His mouth twitched nervously and he stepped closer to her.
"I don't have a husband." Her voice stiffened.
"Seor Glen Grover, he is your husband?"
"No." A dry smile crossed her face. Ex, she thought. Ex husband. Whoever this man was she did not owe him any explanations. A sudden flash of Glen crossed her mind.
Colley had met Glen Grover her last semester in college during a time when she had wandered from her relationship with God. She reached for something, someone to bring her comfort. Glen, a handsome young naval officer at flight school, was there to sway and seduce her into a life opposed to everything she had been brought up to believe. His dark hair and piercing steel grey eyes mesmerized her and his uniform dazzled her. Following a one-month whirlwind courtship, they eloped. She graduated but gave up pursuing a career in aviation, yielding to Glen's demands. A short time after they married Glen washed out of flight school for a reason Colley never understood
It became apparent to Colley that Glen wasn't going to take on any responsibilities. He always had some deal just around the corner, a way to make a quick buck. The good times of the short courtship disappeared as he became more possessed with control and manipulative games. Their marriage fell into an inescapable smoldering pit, fueled by Glen's frequent mood swings, mysterious trips, and dark attitude toward life and people. Colley again felt lost but this time she turned back to God. Within two months of their elopement Glen began a reign of persecution because of her belief. Before their six month anniversary Glen disappeared, AWOL from the Navy ... AWOL from their marriage. The following year she filed for divorce, changing back to her maiden name.
"Seora Morgan ..." the swarthy man began. The garlic on his breath overpowered the air surrounding them.
She owed this stranger no explanation. She gave him a patronizing smile, put her hand up to stop his sentence and turned to leave.
He stepped in front of her and put his hand on her arm. "Wait," he commanded.
She looked down at his hand, and then coldly stared into his eyes.
He quickly removed his hand before he spoke. "Seor Grover, we think he left something with you." His mouth began twitching again.
Without speaking Colley waited for his next statement.
"We also know you fly to Baja and we have some merchandise that needs to be taken down there and some brought back."
"You will have to talk to the owner about scheduling a flight. If you wait, I'll be glad to get him." She started to go around him but he sidestepped, blocking her path again.
"No. Your boss, Seor Fillmore, he is not to be involved. We have been told to arrange it with you. You see, we had a deal with Seor Grover and he didn't pay us. Now we want his account cleared."
"Who told you I'd help you?" The coolness in her voice matched the rain-soaked air.
"We have friends up here. But that doesn't matter. We are sure you will be happy to help"
"Why would you think that?"
"Because we don't think you'd want to be responsible for anything happening to Seor Grover." Sweat beaded up on the man's forehead.
She didn't want to be responsible for anything happening to Glen, but she also didn't want anything to do with him and his two bit deals. This, she decided, was just another of Glen's schemes that had gone astray and by tomorrow he'd be trying to con someone else. This guy would get over it. "I only carry cargo that's listed on the manifest," she replied evenly.
"His debt has to be cleared," the man said, with a flat-edged voice.
Goose bumps rose uncontrollably on Colley but she spoke in a calm voice, "Glen has to clear his own debts."
Before she could say any more the man turned on his heels and was walking at a fast pace for the hangar door. In his hurry he bumped into, and almost knocked over, one of the disembarking passengers, Karl Rike. The man quietly said something to Karl in Spanish, which Colley did not understand. She stared at him as he moved hurriedly toward the hanger door.
"Thank you," Henry said, easing up beside her. "Thank you for taking the time and patience to help me. Flying is a challenge for me. Most pilots I fly with don't say much."
"Oh, do you fly much?" she asked absently while looking around Henry's shoulder at the stranger disappearing through the hanger door.
"Yes. You see," he said, pointing toward one of the older men, "Dad and I fly all over for business. Today's trip was pleasure but in a couple of days it will be for work. I wish I could get over this fear."
"Fear?" Her attention was brought back to what Henry was saying. Did her face show her anxiety from talking to the stranger?
"Fear of flying," he said, giving her a 'you-know' look.
"Oh, yes. Why don't you take a pinch-hitter course, Henry? It will give you a firsthand knowledge of what's happening in the airplane. Perhaps if you knew more about flying you would be less worried."
"That sounds logical."
"It is," she smiled.
"Where can I sign up?" The hesitancy in his voice was matched by his raised eyebrow.
"Any flight instructor can help you or through various aviation organizations."
"Would you? I mean knowing the extent of my ... uh ... love for flying?"
"I'd be happy to. Give me a call the end of the week."
"Okay!" he said. A crooked smile formed on his face.
Colley walked briskly to the hangar door and looked out over the runways. The weather had decayed even more. The clouds hung 200 feet above the tarmac. Her eyes searched the field for the stranger. His disappearance did not quiet the cold feeling in the pit of her stomach.
"You made it back just in time. The tower just closed the airport because of this weather. Any problems?" Colley looked up to see Geoff's dark brown eyes fixed on her face. He was standing close enough for her to feel one of his muscular arms brushing against her arm. She detected a hint of spearmint gum on his breath as he spoke. Suddenly a light-headed feeling came over her. "Just your typical sightseeing flight," she answered, regaining her composure.
"And the young man Henry? How was he?"
"White-knuckle flyer. How did you know?" she asked, as she walked toward the offices.
"His father asked to charter our planes for more trips. He says you were the best thing that's happened to his son. Holding hands with the passengers?" His brown eyes flashed with delight.
Seeing his teasing grin, she answered, "Every chance I can. I just set the plane on auto pilot and stroll out of the cabin to mingle. Seeing the pilot away from the controls serving coffee and nuts in this kind of weather does wonders for the passengers' nerves."
"Always the perfect hostess. Speaking of being the perfect hostess, who was the man you were talking to? He looked like a character out of 'The Untouchables."
"He wanted me to ..." she hesitated and looked into his inquiring eyes. Quickly mulling over the conversation with the stranger she decided the conversation was just about another of Glen's games and nothing more. Geoff didn't need to be involved.
"He wanted you to ..." he echoed, waiting for her to fill in the blank.
"He wanted me to tell him about our flights to Baja," she finished.
"What did you tell him?"
"To see the boss," she tossed off lightly.
"That's all he wanted?"
Maybe she should tell him. No. This was a personal matter between her and Glen. As far as she was concerned the matter was over. "That's it."
"Okay!" he frowned, his eyes glancing toward the hangar door where the stranger had vanished. Geoff's mood changed when he saw a beautiful woman walking through the open door towards him. Waving over his shoulder he said, "Oh Colley. Be sure to check the schedule. Jim said he made some changes." He gave the woman a big hug and spoke in a voice so soft Colley could not distinguish their words. With his right hand he began making gestures like a plane flying. The woman laughed at the story shared by just the two of them. Colley was angered at herself by the uncontrolled emotion she felt toward him.
As she watched him go out the door she thought back to her first meeting with Geoffrey Fillmore, the owner of Aero Pacific Aviation. Her father called five months previously to tell her about a great opportunity opening up at Aero Pacific. His line of persuasion was that Colley's three years of flight instructing at another flight school was giving her good experience but most of it was teaching beginning students in small planes. If she wanted to achieve the career she desired in aviation she needed to gain experience flying larger aircraft. Although she was happy where she was, she knew her father was right. Reluctantly, but at her father's strong insistence, she had gone for an interview.
Immediately Geoff's powerful physical appearance put her off-guard. His six-foot-one body, accentuated by broad his broad shoulders, seemed to dominate the room. When he spoke she had been drawn in by his arrogant masculinity, but could not understand his apparent changing attitude toward her. He was charming one moment and challenging the next. She found herself wanting him to offer her the job so she could turn him down, deciding she would further her career someplace that wasn't owned by a self-indulgent peacock. "You're a college graduate, have your Flight Instructor's Certificate in single-engine, multi-engine and instrument and have applied for your Airline Transportation Pilot Certificate?" he questioned her, without looking at her resum.
"Yes," she answered.
"And when you were in college, you had some flight students?" It was more of a statement than a question. "Yes. I've always had at least one student since I got my instructor's certificate."
"You want to fly as a career?" Again, a statement, not a question.
"Yes." She couldn't believe it. The whole interview had been conducted just to solidify what he somehow already knew about her. He seemed to have the answers to all his questions.
"Ambitious young woman, aren't you?" Finally a question but one that seemed clipped in mockery.
"Aspiring person," she shot back.
"You know," he said with a Cheshire cat grin, "if God had wanted women to fly he would have made the sky pink."
(Continues...)
Excerpted from Chariots of the Cloudsby Carole Bailey Copyright © 2009 by Carole Bailey. Excerpted by permission.
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