ล็อกอินเกมยิงปลา_หมุนสล็อตออนไลน์ฟรี_การพนัน pantip_สล็อต ฝากขั้นต่ำ 100บาท_เว็บ บอล แจก เครดิต ฟรี ไม่ ต้อง ฝาก 2019

Benotto Calderon turned off the alarm on the clock by his bed seven minutes prior to its target of 02:15 AM and took a moment to clear his head of the contradicting voices that had kept him from sleeping for the past eight hours. Without the luxury of hot water in his apartment his usual morning shower was a reliable invigoration for starting his workday.

Benotto removed the thin and flexible, double edged blade from the head of his razor and placed it inside the drinking glass that sat on the shelf above the bathroom sink. With the edges of the blade parallel to the inside of the glass Benotto pressed lightly on the springy steel ribbon and rubbed the razor blade against the inside of the glass to hone its well-used edges. It seemed only fitting that a day like this one should begin with a good close shave.

As Benotto dressed he shouted into the other bedroom of the apartment. “Get up little man; there will be no school for you. You are going to fly with the big guys today.”

Abdulio Calderon could not believe his own ears; he was going to fly with his father! It was still quite dark outside and more than three hours before he was usually out of bed, but Abdulio sprang from his sheets like a cricket on a hot stove.

Benotto packed a few extra items in his flight satchel as his son dressed in excited silence. Abdulio knew that his father did not like unnecessary questions so early in the morning.

The threadbare grey slacks and white short-sleeved shirt passed as Benotto’s “uniform” for work. The shirt bore no insignia of any kind; only by seeing Benotto in his high-peaked visor cap could one tell that he was an officer and a pilot in the Cuban Air Force.

“Papa, the picture of Mama is gone!” Abdulio said as he rushed into his father’s bedroom.

“Don’t be worried son.” Benotto’s voice was calming, “It is in my flight case, next to my bed. I am taking her with us today.”

Abdulio always kissed his mother’s picture before leaving the house; he had decided to take care of that formality while it was on his mind, rather than forget about her in all of the excitement. “May I kiss her now?”

“Yes son, you can kiss her now if you want, but you do not have to kiss her good-bye; she will be with us today.” Benotto opened his flight case and brought out the framed photograph of their beloved Francesca. She had died shortly after Abdulio was born, almost eleven years ago.

“Will we listen to a phonograph on the airplane?” Abdulio asked somewhat befuddled. “You are taking record albums on a flight? Won’t the vibration from the airplane make ……”

Benotto interrupted his son, “No, they are not for the airplane ride, they are for later. Do not worry about the record albums and do not mention them to anyone.”

Abdulio thought it was all a little strange, but he was going flying with his father and a rare treat like that is too important to trouble one’s self with insignificant details.

“Abdulio, put on your good shoes; they fit your feet so much better.” Benotto advised in a generous tone. “I polished them last night when I polished mine. You will have a long day and you will want to be comfortable.

In well-polished shoes and high spirits the two Calderons looked even more like father and son with those big grins on their faces. Anticipation of the whole day together was savored as they drank their coffee and shared a cheese sandwich breakfast during the short ride to the airfield in their government-owned FIAT.

Driving through the security gate at the airfield was without ceremony or scrutiny. The gate itself was broken and had not been closed since 1977, and the military police guards never showed up for work until after first light.

There were two small lights burning near a workbench in the otherwise darkened open hangar, but Benotto and Abdulio could see enough of her to stir pride and excitement in both of their hearts. Her sexy contours were emphasized by emerald green accent stripes on her gleaming white form; she was one of only two AN-32 transports in the fleet, unlike her sister she had no military markings, and she was the only one in the world outfitted with external wing tanks. The combination of the civilian paintjob, her stamina, and her sheer horsepower, made her the most exhilarating ride in the Cuban Air Force. The Calderons called her their humming bird, because of her STOL(short take off and landing) capabilities, and her green accents. Birdwatchers worldwide flocked to the Calderons’ home island every summer just to get a glimpse of the Cuban Emerald Hummingbird, a source of national pride.

As an official Hero of the Revolution, decorated twice by Castro himself, Benotto had flown lots of transports; everything from the AN-2 biplane, to the IL-62 jetliner. Benotto had even flown the MIG-21, but the AN-32 was his dream machine.

Secretly purchased through a third party with forged documents, the AN-32 and her sister had been owned earlier by a charter flight service in Peru. Although the Antonov Aeronautical Scientific/Technical? Complex had built this airframe in the Ukraine with tactical military transport in mind, many civilian customers loved it for its STOL characteristics and its capabilities to use high altitude, primitive landing fields.?? This aircraft may have been Castro’s new secret weapon for Economic Revolution against the Yankees, but it was Benotto’s ticket to the “good life”.

“Sit at the desk and take it easy buddy. I have a few things to check and we will be ready to break in our new co-pilot.” Benotto’s reassuring voice gave his son no hint of the pressure that he felt as both a father and a Hero of the Revolution at that moment.

The pressure went from concealable to near catastrophic when a tall young man walked up behind him drinking coffee. “Good morning boss; she’s all checked out!”

Benotto could not hide his astonishment, “You should not be here!” was exactly what he was thinking and that is exactly what he said with a tone of anger in his voice.

Benotto’s regular co-pilot, Ronaldo, was stunned by both the statement and the tone of his friend and superior.

Benotto took a moment to collect himself. “I mean, you have other work to do. The Polish engineers have to finish the cockpit on the other 32 and you must oversee their work.”

“The engineers have to wait for parts, they are going to work on the Wilga power plant conversions today, so I told Chici to come in at noon. I will fly with you. This makes number twenty-two for us; I like this routine.”

“NO; Chici is my co-pilot today! You are to stay on station and supervise the engineers. I don’t care what they are doing today they are your responsibility. Damn it!” Benotto had never spoken to Ronaldo like that. The expressions on the faces of his son and his best friend showed their shock. Benotto had to calm himself and deal with the matter.

“I am sorry for my outburst.” Benotto said without making eye contact with either his son or his friend. “What is left to do? The sooner we are all in the air, the better this morning will be.”

The other two smiled with relief and Ronaldo gave a wink to Abdulio, letting the uneasy youngster know that all should be forgiven.

“Exterior preflight is done; we are all set to begin start-up, roll her out, go through the cabin checklist, and be on our way to work.” Ronaldo was more comfortable in his role as the helpful subordinate. “I am happy to see that Abo is with us today. Are you feeling OK today little partner?”

Abdulio liked the special attention that he got from Ronaldo. All three men were smiling as Benotto took the lead boarding the aircraft, Abdulio followed his father and took his usual seat at the flight engineer’s station. Ronaldo stood by the door until he heard both of the turboprop engines begin their warm up, and the plane’s electrical power came on; then he sealed and secured their access to the outside world.

The co-pilot belted himself into his seat and took the ring bound checklist from his boss’ hands. Working at a slow and steady pace the team of two went down the list of preflight procedures; there was no hurry, the engines needed their time to warm up.

When all was ready they eased out of the hangar and taxied to the main runway. There was no need to ask the tower which runway to use or if they could use it. There was no one in the tower there was no one on the runway. They broke contact with the earth and the craft climbed steeply, they had to clear 8, 200 feet of altitude before they could see the sun coming up in the east, almost directly behind them.

Benotto was unusually quiet, but Abdulio and Ronaldo did not act as if anything was peculiar. They just wanted to forget his earlier temper tantrum and enjoy the flight.

Forty-five minutes into their journey the pilot and co-pilot heard the squeal of what sounded like radio squelch in their headphones. Benotto knew that what appeared to be a random noise was his signal to take action, so he opened his satchel.

Along with the photo of his late wife and her two favorite music albums “Bridge Over Troubled Water” by Simon and Garfunkle and “Ramblin’ Rose” by Nat King Cole, Benotto had packed one other extra item in his flight case that morning; it was a Brazilian made five-shot, .38 special revolver. Benotto had never fired the revolver. He had never tested the ammunition. He didn’t dare, because outside knowledge of his ownership of such a thing would have put him in prison.

This was the moment he had to use the revolver or condemn his son to the same early death that had taken Francesca from him. Diabetics have little chance of survival in Cuba and Benotto was determined that his son should live a full life.

“Forgive me; forgive me.” Benotto cried out as he shot his best friend and co-pilot twice in the back of his head.

Benotto dropped the short-barreled revolver to the cabin floor and grabbed the controls of the airplane. Abdulio shrieked in horror as he watched his father take the life of a man whom they both loved so much. Revulsion, rage, confusion, and fear jolted the boy’s heart like lightning as the silhouette figures in front of him were suddenly lighted by the flashes of the two shots fired from the revolver’s muzzle. Dark silence rolled through the cabin of the aircraft like the acrid sulfur smoke from the gun. The ears of both Calderons were ringing and both their hearts were sick.

“Abdulio, Son, are you all right back there?!”

“Yes, yy yes Father; What did you…. What happened to?? ?”

“He is dead; I had to kill him. We are going to go to the United States. We are going to live there with your uncle. Please stay in your seat; close your eyes and pray. I have to take care of a few important things before you and I can go to freedom.”

“Yes Father.”

Twenty three miles in front of the Cuban aircraft and four thousand feet above it was a P-3 Orion flying on what appeared to be just another a surveillance patrol for the US Customs Service; it’s number two camera operator witnessed the flash inside the cabin of Benotto’s AN-32 and reported it to the radio operator. A Morse code signal was transmitted to Benotto, giving him the information he needed to change the frequency of his radio receiver.

As Benotto tuned his receiver, the Orion aircraft’s radio operator patched-in a satellite transmission from a telephone at Wright Patterson AFB, Ohio.

“Benny, Benny, this is Gerry; are you OK; are you there?” the familiar voice was in English. It was clearly the voice of his brother-in-law Geraldo.

“Geraldo, yes we are fine. Abo is with me and we are safe and fine!”

“Good! Stay on your current speed and heading, go up two thousand feet, and a plane will drop down in to be your leader; follow him. I will see you both very soon.”

“Geraldo are you in the other airplane?”

“There is no more time to talk, follow the plane; I will see you soon.”

The radio operator informed the P-3 Orion pilot that the target aircraft had received the satellite transmission, and the Orion pilot started to throttle back on the four massive Allison T-56A??? 4,600 horsepower engines. It was time to start closing the gap between the two craft.

Benotto followed the instructions as given by his brother-in-law. The Orion dropped down as his leader; Benotto held the controls tightly as the AN-32 was buffeted by the Orion’s prop wash. The Orion finished crossing directly in front of its new consort and leveled off fifty meters below him and about two kilometers ahead. Slowly the two aircraft arced more that 110` to their starboard and were in route to a safe, quite, very private airfield in rural Texas.

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