“Do you often get assignments like this one?” Sandy asked.
“I’ve flown my share of VIPs, but mostly it’s a job for military pilots.”
“You consider my dad and Professor Crowell VIPs?”
“I got that impression,” Parker said guardedly. He was about to add something else when a burst of static from the radio diverted his attention. “Tower at Anchorage calling us,” he told Sandy, adjusting his earphones. He listened, then flipped the switch over to transmit. “N-140 to Anchorage ... Read you clear ... Climbing to 12,000 feet ... Over and out.” He flipped the switch and reported to Sandy. “We’re climbing another 4,000 feet. We’re heading into a snow squall off Kodiak, moving northeast.”
Jerry awoke from his nap and came up front to join them. “You guys hungry? I’m going to break out the sandwiches.”
Sandy laughed. “Is eating all you ever think about?”
Jerry flicked Sandy’s cowlick with one finger. “Especially when I ride in airplanes. I have to keep my stomach weighted down so it won’t do flip-flops.”
“Okay, I’ll join you,” Sandy agreed. “How about you, Mr. Parker?”
“I’ll wait awhile,” the pilot declined. “Soon as we level off at 12,000, I’ll set her on automatic pilot.”
The boys walked back to their seats and opened the lunchbox the hotel had prepared for them that morning.