Chapter 45

45
THE SKIES ABOVE BRAZIL AND VENEZUELA

The events at the airport seemed to have little impact on Jesus and Juan. They settled into the comfortable cabin of the intercontinental jet as if they had set up house keeping there. Victor Santos, however, was a different case. He sat with the pilot paying only a distracted attention to the controls. His mind returned to the gloomy room where Senor Robeles had given him the task. He had performed his duties. The trust fund was now so large that its assets occasionally slipped into sight. He had dutifully extricated his Client from the clutches of a surprisingly draconian government without resorting to firing a single shot. Now, in the luxury of an elite corporate jet he would deliver his Charge to a safe haven. Somewhere.

Santos was the kind of man who could juggle this many thoughts easily. His trial experience had sharpened him into a quick thinking -- and quick speaking -- man of the world. Coupled with the resources which had been entrusted to him, his talent presented a formidable opponent to anyone opposing his Client.

But Victor Santos was not congratulating himself. Instead he sat in the dark cockpit gazing out at the night sky filled with stars. What had happened at the airport brought a crushing realization down on him. He had been so consumed with his duties as counsel, that he had made the, to his mind, serious mistake of never fully realizing just Who his Client was. He had been told. He had known all these years, but it had never been much more than a kind of novelty. He had never opened his thoughts sufficiently to allow himself to realize Who was in the back of the plane.

The sight of the dead pilot standing on his feet again would not leave his memory. The strange "changing" of General Ortiz, and even the transformation of the dogs were all manifestations of power beyond his comprehension. On an intellectual level none of this would be too troublesome. In fact if he had read all of it in a newspaper story, he would have easily been able to both not refute it and, at the same time, not believe it.

But this was not a newspaper, or a television or a rumor. This was the Man seated a few feet away reading a ten year old edition of National Geographic. Victor Santos had the unavoidable realization that he could no longer continue to be what he had been. Jesus Robeles was not an incongruity, a slight of hand, a temporary phenomenon or a theoretical character. He was Someone who could bring people back from the dead.

Santos stared into the darkness for a long time. It would take him a little time to shift things around in his thoughts. He had considered Jesus to be a back woods bumpkin as He stumbled through one fiasco of modern living after another. Now it was time to forge an alloy of his Client, apparently the Son of God and a rapidly developing third component, Friend. No one who knew Jesus, and Juan, too, for that matter, could withstand the irresistible growth of a deep Friendship with them. Victor Santos was not alone when he looked at this feeling and concluded that he had never had friendship before in his life.

Attorney Santos shook himself back to the affairs at hand. The Grumman was going to be thirsty for more fuel by the time it arrived in Caracas. There was no possibility that the Brazilian government was not already strong arming Venezuela to hold them there. The jet's pilot had filed a flight plan, but no traffic control in Brazil would authorize departure. The flight path of the plane would have made it easy for Brazilian air traffic control to determine that Caracas was its destination.

Jesus had substantial holdings in the oil economy of the country, and unknowingly to its Owner, the trust had contributed heavily to some select local political campaigns. Victor Santos knew that one could never have too many friends. The lawyer sat with his cell phone, calling in favors.

Shortly, he turned to the pilot. "We will land and refuel at our refinery installation just west of Puerto Cabello. It will be best if we are on the ground for only a short time."

The pilot spoke back to him without turning away from the controls, "We really need a flight plan before we go much further. Do I have a final destination?"

Santos thought for a moment, then rose and made his way to the back where Jesus and Juan were now asleep. "Excuse me, Sir. Sir?"

Juan awoke first and smiled at the attorney. "We know how much trouble we're making for you Mr. Santos. I just wanted to tell you how much we appreciate everything."

Santos replied, "It's an honor to have my task, an honor."  Speaking the other sleeping Figure, he cautiously said, "Sir?"

"He'll wake up if you call Him by His name. He hears you say 'Sir' and He still doesn't think you mean Him. Try 'Jesus'." Juan smiled.

"Jesus. Jesus? Will You talk to me for a moment?" Santos asked softly.

"Yes, of course, Mr. Santos. I am delighted to talk to you at anytime. What's going on?" Jesus said, sitting up.

"We are landing in Caracas, Venezuela, shortly. We will refuel and then head on. I am asking You what our final destination should be. Where do You want to go?" Santos could not turn his eyes from the Man sitting before him.

"Juan and I want to meet girls. We're pretty sure we want to go to America. Can we fly all the way to America?"



The flight into Caracas was uneventful. The trust owned a major oil refinery at Puerto Cabello which had a runway suitable for the G2. Santos requested that Jesus and Juan remain on board with him while the plane was fueled.

Just as the fuel truck pulled away, it was replaced by two military trucks filled with troops. The trucks blocked the path to the runway. A man, clearly the officer in charge approached the plane. The pilot looked at Victor Santos for instructions.

The attorney sighed, then walked aft toward the exit door. Opening the latch allowed the steps to descend to the tarmac. He stepped forward as if to descend, but the military officer climbed up to meet him.

"Mr. Santos. Greetings from the government of Venezuela, and especially His Excellency, the Minister of Commerce. I'm glad we were able to catch you on the ground so I could give you these."

Santos opened the package. Within he found Brazilian and Venezuelan passports for both Jesus and Juan. Both were franked with exit stamps from both Brazil and Venezuela, although the photos were a little shaky. The officer waited for a moment, then said, "We have all heard what you have gone through in Rio. We have also heard what happened at your airport. The people and the government of Venezuela will provide you with every assistance possible to send you on your way. Your flight will receive departure clearance from Caracas by direct orders of the President. God speed!"

"Thank you, sir. And please carry our gratitude to your government. If you would be so kind as to file this flight plan for Dulles International in Washington, perhaps we won't be shot down by the Americans." Santos handed the written flight plan over to the officer, slipping the passports into his coat pocket. After Brazil, things were looking up.