Different Circles

They arrived at the entrance to Guaymaral Airport. It was a moderate sized muni facility with a fair amount of traffic taxiing about or coming and going from the runways. Jake thought it would be quite challenging to take off from and/or land at the facility as there was high terrain on all sides and the elevation of the runways was just over 8300 feet above sea level. Still, the runways were nice and long, although one of them was grass instead of pavement. And, curiously, the longer of the two runways was the grass one. Interesting.

Jeronimo pulled up in front of the main airport services building—Ificio de Servicios Aeroportuarios, the sign read—and parked immediately behind a large SUV that was black in color, raised off the ground, and looked a little bit like a tank. He then jumped out and opened the rear door for his clients, allowing them to step out into the misty morning dampness.

“Gracias,” Jake told him. And then, in a mixture of pidgin English and poorly pronounced, grammatically incorrect basic Spanish, he told him they would be back in two hours or so hopefully. Jeronimo indicated his understanding and then climbed back into his vehicle to get out of the rain.

Jake led the accountant and the mechanic into the services building. Here, he found himself on the most familiar ground he had been on since leaving Texas. It looked just like any other airport office in a muni airport he had been in during his flying career. There was a desk where two employees worked. There were air charts on the wall. There were shelves that contained flight plan paperwork and tables where said paperwork could be filled out. There were vending machines lined up against one wall that sold sodas, chips, candy bars, and pre-packaged sandwiches. There was a coffee machine in the corner that smelled of burned coffee. The familiarity was comforting to Jake.

About half a dozen men of varying ages were scattered about at the charting tables. Most were working on flight plans and did not even look up when the trio entered. One, however, did not have any paperwork before him and he did look up. He was a handsome man, light skinned with light hair and a fit frame, wearing a pair of dress slacks and an expensive looking button up shirt. He appeared to be in his early thirties and his eyes showed clear recognition when he saw them. He immediately stood and approached them.

“Señor Kingsley?” he enquired politely.

“Yes, I’m Jake Kingsley,” Jake told him.

“I am Sebastian Hernandez,” he said. “Señor Gomez’s primary pilot. He asked me to meet you here and then take you to the hangar to examine the aircraft.”

Hernandez’s English was impeccable, with only the slightest hint of a Hispanic accent. This was not surprising, however, as he was a pilot and English was the international language of aviation. All commercial pilots and air traffic controllers worldwide were pretty much obligated to speak clear and concise English as a prerequisite of their respective professions.

“Nice to meet you, Sebastian,” Jake said, holding out his right hand. “Please, call me Jake.”

Hernandez shook with him, his grip firm and sure. “Very well,” he said. “Jake it is.”

Jake then introduced his small entourage. “This is Jill Yamashito, my accountant,” he said. “She’s the one who found Señor Gomez’s plane for me.”

“Señorita,” he said with a smile, taking her right hand in a much gentler fashion, holding it from the palm instead of side to side. “I am very pleased to make your acquaintance.”

Jill smiled and actually blushed a little. “Me as well,” she said. “And please, call me Jill.”

“As you wish, Jill,” he said, still holding her hand. “And I am Sebastian ... at your service.”

Jill’s blush increased a little and she only reluctantly pulled her hand from the pilot’s. Jake could not help but notice the little flash of electricity that had seemed to flow between the two of them. Interesting, he thought.

“And this,” Jake said once the moment seemed to have concluded, “is Travis Young. He’s an aircraft mechanic who works at the Colorado Avanti service facility.”

“Ah yes, Señor Young,” Sebastian said. “Señor Gomez arranged to have his primary mechanic available to speak with you in the hangar. He has brought all the service and repair records from the time the aircraft was delivered until the last maintenance cycle last month for your perusal. He will also assist you in your examination of the aircraft.”

“Uh ... cool,” Travis said, shaking with him. “I look forward to meeting him. Oh ... and you can call me Travis.”

“Very good,” Sebastian said. “Now then, shall we make the walk? It is not far. And Señor Gomez is very much looking forward to meeting you, Jake.”

“Meeting me?” Jake asked, surprised. “You mean, he’s here?”