The radio headset crackled.  The familiar voice of Patch McGee streamed into his ear like the fresh pee that evening he’d been found lying under cardboard in the alleyway, dropped there by a cabin lovely unable to carry him any further.

Charlie Uniform November Tango you are cleared for takeoff to New York.  Safe flight and godspeed.

Alpha Romeo Sierra Echo.  Copy.  Read you loud and clear.  

Flyman checked the gauges, shooed the cabin lovely off of his knee and checked his mirror.  Sunglasses…check, starched shirt…check, angle of hat…

He pulled a special mirror down, the Hat Angle Ratio – Descent Orientation Normal guide was etched on to it.  He looked at the guide, it went from level, where drinks could be (and often were at the hotel) carried safely as a party trick all the way to Whisky Six which was barely held on by his ears.  He adjusted his hat to Jaunty.  It let the passengers know he was in control and there was nothing to worry about.

Gentlemen, children and ladies.  Welcome aboard this Foxtrot Oscar Airlines flight from Toledo to New York.  I’m your captain, Trent Flyman.  I’m joined by my co-pilot Heywood Jablome.  The flight will take about six hours.  Our cabin lovelies, led by the wonderful Dinah Mite will be at your beck and call to serve drinks to the men and juice to the women and children once we get to cruising altitude.  Heywood will be through the cabin shortly, anyone wanting to come join us up here in the cabin should make themselves known to him.

He took his finger off the intercom.  Heywood was giving Dinah some instructions and gave her a little pat on the butt to send her on her way.  Trent grabbed his bottle of whisky and poured a couple of glasses.

Let’s get this crate into the skies Heywood.

He taxied the plane to the runway, reminded the passengers they could put their seatbelts on if they needed but warned the men they might cause wrinkles in their suits but their wives should be able to cope.  Then took off.

As they got to cruising altitude, he poured another couple of drinks and they chinked them in celebration.  Heywood stood and started moving about the cabin.

Another fine take off Trent.  Who do you want in the cabin today?

Trent had a little think, having kids around the cabin was always a bit hit or miss.  Their grubby fingers, likely to touch a button or dial that would cause some problems.  As he’d gotten on to the plane though he’d taken a look at the passengers and there was no-one out there who looked his type. So he resigned himself to a flight full of sticky fingers and snot.

Just the kids today Heywood.  Could you send Dinah in?

Dinah popped her head round the door and she was beckoned in, she closed the cabin.  Her blond hair was held neatly beneath her little hat, her clothes sat nicely and you could never tell she had four kids.

Where are we going tonight Dinah?  Heywood isn’t coming out, he was in New York last week and has had to go visit the doctor with an itch but we could all head out.

I don’t know Trent, I’ll ask the other girls.

Let’s not all go out.  Just me, you and another one or two.  Maybe Hattie and Jemima.  Not Stella, she’s not so fun.  I’ve got some friends in New York we can hang out with.  

Trent thought about the fun he could have with RightSaidFred and Capote.  The former was a muscle bound show off and the latter an enigmatic writer who had a homing beacon set to rampage through New York.  Like a pigeon.

RightSaidFred’s familiar face popped in to the cabin.  He had a proposition that was going to make Trent and him some money.  Trent kept his eyes firmly fixed on the horizon.

Capote racing!

What?  He turned his head slightly

Capote racing.  You know how you said he was like a homing pigeon…

Trent spun round fully.  TO YOU!  Not to anyone else though…and certainly not to him.  You know how unhinged he gets.

The sudden movement jerked the plane around, murmurings of discontent seeped through from the passengers.  Trent faced the front again.  A warning light flashed up, something about a failure of something or other.  Trent looked out of the windows, the engines were still running so whatever it was couldn’t be too serious.

Well anyway, the premise is…we kidnap him, dump him in the middle of nowhere and invite bets about how long it will take him to get home.

No.  We’re not doing it.  Why don’t we just rip somewhere off in the city.  Somewhere big; the airport vaults?

RightSaidFred wandered off unhappy at the lack of interest.  Trent got on the radio.

New York Tower, this is Charlie Uniform November Tango.  Will be approaching New York in two hours time, requesting weather and landing slot updates. Over.

Charlie Uniform November Tango, this is Bravo Uniform Romeo Papa.  We have clear skies and you’re the only flight landing today.  Clear to proceed, over.

Copy that.  Out.

Heywood had brought two twins back into the cabin; Chester and Lester.  The poor kids’ mother had dressed them identically with the exception of one having a C embroidered on to his jumper and the other an L.

Nice jumpers dorks.  Who wants to press some buttons?  Steer clear of that big red button, the rest you can play with.

The plane wobbled through the sky as it came in to land.  The familiar landmarks of New York appeared; the growing frames of the Empire State and Chrysler buildings, the Flatiron building and in the distance Lady Liberty herself…pew pew. A bullet ricocheted off the front of the plane.

Gentlemen, we’re coming in to land.  There does appear to be some outside issues relating to some local disputage.  You should adopt a brace position.  Could you ensure your own safety before attending to children and women please.

Bump, clang, clatter

The landing was a bit harder than anticipated.

Pew ping

Trent got up as soon as the plane stopped and ran through.  Everyone looked ok but his great friend RightSaidFred was slumped in an unnatural pose with blood stains on the seat beside him, his perfect guns still viewable for all to see.

Poor guy thought Trent.

Leaving all the people to fend for themselves, he jumped out of the plane and took cover behind the wheel arch while the landing crew trundled over with their deplaning equipment.

Trent ran to the safety of the terminal and hailed a cab into town where he looked for his only other good friend Capote the pigeon.

He’s dead man

A voice behind him said.  It looked like Rampage…the string to Capote’s yo-yo.  Trent had nobody now, his besties were gone.  His joy was taken from his life so maybe flying was his only hope.