in the cutthroat business of aid aviation, seemed to require a fundamental amorality. And yet Douglas had shown himself to be a moral man, a man of compassion who had risked a great deal, even his life, to bring succor to the starving, the sick, the defenseless. The contradiction between the idealist and the relentless entrepreneur was too great for Fitzhugh to resolve. He wondered how Douglas himself resolved it. His aphorism “We do what we have to do so we can do what we came here to do” wasn’t adequate as a resolution, for what had been done to Tara hadn’t needed to be done.
Faith in an idea, a theory, or a god is not easily surrendered when confronted by facts that embarrass it; and the greater one’s investment in it, the more difficult the surrender. The same is true of faith in a man. Having invested three years of his life in Douglas Braithwaite and Knight Air, Fitzhugh was unable to accept the notion that the American was unworthy of his loyalty or that his belief in him had been misplaced, despite evidence that he was self-centered, a liar, and ruthless. He persuaded himself that in this instance his friend had been manipulated by Adid. The cunning Somali had jerked the wires of Douglas’s passions and ambitions to bring out the worst in him. What was needed now was a countervailing influence to bring him around to the better side of his nature. Fitzhugh would be that influence and show him that the blow to Tara was, if not wrong, then misguided and likely to reap unforeseen and unpleasant consequences.
After Douglas returned from Bahr el Ghazal, Fitzhugh said he had to speak to him and invited him to take a walk, to ensure privacy. They took a road where the only ears were those of passing Turkana. Douglas, head bowed meditatively, hands in his back pockets, listened without any visible reaction to a summary of Tara’s visit.
“Well, she’s only being human,” he commented with a disengaged air.
“Because she’s so very angry? Wouldn’t you be if you were in her shoes?”
“I meant that when things go wrong, seriously wrong, it’s only human to blame circumstances or bad luck or someone else instead of yourself.”
“You astonish me,” Fitzhugh said. “You’re saying that because she called DCA on us, this is her fault? That she should have expected retaliation?”
Douglas replied that he wasn’t saying that at all. There had been no retaliation. The UN had done what it did for its own reasons. Tara had added two and two and come up with five, inventing an intrigue to explain her misfortune.
Fitzhugh had anticipated a denial like that; it dismayed him nonetheless. A UN Land Rover cruised by, throwing up a rooster-tail of fine dust.
“Douglas, please. Tara is a deliberate woman, she’s not the kind to jump to conclusions or make wild allegations. She said she wasn’t guessing, that she knew.”
“And you believe her?”
“I have a hard time thinking that it was coincidence.”
“Look, we’ve got bigger, faster planes that deliver more quicker and for less. My guess is that UN big shots figured there was no point any longer in her having a call sign. We’re the future, she’s the past. Nobody at Knight Air, including me, had anything to do with what’s happened to her, okay? It’s important to me that you believe me. We’ve come a long way together, from next to nothing to eight million last year, and we’re looking at ten for this year. Couldn’t have done it without you, my man.”
Fitzhugh had to actively resist the tingle this encomium sent through him: the narcotic of Douglas’s approbation. “For the same reason, I would like to believe you.”
“But, right? You would like to believe me, but,” Douglas said, now with an edge to his words. “Okay, here’s a but for you. It’s important to you to believe me, because I can’t have my operations manager thinking I’m some kind of crook. And I don’t think you’d be happy working for a guy like that.”
The remark wasn’t quite a warning, more a clarification of what was at stake for Fitzhugh. He didn’t think Douglas would have the nerve to sack him—he knew too much—but if he believed Tara, then he would be morally bound to quit, which he couldn’t afford, not with his wedding just ten weeks away. Believe Tara or believe Douglas—he resolved the dilemma by finding a sliver of gray in this black and white choice.