Chapter 2

Alan landed the Cessna smoothly and taxied to Gulf key’s hanger. He was out of the plane and crouched at the rear of the modified fiberglass belly tank. This hopper was the storage for the chemical to be distributed through both wing misting systems. There was a main disbursement nozzle on the tank. It had a larger spout.

There was dried residue around the rim where the spray evacuates the system. A red liquid pooled inside. Alan pulled out a rag, wrapped it around his index finger and dabbed the liquid. He smelled the stained rag. It had no distinguishable odor. The rag appeared blood soaked and naturally brought questions to Alan’s mind:What were they spraying?

“Hey Bandy!” The mechanic yelled, as he picked up the pace to a jog to reach Alan. Quickly, Alan stuck the rag in his pocket. When he got out of there he would put it in a plastic bag while he researched repellent sprays. He wanted answers and the best way to get to the truth was to examine the evidence. The suspicious chemical added to the uneasy feeling in the back of his mind, about Gulf key.

“I’ll take care of the plane from here,” John said.

“Yeah, I was just taking a quick look at the sprayer before I headed your way. I experienced what felt like a blockage when trying to activate the spray. The system cleared it after I let off and tried again.”

Alan used his foot to point to the big nozzle under the belly of the plane. The sturdy pilot lost his balance then caught himself before falling, but his foot clipped the connection where the nozzle meets the hopper, spilling some of the dry chemical.

“Whoa, you feeling okay?” John asked.

“Yeah, trick knee—plays games with me after squatting down sometimes,” Alan lied. He felt dizzy and wondered if sniffing the spray caused his instability. He was in great health—the results from his physical last month were that of a man half his age. Alan kicked his leg while keeping up the story about a false knee