Darkness had long since drawn its cloak over Southern California, casting deep shadows over the private airport. Soon, it would be dawn.
Dressed in black jeans, a black sweater, and heavy black gloves, a man played an ominous game of hide-and-seek with the moon. Crouched against the tall chain link fence, he waited patiently as the dark clouds drifted slowly across the luminous face of the silvery orb, reducing the amount of light that penetrated the concealing darkness that would minimize his risk of detection. It was only a matter of moments before it was completely covered.
Nervously, he cast occasional glances over his shoulder at the housing complex that was nestled against a nearby hill behind him. The neighborhood was lit by street lights and individual yard lights, but the houses remained dark, indicating that the residents had not yet risen to prepare for their work day.
As he turned back toward the airport, his attention was diverted by the distant pair of lights approaching along the narrow road that ran adjacent to the airport fence, alerting him of an approaching vehicle. Uttering an oath, he dropped to the ground on his belly and rolled into the knee-high drainage ditch that ran along the fence line. Fortunately for him, the ditch was dry. Safe in his hiding place, he listened as the car engine approached and then zoomed past, unaware that the airport�s security was about to be breeched. Raising his head, he watched as the red taillights disappeared into the blackness of night.
He crept out of the ditch, glancing both up and down the road, but there was no sign of additional oncoming traffic to hinder his assignment. He approached the fence again, keeping a watchful eye on the progression of the gray clouds as they tracked across the sky.
When the moon was completely covered, he quickly scaled the fence, carefully maneuvering his way over the five strands of barbed wire designed to protect the small aircraft from vandals. Once over, he dropped to the paved surface with the agility of a cat, crouching back down as his eyes scanned the tarmac and the nearby hangars for the presence of a security guard. No light shown from the windows of the hangars, and there was no hint of movement to suggest that he was not completely alone.
The clouds floated slowly away from the moon, illuminating the airplanes in a silvery swath of reflected light. A security light shown over the doors of the hangars, and scattered about the tarmac were other security lights placed on high poles, but there was no sign that another human was present.
Satisfied that he was alone, the man rose slowly and cautiously to his feet, and, bent at the waist to reduce his visibility, he jogged toward the nearest hanger. When he reached it, he pressed his back against the cool metal siding, and leaned around the edge, continuously checking for signs of potential danger to him or his assignment.
Six small airplanes sat in the open near the first hangar, but he was not interested in any of them. He crept stealthily along the front of shelter, then jogged across the open pavement toward the next hangar. Here, he paused to study the airplanes that were parked on the tarmac in front of it. His eyes darted from one plane to the next, squinting in the dim light, searching for the right one. Larry had said it would be parked near the second hangar.
Finally, his eyes settled on the white Beechcraft King Air 100 Turbo-Prop with the identification number that he had been given. It was parked farther out, right underneath a security light.
He drew a deep breath. He did not like the vulnerability of conducting his work in the open under a security light, but he was a professional; he should be able to accomplish the task without detection.
Leaving the cover provided by the hangar, he jogged from plane to plane, pausing at each one to scan the area for unwanted presence before proceeding to the next. When he reached the King Air, he opened the compartment containing the aircraft�s engine. Glancing cautiously about again, he withdrew a small flashlight from his pocket and turned it on, then clamped it between his teeth to free his hands. Turning his full attention to the task at hand, he quickly located the oil line and turned it in his fingers to bring the back side of the line around to the front. Using the thin blade of his penknife, he deftly pushed a hole in the tubing, where it would not be noticed upon the pilot�s visual inspection.
Next, he withdrew a small strip of tape and covered the hole. The oil would not begin to flow until the ignition was started, and even then the lubricant would be thick enough to flow smoothly for awhile. Then, when they were in flight, the heat from the engine would slowly cause the tape�s glue to separate from the line, causing a slow leak. As the oil heated and thinned, the leak would gradually increase. By the time anyone realized anything was wrong, they would be in the desert where there would be no place to seek assistance.
�That�ll teach you to switch loyalties,� the man said as he returned the line to its original position and replaced the cover. �Have a nice flight!�
With his task behind him, the man made his way back to the fence, taking the same route he had used on his approach. Safely at the fence once more, he did not bother to wait this time for a suitable cloud cover. Jumping up on the chain link, he scaled the fence once again, and dropped over to the other side. Then, he hiked down the road to the shrubs behind which he had parked his car, and drove away.