CHAPTER TWENTY-NINE
Marc grabs the keys to the Cessna 172 Skyhawk passed to him by the charter field manager, climbs aboard the cozy turboprop and buckles in. Cleared for takeoff, he gains acceleration until he is airborne. Not as powerful as the Cirrus SF50 jet, it’s top speed is 188 mph, and not as sexy as the jet, but it is nostalgic: he learned to fly in the venerable Skyhawk and it remains a favorite to this day for aspiring pilots.
He normally does not fly at night. The sunshine is his nourishment, the blue sky his comfort, the horizon his out of body experience. But tonight is different. He could fly in the pitch dark to the demarcation line where the fathomless water meets the moonless black sky, lose perspective, invert the plane and crash into the abyss like John Kennedy, Jr
