"Ah hell."
"What's wrong, Mickey? You said I was the one being gloomy."
"How long have we known each other, Spider?"
"Since our MIT days. You were working the cafeteria. How could you forget?"
"I haven't. You were the only one of those smart-assed college kids who didn't treat me like scum. You were my friend."
"You paid me back, big-time. You knew the best bars to find girls in Cambridge."
"I still do," Doyle said with a grin.
"You've done okay for yourself, Mickey. Not everyone can be a pilot."
"I'm small potatoes compared to the Man."
"Tris? I guess he is larger than life. I've always been a tinkerer. I'm like the architect who builds one house. He's like the developer who sells thousands of those houses. His vision was what made us both fortunes."
"You believe all this anarchy stuff he talks about?"
"Some of it. Things are way off balance in the world, and I'd like to shake up the Elites, but I was more interested in the scientific challenge. Now that's turned to crap, and I have to set things straight."
"And I'm telling you, like a friend, that's not a good idea."
"I appreciate that friendship, but I have to say I'm sorry."
Doyle paused a moment before answering, then said, "I'm sorry too," with sadness in his voice.
With the matter apparently settled, Barrett went back to the portfolio, occasionally glancing out the cockpit window. They were flying over dense forest when Doyle cocked his ear. "Whoops! What's that?"
Barrett looked up from his reading. "I don't hear anything except the engine."
"Something's not right," Doyle said with a frown on his face. The plane dipped several feet. "Damn, we're losing power. Hold on. I'm gonna have to set her down."
"Set her down?" Barrett said with alarm. He craned his neck, looking at the thick woods below. "Where?"
"I used to know the countryside pretty well, but it's been a while since I hunted up in these parts. I think there's a lake not far from here."
The plane lost more altitude.
"I see something," Barrett said,
pointing at a flash of reflected sunlight.
Doyle gave Barrett the thumbs-up sign and steered toward the patch of blue water. The aircraft descended rapidly at an oblique angle that looked as if it would end in the tall pines. At the last second, Doyle pulled the plane up, skimming the treetops before making a pancake landing on the lake.
The plane coasted on its momentum toward shore and scraped up onto a narrow beach. Doyle was laughing. "That was a hell of a ride. You okay?"
"My ass is up around my ears, but other than that I'm fine."
"Getting in was easy," Doyle said, glancing at the surrounding woods. "Getting out will be the hard part."
Barrett pointed at the radio. "Shouldn't we be calling for help?"
"In a minute. I want to check for damage." He climbed out onto the pontoon and stepped onto the beach. He stooped a couple of times to look under the fuselage. "Hey, Spider, take a look at this."
Barrett got out of the plane. "What's up?"