Special Ops - By W.E.B. Griffin Page 0,140

of the native population—was wrong. Actually, it made reference to the weather conditions. Very frequently—sometimes daily, for weeks at a time—storm clouds began gathering around noon. The sky would continue to darken, actually growing black, until the clouds opened, releasing torrential rain, and then it would clear.

Today that phenomenon had begun early.

Father, who had been riding in the copilot’s seat, had seen the black skies ahead of them, and looked wonderingly at Jack.

“Jesus, are you going to try to go through that?”

“Welcome back to Darkest Africa, Major,” Jack said. “I have three choices. I can either try to get above it, which would be a reasonable solution, if there was a working beacon at Stanleyville, which there is not, making a descent through the soup rather difficult since I would have only a vague idea where I was. Or I can go down and fly the Congo River, which will produce a rather bumpy ride. Or we can go back to Colquilhatville, and have a shot at it first thing tomorrow morning. Your call, Major.”

Father didn’t hesitate.

“Your call, Jack. You know the sooner we see Colonel Supo the better, and I don’t think you want to die any more than I do.”

Jack banked to the left, dropped to 3,000 feet, and looked for and found the Congo River. He had just started to fly over it when he entered the soup.

“Rather bumpy” turned out to be a massive understatement.

Several times, Jack had almost turned back, deciding each time at the last moment that it couldn’t possibly be this bad all the way to Stanleyville and continuing on “for a little more.” And then, finally, that choice was not available; it was a greater distance to return than it was to continue to Stanleyville.

Mr. Hakino of the Defense Ministry got airsick first, and then Dr. Dannelly, which Jack more or less expected. But when, a half hour later, Father Lunsford got sick, Jack was afraid that it would be contagious, and he didn’t like the notion of trying to fly through the storm while airsick, but he managed to fight it back.

Finally, the white bulk of the Immoquateur apartment building could be made out through the rain, and he knew the airfield was only a few miles farther. He was not surprised when the Stanleyville tower did not respond to his calls.

He dropped lower and made two low-level passes across the field, to make sure that no one had blocked the runway here with a burned-out truck or Caterpillar tractor. The runways were clear, but there were four crashed airplanes: two B-26s, a Douglas DC-3, and the blackened hulk of something with twin engines burned beyond recognition on the field. Parked near the terminal building was a Boeing C-46 with “Air Simba” painted on the fuselage and the leaping lion logotype on the tail. It appeared undamaged. Jack wondered who had flown it in, and when; no one in Léopoldville had said anything about an Air Simba aircraft going to be in Stanleyville.

He made his approach and landed.

The downpour beating on the fuselage and wings also restricted visibility, and he taxied very slowly to the terminal building, trying to remember where there would be tie-down ropes for the airplane, and then finding them. The wind was gusting, and he was going to have to tie it down carefully.

He told Father, and when he turned to him to do so, Father was nauseated a last time. This time it was very nearly contagious.

When he shut the engines down, he turned to Dr. Dannelly.

In the old days, when a plane landed in rain like this, a dozen or more terminal employees would come out to the plane carrying enormous umbrellas, either to escort people directly into the terminal or to load them aboard the tarmac busses.

The tarmac buses were still there, all riddled with bullet holes, two of them with flat tires and smashed windows, and the third a fire-gutted hulk. Jack remembered seeing it on fire the last time he’d been at the airport.

No one came out of the terminal building now.

“Obviously, nobody’s going to come out here with an umbrella, ” he said, turning in his seat to speak to Dannelly. “When Major Lunsford gets out, you and Mr. Hakino take a run for the terminal. See about getting us some wheels. Lunsford and I are going to have to tie the airplane down well.”

Dr. Dannelly nodded but said nothing.

“You’re going to have to run to the terminal, I’m afraid, Chief

readonlinefreenovel.com Copyright 2016 - 2024