"He's been in and out of here at least a dozen times. You've been lying there for nearly six hours. Oh, and Joanna, she was here too. Just left."
I got out of the hammock and moved to the edge of the hangar and stared out into the night. It had stopped raining, but the air was fresh and cool, perfumed with flowers.
Piece by piece I put it all together again. Alberto's burning anger back there on the launch. He had even refused medical assistance from her - had preferred, he said, the comparatively clean hands of hismedical orderly.
He had taken us straight back to the landing strip and had instructed Hannah to fly us back at once. And that just about filled in the blank pages although I couldn't for the life of me actually remember fainting.
"Coffee!" Mannie called.
I finished my whisky and took the tin mug he offered. "Did Hannah tell you what happened up there?"
"As much as he could. Naturally there was little he could say about what took place at the actual confrontation."
So I told him and when I was finished, he said, "A terrible experience."
"I'll probably dream about that walk back through the jungle for the rest of my life."
"And this thing that took place between Sister Maria Teresa and the Colonel. A nasty business."
"He had a point, though. If she'd done as she was told and stayed on board things might have gone differently."
"But you can't be certain of that?"
"But she is," I said. "That's the trouble. Certain that what-ever she does is because the good Lord has so ordained it. Certain that she's right in everything she does."
He sighed. "I must admit that few things are worse than a truly good person convinced they have the answer for all things."
"A female Cromwell," I said.
He was genuinely puzzled. "I don't understand."
"Read some English history, then you will. I think I'll take a walk."
He smiled slyly. "She will be alone, I think, except for that Hum girl she bought from Avila. The good Sister is awaiting delivery of another baby, I understand."
"Doesn't she ever give up? What about Hannah?"
"He said he would be at the hotel."
I found my flying jacket and walked across the landing strip towards Landro. When I reached the house, I actually paused, one foot on the bottom step of the veranda, but thought better of it.
The town itself was quiet. There was a little music through an open window from a radio and somewhere a dog barked a time or two, but otherwise there was just the night and the stars and the feeling of being alive here and now.Here and now in this place.
When I went up the steps to the hotel and opened the door, the bar was empty except for Hannah who sat by an open shutter, feet on the table, a bottle of whisky in front of him and a glass.
"So the dead can walk after all," he said. "Where is everybody?"
There had been a wedding, it seemed, a civil ceremony pre-sided over by Figueiredo as he was empowered to do in the absence of a priest. The land agent's son, which meant there was money in it. Anyone who was anyone was at the party.
I went behind the counter and got a glass, then sat down and helped myself to whisky from his bottle. "You satisfied now?"he said. "After what you did back there? You feel like a man now?"
"You did a good job with the launch. Thanks."
"No medals, kid - I've already got everything, but the Con-gressional. Heh, you know what the Congressional is, you Limey bastard?"
I think it was only then that I realised that he had obviously drunk a great deal. I said gravely, "Yes, I think so."
And then he said a strange thing: "I used to know someone just like you, Mallory, back there in the old days at the Front. We were in a Pursuit Squadron together. Fresh kid from Har-vard. Old man a millionaire - all the money in the world. He couldn't take it seriously. Know what I mean?"
"I think so."
"Hell, is that all you can say." He filled his glass again. "Know what he used to call me? The Black Baron on account of Von Richthofen was the Red Baron."
"He must have thought a hell of a lot about you."
He didn't seem to hear me. He said, 'I used to tell him, "Watch the sun. Never cross the line alone under ten thousand feet and always turn and run for home if you see a plane on its own because you can bet your sweet life it isn't."
And he didn't listen?"
"Went after a Rumpler one morning and didn't notice three F.W.s waiting upstairs in the sun. Never knew what hit him." He shook his head. "Silly bastard." He looked up at me. 'But a good flyer and all the guts in the world, kid, just like you."
His head sank on his hands, I got up and walked to the door. As I opened it he spoke without raising his head. "Show some sense, kid. She isn't for you. We're two of a kind, her and me."
I closed the door gently and went outside.
Light streamed out through the latticed shutters as I ap-proached the house, golden fingers filtering into the darkness. I went up the steps to the veranda and paused. It was very quiet. Rain fluttered down, pattering on the tin roof. It was strange standing there, somehow on the outside of things, waiting for a sign that would probably never come, for the world itself to turn over.
I started to move away and on the porch a match flared pulling her face out of the darkness. There was an old cane chair up there, I had forgotten about that. She lit a cigarette and flicked the match into the night.
"Why were you going to go away?"
To find a reason or give one, was difficult, but I tried. "I don't think there's anything here for me, that's all."
There was a slight creaking in the darkness as she stood up. The cigarette spun through the night in a glowing arc, I was not aware that she had moved, but suddenly she was there in front of me, the scent of her like flowers in the night. She was wearing some sort of robe or housecoat, which she pulled open to hold my hands against her naked breasts. 'There's this,' she said calmly. 'Isn't that enough for you?' It wasn't, but there was no way of explaining that, and in any event, it didn't really seem to matter. She turned, holding me by the hand and took me inside.
Naturally it was nothing like that first time, perfectly successful as a functional exercise, but no more than that. Afterwards, she was strangely discontented, which surprised me.
"What's wrong?" I- demanded. "Wasn't I up to scratch?"
"Love," she said bitterly. "Why does every damned man I meet have to breathe that word in my ear while he's doing it Do you need an excuse, you men?"
Which was a hell of a thing to say and I had no answer. I got up and dressed. She pulled on her robe and went and stood at the window smoking another cigarette.
I said, "You're a big girl now. Time you learned to tell the difference."
I moved behind her, slipping my arms about her waist and she relaxed against me. Then she sighed, "Too much water under the bridge. I set my sights on what I wanted a long time ago."
"And nothing gets in the way?"
"Something like that."
"Then what are you doing here, a thousand miles from no-where?"
She pulled away from me and turned. "That's different Anna is all I've got. All that really counts."
And she was still speaking of her in the present tense.Iheld her arms firmly. "Listen to me, Joanna, you've got to face facts."
She pulled away from me violently. "Don't say it - don't ever say it. I don't want to hear."
We stood there in the pale darkness confronting each other. Outside, someone called her name, there was a crash on the veranda as a chair went over. As I went into the living-room, the door burst open and Hannah staggered in. He was soaked to the skin and just about as drunk as a man could be and still stand up. He reeled back against the wall and started to slide. I grabbed him quickly.
He opened his eyes and grinned foolishly. "Well, damn me if it isn't the boy wonder. How was it, kid? Did you manage to bring her off? When they've been around as long as she has it usually takes something special."
No rage - no anger. I stepped back leaving him propped against the wall. Joanna said, "Get out, Sam."
He went down the wall in slow motion, head lolling to one side. I was aware of Christina, the Huna girl, standing in the entrance to the other bedroom wearing a silk nightdress a couple of sizes too large for her. The eyes were very round in that flat Indian face, the skin shining like copper in the lamp-light.
Joanna stirred Hannah with her toe, then folded her arms and leaned in the open doorway. "He's a bastard, your friend, King Size, but he knows what he's talking about. I've been a whore all my life, one way or another."
"All right," I said. "Why?"
"Oh, there was Grantsville to get out of and that's the way show business is. How do you think I got where I am?"
She took the cigarette from my mouth, inhaled deeply. "And then," she said calmly, "I've got to admit I like it. Always have."
Which was honest enough, God knows, but too honest for me. I said, "You can keep the cigarette,' and moved out into the darkness."
I paused some little distance away and glanced back. She stood there in the doorway, silhouetted against the light, the outline of her body clear through the thin material of the house-coat. I was filled with the most damnable ache imaginable, but for what I could not be certain. Perhaps for something which had never existed in the first place?
I heard Hannah call her name faintly, she turned and closed the door. I felt a kind of release, standing there in the rain. One thing was for certain - it was the end of something.
There was news when I returned to the hangar, word over the radio that Alberto had been ordered to evacuate Santa Helena forthwith and was to pull out the following day. It touched me in no way at all, meant absolutely nothing. I ignored Mannie's troubled glances and lay in my hammock staring up at the hangar roof for the rest of the night.
I suppose it would be easy to say with hindsight that some instinct warned me that I stood on the edge of events, but cer-tainly I was aware that something was wrong and waited, filled with a vague unease, anticipating that what was to come was not pleasant.
There was no sign of Hannah when I left at nine the follow-ing morning for Manaus on the mail run. I was tired, too tired for that game, eyes gritty from lack of sleeep and I had a hard day ahead. Not only the Manaus run, but two contract trips down-river.
Under the circumstances, I'd taken the Hayley, but the mili-tary evacuation from Santa Helena made it more than likely that Hannah would be required up there when they managed ta get him out of her bed.
I made the mail drop, re-fuelled and was off again with machine parts which were needed in a hurry by one of the min-ing companies a hundred and fifty miles down-river and a Por-tuguese engineer to go widi them. He wasn't at all certain about the Bristol, but I got him there in one piece and was on my way back within the hour with ore samples for the assaye officer in Manaus.
My second trip was nothing like as strenuous, a seventy-mile hop with medical supplies to a Jesuit Mission and another quick turn-about, to the great disappointment of the priest in charge, a Dutchman called Herzog who had hoped for a chess game or two and some conversation.
All in all, a rough day and it was about six o'clock in the evening when I landed again at Manaus. A couple of mechanics were waiting and I helped them get the Bristol under cover.
The de Havilland Rapide I'd noticed a day or so earlier, was parked by the end hangar again. A nice plane and as reliable as you could wish so I'd been told. The legendJohnson Air Transport was neatly stencilled under the cabin windows.
One of the mechanics ran me into town in the old Crossley tender again. I dozed off in the cab and had to be awakened when we reached the Palace. Hardly surprising, when you con-sider that I hadn't slept at all the previous night.
I wanted a drink badly. I also needed about twelve hours in bed. I hesitated by the reception desk, considering the matter. The need for a very large brandy won hands down and I went into the bar. If I hadn't, things might have turned out very differently, but then, most of life, or what it becomes, depends upon such turns.
A small, wiry man in flying boots and leather jacket sat on the end stool constructing a tower of toothpicks on the base of an upturned glass. There was no barman as usual I dropped my grip on the floor, went behind the counter and found a bottle of Courvoisier.
His left eye was fixed for all time, a reasonable facsimile of the real thing in glass. The face was expressionless, a wax-like film of scar tissues, and when he spoke the mouth didn't seem to move at all.
