a proper business licence?”
Red Nose gave me a sharp look. “Oy. If you want to get back to your office quickly, you’d best not ask that sort of question. And don’t go blabbing to others about it. You say you’re a writer, and I didn’t want you to know about the plane, because you might write about it. I only told you because you said you was desperate.”
“I won’t tell anyone,” I proclaimed loudly, crumbling under the terrifying glare of Red Nose. “I won’t tell anyone, and I won’t write about it in the magazine.” There was no doubt – the aeroplane was privately owned, and operated without a licence.
“Anyway, don’t worry,” Sticky Eye called over to me with a smile. “Gorohachi’s a fine pilot, and he’s got a proper licence.”
Could anyone fly without a licence?
“All right, shall we take the plane back then?” Hatayama whispered to me with some apprehension.
“Of course we will!” I answered. “We’re the ones in a hurry. Something that convenient, we’d be daft not to take it.”
I was a bit worried about what sort of plane it would be. But the Chief’s temper was more worrying at the moment. I was in no position to be fussy.
“But he was bitten by a viper, was he not,” Sticky Eye continued.
“What? I heard he was treated at Shiokawa General. He’ll be all right,” said Red Nose. “They’ve got blood there, too.”
Now that our clothes were dry, Hatayama and I ate one of the lunch packs we’d brought. Still the plane didn’t arrive. The rain had eased somewhat, but the wind merely grew in intensity.
“It won’t come,” said Hatayama. “I bet it won’t.” He looked rather relieved at the idea. I could see what he was thinking. Of course he wasn’t looking forward to a tongue-lashing from the Chief. But that would be better than dying in a plane crash.
At that moment, there was a faint whirring sound in the distance, mixed with the sound of the wind.
“There he is now.” Red Nose and Sticky Eye got up.
We rushed out of the hut in front of them. We wouldn’t be happy until we could see this aeroplane with our own eyes.
A light plane, flying at low altitude from the Shiokawa direction, was making a sweeping circle above the bean fields. I didn’t know what type it was, but it had a stumpy fuselage with a propeller on each wing.
“Well, it’s more or less a proper aeroplane, isn’t it. We’ll be all right in that. Won’t we. Eh.” Hatayama was trying to convince himself.
“What else were you expecting, if not a proper aeroplane?” I countered, staring at him. “Don’t talk garbage.”
Pummelled by the wind, the plane shook violently as it turned and prepared for landing some distance from the runway. Then it came towards us, flapping its wings up and down. The wings weren’t flapping in alternation. They flapped up and down at the same time.
“Can aeroplanes flap their wings?” asked Hatayama in a frightened little voice.
“Of course they can’t,” I replied with irritation. “It’s just the wind doing that.”
“Wait a minute! The runway’s too short!” Hatayama shrieked. He stood transfixed as the aeroplane approached, wheels still retracted. How close would it come? Hatayama prepared to run.
When the wheels at last touched the ground, the plane bounced on the runway. I closed my eyes.
“No. It ain’t Gorohachi,” yelled Sticky Eye, standing behind us. “He’s better at it than that.”
Who was it, if not Gorohachi? I opened my eyes again to find out. The plane made a thunderous noise as it careered towards us on the runway. It was sure to plough straight into us.
“Nooooo! It’s going to hit the hut!” Hatayama was long gone. I followed him, diving headlong into the bean field beside us.
The aeroplane reversed the pitch of its propellers, and screeched to a halt just inches from the hut.
We looked at each other in the bean field. “We nearly died in a plane crash without even getting in!” said Hatayama. In his sheer terror, the pupils of his eyes had contracted to the size of pinheads.
We waited until the propellers had stopped before crawling out of the bean field. As we approached the plane, we saw how close it had come to destroying the farmers’ hut.
“Look at that! About five inches,” said Hatayama, measuring the gap with his fingers. He turned to me and added sarcastically, “Now that’s what I call service!”
I frowned. It was hardly a laughing matter.
Behind the plane lay a parallel trail of