Opportunity Makes the Thief

By LD Cooper

Diamonds have been found in Canada's remote North West Territories. Every year billions of dollars worth of these precious stones are shipped south in the cargo compartments of commercial passenger aircraft.
Donald MacKay has 35 years in as a Maintenance Crew Chief with North Air. Life is piling up on poor Donald. He has lost a good friend in a horrific accident, his wife is garnishing his wages and pension, and his incompetent megalomaniac boss is harassing him.
In a moment of inspiration, he decides to seize the opportunities available to him. He designs a mechanism that allows him to depressurize an aircraft in flight and open the rear cargo door.
He bails out of an aircraft with a pack of diamonds and gold and to his great surprise survives. He escapes to South East Asia where with his great wealth he finds romance and adventure.

• Language: English
• Publisher: LD Cooper
• Release date: Mar 8, 2017
• ISBN: 9781370153329

LD Cooper

L. D. Cooper is the author's Nom de Plume. A pseudonym to avoid monetary entanglements with an ex-wife. The real Lynne Doyle Cooper, long deceased, is suspected of being the infamous D. B. Cooper, the only successful hijacker in that he was never caught. The author was a crew chief for a major airline for 35 years. He has retired and lives outside a small rural village in beautiful and tranquil Issan, Thailand.

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Opportunity Makes the Thief

By L.D. Cooper

Smashwords Edition

Copyright 2012

All rights reserved. No part of this book may be used or reproduced in any manner whatsoever without written permission except in case of brief quotations embodied in critical articles and reviews.

This book is a work of fiction. References to real people, events, establishments, organizations, or locals are intended to provide a sense of authenticity, and are used fictitiously. All other characters, and incidents and dialogue are drawn from the author’s imagination and are not to be construed as real.

Acknowledgement and special appreciation to: Jimmy Buffet for A Pirate Looks At Forty, Chip Sanson for the Born Loser, Bill Watterson for Calvin and Hobbes.

This eBook is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. This eBook may not be re-sold or given away to other people. If you would like to share this book with another person, please purchase an additional copy for each recipient. If you’re reading this book and did not purchase it, or it was not purchased for your use only, then please return to your favorite eBook retailer and purchase your own copy. Thank you for respecting the hard work of this author.

Cover: Cambodian Apsara

Contact Author: [e-mail]

Face book: Lynne Doyle Cooper

2nd Edition Revision 1

Preface

The genesis of this book came in an email from my mother. She wrote, ‘I read a story about a Frenchman who robbed a bank, got caught, and went to jail. He wrote a book about his robbery and made more money from the book then the plunder.’ The concept of the plot I drew from 30 years of the dreams and schemes of my workmates. My motivation comes from a greedy ex-wife who after kidnapping my boy to another continent for 15 years, felt she was ethically and morally correct to drive me to destitution by claiming I owed her child support.

I want the book to be fun to read. A pulp fiction combination of a crime thriller and an adventure fantasy. Exciting enough a man can immerse himself in on a long flight. A fantasy to escape to after that court case lost to the wife or the argument with the megalomaniac boss. I try to use realistic dialog, workmates do not communicate in grammatically correct English, and Thais struggle with combinations of English and Thai even throwing in some Issan and Laos. A most confusing repartee for a farang.

I want to present the technology as a gauntlet (a Mechanix ™ glove, if you will) thrown down to the reader, a puzzle to understand and a challenge to determine if mechanisms will work. I replace Bond’s gimmickry with off-the-shelf technology and present gizmos as almost an ‘I gotta have’ advertisement.

The women I portray as the exotic, erotic, alluring beauties they are. Their exuberance and hormones fueled by the tropical heat and a healthy, largely vegetarian diet. I found them to be quick-witted entrepreneurs rather than exploited victims and I wish to minimize the profession they seek because of their socio- economic status. The locations, the scenery I will paint with similes and metaphors only when the protagonist is in a reflective, introspective moment.

For the Americans I shall try not to pervert to metric. This American edition is in feet, miles, and miles per hour but the rest of the world uses liters [45-gallon drums are still called 45-gallon drums]. The knot and nautical miles are universal to aviation for navigation reasons.

I have added 3 appendixes, one to explain some aeronautical terms without interrupting the flow of the book, a second to keep the long list of cameras straight and a third to keep the very long list of guns inventoried.

Due to my critic of my ex-wife (I wanted to be more venomous), I chose to write under a pseudonym. Rather an allonym of a pseudonym. Dan Cooper was the name on the ticket, the alias used by the infamous D.B.Cooper. A Lynn Doyle Cooper, long deceased, was recently identified as the real D.B.Cooper, the first and only successful highjacker for ransom.

Thank you to Jimmy Buffet for A Pirate Looks at Forty, not just for the lyrics but also for an attitude. I shall always be a pirate and I had thought of calling this book ‘A Pirate Looks at Sixty.’ Special thanks to Mother, Arlo, Paul, Milford, Hawaiian Dave, Pon, Wannaka, and Ruetairat.

Epigraph

Sometimes a man is not born to his home; he finds it in a place he has never been…

And he is at peace.

Milford

If there is one realm in which it is essential to be sublime, it is wickedness. You spit on the petty thief, but you can’t deny a kind of respect for the great criminal.

Dennis Diderot

I'll be true to the song I sing,

And live and die a Pirate King.

For I am a Pirate King!

And it is, it is a glorious thing

To be a Pirate King!

For I am a Pirate King!

The Pirates of Penzance

Chapter 1

January 2, Yellowknife, Northwest Territories, Canada

He’s gone, he’s gone!

Mac was knocked off his feet by the concussion of the jet engine’s compressor stall [1].

He had only caught the carnage in his peripheral vision, but he knew immediately what had happened and the cloud of crimson ice crystals rising behind the engine confirmed it. Hutch had walked between the fuselage and the running engine. The big jet had swallowed him [2]. In an instant Mac’s workmate and friend of 20 years was gone.

The compressor continued to rotate with a cacophony of mangled metal until the captain shut the engines down. The arctic tundra was still except for the brilliant red ice crystals settling on to the tarmac.

Mac stood, and then dropped to his knees as the reality hit him. Looking at the viscera in the engine intake made the bile rise in his throat and he vomited. His body flushed in spite of the minus 40 temperatures. Tears froze on his cheeks.

Two baggage handlers grabbed him under the arms, dragged him into the terminal building, and seated him on a baggage cart. They were all friends but Mac and Hutch were particularly close. The two had worked together for years spending countless evenings sitting in a truck cab waiting for an aircraft to arrive. One of the baggage handlers gently wiped the vomit from Mac’s face and parka and then quietly sat beside him, placing an arm around Mac’s shoulders in support.

Chapter 2

Early February, Yellowknife,

Forty below zero Fahrenheit and minus forty Celsius occupy the same place on the thermometer. In nature, this place, minus forty, is a desolate and very dangerous environment. No creature without extreme adaptations can survive for more than a few minutes. Most animals seek shelter and sleep until this temperature period is over. Even those animals with extreme adaptations do not fare well.

Mac and Chaos huddled in the cab of their maintenance truck. Even though the truck’s radiator was covered with cardboard to keep the engine warmer, the heater did not keep up with the chilling effect of the wind. They sat with their necks and heads hunkered down inside the hoods of their down filled parkas, like timorous turtles. Their toes were numb as the cold creeped through their Sorel boots, that were supposed to be rated for minus seventy.

There had been a problem with the number two engine starter on the previous flight. The Captain had entered in the logbook, ‘Right engine start valve slow to respond, and poor starter acceleration.’ So they were going to standby to operate the start valve manually with a 9/16 wrench, if it did not work when selected [3].

Most of the baggage and cargo had been loaded. A Brinks Armored Truck pulled up to the forward cargo door and a pair of guards threw three satchels in the cargo compartment then struggled to load three small heavy crates. The guards then watched as a ramp attendant strapped the crates down to cleats on the cargo compartment floor. A couple of late bags arrived and were thrown into the cargo compartment and the cargo door was closed.

Chaos remarked, That shipment is diamonds and gold from the mines. If it was loaded in the rear cargo, a guy could do a D.B. Cooper and if he lived, he would be very rich.

The Lead Ramp Attendant waved at them from the warmth of the push back tractor’s cab. Normally the Lead walked port side of aircraft on pushback, but Mac had coordinated with the aircraft’s Captain, that a maintenance man would do the pushback to be ready for any starter problem on engine two.

Mac put on his earmuffs as he left the truck. The cold stabbed through the parka’s fold like a driven nail, forcing his eyes to water. He had to be careful not to close his eyes, as the lashes would freeze them shut. He took up a position in the Captain’s line of sight. The tractor driver gave a thumb up. Mac looked around the airplane to insure it was clear while Chaos did a final departure walk around. The Captain gave a thumb up meaning he had received tower clearance to push back from the gate. Mac gave the Captain a brake- release hand signal and the Captain returned the signal after releasing the park brake. Mac signaled the driver to push back, the tractor’s engine revved and the Boeing 737 began to move.

After the aircraft was clear of the gate, the tractor stopped and Mac gave a brakes on hand signal and the Captain applied the brakes and returned the gesture. They had planned to leave the tow bar connected in case there was trouble. Mac raised his index finger to indicate number one engine and then spun it in a circle giving the Captain clearance to start the number one engine, and then watched to make sure the engine’s turbine rotated as high-pressure pneumatic air turned the little turbine of the powerful starter. After the port engine had stabilized, Mac moved to a position where both Chaos and the Captain could see him on starboard side of aircraft. He held up two fingers and rotated them, the Captain acknowledged and operated the start switch, nothing, and he gave Mac a thumb down.

The start valve had not opened; they would have to operate the valve manually. Mac acknowledged with a nod. He pointed to Chaos and gave him a start- engine hand signal. Chaos opened a small panel on the cowling, reached in and put the wrench on a hex fitting on the end of the start valve. He rotated the valve butterfly directing air to the starter, and the starter and engine began to spin. Suddenly at about 15% N2 RPM (N2 is high-pressure compressor turned by the starter through a gearbox), there was a loud explosion of white-hot magnesium sparks and Chaos quickly pulled his hand out of the hole.

The little starter turbine had exploded like a grenade. The starter casing had contained the kinetic energy but the shrapnel blew out through the starter exhaust screen. There was still enough power in the small metal shards to leave red welts on Chaos’s gloved hand in the exhaust path.

Mac signaled the Captain to shut down the Pneumatics and for the Lead Station Attendant to put the aircraft back on gate. When back on the gate Mac deployed the air stairs and entered the aircraft to talk to the Captain.

We are going to have to change the starter and maybe the valve. It’s dangerously cold and I would like to take aircraft to hanger. Mac said, being careful with his language as with the left engine still running the cockpit voice recorder was on.

That’s a problem because we are running out of crew time, we only have about half an hour of leeway, the Captain replied.

Then we better git at er, Mac replied and raced out the door and down the airstairs to help Chaos who had already opened the cowling and removed the clamps that secured the starter. In anticipation of trouble, they had previously thrown a starter and start valve in the back of the truck and now Mac unloaded the starter and removed the shipping covers as Chaos gingerly removed the still hot, damaged starter.

Chaos started to remove the start valve, as that was the policy in a starter failure because faulty valves caused overspeeds that made starters to fail. However, Mac shouted and hand signaled ‘NO’ over the noise of the still running left engine, so they positioned the new starter and tightened the clamps, and the installation was done. Mac grabbed the start valve and ran to cockpit. He threw the valve behind the First Officer’s seat, while he filled in the logbook regarding the starter change and briefed the Captain.

We have changed the starter and will do another manual valve opening, we should change the valve, but I have deferred it till Winnipeg. Are you happy with that?

Great, let’s get out of here, the Captain responded.

Engine one was still running, so Mac gave the start number two signal and Chaos opened the valve and the engine starter whined until the Captain signaled starter cut off at 35% N2 RPM, when Mac signaled Chaos to close the valve. The two of them closed the cowling and Mac signaled the Lead Ramp Attendant to push back again with both engines running. The ramp crew disconnected the tow bar and with hand signals directed the Captain to taxi away. The First Officer gave Mac a thumb up and an enthusiastic salute of respect and the aircraft moved away.

As they headed back to the maintenance office, Mac patted Chaos on the shoulder and teased, If you hadn’t have been such a wuss and let go of that valve, it might have started that engine, but I’ll buy the coffee anyway.

Chaos responded to the jibe with a hard punch to Mac’s shoulder, Damn right you are buying coffee, I think I froze my fingers!

They took off their parkas and watched the aircraft get airborne from the office window before heading for the airport’s coffee shop. Mac had bought the coffees and the two were discussing whether D.B. Cooper had survived when the Station Manager found them.

I have been looking for you two! The Captain radioed back a five minute delay for maintenance and a job well done, great work guys! he congratulated.

Station (Operations) handled the company radio and delays over six minutes required a report from the responsible person of the department assigned the delay. On time departures were a critical measurement of a department, a station, and the airline’s performance and there was a stigma attached to taking a delay. However, delays of less than 6 minutes did not count as the time could usually be made up during a flight so it meant that Mac was not going to have to fill out a stack of forms and send teletypes.

The Winnipeg flight had been Yellowknife’s last departure of the evening and shortly after it left, most of the airport’s lights were switched off revealing a cotillion of green and red dancing across the night sky. They enjoyed the show provided by the northern lights, the aurora borealis, through the cafeterias window and they rewarded themselves with a long coffee break while discussing the wealth in those satchels and how a man might survive bailing out of a rear cargo.

Yellowknife is the capitol of Canada’s Northwest Territories and sits on the north shore of Great Slave Lake only 250 miles south of the Arctic Circle. It has always been a boomtown with a half dozen gold mines and uranium mines within its huge jurisdiction. The latest boom was diamonds. The Ekati Diamond mine, the Diavik Diamond mine and the DeBeers’s Snap Lake Diamond mine collectively sent almost 3 billion dollars in diamonds a year through Yellowknife.

When diamonds were discovered in the Northwest Territories, the territorial government enacted laws requiring that a portion of the diamonds mined would be cut and polished in the Northwest Territories. This meant before the government allowed the mining companies to open mines they were required to set up the industry of cutting and polishing the rough stones. This was to create high skilled, good paying jobs for the local population, consequently, a great proportion of the raw stones are turned into cut diamonds in Yellowknife.

From the end of January through late March or early April, the Tibbit to Contwoyto Winter Ice Road is opened for truck traffic to take supplies from Yellowknife north to the various mines located in the Northwest Territories and Nunavut. Small valuable shipments to and from the mines were flown by small aircraft to Yellowknife.

Even though the town has a population of less than twenty thousand, there is always a housing shortage. Because of the long shipping distances and most of the goods having to be shipped by air, almost every commodity was expensive making the cost of living very high. Many companies had a hard time keeping employees.

Though North Air serviced the North, the head office was in Edmonton and its major aircraft maintenance work was done in a leased WWII period Air Force hanger in Winnipeg. Most of the maintenance personal lived in Winnipeg and bid for temporary assignments in the North. The company put them up in a hotel and paid their expenses and a northern bonus. Mac liked to stay at the Capitol Suites, which had small kitchens and almost seemed like home.

Mac was Donald MacKay. He was a 30-year veteran of North Air. He had many names. An uncle, his mother’s brother, had gone on a midlife crisis road trip and on his route was a stop to lookup his mother’s ‘people.’ The uncle had found a family bible and in it was Mac’s grandmother’s birth certificate. It proclaimed that she was a full-blooded Cree Indian. The uncle raced back to Winnipeg to share this discovery with Mac. Mac’s father had been the worst kind of bigot and probably turned over in his grave at this brother in law’s announcement that his wife, Mac’s mother, was half-Indian. However, it was a source of pride to Mac and he shared the discovery that he was one-quarter Indian with his workmates who accepted the revelation with great amusement.

The whites started calling him ‘Chief’. One of the boys brought in a Cleveland Indians baseball cap with their mascot on it and he became ‘Chief Wahoo’. The northern aboriginals he worked with had a better name and started calling him ‘Macastin, Cree for Bad Dog.’ This contracted to Mac, which was also the diminutive of his surname, so he accepted the handle with pride.

Workplace men have a ritual of giving nicknames. To have a call sign meant you were one of the boys. At least Mac’s was not derogatory. ‘Captain Chaos’ or ‘Chaos’ for short, got his moniker because of his incredible bad luck, whatever he touched turned to crap. ‘Len Fuck’ could use the expletive as a subject, verb, object, adjective and adverb all in one sentence. Boom-Boom had accidently discharged his rifle during a hunting trip. However, it was worse not to have a nickname; it meant you did not belong.

A week later:

Mac was at an ATM getting some cash and on checking his balance saw that he was heavily into his overdraft. He received his bi-weekly paystub at work and saw that it was an even $500 when it should have been five times that.

When he got to work, he phoned administration in Edmonton, the secretary told him it was a garnishment, and she would fax him the paperwork. The fax showed that it was his ex-wife, whom Mac had not seen in 15 years, since she had skipped to Europe with his son and a new boyfriend. He had entered that relationship with a house almost paid off, at least 100,000 dollars in equity. She had a rural house that sat on nice piece of riverbank property. He had sold his house and invested in hers. When they separated, he wanted at least some of his equity. Mac remembered as if it were yesterday, she came to him begging, sobbing, If you let me take our son, give me no grief. I will not come after you for child support or your pension.

Mac had acquiesced, figuring in his head, it was better not to have to pay 60 grand then maybe get a hundred. It did not matter anyway, she left town the next day, leaving no forwarding address, no email address or phone number.

Now it was 15 years later and she had returned to Canada and was suing him for all that back child support. She knew how to manipulate the system and had used his northern assignment to say he was unavailable to the courts, and then had walked the judgment through Manitoba Maintenance Enforcement to garnishee his wages.

She had no moral or ethical right. Nevertheless, Mac knew it was a fight he could not win. The family courts were too biased against men.

Sitting together in their maintenance truck later that evening shift, he vented his anger and frustration to a sympatric Captain Chaos.

Two weeks later:

Mac, Poulin is up from Winnipeg, he wants to see you in the office, Captain Chaos shouted across the hanger as he loaded their truck with his tools for the afternoon shift.

What now? Mac muttered. He had little respect for his immediate boss. Pierre Poulin was the ‘Peter Principal’ personified as he had risen far above his own level of incompetence. He had been promoted many years earlier because of Canadian laws that advanced bilingualism. However, speaking French was the limit of his management skills. He was a fat, uncouth alcoholic, who managed by intimidation and fear. Mac loathed him far more then he feared him. He had a couple of sobriquets, ‘Le Burger King’ because he looked like the ‘Burger King’ mascot or ‘Le Whopper’ because he usually had two Burger King Whoppers for lunch.

The maintenance office usually had its own peculiar odor, a combination of jet fuel, hydraulic fluid, and male smells emanating from parkas and Sorel boots. However, with Poulin in the office, it reeked of a man sweating whisky from his pores and cigarette smoke. The stench and sight of the fat tyrant assaulted Mac’s senses. The miasma was unpleasant and disorientating.

Take a seat, Poulin demanded as he rose from the chair to lean on the edge of desk. It was a psychological trick he employed to be taller and therefore higher than his underlings were. It did not work on Mac because he was aware of Poulin pathetic attempts at intimidation and besides he was taller sitting, then Poulin was standing.

Poulin started, I got a company letter from a Captain. He thinks I should put a letter of recommendation on your file. About some starter change? You really must have kissed his fucking ass.

Mac proudly relied, Yes! No delay on a last minute starter change. I remember, the crew was very pleased.

Poulin responded profanely, You are aware that a fucking starter change requires a start valve change, too.

Mac remained professional, The requirement for a start valve change is only a company policy subject to operational circumstances. It was minus forty with a wind here and minus ten in Winnipeg so I placed the start valve on board with the Captain. The crew was running out of time. Here in Yellowknife, the engine started with no abnormalities, so I used my experience and discretion and deferred the start valve change to Winnipeg. The aircraft was legal as per MEL. (Minimum Equipment List, airline document listing mechanical details under which aircraft could be dispatched).

I would like to give you a fucking letter of reprimand, but the union and your buddy Melynik would only give me grief, so I will put this letter on your file as is. It will stand as an Atta Boy. (Term used to signify a job well done, as when patting a dog’s head who has returned a stick and praising him with ‘atta boy’).

Mac seethed with anger and decided to take control of the conversation, Do you kiss your mother with that mouth? Because my mother said that, you can judge a person’s ill breeding and lack of intelligence by his use of profanity. This is a professional meeting and I would appreciate if you conducted yourself accordingly. I am finished here and you can direct any further issues to my shop steward and your superior. With that, Mac rose to leave.

It was Poulin’s turn to fume with anger and he shouted, I am not finished.

Yes you are! Mac barked back.

No, administration wants updated photo and fingerprints for your Airport Security ID. Look after it, the next time you are in Winnipeg. Poulin shouted.

Mac walked out of the office without giving him the respect of an acknowledgement.

He got to the truck where Captain Chaos was waiting.

Mac muttered, What a fucking asshole! Wasn’t going to put letter on my file for that starter incident.

He put an Atta Boy on my file. He has a bug up his ass for you. What did you do to him?

I don’t know. Maybe, it was years ago, I met his daughter in a bar, nice girl, pretty face but short and fat. Kinda looks like him. We had a couple of dances and things got heated, I think I coulda, but I didn’t cause I thought it would be like doin Le Whopper and the moment lost its magic. Maybe she felt snubbed and told him. She probably never mentioned it to him. I don’t know! Mac ranted.

Come on let’s go. They’re transferring the mine shipments!

Mac looked across the tarmac as the sun suddenly burst through the clouds.

Just one of those bags would solve all your problems. Chaos remarked.

It was as if the clouds suddenly lifted from the manure pile that was his life, a seed had fallen on the shit, and the sun was warming the emerging sprout.

Mac grabbed Chaos’s face and gave him a big kiss, Thank you, Gary.

Chaos indignantly pushed him away and spluttered, For what?

Just Thanks!

Crazy Fuc. Indian! Chaos muttered sotto voce.

Chapter 3

Ponder and deliberate before you make a move. SUN TZU The Art of War

The heat from the fermenting ordure had withered the sprout. It was as if the manure pile was about to self-ignite, spontaneously combust. All that was needed was a spark to ignite the fire, a conflagration that could consume his mind. He could not sleep at night for the volatile vapors swirling through his head, as he lay trying to dose off, he could not stop the thoughts. If he sought help he could extinguish the blaze, but then he remembered, as a volunteer rural firefighter how many barns they saved from manure pile fires –none. After a couple of nights, he had almost given into his thoughts.

Mac felt like his head was a house occupied by two maniacal tenants. There was a dark sinister soul filled with vengeful fantasies of matrimonial murder. The logic and reasoning portion of his brain tried to suppress this demon as there was no way he could dispose of his ex-wife without immediately becoming the prime subject and if he did manage an escape he would have no financial resources and no one gave refuge to murderers. Therefore, his mind allowed the other occupant to overpower the homicidal devil.

The other tenant schemed and plotted, often in minute detail. He daydreamed of scenarios of seized opportunity. The fantasies were only extensions of the countless conversations with his workmates in the maintenance truck. The logic and reasoning of his overworked mind told him the opportunity was there. The larceny could appear to be an operational accident, a mechanical incident, a repeat of history. He could escape with vast resources and a rich man could find refuge anywhere.

In the pugnacious melee that was his tortured mind, the thief won more often than the murderer. Logic provided the unfair advantage.

Though his reasoning still seemed logical, he began to doubt his sanity. Inspiration and paranoia are Siamese twins. Were these thoughts symptomatic of schizophrenia or was he developing multiple personalities.

Mac wanted to have a relaxing morning to try to clear his head. After breakfast, he sat at his hotel suite’s small kitchen table with some oatmeal raison cookies, a cup of tea and a teapot under a cozy. Jimmy Buffet’s A1A album, his favorite music was providing a tropical atmosphere. The drapes were open to provide his eyes with the light stimulus needed to alleviate the Seasonally Affected Depression, the Winter Blues, and the cabin fever affliction of Northerners.

He had the ‘Yellowknifer’ Friday newspaper (it was published bi-weekly, Wednesday and Friday) and was fascinated by a crime prevention article. It was an editorial called ‘Opportunity makes the Thief.’ The newspaper’s editor had based his philosophy on a criminologist’s paper of the same name. Its basic premise was that given an opportunity even the most law-abiding citizen will resort to crime. An unguarded bag of money would tempt a saint. Mac thought of his own circumstances. There was all that gold and diamonds and he was certainly more a sinner