The Vulcan Disaster

“Unscheduled takeoff means unscheduled landing,” I said getting to my knees. She gave me a hand up, but even with the help it wasn’t fun standing all the way up. “They’ll have to radio ahead to Hong Kong and try to get an okay on coming in. The terminal at Kai Tak will try to fit them in somewhere — particularly when they find out who he is. Anyhow, the negotiations should keep them busy coming in. And from the sudden change in our altitude I’d say that wasn’t a long way off.”

“What are you... what do you think you will do?” she said. One tiny hand stole into mine.

“Give them the shake,” I said. “Fold my tents and steal silently away. Did you think I’d be setting up in business with the bastard in Cameron Road somewhere? And you are coming, of course. Right?”

“I... oh, no, Mr. Carter.” The hand in mine was moist and shaky. “I... I’ve thought about it. I... I gave my promise. I must...”

“You don’t want to work for a shark like that, do you? Particularly knowing his plans for you?” I felt her hand; no, she didn’t. What was bringing this on? “Hey,” I said, “what’s the matter?”

“Oh, Mr. Carter, you don’t understand. I... I have enemies now. Enemies who knew I was with Walter. Now... now there’ll be no protection from them. None at all. Unless... unless I go with him. No one would dare...”

“The hell they wouldn’t,” I said in a flat voice. “This isn’t going to be Saigon. The big cheese isn’t going to be so big once we’ve landed. There’s the British government to get around, you know. There’s...”

“Mr. Carter.” Both hands gripped mine. “Walter always said that in Hong Kong the power resides in the Jockey Club, Jardine-Matheson, the Hongkong and Shanghai Bank, and Her Majesty’s Government, in that order. He... he has on deposit over one million pounds sterling in the Hongkong and Shanghai Bank. He is transporting an almost equal sum in the present flight. One can buy quite a bit of protection with that kind of money.”

I whistled; the sound almost wasn’t there under the still-deafening roar of the big engines. “Maybe you’re right,” I said. “Suit yourself. But do me a favor.”

“What?”

“Get up front just before we touch down... and keep the three of them distracted. I’m going to ditch this thing while we’re still on the runway.”

“No! No, you’ll be killed...”

“I don’t think so. Anyhow, I’m not sticking around. If you can keep everybody busy during that last couple of minutes, I’ll just crack that door over there and ease out. I ought to be able to hit and roll and do okay for myself if they’re on a remote enough airstrip and I think with the usual congestion at Kai Tak, and with everybody knowing how easy it is to land a DC-3 on anything from a skateboard to a cow patty, we’ll probably get shunted to something nice and rustic. I’ll take my chances.”

“Goodness.” Both the little hands held mine hard. “Mr. Carter. I suppose... I suppose it wouldn’t do much good to wish that things had gone differently, would it?”

“How?” I said. I stood and checked the side door. “You mean if Walter had killed me back at the Grand-Bretagne? It...”

Her head melted into my shoulder again. I could feel those soft breasts pressing against me, all aroused again under the thin cloth. “Oh, no. No. If only... years before Walter came along... before he came along...” Then she straightened herself up, reached up to kiss me on the chin, and squeezed my arm hard in one little fist. “But no. What is past is past. One must live with the present...” The words trailed off. We were coming down fast, then choking down; the flaps were down; I held her hard for a moment, then she pulled free. “I... I have business up front,” she said. “No, it’s ‘forward,’ isn’t it? Well, never mind. Goodbye, Mr... ah... goodbye, Nick. I will... never forget you...” She rose on tiptoe to kiss me again; then she slipped through the open door and pulled it tight behind her. I looked after her in the dark for a moment; then I sighed and worked the door open. When I did, a blast of cold, foggy air hit me and, just for a moment, I had second thoughts about taking a nosedive out onto that dark ground from a moving ship, even if — as I’d suspected — we’d come down on a landing strip that antedated the invention of the bulldozer; then I bit hard on that imaginary bullet again and stuck my head out of the door once more. When the roar of the engines dropped and the plane slowed to taxi around a 90-degree turn I slipped out; rolled; and narrowly missed getting run over by that pesky third wheel...