Oath Bound - Book V of The Order of the Air (22 page)

“And what should I do if we can’t take the entire cargo?” Alma asked.

Jerry shrugged.  “Take as much as you can.”

“I suppose you should also get a receipt for the items not carried,” Willi said. “So the purchaser can get a refund.”

Mitch stared at him for an instant, then saw the amusement in his eyes. Alma snickered. “I’ll do what I can.”

“How long a flight are we talking about?” Lewis asked.

“I make it about 2000 miles,” Alma said. “Give or take. About sixteen hours flying time, depending on headwinds.”

“That’s well within range,” Mitch said.

“What about maps?” Lewis looked from him to Alma. “We need to get some before we leave.”

“There aren’t a lot of good ones,” Jerry said. “Especially not of the Horn.”

Willi snorted. “That was the Italians’ problem back in ‘95. Not a single decent map.”

“But if we don’t have a map,” Lewis said, “how the heck are we going to find this Lake Tana? Much less wherever it is we’re going.”

“Iskinder says he thinks you should land at Bahir Dar,” Jerry said. “And there are landmarks the rest of the way.”

“We’re not exactly familiar with the territory,” Alma began, and Jerry shook his head.

“The Nile flows out of Lake Tana.  All you have to do is follow the biggest river on the continent until it reaches an enormous lake. Once you’re over the lake, Bahir Dar can bring you in by radio, and they’ll have fuel available.”

“Ok,” Lewis said. He sounded doubtful, and Tiny was looking slightly spooked.

“It’s a really big river,” Mitch said. “We’ll be fine.”

“But that means we want to make as much of the flight as possible in daylight,” Alma said. “When will you know if they can make arrangements, Jer?”

“Tomorrow.” Jerry shrugged. “I know, I wish it could be sooner, but it’s the best we can do.”

“We’ll send a man to collect the wire tomorrow morning,” Willi said. “Come visit us at the dig, that’s a very touristish sort of thing to do, and we can give it to you then.”

“Assuming it comes in by then,” Mitch said, in spite of himself.

“So we’ll keep checking,” Jerry answered.

“It doesn’t matter,” Alma said. She shook her head. “We need to do this in one hop, and that means leaving before dawn here if we want to have any chance of getting into Bahir Dar before full dark.”

“I don’t see how we can do it, Al,” Mitch said.

“Then they’ll have to set out flares,” Alma answered. “Damn, I wish I’d had a chance to say that to Iskinder.”

“We could probably send another cable tomorrow,” Willi said, with a glance at Jerry, who nodded.

“We’ll need to let them know when you’re coming anyway.”

Mitch felt the old nervous worry tingle down his spine. “Maybe we ought to surprise them. I don’t want the Italians spoiling the party.”

“It’s a chance we’ll have to take,” Alma said. “There’s another question to consider.”

“Von Rosen,” Lewis said.

Alma nodded. “I wouldn’t mind having another pilot along, and he says he’s qualified. And Iskinder vouched for him.”

“I don’t much like him,” Mitch said, and shrugged. “But I can see that he’s needed. Yeah, let’s see if he still needs a ride.”

“I’ll phone him after dinner,” Alma said.

They walked back to the hotel in the clear dark, the air suddenly cold enough that Mitch was glad of his topcoat. Overhead, the stars were veiled by high, thin clouds, the swelling moon riding above the western rooftops. Pity they couldn’t wait a few more days, Mitch thought. A full moon would make their lives easier. But they didn’t have the time. Tomorrow was the second; if all went well, they’d reach the lake on the third — Bahir Dar or the northern edge, it didn’t really matter — and then offload the cargo on the fourth and fly back to Alexandria the fifth?  That would get them back to Palermo on the sixth, four days to spare. Even if they weren’t able to get away on the fifth, that gave them three whole days to play with. He didn’t like to think about what would happen if they missed their passage, especially since they wouldn’t have any sales to show for it. He doubted the Ethiopian government was going to be in the market for flying boats any time soon.

There was no point wasting time thinking. Right now, the numbers worked; they would go on working until something went wrong, and that would be time enough to worry about it.  The main thing was to get the guns to Iskinder’s people — to get Iskinder home again. And that was something else he wasn’t going to think too closely about, because if he did, he’d know exactly what Iskinder was going to do.

Jerry and Willi left them at the Metropole’s front door, indulging in the luxury of a cab back to their flat. Mitch collected their keys, then followed Alma and Lewis through the gilded lobby, Tiny at his heels, and they rode the rattling elevator up to their floor, the elevator boy wishing them a soft good night.

“Are you going to call von Rosen tonight?” Mitch asked, as he handed Lewis his key.

Alma nodded.  “And then I’ll call Claudet in the morning, once I know more about Iskinder’s plans.”

At Mitch’s side, Tiny tried and failed to suppress a yawn, and blushed to the roots of his hair.

“Go on to bed,” Mitch said. “I’m just going to have a quick word with Al and Lewis.”

“Sure thing.” Tiny pushed the door all the way open.

“And don’t put the chain on,” Mitch said, and watched him blush again.

“No, sir.”

“Don’t be mean,” Alma said, and Mitch followed her into the other room.

It was nearly identical to the one he was sharing with Tiny, a pair of beds with ornate European headboards and bright spreads, the attached bathroom spotless white tile.  There was a telephone set on the dressing table, and Alma settled herself at it while Lewis rummaged in his bag and came up with a small bottle. He held it up, and when Mitch nodded, poured them each a finger of whiskey. He could hear Alma in the background, giving the number to the hotel operator and wondered again if they were taking an unnecessary risk.

“What do you think?” he said, to Lewis, who shrugged.

“I think we have to go, though I think that’s just me, just the odds speaking. I’ll read on it tonight if I can stay awake. But you have to think the Ethiopians need all the help they can get.”

“Yeah.” Mitch nodded, trying to convince himself. It was almost a pity the Cat wasn’t in military mode — though maybe they could rig one or two of the machine guns to fire out the side windows? Probably more dangerous than useful: he could imagine how easy it would be to shoot up their own wing.

Behind him, Alma hung up the phone, and came to take her glass from Lewis. “I told von Rosen we were willing to give him a ride, and that I’d have details for him tomorrow.”

“I don’t suppose he’s found a plane?” Mitch asked. “We could send Iskinder’s guns with him.”

“Nobody wants to fly into Ethiopia right now.” Alma’s voice was grim. “Von Rosen says the Ethiopians have made a counterattack, but nobody seems to think they can hold on.”

Then what good does it do to bring in a single plane-load of machine guns? Mitch thought. And the answer was that it wasn’t just about doing good. It certainly wouldn’t hurt, and it meant they kept faith, with Iskinder and with the Lodge in general. “Any idea how they’re going to get the guns to the front once we get them there?”

“That is definitely not our problem,” Alma said. “But it’s another reason to bring von Rosen along.”

“I really wish we had some maps,” Lewis said. “Any map.”

“I got a guidebook from the hotel,” Alma said, and reached for her purse. She drew out a slim red-bound booklet, and opened it to reveal a half-page map. Lewis took it, frowning thoughtfully, and Mitch moved to look over his shoulder. It wasn’t reassuring, just a black-and-white outline with the capital marked with a star and a few other cities indicated with smaller dots. The lake was there, big enough that surely they couldn’t miss it, and the Nile led straight south for most of the way, but then it took a great loop to the south, dropping west of the lake before turning back north to join Lake Tana’s southernmost point. Bahir Dar lay at the same point, a reassuring dot in the blank expanse, but the Blue Nile was hardly a direct landmark. Presumably they could follow it if they had to, but — He squinted at the legend, trying to work out the extra miles. They’d be running low on fuel for sure.

“Didn’t Jerry say we should follow the Nile?” Lewis asked. “That doesn’t look all that direct.”

“It’s not,” Mitch said. “Jerry said there’s a field at Bahir Dar? With radio? We can home in on them.”

“Or they may have beacons — must have, surely.” Alma looked less certain than her words. “It’s another reason to bring von Rosen along. He must be familiar with the terrain.”

“True enough,” Mitch said, and wished he felt more reassured.

He let himself back into his room half an hour later. Tiny had left a light burning in the bathroom, and Mitch changed there, grateful for the privacy. It had looked as though Tiny was sound asleep already, humped under his blankets with his back to the light, but there was no need to take chances. In his pajamas, he flicked out the light and slipped back into the bedroom, settling down under the cool sheets. As he adjusted his pillows, he heard Tiny turn over, and then the boy cleared his throat.

“Mr. Sorley?”

“Mitch.”

There was a little silence: that was a battle Mitch had yet to win.

“This job — everybody keeps saying we’re flying into a war, but I don’t get it. Who’s at war with who?”

“Italy invaded Ethiopia,” Mitch said patiently. “They tried it before, back in the ‘90s, and got beat. They tried it again this October, and they’re still fighting.”

“But… I mean…”

Mitch waited. He could make out the shape of the window now, and the darker shadows of the furniture.

“I guess what I mean is, I know Mr. Iskinder’s your friend, but I don’t see how they can stand up to a real army.”

“They need modern weapons,” Mitch said. “And that’s what we’re bringing them.  How’d you like it if somebody invaded us, and all you had was your great-grandaddy’s musket?”

“Not much, I reckon.”

There was another silence, long enough this time that Mitch wondered if the boy had dropped off to sleep.

“Are they — are we going to be going where the fighting is?” Tiny’s voice wavered just a little, the faintest of hesitations covered by the dark.

And that was the joker in the pack, Mitch thought, the thing none of them knew for certain. For a moment he could have been back in Italy, in barracks on the way to the front, except then he’d been the one asking that question, and all the ones that crowded unspoken behind it. 
Will I be killed, will I be brave when they shoot at me, will I be good enough
… Gil had been good at handling those, answering them without seeming to have heard, and he tried to copy Gil’s quiet confidence. “We’re not planning on it. Besides, the Italians aren’t going to shoot at a neutral plane. They’ve got a lot of other countries riled up about trying to take over Ethiopia, they’re not going to upset anybody else if they can help it.”

“I guess not.”

“We’ll be well behind the front lines,” Mitch said. “Nothing to worry about.”  Except getting there, but they both knew that. Anyway, that was a normal risk, something Tiny could work out for himself, and find the calculations comforting. He cocked his head, waiting, but heard only the rustle of sheets as Tiny settled himself again. He himself didn’t find them all that comforting: there were too many unknowns, too many variables he could only guess at, and one fixed value that he couldn’t ignore, Stasi and the kids waiting back in Palermo. In Italy, at the front, it hadn’t mattered so much — he hadn’t wanted to die, certainly, but there’d been no one relying on him. He had brothers and sisters to take over at home, and he hadn’t promised anybody anything. But now — now he’d promised Stasi that he didn’t take anything but the most calculated of risks, and he meant to keep that promise.

T
he second dawned clear and cool, with only a slight breeze to stir the air. Mitch collected the local forecast from the hotel desk, and mentally crossed his fingers that they were at the beginning of a spell of decent weather. They would need the weather with them, along with everything else, if they were going to make this work. They dawdled over breakfast, and then Lewis and Tiny went out to run errands — and, Lewis said under his breath, to take Tiny’s mind off things — while he and Alma lounged in the Metropole’s elegant lobby and waited for Jerry to send word.

To Mitch’s surprise, Jerry himself appeared a little before eleven, limping through the lobby to join them. He handed Alma a folded sheet of paper, saying, “The answer came first thing this morning. I hope it’s everything you need.”

Alma scanned the neat printing — Iskinder’s familiar handwriting, Mitch saw; of course, he’d have to be the one to decode it — and then passed the paper over to Mitch. He took it, skimming the sense, picking out the key items: radio frequencies, a flare path at Bahir Dar, fuel to be waiting courtesy of the Ethiopian government, felt a weight lift from his shoulders. The things that could be arranged were in fact now in place. That was a good start, and a long way toward keeping his promises.