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The old rotary dial phone rang off the wall. An old man, with long gray hair and a long gray beard rolled slowly out of bed and stumbled over to answer.
“This better be important,” he mumbled, as he fumbled for the receiver.
“Desert Rat Charter!” he answered, “its your dime, so start talking!”
“Hey, Comrade! You sober enough to talk to an old friend!?” the voice on the other end said.
“Well, I’ll be damned. Pavlov Florensky!” the old man replied, “You old dog! Its been years! How the hell are ya?!”
“Good!” Pavlov answered, “listen, my friend! I need your help!”
“What ya need?!” the old man asked.
“Your charter services,” Pavlov replied, “you know where the Apollo Candy Company building is?!”
“Hell, yeah,” the old man replied, “southwest of me! Bout twenty some miles. But that place creeps me out. I get a lot of bad mojo flying out there! So I try to avoid it, whenever possible!”
“Well, I need you to fly over there, ASAP!” Pavlov urgently requested, “I’m on the west side of the facilities. I’ll explain everything when you get here!”
“Uh, okay,” the old man curiously replied, “so does this require any special equipment?”
“You still have the Sarkasky 14?” Pavlov asked.
“Yeah!” the old man laughed, “she’s sitting right outside the shed!”
“Still has suppressors installed?” Pavlov asked.
“You bet,” the old man replied, “full night vision, flash drops, and distractors. Radar scrambler still works, too! Hey, this is beginning to sound like an Air America/CIA sortie!”
“Yeah, kinda!” Pavlov replied, “will you do it?”
“You want me to come in silent and low?” the old man gleefully asked.
“Da!” Pavlov answered.
“I’ll be there in twenty!” the old man replied.
“Thank you, my friend!” Pavlov said, as he hung up.
The old man smiled.
As he grabbed the keys and headed out the door, Frank Lapidus had a strange feeling of déjà vu, all over again!
Next: Chap. Thirty-Six “Welcome to your Nightmare”