company shares I got for sellin’ my old G1 to the company. Half a million bucks.”
“Fair enough, you’re entitled to—”
“Hold on,” Dare interrupted. “Remember when I said I’d rather have twenty tons of cold metal in my hands than pieces of paper? There’s always the chance those shares won’t make good ass-wipe in six months’ time. In case that happens, the company agrees to transfer ownership of the airplane back to me.”
Doug went pale. “What are you talking about?”
“No matter what happens, I get one of two things when I’m done—half a million in cash or the G1. That’s the rest of the deal. You and me are gonna see my lawyer and sign a contract to that effect, and that contract is gonna say that in case the Gulfstream cracks up between now and then, you pay me with the insurance money.”
“What about Adid?” Doug asked. “How do we explain why the company is handing over an airplane to you?”
“Y’all are a creative guy,” Dare said, smirking. “You’ve got six months to think of an explanation.”
“I can’t agree to that,” Doug said.
“Then I can’t either. Think it over, Dougie boy.”
Two days later he appeared at Dare’s tent and said, “Okay to everything.” But he added a codicil—as an added layer of protection, Dare was to resign as co–managing director. He would retain his shares but would not be affiliated with Knight Air’s management. That would make a plausible deniability more plausible, if one were needed. After mulling the proposal over, Dare agreed to submit his resignation.
“THERE’S WHY I love flying. Groundhogs don’t see things like that.”
The rainbow that would have presented itself as a conventional arch to someone on the ground appeared to Dare and Mary as a full circle in the sky. She was still young enough to be wonder-struck by such unusual sights, a girlish luster in her eyes, a breathlessness in her voice. He’d thought the days when a woman could make his heart do athletic tricks were well behind him; like an aging quarterback after one too many sacks, its joints were too stiff. She’d restored its agility. Loving her, he felt younger and more hopeful and found himself seeing things as she saw them. Without her he would have noticed the rainbow, but he would not have appreciated the glory of it, shimmering above Uganda’s cloud-shrouded forests.
Dare had rediscovered happiness, and this felicitous state of mind had overcome his aversion to a fifth marriage. It had also moved him to change the ad hoc ways that had governed, or rather, misgoverned, his nomadic life for the past thirty years. He was finished with improvising, finished with the slapdash structuring of his days; he was making plans for the future, clear, concrete plans, and the vision of the life he and Mary were going to lead together was as much a source as it was a product of his happiness.
He hadn’t proposed yet. That would come in due time, when she’d gotten her fill of living dangerously, and he reckoned a few months of arms smuggling ought to accomplish that. He wasn’t so besotted that he considered her acceptance a sure thing. On the other hand, it would not be as unlikely as drawing an inside straight. Not too long ago she had gone on a riff about having children. She wasn’t, it was true, talking about having children with him, she was speaking in a general way, but it would take a lot to convince Dare that she wasn’t dropping hints. He’d been tempted to blurt, “I’ll be the daddy!” but that sort of frankness wasn’t his style. He played it cautiously and talked back to her in the same general way, telling her that she had plenty of time yet, hell, an aunt of his had given birth at forty-six, back in the days when most country women that age were thinking about grandchildren, if they didn’t have them already. Anyway, he figured that when he said, “Let’s you and me get married and have kids,” the odds of a yes would be in his favor. That would mean he’d have to follow through, and following through would mean he’d have to learn to like children, or at least not hate them.
The private contract between him and Doug had been drawn up and signed. In six months he would have either five hundred thousand cash or an airplane worth that much. If it turned out to be the airplane, he would sell it