His was one of the few homes on Royal Street that had such a stately appearance. Located in the world-famous New Orleans French Quarter, it was just a few blocks away from hotels, antique shops, and restaurants in an area most people desired to live in but couldn’t afford.
He turned out of the drive onto Royal Street, and within seconds, the taillights faded into the night. There were very few cars on the road heading east that early in the morning, making the trip to the airport very quick. The airport was located on the east side of New Orleans, backed up against Lake Pontchartrain.
Governor Huey Long had constructed the airport in the mid-1930s on a man-made peninsula dredged by the Orleans Levee Board. During World War II, the airfield was used by the United States Air Force and housed the Tropical Weather School. It had long been converted into a charter and private jet airport. An airport Dr. Ross was always happy to visit, no matter the time of day.
He pulled into the empty airport parking lot and drove around to the back, an area most people only had access to with the proper identification. Stopping at the security gatehouse, he put his window down and handed his ID to the guard on duty. A fat plain envelope with twenty-five crisp one-hundred-dollar bills was all the identification he needed.
“Good morning, Dr. Ross.”
“Good morning. I was never here. No log book, okay?”
“No problem, sir. The plane is on approach and will be parked on tarmac three,” the guard said, putting the envelope in his coat pocket.
The security gate opened, and he headed to the end of the driveway. Dr. Ross opened the trunk of the car and took out a sealed black box. Carrying it to the front of the car, he tried to see the Gulfstream III jet approaching. He could hear the engines and see the running lights, but it was still too dark to make out the aircraft. The runways stretched one mile out into Lake Pontchartrain, and pilots had best be on their A-game when landing or they’d find themselves and their planes at the bottom of the lake.
As the plane got closer, the wheels dropped down, and the nose of the airplane tilted up. It looked like it was going into the water. While the jet was still over the lake, the engines roared as the pilot gave the jet full throttle to thrust the plane down onto the runway for a perfect landing. It taxied to the edge of tarmac three.
The plane came to a complete stop. The engines were shut down, and the electric stairs descended, gently coming to rest on the ground. The aircraft was pure luxury and could only be afforded by the truly wealthy.
The cabin door opened, and two men who appeared to be of Middle Eastern descent appeared at the top of the stairs. They made it obvious they were there to protect and serve their boss as they put their hands in their pockets, exposing the firearms strapped to their bodies.
“Dr. Ross?” one man said with a thick accent.
“Yes?”
“Please come up, Raphael will see you now.”
Dr. Ross slowly climbed the stairs, balancing the package in his hands. “Gentlemen, do you have my money?” he asked as one of the men took the box from him at the top of the stairs. A tall well-tanned man came from the back of the airplane.
“Raphael?” Dr. Ross asked.
“Yes. Will I damage anything if I open the box?” Raphael asked.
“No. Just don’t break the clear seal. The box is refrigerated to the proper temperature,” Dr. Ross said.
One man held the box while Raphael opened it. “One heart and two kidneys. How much time do we have?”
Dr. Ross brushed his fingers across the plastic seal, once again making sure it was airtight. “Once organs are harvested they should be transplanted within twelve to fourteen hours for best results.”
“No problem. This plane will get us to South America in two hours. Your money is inside,” Raphael said, handing Dr. Ross a small leather bag. Dr. Ross opened the bag and took a glance.
“It’s all there, two hundred and fifty thousand. We must go. Thank you, my friend,” Raphael said as they shook hands.
“Tell Amir I said hello, and I look forward to seeing him soon,” Dr. Ross said as he stepped off the airplane. Raphael nodded.
The drive to the airport had taken longer than the entire transaction. As Dr. Ross walked to his car, he heard the electric steps of the jet being pulled up and the engine starting. That quickly the plane was ready for takeoff.
He got into his car, putting the leather bag of money on the passenger’s seat. Opening the bag, he quickly counted twenty-five bundles, making it a total of two hundred and fifty thousand dollars.
A smile came across his face as he started the car engine and drove around to the gatehouse. As he waited for the gates to open, the guard waved. The only information logged into the record books would be a refueling stop for a Gulfstream III at 5:49 a.m.
Sitting in his car, Dr. Ross listened to the roar of the jet engines as it rushed down the runway. It was only seconds before the aircraft lifted off the ground and flew over the parking lot, gaining altitude quickly as it passed through the clouds and headed toward the first light of dawn.
The Gulfstream hurried through the skies with an ice chest of stolen organs for a happy recipient, somewhere patiently waiting. These transactions had become so commonplace for Dr. Walter Ross that he didn’t think twice about the fact that what he’d done was
