Chapter 24

Considering the many airports and the heavy air traffic, flying into the New York area is always something of a challenge, especially for a pilot flying solo in an executive jet. Jennifer thought that it would have been nice to have someone in the cockpit with her, but there wasn’t anyone available today who would have been much help. Besides, it would be inconvenient for them, so she had decided to just tough it out. It wasn’t anything she couldn’t handle, but it would be something of a pain in the neck.

But then, this whole trip was going to be a pain in the neck, but it was something that had to be done, so there was nothing to do but get on with it. Given a choice she’d really rather be back at home on the ranch, perhaps just working with one of the horses, or maybe just finding a cool spot in the shade beside the pool. But that wasn’t to be; if she were to be in Phoenix the next couple of days she’d probably be at work at Lambdatron, where they were going through a busy period. That might not be so bad since it was blistering hot in Phoenix, and at least Lambdatron was air conditioned, which wouldn’t be the case if she were outside at the ranch. It would be cooler in New York, but not much cooler; the East Coast humidity would be more than enough to make up for any temperature differential. Fortunately she wouldn’t be out of air conditioning much here, either.

She glanced down at the standard approach plate clipped to the yoke once again; as far as she could see things were going like they should. The air here was hazy and smoggy; visibility was low, but that was to be expected in the New York airspace, too. Not much longer, she thought, and the easy part would be over with.

She heard the air controller’s voice in her headphones, telling her to contact Teterboro tower for the final stage of her arrival. She’d already switched the number two radio to the anticipated frequency, so she flipped a single switch and called in a reserved, professional-sounding tone: “Teterboro Approach, Citation three Charlie Charlie with you for landing with information Hotel.”

“Ah, roger three Charlie Charlie,” she heard in her headphones. “Squawk three one two two and ident.”

Within seconds she’d changed the setting on the radar transponder and touched the button marked “ident.”

“Radar contact, three Charlie Charlie. Maintain course and descend to zero seven thousand.”

“Three Charlie Charlie, roger,” she replied and eased back on the throttle some more. It was hard to remember that this wasn’t her old familiar Skyhook any more. While she’d gone through the transition training to the new plane, it still wasn’t terribly familiar, and it might take her a while to get as comfortable with it as she had been with the Learjet. She was busy enough with everything else she was doing that she rarely had time to fly it, mostly because she rarely had the need to fly it except for the occasional charter. It was, in fact, fairly busy with charters, but Mike Hanneman only asked her to help out in a pinch.

For over a year she and Mike had kicked around the idea of replacing Skyhook with a newer plane, one that would be a little more usable for charter operations. The old Learjet wasn’t getting any younger, and a major engine rebuild was looming ever closer on the horizon. In addition, Jennifer had long ago given up any idea of taking Skyhook out of the country since it had once been a drug runner. Even though it had been years since it had done any of that, it could still attract the nose of drug dogs. Years before Jennifer had decided the best thing to do was to not take it out of the country and have to risk yet another rebuilding of the cabin upholstery, which had twice been left an unusable mess after an intensive, fruitless search by customs and DEA agents. In fact, the unwillingness to take Skyhook to Mexico City had been the reason Jennifer had been on the hijacked airliner in the first place.

The two of them had been indecisive about what to do with the old Learjet for over a year, until one day Mike ran into a gentleman in Dallas while on a charter there. The Texan oilman had been blunt, “Isn’t that Jennlynn Swift’s airplane?”

Mike admitted that it was, and the man had responded, “Would she take a million and a half for it?”

“I honestly don’t know,” Mike had told him, and then like a good salesman added conversationally, “I’m not sure she wants to sell it. It’s a pretty famous airplane after all, and it means a lot to her.”

“How about two million?”

That number was getting well above what Mike and Jennifer agreed that anyone in their right mind would be willing to pay for a Learjet 24A that was over thirty-five years old. “I can’t say yes, and I can’t say no,” he replied honestly. “All I can do is contact her and see what she says.”

Needless to say, as soon as Mike could get free of the man he called Jennifer, who was busy at her office at Lambdatron. “It sounds like he wants it real bad,” she told him. “But just for fun, run two and a half past him and see what he says.”

Fifteen minutes later Mike called her back. “We should have asked for three,” he told her. “He bit on two and a half million so quick it wasn’t funny. I told him I had to finish this charter, but he can pick it up in two days so long as he has a certified check with him. I can’t imagine why he would want to spend that much more than the plane is worth, but so long as the money is green I wouldn’t care and I don’t think you would, either.”

“In a way, I’m a little sorry to be letting it go since it’s been part of my life for years,” Jennifer sighed. “But in a way, I’m not, either. That airplane has become pretty much my trademark as Learjet Jenn, and I’m not Learjet Jenn very often these days.”

They were a little surprised when the Texas oilman showed up in Phoenix two days later with a pilot and a check for the agreed-upon amount; after only a few minutes Jennifer no longer owned a Learjet.

As she and Mike watched it being taxied out to fly out of her life, he commented, “Considering that I was there when you paid a hundred thousand for it, I’d say you made out on the deal.”

“Oh, yeah, that was a deal and a half, all the way around,” she agreed. “So, the question becomes, are we going to replace it?”

“I can’t see why you shouldn’t,” Mike said. “We’ve been doing pretty good with charters, and we’re going to have to dry-charter something for a while just to keep up with reservations as it is.”

It had been Mike who had taken the lead on finding Skyhook’s replacement, since Jennifer was still busy with other things, but two weeks later he called her up and said, “I think I’ve found the bird we want.”

“What is it?”

“It’s a Cessna Citation II-SP,” he told her. “It’s an ’88 model, so it’s not new, but it doesn’t have much time on it either. The guy who owned it decided to trade up, and I don’t think he put a hundred hours a year on it. I think he owned it so he could boast to his friends that he owned a jet.”

“There are people like that around,” she agreed. “I’m pretty sure the guy we sold Skyhook to is one of them. So what’s the scoop on this thing?”

“Like I said, it’s in good shape, although I think we ought to grab one of Stew Dozier’s mechanics from Hernando to go through it. It has two more seats in the cabin and the cockpit is nowhere near as cramped. Because of the wing shape and a few other things, it’s comfortable on a field that’s a lot shorter than Skyhook needed. The panel is pretty modern, a lot better than Skyhook’s was. Good engines, the original JT15D-4s, about eleven hundred hours on each, which is the total airframe time, too. The downside is that the cruising speed is a little slower than Skyhook’s, but I don’t see that as a disadvantage. It would add about half an hour on a run to, say DC, but what with everything you’d only burn about half the fuel. With those engines, it’s a lot quieter than Skyhook.”

“Sounds like it would be all right, and I think I can live with it being slower if you can,” she told him. “So the magic question, Mike: how much?”

“He’s asking two point seven, but I think he was a little tentative about it. I wouldn’t be surprised if we can dicker him down to about what you got from selling Skyhook.”

“Sounds like a winner, Mike. Why don’t you get with Stew and set up for a mechanic to go with us?”

It was a long and tiring trip in Songbird to Denver, where the plane was located. While Jennifer liked the plane and the mechanic said it was a good deal, the guy was a little tentative about selling it until Jennifer produced a cashier’s check for two and a half million, take it or leave it. He took it, and Mike and the mechanic flew the Citation back to Phoenix, while Jennifer tagged along behind. It took a while to get the plane through its annual inspection and have it certified for using as a charter plane. While that was under way, Jennifer went through the Cessna transition training, not that it was that much different from the Learjet. As a result, she’d only flown it a few times before taking this trip to New York.

The only downside to the whole thing was that Jennifer had usually found nicknames for her planes. She’d said long before that if she ever bought another jet it would be named Hustler, but with the Citation being slower than Skyhook it didn’t quite seem to fit. Besides, that name had connotations she’d really rather stay away from, and there the matter rested. Until it found a name – and it might not – they just referred to it as “the Citation” or sometimes “Charlie Charlie.”

All that was behind her now as she turned the Citation onto the final approach for Teterboro. Everything was going smoothly, but she wasn’t in the best of spirits, for Learjet or no Learjet, she was going to have to mostly be Learjet Jenn for the next couple of days. Although she’d become resigned to it, it wasn’t something she cared to do very often.

The landing went smoothly, and ground control directed her to the fixed base operation where she’d have Charlie Charlie tied down for a couple of days. It took her a few minutes to get the plane shut down; by the time she had everything buttoned up a courtesy car had appeared to take her up to the terminal. As she walked in, a young woman with a grating nasal Brooklyn accent came up to her and asked, “Are you Jennlynn Swift?”

“In a manner of speaking,” she replied, resigning herself that she was going to have to answer to her old name for a while.

“OK, good. Did you bring anyone with you?”

“No, just me.”

“No pilot or anything?”

“No, I flew the plane myself. I’m sort of known for that, you know.”

“All right, I guess. I’m Jolene Price, I’m from Abnaki Press. I’m supposed to take you straight to the studio for the taping of The Roger Bennett Hour. There was a cancellation, and they want to move you up to the lead segment and extend it out a bit.”

“Fine with me, it’s your deal, not mine,” Jennifer shrugged. “Just so long as I get to the hotel after we’re done.”

“That’s part of the program,” the young woman said as she led the way to the front door, where there was a limo waiting for them. “Have you seen the show?”

“No, I rarely watch television. I have other things I have to do.”

“Do you know anything about it?”

“It’s a talk show with an audience is what I was told. It’s one of three that I’m supposed to do in the next two days.” Actually, she knew a little bit more about it than that, but it was what she had been told, rather than from her own observations. It was a celebrity interview show, but Will, who occasionally looked at such things, told her it was for the guests to pitch public relations about the movies, shows, records or books they were currently pushing. In this case, the book was Learjet Jenn’s Sex Work for Beginners, which was the title that had finally been settled on. The interviews had been set up by the publisher, and were something that Jennifer conceded that Jennlynn had to do.

The traffic into Manhattan was murder, and Jennifer was just as happy that there was a professional driver at the wheel of the limo. She was used to driving in heavy traffic in Phoenix, but the drivers there were usually sane, which was more than could be said about New York. While they were on the way, Jolene went over the schedule for the next couple of days, which involved the tape-delayed “live” interview with Bennett, and then two other similar interviews the next day. By the time the last one wrapped up, Jennifer knew she was going to be happy to be back aboard the Citation and heading west, even if it meant a long solo night flight to get back home to Phoenix and the ranch.

It took an hour to get to the studio, which was in a large building on the edge of skyscraper country on Manhattan. Apparently Jolene had taken guests through the process before, because everything went smoothly. “You might want to be a little careful,” Jolene warned as the makeup girl for the show finished up. “Bennett usually only throws softballs, but because you’re a little controversial he may throw a curve ball or two.”

“I’ve seen a few of those in my life,” Jennifer smiled. “Don’t worry. I’ll be all right.”

Jennifer was taken out onto the stage in front of the audience. It was prior to the actual taping, and it was there that she met Bennett for the first time. Although she was pretty sure she hadn’t met him before, he seemed smooth and a little sleazy, which was about what she had expected. “Pleased to meet you,” he said automatically. “I’ll bet I’m not supposed to call you ‘Learjet.’ Is ‘Jenn’ all right?”

“No, that or Jennlynn will be just fine.”

“Is this the first time you’ve ever done something like this?”

“Well, sort of. I did those programs for WNN, but they were very different and they weren’t in front of an audience.”

“Well, relax, and we’ll make do.”

The set seemed like madness just before the taping began, but all of a sudden things turned quiet. She could hear an announcer introduce the show, and then Bennett said. “We have a special guest with us today, the legendary Learjet Jenn, who landed a Southern airliner after it was hijacked over two years ago. Most of the world was surprised that this extraordinary woman worked as a licensed legal prostitute in Nevada in her spare time. Welcome to the Roger Bennett hour, Jennlynn.”

“Thanks, Roger,” she said. “I’m pleased to be here.” Not really, she thought, but sometimes you do what you have to do.

“I think when we first heard about it that most people thought it was extraordinary that a prostitute could be an accomplished pilot who owned and flew her own Learjet. It still seems incredible to me. How did that happen?”

“I was already a pilot when I started working in a Nevada house,” she explained. “I never was a full-time prostitute, and I never wanted to be. It was just for fun, and it wasn’t exactly something I had to do.”

“It seems like a pretty extreme way to have fun,” he said.

“It probably does to some people,” she shrugged. “But stop and think about it. How many people have sex for fun? Lots of people, maybe even most people. Working in a Nevada house just simplified things, even without the money involved.”

“It seems like you’d meet some pretty scummy people that way.”

“Oh, you do, but you meet some very interesting people too. For me, the real advantage was that it was safer than hanging around some bar looking for a guy to pick up for the evening. We always used barriers or condoms, and if a customer got rowdy there was a panic button in each room that called a bouncer. Every customer knew that, so there were rarely problems.”

“Now you’ve written a book, Learjet Jenn’s Sex Work for Beginners. Is that about your experiences?”

“Very little,” she replied, having wondered how Bennett was going to get around to the point of the interview. “Prostitution, or sex work as it’s often called, can seem like an attractive business to someone who doesn’t know anything about it, but there are a lot of dangers and pitfalls that girls may not understand until it’s too late to get out. In fact, the very first line of the book is, ‘Sex work may seem like an easy and fun way to make money, but if you’re considering getting into it, my advice to you is to not do it. It’s a lot more complicated and dangerous than it seems, and it may make you not feel good about yourself. But if you’re going to do it anyway, here are some things to do, and things not to do.’”

“So what you’re really doing is warning girls off of getting involved.”

“That’s my intent, but if someone is going to get into the business anyway, they might as well know how to do it the right way. As I said, there are many pitfalls. A few girls may make a success of the life, but many won’t.”

“Are you still active as a sex worker these days?”

“No, I gave that up not long after I had to land the airliner,” she explained. “I felt I was a little too famous for my own good after that happened. Among other things, these days I’m working with an organization in Phoenix, Hearts of Gold, that is set up to help girls get away from a life as sex workers if they’ve been forced into it. Everything I make from this book goes directly to Hearts of Gold. I don’t take a penny from it.”

“But you’re still involved with sex work, aren’t you? Don’t you own a share of the Redlite Ranch brothel in Antelope Valley, Nevada?”

There was the curve ball that Jolene had warned about, but it was one that Jennifer had been expecting. “Hey, you’ve done your homework,” she smiled. “Yes, I own a small share of the Redlite. It’s strictly an investment for me, and I made it on the basis of investing in something I knew about. Like the book, every penny I take as a dividend from the Redlite Ranch goes right into Hearts of Gold. I just have to endorse the checks.”

“It seems rather ironic to have the profits from prostitution go toward trying to get girls out of a life of prostitution,” he smiled.

“It is, isn’t it?” she snickered. “That was my thought when the idea first came up, but generally the life of a girl at the Redlite is about as different from life on the streets as different can be, so I also think it’s money well spent.”

“So would you say you’re for sex work, or against it?”

“I can’t say one way or another. Sex work is a given in this life. It’s always been with us and I expect it will always be. If it’s going to exist, I feel that it ought to be done the best way possible, rather than the worst way. That’s what the laws in this country and elsewhere force on most of the women who are in the business whether they want to be or not.”

“Are you saying that you think prostitution should be decriminalized?”

“I’d go a step farther and say that it ought to be legalized, at least within limits. It would be safer for the people in the business, and it’s something that can be taxed, which it can’t be today. So yes, I’m in favor of rationalization of the business, and that’s something I hope to be a spokesperson for in the future.”

“Do you really expect it to happen?”

“Not really, at least not soon. There’s a huge stigma to sex work, and any politician is going to be very brave to come out in favor of it. Still, the old proverb is that a journey of a thousand miles starts with a single step. Someone has to take that first step, and it might as well be me. Maybe someday someone will be able to take the last one.”

“Well, I have to say that you’ve taken quite a mission on yourself. Good luck with it, and good luck with your book. That’s Learjet Jenn’s Sex Work for Beginners, on the shelves now from Abnaki Press.”

That was essentially the end of the interview. While the show “went to commercial” technicians swarmed onto the stage, and Jennifer moved over onto a nearby couch, where she would sit through the next interview, a starlet hyping a movie if Jennifer understood correctly. While they were waiting for her to come on stage, Bennett said in a low voice not on his microphone, “That didn’t wind up going anywhere where I expected it to go, but it was a pretty good one. Thanks for coming on the show.”

“Thanks for having me,” she said. “Maybe we could do it again someday.”

“I’ll bet that’s not the first time you’ve said those words,” he grinned. “But maybe we can.”

After the show was over with – and it took most of an hour – Jolene came for Jennifer. “That went better than I thought it would,” she said. “That had to have been quite a life you led.”

“It was interesting, and it worked for me at the time,” Jennifer told her. “But the time for it passed, and really, I’m glad it did.”

“So what are you doing these days?”

“I’m just trying to be a normal person, at least as much as I can. I’m still a research engineer, and still own my own air charter business, but mostly I just live on my ranch with my husband and help him train horses.”

“That must seem dull after the life you’ve led.”

“Maybe it is,” Jennifer sighed, “but I’ve discovered that it was the life I really wanted to have all along.”

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