"Very well," said Diltz, closing the door behind us.

The driver passed through the security gate leading to the private planes and stopped the Mercedes next to a small blue and white twin-engine jet.

"Is that yours?"

"Beauty isn't she?" he said, stepping out into the cool night air. I followed him and ran my hand over the wing's smooth surface as he opened the door.

"How much does one of these babies go for?"

"I wouldn't know exactly. I didn't buy it, I won it."

"How?"

"Playing baccarat. A gentleman I periodically play with wagered it against my home and lost. That's why I learned to fly."

I shook my head in amazement. "Samas told me you were quite the gambler."

"Did he?" asked Chance looking at me. "That's where he is wrong. Gambling doesn't describe what I am, it describes what I do. What I am is a winner, and that is what makes all the difference," he said, returning to the car for Clovis.

Chance, his arms filled with strength, carried the old man like a bride over a threshold, like Isaac before the altar. Clovis' head flung back in unconscious despondency, his open mouth aghast. Chance climbed the steps into the plane being careful not to bang Clovis' head or feet as he entered. I carried the bags in right behind him.

His massive body filled the fuselage. He gently placed Clovis in a rear seat and buckled the belt around him. I placed the bags in the front seat and stepped back out of the plane when I saw Chance, unable to turn around in the narrow confine, begin to lumber, butt first, back up the aisle. He stopped for a moment in the open doorway above me and waved off the driver. "Are you ready?"

I nodded.

"Let's go then." He slid his upper body sideways through the cockpit door. The pilot's seat had obviously been reset just for him. It was six inches lower and farther back than the other one, as well as being twice as wide.

"What do I do?" I asked as I settled into the smaller seat on the right.

"Here, put these on." He handed me a set of headphones. "Just sit back and enjoy the ride."

He dwarfed everything in the cockpit. He spoke German into a small handheld receiver as he flipped switches on the control panel with his littlest finger. He seemed the perfect picture of modernity as he eased the jet down the runway. His dialog with the Swiss air controller crackled in my headphones and the sound of the engines rose to mimic the roar of a raging fire as the plane accelerated across the asphalt. Chance's bass voice speaking German into the headphones and the drone of the jet lulled me to sleep as we floated up into the night sky.

A nudge from his heavy hand woke me out of a deep sleep. We flew toward the morning sun hanging low on the horizon.