They came to an intersection and hooked a right. They’d just crossed a bridge over the river when Ruby grabbed his arm.

“Wait, wait. Slow down.”

“What’s up?” Gannon said, easing off the accelerator.

“Turn left here. See?” she said, pointing at the road they were coming up on.

On the corner, there was a little green sign with an arrow on it.

Hollytree Airport, it said.

“Yeah?” Gannon said.

“Trust me,” Ruby said.

70

The road curved up a wooded hill for about a mile and a half before they came into the small airport’s parking lot. There were a half-dozen cars there that they sped past as Ruby guided them toward a utility road that ran parallel to the tarmac fence.

After twenty feet down the road, they came to the back of a long white metal hangar that fronted into the airport.

“Stop right here. Right here,” Ruby said, pointing at a little set of stairs that led to a door at the hangar’s end.

Ruby had her door open even before they stopped. She flew up the stairs and rattled at the little black box that hung from the door’s knob.

“Good. See, it’s just a key holder like real-estate agents use. I knew it. Is there a crowbar in the truck?”

Gannon took the Glock out of Stick’s leather jacket pocket and stepped up the stairs and shot the lockbox with a sudden loud pop.

“That’ll work, too, I guess,” Ruby said as she grabbed the key from the grass and opened the door and clicked on the lights.

The hangar inside was pristine. On one wall hung a huge American flag, and under the fluorescent lights in its center gleamed a new-looking cream-and-white single-engine prop plane.

“What do you mean to do?” said Stick.

“What do you think?” Ruby answered. “We’re flying the hell out of here.”

“You can fly?”

“No, I just thought I’d suddenly give it a shot. How hard can it be?” Ruby said as she went to the plane and threw up the pilot-side batwing door.

“Of course I fly,” she said as she climbed in. “Since I was in high school. You need a pilot’s license to even join Naval Safety.”

They stood watching as she checked the instrument panel and clicked some buttons.

“Gotta love rural airports,” Ruby said, looking down at them. “The key’s already in it.”

“People just leave the damn keys in?” Stick said.

“Of course,” Ruby said. “You know how much trouble you get in for stealing a plane?”

“What’s the plan?” Gannon said.

“The power is good to go, and there’s half a tank of gas. On a six-seater, that’s a range of about five hundred miles. I get this Beechcraft up and run it dead open for fifteen or twenty minutes to the south. She’ll go two hundred knots, and I’ll keep it low, under the radar. By the time they figure it out, we’ll be over the state line in Georgia.”