Mitch woke up in a cold sweat. The clock beside his bed told him it was after seven.
Sunday. He sighed with relief. Raising himself up on his elbows, he leaned back on the headboard and thought about the project: they’re going to swap planes, take the gold, stash it and get it out of the country using either their Venezuelan or South African networks – or both, he thought with sudden clarity. Nick will pilot the plane that will carry the gold out of the country; the other pilot will perform the swap.
Sunday. He smiled.
A good plan. Very good, in fact.
A good plan. Very good, in fact.He heard a knock on his bedroom door.
“Just me,” Charlotte called out.
“Come in,” he sat up.
“Hello,” she smiled.
“Hi, Charlie. Sorry I didn’t last until you got home from your night group,” he pulled h
