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     Previously on Jake Hammer:  Jake accepted a job personally from the mysterious Madame Zhu, a simple delivery, but one that seemed very different from his previous work for her.  Despite his misgivings, Jake was determined to complete the flight to Los Angeles.  Now,

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     It was shaping up to be a beautiful evening in the air, Jake thought, as he inhaled the moist, fragrant breeze rushing into the cockpit window that he had cracked open.  The sunset beamed radiantly in front of him, and the pesky currents blowing in off the ocean that had him constantly on the trim tabs earlier had abated.  His airplane, Lady Luck, seemed to like it too—the carburetors were working to perfection in the humid air, and her well-tuned engines were simply purring.  Jake had almost returned to his normal happy mood after his disquieting exchange at the hangar with Madame Zhu.  But then, looking down from 5,000 feet, Jake saw the trouble beginning again.  Bandits on the highway into LA!  With the Depression beginning to bite deeper and deeper into the economy, petty crooks had set up shop on the almost-deserted rural roads in the evening.  Within just a few weeks, a surprisingly active black market had sprung up, with deals for common goods and objects, not to mention those with a less savory aura.  As Jake knew, the police had the ability to disperse the hooligans.  But nabbing them, and then putting them away, proved to be a bigger challenge.  No wonder more and more merchants were willing to pay for air service delivery.  He grimaced: At least the pirates had not taken to the skies.  Not yet anyway.
     A few minutes later, Jake was over the isolated and darkened airfield whose coordinates Madame Zhu had specified.  Hearing his engines, those on the ground turned on the runway lights, and Jake landed without incident.  He taxied to the field’s lone hangar and cut power to both engines.  There was just a moment of stillness before a Chinese work crew descended on the aircraft in a rush, chocking the wheels, topping off the tanks, and opening the cargo bay without waiting for Jake to climb down the ladder from the cockpit.  Jake thought they seemed furtive, and shady as they hurried about their business.  He didn’t recognize any of them, except for the crew chief, Li-Sheng.  Jake extracted the package from the cargo well and handed it over to the chief, who, in the meantime, had put up an altogether fake smile.  Jake was not fooled; he could see the knowing nods of the other workers as the package was quickly passed through several hands and disappeared into the crew truck.  The entire scene was playing out very differently from his previous dealings with Madame Zhu, which consisted mostly of deliveries of Asian art objects and other antiquities related to her import business.
     “Mr. Hammer, excellent work as always,” Li-Sheng said in perfect English.  “Here is your payment, cash, as we stipulated.”
     “Thanks Li-Sheng.  You know, the urgency and secrecy make me wonder what’s in the package.”
     “Secrecy?  Not at all!” Li-Sheng produced a theatrical chuckle.  “As for the contents of the package, I simply work for Madame; I am not her business partner.”
     Jake finished his thought: “and neither am I.” He grabbed the fur collar of his flying jacket and pulled it up.
“I’d best be going. The wind is coming up.”
     Li-Sheng bowed.  “At your service, Mr. Hammer.  Safe return.”
     Soon aloft, Jake was alone with his thoughts:  Had it really been over 12 years since he flew with the 13th Aero Squadron in the War?  After the Allied victory, and the Lindbergh flight, the future of America, and his own future, had looked so bright!  Whatever you wanted, whatever you dreamed, you could make it happen in America!  But now?  The Depression stealing more jobs every day.  Pirates on the highway at night.  Political instability, with the business community seriously suggesting that California secede from the rest of the US.  The statements he had heard!  All the other states were just “dragging California down.”  Jake didn’t believe it—couldn’t believe it.  What had gone wrong?
     But, even as troubled as he was, flying alone at night always had a way of soothing Jake.
The serenity of the night air overtook him, and the muffled quality of the tailwind that he rode through an air pocket calmed him like no other stimuli could.  The setting was beautiful:  The new moon rose like a pale ghost before him.  Shafts of silver came through the cumulus, first glinting off his face, then the cockpit glass, then finally casting shadows of mottled blue and black on Lady Luck’s wings as her powerful engines pulled her to the light above….
     After a short flight home, Jake descended, banked left and swooped down on his airstrip for the second time today.  Thanks to Miguel, the runway lights were blazing—in fact, Miguel was still on the premises:  Jake just noticed his jalopy in his peripheral vision before coming in for his final descent.  And he was also aware that the landing would be tricky.  The wind was up, and strong, maybe not as strong as the Santa Ana winds, but still powerful and blowing directly across the runway.  Jake used his ailerons to get the plane more or less lined up, but he knew there was no point in trying for fully coordinated flight; the cross wind was blowing too hard for that.  Jake gave Lady Luck a little more rudder, but the plane continued to skid through the air.  Jake held his breath.  He was coming in too fast!  He had to bleed off some airspeed somehow, but the wind wouldn’t let him!  He pulled the throttle back an inch.  Lady Luck’s engines lowered their pitch to a cranky and guttural sostenuto.  In a few seconds, she began to settle; her angle of attack now steeper.  Now the plane had lost some speed, but Jake was still not at the stall speed, and was nowhere close to being lined up with the runway.  But Jake knew his airplane:  He pulled the throttle back a half-inch.  Lady Luck’s landing gear was now groping for the hardpan of the runway.  But, Jake thought, she’ll scoot right off the runway if I put her down like this.  He knew what to do:  In the final split second before impact, he cut the power and kicked the rudder completely over.  Lady Luck immediately straightened up over the runway and stalled out a mere foot over the tarmac.  She was meant for the air, but the shocks absorbed her weight, now shackled and earthbound, with the merest of whimpers.  Jake finally exhaled and patted his plane’s instrument panel.  “You can make things interesting,” he said, “but you always come through for me.”  
     Jake taxied up to the hangar and got out of the cockpit.  Working together, Jake and Miguel quickly secured the plane.  But Jake noticed that Miguel did not seem eager to depart.  Jake told Miguel about the delivery in LA, and shared the dark thoughts he had on the flight home.
     “It’s interesting that you bring all that up,” Miguel responded, “Let me tell you, I’ve been hearing some strange things in the barrio about what’s going on in Mexico, and my Mom’s letters are also full of stuff that is just…well, I can’t figure it out.”
     “Such as?”
     “Well, for one thing, there is a rumor going around that large numbers, and I mean, thousands and thousands, of Federal soldiers are camped in Tijuana, just across the border from San Diego.  One official said it was a training exercise.  Then another official denied it completely.  One of my Mom’s friends has a son who is in the army.  He was home on leave.  Then he gets this letter out of the blue telling him his leave is cancelled and he has to report immediately.  That never happens.”
     Both men fell silent.  What might it all mean?  They didn’t know.  Then Miguel perked up suddenly.  “Well, at least business is good for you.  I took a call after you left.”  He picked up a piece of paper from a notepad and read:  “The US Coastal Mapping Agency wants to update navigation charts off the California coast, extending south into international waters off the coast of Mexico.  They want to hire you to take the photographs they’ll use to build the charts.  I figured you’d go for it.  Their high-speed camera will be delivered first thing tomorrow morning.”
     “Sounds good.”
     “They described the camera to me.  It should be easy to install in the cargo bay.  I also wired up a remote control trigger that will let you snap photos as quick as you want from the cockpit.”
     “The weather will be good tomorrow.  This sounds like another easy job.” Jake shrugged and looked at Miguel.  “Besides,” he said, “What could go wrong?”