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Daphne.
     
    Daphne walked up to Hank and said, “Well, I’m going to do it to you. I’m going to buy that truck for $100, and I’m not going to let you go back on the deal when your brain kicks into gear later and realizes you sold a fifty grand hot rod to a blond who isn’t even giving you head for a hundred. So, here’s the hundred, and where’s my pink slip?”
     
    “Glove box, already signed,” Hank told her. “Along with all of the insurance and AAA information.”
     
    Daphne squealed, “Holy shit, Cyn! Have you ridden in this truck yet?”
     
    “Actually, no, but now that it’s your truck, I’ll take a ride,” she said.
     
    Daphne skipped back to the truck. “You should hear the fucking stereo. Fuck!”

 
     
     
    CHAPTER SEVEN
     
    Hank look ed over the gathering in his living room. Cyn and Daphne were back at her house. He selfishly hoped that Cyn would come back to spend the night, because this was it, the last night before war. This meeting was for the group of ten that Knight had chosen to meet the plane: Ben, James, Halo, Boston, Gary, Robert Nash, Justin, Angel, Dustin, and Max.
     
    All of them were solid members of the club, core members, except for Boston — but that would change tonight. Boston would be as solid with the club as anyone could be after this.
     
    “Alright everyone, I know you have some idea of what we pulling tomorrow night. Now it’s time to tell you how we’re going to pull it off,” Hank began.
     
    “The plane you are going to meet is a B100 King Air, a light two-engine cargo plane with a payload of about 4700lbs, or just about two metric tons, including crew. It won’t be carrying anything like that. It should have two hundred to three hundred kilos of cocaine and one pilot.”
     
    “Holy shit,” Angel said. “Can’t get popped with that much shit on us; we’ll never see daylight again.”
     
    “If you want out, now’s the time. No shame at all,” Hank told him.
     
    “No, Knight already told us it was going to be a coke drop we were after. Just wasn’t prepared for the size. This is serious stuff,” Angel said.
     
    “What’s the ground resistance going to be like, Hank?” James Rath asked.
     
    “None. There won’t be anyone there to meet the plane except you,” Hank replied.
     
    “No one? How?”
     
    Hank told them about Orlin’s system. Orlin had a beacon, which was basically a cellphone with a GPS transmitter. This beacon was on the same frequency as the “hound” equipment on the plane, as in “fox and hound.” The hound equipment had a map screen showing the pilot where to go: where the fox was.
     
    “What I did was create a duplicate of this device, which looks like it is working properly, but in fact isn’t sending out any signal at all. I tested this on the last drop and made sure Orlin bought the fake beacon as the real one. Everything went smooth then, and he’s had it now for five weeks. You are going to another one of Orlin’s landing strips, number 3, and turn on the real beacon there. The pilot will see the location, recognize it as one of the ten, and land the plane for you.”
     
    “How does he pick his landing strips? Is it just a rotation?” Ben asked.
     
    “No, it’s fairly random. He has this black velvet bag with lottery balls inside — ten of them, numbered from 0 to 9. I wanted to make sure that he was going to pick airstrip 8, so I switched all of his balls with a set of ten I purchased. All of them have the number 8 on them,” Hank explained.
     
    “Why did you care which one he was going to pick?” Ben asked.
     
    “Because I needed to set it up. It’s where I’m going to die. At least, hopefully he’ll buy into the illusion of my death. Just as we get there, the DEA will arrive on the scene, and several explosions will happen on the airstrip itself. During this confusion, I’ll set off my shirt, which is one of those special effect deals. If I time it right, Orlin will see me get shot