Left Coast Karma Page 4

old engine turning over. Sounds carry over water, and the fog made it impossible to tell how far away, but it sounded like an airplane. In the bay? In this weather? Sure enough, as the engine caught, the sun pierced the murk just enough to illuminate the outline of an old seaplane two or three hundred yards out. It taxied out to the left, towards the Golden Gate Bridge with its blinking lights, turned around, and skimmed past me at full power. The plane broke free of the water and rose into the mist.

  Flying a small plane in conditions like this had to be six kinds of illegal, was the only thought I could manage.

  I took the phone from my ear and turned it over in my hands for a moment as the buzz of the plane faded. I had a flight of my own to cancel.