White Cargo
“An Indian woman made them some breakfast, then Bluey asked Cat for more money. “We’ve got to get a flight plan filed for us at Cartagena for Santa Marta. Our papers are okay, but you have to file in this country, and we can’t arrive at Santa Marta from out of nowhere. It’s going to take a thousand to get it done. We’ve got to pay for fuel and tie-down, too.”
Cat gave him five thousand dollars. “You’re going to need something for tips,” he said, dryly.
Bluey winked at him and went to make the arrangements.
Before takeoff, Bluey piled their luggage on top of the now-empty plastic ferry tank. “A spare tank sets off alarms with the cops or the army,” he said. “We don’t want to have to bribe somebody unnecessarily.”
Cat was grateful Bluey was being concerned about money. They had already put a sizable dent in his hundred thousand dollars.
They took off at midmorning and headed out to sea.
“We’ll circle around and approach Santa Marta from the west, just to look good,”
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