In the air over Rio
Current day
Autumn Willow watched the ground below as the old B-17 bomber banked smoothly into the Rio de Janeiro landing pattern. She sat in the right seat of the cockpit and scanned the horizon as they leveled out.
“There’s Pantanal 413.” She pointed half-left toward the Brazilian Boeing 737 airliner, eight miles to the northwest and five thousand feet above them.
Her grandfather nodded and turned his attention back to the Aerovias cargo jet ahead of them in the landing pattern. He reached to the trim control knob while keeping his eyes on the cargo jet, adjusting the trim by two notches.
“Rio tower,” Autumn said into the microphone of her headset. “B-17 388. We’ve turned downwind behind Aerovias 856.”
“B-17 388. Rio tower. We are having you in our sight. Pant
