"They wouldn't attack at the airport, would they?"
"I wouldn't think they'd want to make a scene."
"It's a small airport."
"It'd get them on the news. There would be no way to make it look like an accident."
"Then why are we reporting our landing?"
"I'm sure they'll hit them on their way out of the airport. It'll be dark. It's a rural area."
The pilot of the plane, Chad Kevins, had both hands on the steering column.
He'd flown commercial airliners for ten years. Those things were bulky, not easily swayed. This mid-sized plane was a doozy to control in this weather. If they were in America, the flight would be grounded, for sure. Under any other circumstances he wouldn't be flying in this weather. In fact, under any other circumstances he would be trying to land ASAP.
"The weather is only going to get worse," said Chad's copilot, Brandon Keith.
"We can make it. Only two more hours."
"I've never flown in weather this bad," said Brandon, turning to Chad.
Chad took a deep breath. "I know we'll make it."
"Oh, yeah, yeah, of course. It's just, a little bit of a risk."
"Little risk for much reward."
"Agreed," said Brandon. "Thanks for bringing me in."
Chad kept his eyes straight ahead, through the small window, hands tight around the yoke. This was the second time in fifteen years of flying that he had white knuckles.
Lighting cracked just in front of them, maybe thirty feet out. He was tempted to veer off to the right, but he kept straight and the lightning disappeared.
The thunder followed, consuming the plane with its vociferous power. Chad felt like he'd entered the belly of a dragon at the exact moment it was breathing fire.
His hands were sweating.
"WOW," said Brandon, wiping his forehead.
"It'll be worth it," Chad said. "What are the odds?"
"I'm beginning to wonder."
A pause.
"Five million. That's what I keep telling myself. It's the easiest money."
"I know." Brandon shifted in his seat, very obviously trying to relax.
"Tax-free," Chad added.
The rain pelted against the window, against the cockpit. They could see well enough from reading their instrument panel, which was working fine. As long as they had that, they'd be fine.
They hit a pocket of air and the plane tilted to one side. Chad was quick to fight it. The plane started shaking. Brandon was clutching his armrests. Chad was grunting, fighting the air. It was several long seconds before the plane leveled.
Chad took a moment to take his eyes off the foreground and look at Brandon. He was daring to ask, Is this worth it?
Brandon read the body language. He nodded. "You're a good pilot. It's five million dollars."
Chad kept his eyes through the window, into the dark clouds, into the rain, into the night. "It's an easy five million. And we're taking it from bad guys. We're not doing anything wrong." Chad lowered his voice even though the cockpit was sealed shut. "We're actually hurting drug dealers."