Golden Buddha

“Never had the pleasure,” Hanley said, smiling.

“It feels like a mule kicked you in the ass,” Cabrillo said.

“That’s the least of your worries, the way I see it.”

“How do you figure?” Cabrillo asked.

“The only winch we could find was designed for light trucks,” Hanley noted. “I just hope they can reel you in fast enough before you strike the rear stabilizer.”

“You make it all sound so appealing,” Cabrillo said wryly.

The sound of the Antonov was growing louder.

“Clear the decks,” Nixon shouted, “for the first approach.”

GUNDERSON was noted for never becoming flustered. No matter what the situation, he always maintained his cool. Lowering the flaps on the Antonov, he slowed the speed to just above stall, then lined up less than a hundred feet above the deck.

“Anybody got any gum?” he asked.

Michaels quickly peeled the foil off a piece and jammed it in his mouth.

“Head back to help Tracy,” Gunderson said. “I’ll hook the fatso on the first pass, then I’ll shout back before I roll her over.”

Inside the Oregon, the cameras on the deck relayed an image of the operation throughout the ship. Everyone watched as Gunderson steered closer.

In the cargo compartment, Pilston and Michaels were watching out the open door. The steel cable stretched backward, but the hook on the end was out of view. Gunderson was peering out the front window, then the side window, in a rapid ballet of visual Olympics. At the top of the cable leading to the Fulton Aerial Recovery System, just below the balloon, the cable spread into a Y shape. Gunderson chomped on the gum as he steered the Antonov closer.

“It’s show time,” he shouted.

The hook dangling back from the plane slid cleanly into the Y and snagged the cable. A split second later the crate containing the Golden Buddha was yanked from the deck as cleanly as ripping a bandage off a wound. Gunderson instantly felt the drag on the plane and shouted for Pilston to engage the winch.

She threw the lever forward and the package started to reel aboard, while at the same time Gunderson eased the biplane over on her side. Hanley watched from the deck in amazement.

“Tell me when the load’s within ten feet,” Gunderson shouted.

A minute or so later, Michaels shouted, “Okay, Chuck.”

Gunderson did a quick sideways dive to the ocean, now only some eighty feet away, and the crate went temporarily weightless from the g forces. The crate floated in the air for a second.

“Rolling flat,” Gunderson shouted.

Pilston and Michaels moved away from the door, and the cable tightened and reeled the Golden Buddha aboard as easily as a book sliding into a bookcase. The crate slammed against the far inner wall of the fuselage and stopped. The crate was cracked, but not much. Pilston turned the winch motor off.

Gunderson stared back, quite happy with the results. He reached for the radio.

“Mr. Hanley,” he said. “I scratched your box a little, but the cargo is safe and sound.”

Hanley pushed the button on his portable radio as Gunderson began to climb and bank around. “Hell of a job, Tiny. There’s a different hook attached to the box. Attach that to the cable before you pull the chairman aboard.”

“Roger that,” Gunderson said.

Then he shouted back to Michaels to attach the other hook to the end of the line. By the time Gunderson had passed over the top of the Oregon again and was starting his turn to line up, the hook was attached and Pilston started to reel out the cable once again. Gunderson adjusted his flight controls, they set the speed of the Antonov to right at stall.

“Once I hook the boss man,” Gunderson shouted, “you reel him in as fast as possible. When he’s next to the door, reach out and pull him inside.”

“Got it,” Pilston shouted.

“Here I come, boss,” Gunderson said into the radio, “ready or not.”

Cabrillo had moved onto the rear deck and Nixon inflated the balloon. It shot in the air when the Antonov was only a hundred yards off the bow.

“Clear the decks,” Nixon shouted as he sprinted away.

Juan Cabrillo stood quietly. There was really no way to prepare for what was about to happen. In a few seconds, he would be yanked from the safety of the Oregon and into the air over the ocean. From the known to the unknown in a split second. So Cabrillo simply cleared his mind and waited.

Gunderson chewed his gum, watched the line carefully, and then put the three-pronged hook directly into the center of the Y once again. Bam! One second Cabrillo’s feet were on the deck, the next second he was yanked into the air. He moved his feet back and forth like he was trying to run. The wind crept past the goggles he was wearing and his eyes began to weep as the Antonov grew larger. Cabrillo could see hands reaching out of the door as he rose, closer to safety. He tilted his head back and looked. Every few seconds the cable was bumping against the rear stabilizer and he prepared to push himself off as he grew closer.

“He’s going to hit the tail,” Pilston shouted to Gunderson.

Cabrillo put his feet in the air to push against the stabilizer. He was only a few feet away when Gunderson