Fire Eye (8 page)

“I thought I was complimenting you on being so multi-skilled,” he flounders.

She looks at him with eyes that threaten to pin him to the chair, but could also be dancing with playful humour. He senses he has gambled unknowingly with another napalm strike.

Alex makes herself comfortable and takes command of the conversation again. “You really have a lively imagination,” she says. “I have a highly analytical mind and have to admit that a scenario like the one we’ve tossed around does link the known facts.”

“It also leads to another logical question,” Jed suggests carefully, wary of the Skyraider fighter bomber he senses still circling with its deadly load.

“And what would that be?” Alex asks quietly. She tops up her champagne and looks him in the eyes.

“Why is a page of Karl’s letter missing and what’s in it?”

She doesn’t answer and the cloud he has seen before drifts across her eyes and stays there.

Dressing for dinner would have suited the venue, but the best they can do is shower, dust off their boots and change blouses and shirts. It is the price of travelling light, a virtue Jed values, although Alex is still armed with those Italian shoes. Dinner is sumptuous—game pie, steamed vegetables and superb wine served on the verandah with candles, allowing the cloudless, star-filled sky to fulfil its role as an all encompassing umbrella over their private part of the world. Insects chirp and click beyond the light and they can hear the occasional bird still singing somewhere in the darkness.

Alex is wearing a black top with the strap teetering precariously on her right shoulder. Jed’s shirt is open at the top, exposing a jade-studded necklace in the shape of a fish hook and a hint of chest hair.

“That’s an interesting necklace,” Alex comments. “I’ve never seen a man wear anything like that before.”

“It’s a Maori Hei Matau or fish hook. It’s a symbol of prosperity. Fish was a traditional food for the Maori and ownership of a hook denoted prosperity. It also symbolised strength, determination, good health and a safe journey over water. On long canoe journeys between islands, a fish hook meant food. This one was a gift.”

“Why were you given it?” she asks with genuine curiosity.

“I accomplished something when they gave me a lesson about leadership,” Jed says hesitatingly.

“Are you going to tell me about it?”

Jed ponders the question. The wine on top of the champagne is washing away his defensive barriers. “Normally I wouldn’t even mention it to a woman, but you may be more open minded.”

She looks at him with a questioning expression and is about to offer a teasing comment, but refrains. “I’m listening.” Intuition alerts her it involves something significant to him.

“I was doing a presentation in New Zealand about leadership across cultures. I had a section about Maori leadership and asked one of the Maori conference organisers to check what I had written. They knew I hunted wild pigs, so at the end of the day I was invited out with another delegate who had been in the Cypriot army. We were taken out in a helicopter and each given a bayonet as we flew low over a beach. The pigs lived in the coastal forest and the only way to hunt them was to catch them on the beach. We were each dropped on a mob and expected to run one down and finish it with the bayonet.”

He stops for a moment to check her reaction. She is still attentive and gives no hint of her feelings.

“We were picked up later and the pigs were taken back for preparation. While we’d been away a hangi was already cooking and we had a feast, drank their home brew and slept on the beach before flying back to the conference the next morning. The lesson was a powerful one on Maori concepts of leadership and the power and prestige of a chief.”

Alex sits silent and attentive.

Jed continues. “
Mana tûpana
is the prestige inherited from a chief and
mana tangata
is the power and prestige coming from personal achievement, skill and knowledge. In the morning they said, ‘When you talk about leadership, they will listen!’ I think perhaps they were right. The opening slide received a round of applause from the indigenous delegates in the workshop,” Jed confesses with obvious humility. “Does my story upset you?” he has to ask.

Alex thinks about her answer. She senses it means a great deal to him. “No, I’m not upset,” Alex says. “Opening yourself to that situation was a high risk thing to do. Not meeting their standards would have undermined your authority. They saw you could do it and what you were talking about carried extra weight.”

He looks back into her eyes and is relieved she can see the story in context. Not everyone could have done that. It isn’t the kind of thing he shares with many people in a highly urbanised world.

“It’s getting late. What a magnificent dinner! Perhaps we should get some sleep for tomorrow,” he suggests. There has been enough personal exposure for one night.

“I’m a night owl,” Alex tells Jed, “but I have to confess I’m tired. It has been a hell of a day.”

As they walk back to their rooms, the scent of her perfume risks demolishing Jed’s weakened inhibitions. An electric shock passes between them as Jed’s hand inadvertently touches Alex’s arm as they turn a corner. Alex unlocks the door and turns to say goodnight. Jed stands in front of her and runs his eyes over her face and the sensuous curves of her lips, highlighted by her lipstick. Red! Ripeness! He contemplates the unthinkable and enjoys a momentary vision of Alex naked in his arms.

Being so close to Alex sends shivers of anticipation down Jed’s body, but he maintains control. “By the way,” he whispers, “
Agape
is found in one Corinthians thirteen. It is described as sacrificial love, but was also used to describe feelings for a good meal and one’s own children, as well as the respect for a spouse held in very high regard.” In his fuzzy state, it sounded pretty good when he’d googled it while pretending to go to the gents earlier in the evening.

Alex is suddenly taken aback. Confusion swirls like a whirlpool among the rapids of a wild, raging river. So he’s listened and not brushed off her comments!

“Goodnight Alex!” Jed says with a slight slur as he takes the three steps to his own room and opens the door. He gives her a small wave with his finger and closes the door without looking back. He hears the slam of her door, loud enough to rattle his own.

“Women! I wonder what’s up with her tonight?” he mutters before throwing off his clothes and crashing onto the bed exhausted.

Jed finds the night has not diminished his sense of failure. He slips in and out of restless sleep. In his psyche, it is normal for a man to be successful; a man flies, shoots, cooks, solves problems, handles a motorbike, survives in the bush and faces danger without hesitation, providing security for those he loves. He has been given a challenge and failed. It gnaws at him with no sign of letting go, but he hides his self-doubt as he normally does. He finds her at breakfast behind a copy of the
Northern Territory News
with one coffee down and another started.

“Good morning,” he chirps, trying his best to sound positive.

“Hi.”

“Did you sleep well?” he asks politely, expecting to kick start a conversation.

“Yes.”

“Have you ordered breakfast?”

“Yes.”

“Do you mind if I order something?”

“No.”

“The paper must be full of news today,” he suggests with a touch of sarcasm starting to creep in.

“It is.”

The morning is not starting well. He racks his brain for anything he could have done to upset her, but can’t think of anything. He senses that a ground crew is preparing the dreaded napalm-armed Skyraider bomber for another airstrike and hopes the target isn’t going to be him. He stares at the back of the paper she is lurking behind. He applies his rational mind to the problem and a light goes on.
Perhaps she’s got PMT,
he considers thoughtfully. An idea finally comes to him, daring but risky. With his finger he gingerly pulls down the top of the paper until he can see her eyes.

“Is something bothering you Alex? Would you like to talk about it?”
What a brilliant line,
he considers in triumph.
I have just moved Neanderthal man forward twenty thousand years on the sensitivity scale!

She folds the paper and drops it on the table, looking at him with penetrating eyes that reveal nothing of her thoughts.

There is no way she is going to tell him he is making her hotter than a glasshouse in a heat wave. So she sticks to the Teflon theory of conversation—say nothing that will stick. “Thank you for asking. How are you feeling this morning?”

Jed senses the Skyraider is grounded for the moment. “I have to admit I’m feeling disappointed yesterday wasn’t more successful,” he confesses.

“Maybe I’m disappointed too, in more ways than one,” she responds without further explanation. “It’s not your fault. I dumped a huge challenge on you. It is unrealistic to expect success on the first attempt.”

“I’ll find that bloody plane, no matter how long it takes me,” he promises with determination as he tucks into the poached eggs and leans back in his chair. They already had coffee to start the day and the hearty breakfast is complemented by a second cup, then a third for her. Alex is definitely a two-cup starter in the morning.
Maybe that is all she needed
, he decides.

Instead of the deepening shades of purple encouraged by the setting sun, the morning sunlight enhances the rich and varied reds with a vibrancy that is breathtaking. By the time they bounce their way to the airstrip, the colours are stark and strong. They buy fuel to top up the tanks and Jed taxies the aircraft to the fuelling shed. He shows Alex how to connect the earth wire to the exhaust pipe to avoid static electricity and then chock the fuel drum with a piece of timber directly under the drum cap before inserting the pump.

“Refuelling from a drum can be a bit problematic,” he advises. “This way, any dirt stays away from the pump pick up and doesn’t get into the fuel tanks. The last thing we need over this `country is an engine failure!”

“Support that, most definitely,” she agrees as she pumps the last of the fuel into the plane.

“That’ll give us full tanks and six hours flying. More than enough to do what we have to do.”

They push the plane back from the fuel shed, climb in and start up. The engine settles into a steady beat as they taxi out slowly, giving the oil temperature time to reach the green zone on the gauge. He hits the radio to announce their intentions and then hands over to Alex.

“Your take off! Keep us straight with your feet on the rudder pedals and put your hand on the throttle,” he commands. She does as she is told without argument and Jed puts his hand over hers on the throttle, pushing it forward so the aircraft accelerates down the strip.

“Keep the weight off the nose wheel with back pressure on the control wheel. I’m on the controls with you,” he instructs. Although she is doing the take off, he is still in full control with finger and foot pressure as he talks her through the manoeuvre.

“When we hit fifty-five knots, apply gentle back pressure and she will fly off,” he says, still covering her hand over the throttle. “As we go through two hundred feet, raise the flaps, maintain a climb speed of eighty knots with nose attitude. Bring the manifold pressure back to twenty-five inches and the revs back to two thousand five hundred. When we get to two thousand feet, close the cowl flaps.”

“I’m dripping sweat! I’ve never worked so hard, ever!” she announces with exhilaration as they climb away into the morning sky. They turn to the northeast to retrace their route from the day before, tracking with the morning sun to their right. It illuminates the blue of the ocean, graduating from the light electric blue shallows, through the powder blue deeper water out to the azure of the distant ocean. The angle of the sun provides a different perspective as they inspect the coastline once more.

They circle the first of the likely spots identified the day before, but even Alex quickly dismisses it. “The hills and channels are too far apart. They couldn’t possibly show up in the photograph.”

Jed agrees and they settle in for the flight up to the next possibility while he gives her additional tips for managing the aircraft. He has no doubt she is a natural pilot and that a flying instructor could do great things with her. Flying a plane, that is.

They circle the next likely location three times, each tempted by the geography of the landscape and the bluff rearing up out of the vegetation.

“That’s a good looking spot,” Jed announces tentatively. “Everything matches my sketch except for the channel. It’s a real pity.” He takes the controls and as they turn to track north again, he looks back at the spot, not wanting to let it go as his brain ticks over. Nagging thoughts gnaw away at him.

Alex keeps staring at the area as well and doesn’t respond. Suddenly she puts her hand on the control wheel and feet on the rudders and turns the aircraft around back toward the bluff. “That whole area matches your sketch to a T,” she announces with authority. “My guess is the channel has been cut off from the sea in recent times and it’s silted up.”

Jed doesn’t bother discussing it. He’s majored in geography, but her brain is working faster than his. “Cyclone Tracey came through in 1974. That alone could do it or any of the other storms during the wet seasons. You have sharp eyes.”

“I majored in geology at uni, among other things. It looks thick down there.”

Another surprise to be pursued at a later date. “Sure is. Lots of channels and what looks like a swamp among the trees. Anything could be down there.” They spiral down to one thousand feet and circle the area for a closer inspection. “This is the best area we’ve seen along the whole coast.” Jed makes a sudden decision. He increases the power and trims for a cruise climb all the way to five thousand feet, tracking northwest over the gulf.

Alex looks across at him with a question forming on her lips, but he beats her to it.

“I’m going to show you something Alex. If nothing else you can take back a memory with you!” At five thousand feet, well out into the gulf, he circles and sets the scene. “Imagine Karl flying a damaged bomber back on this course. He could be injured, the aircraft shot up, crew dead or wounded, one engine gone maybe. He’s navigating by dead reckoning and misses Darwin because he’s too far west. If you look out that way,” he says pointing to the east, “you can see how the sea and sky merge together. Can’t see the coast as such, but the bluff is just visible in the haze. He spots it and realises he’s west and turns toward it. The aircraft is dying, coming down at, say, two hundred to three hundred feet per minute.” Jed pulls the power back to set up a descent at ninety knots. “Your aircraft Alex,” he commands, but keeps his finger and feet lightly on the controls. “Now you can see what he may have seen!”

Alex maintains the descent, mesmerised by the sense she is experiencing the last moments of her grandfather.

“As we get closer,” Jed explains, “you can see that turning to the right of the bluff adds distance for a forced landing, the last thing he wants. So it has to be left of the bluff, but not too far. See how the country is too rugged on the other side of the channel. He would have to aim for a spot between the bluff and the channel.”

They fly the Cessna closer and closer to the ground, dropping ten degrees of flap and keeping the bluff in the same spot in the windscreen to maintain the angle of descent. Slowly the ground becomes clearer. They can distinguish the mangroves on the mudflats, the choked channel, the rock faces of the bluff and then individual trees.

“You can’t land here, there’s no room!” Alex snaps with obvious tension as they descend relentlessly toward the ground.

“No intention of landing,” he murmurs. “Just giving you a sense of what he would have seen Alex. My aircraft!” Jed commands decisively as he flies it down, closer and closer to the ground. He can sense Alex stiffening as the ground approaches, two hundred feet, one hundred and fifty, one hundred… until he finally thrusts the throttle lever forward and starts to climb. The engine sends a thundering roar across the landscape and the wheels skim the mudflats.

“What’s that?” Alex shouts, stabbing with her finger to the right of the nose. Jed catches the briefest glimpse before the canopy of trees swamps his vision. He hauls the aircraft into a steep turn, tracks back over the water and pulls the power for another low-level approach. This time he holds the altitude low, very low, giving them the opportunity for a better look. They head in, nose high, flap down, power on.

“There!” Alex points. “Under the trees!”

Jed catches another flash of the image. Straight lines of tail fins standing out from the normal shapes of nature. Dull army green, flat surfaces, more straight lines and then it is gone as they climb over the trees.

“That’s it, isn’t it?” Alex cries. “It’s surreal, just sitting there under the trees.”

Jed pulls the aircraft into another steep turn, this time at five hundred feet, to inspect the country. Forest, swamp, mangroves and mudflats form a complex web defying penetration.

“Bloody hell!” Jed announces. “Our mystery pig hunter got lucky finding that! Whoever he was, I have to respect him!”

“Let’s have another look!” Alex demands and Jed flies on another low pass. The vision is there again, sitting undisturbed and peaceful under the leafy canopy of the trees behind a screen of vegetation.

“Maybe he found a way in during a dry spell,” Jed suggests.

“Let’s get back to Darwin!” Alex commands.

Jed is engrossed in locating the position on the map and marking a waypoint on the GPS. “Hold on just a minute,” he commands in turn as he finishes locking in the location. Relief washes through him as he realises he was right after all!

Alex looks over at him with a penetrating gaze. “You actually bloody did it!”

“Do I detect a hint of doubt?” Relief and excitement pulsate through him. He looks across at her and has to confess. “Good planning and a hell of a lot of sheer arse!”

“Who cares how it happened! We found it!” She holds up her hand for a high five and Jed responds, still in shock at the glimpse of the aircraft.

He turns the Cessna to fly parallel to the coast before making a turn to line up on the stretch of beach to the southwest. “I’m going to try a landing. I’ll touch the wheels and I need you to check how far we sink. Look out your window. I’ll watch my side. If it looks good I’ll land, otherwise I’ll do a go round,” he calls, still holding her fingers intertwined with his. He releases her hand, drops flap, powers back to fifteen hundred rpm and gently kisses the main wheels onto the mud flat while holding the nose high. It is looking good and he reduces power just as the main wheels start to sink into the sand.

Alex sees what is happening and calls out, “It’s too soft!”

Jed feels the aircraft hesitate and hits the power. The aircraft shudders and jerks, the nose drops and the wheel touches the mud. He pulls it back up as the prop bites into the air, hauling them reluctantly back into the sky.

“Damn! Have to give that a miss! Let’s go back to Darwin and regroup!” Jed decides with a racing pulse as he climbs the aircraft to cruising altitude for the run back to Darwin.

“That was close! A shame we couldn’t land. We’ll still have a celebration tonight!” Alex decides, giving him the most appraising look yet and touches his hand resting on the throttle in a moment of confused feelings. “Take us back. Take me to Darwin,” is all she can manage.

The simple gesture works wonders on Jed. Any residual stress disappears instantly. He flies the aircraft on wings of elation and doesn’t notice her state of reflection. Even if he did, he still wouldn’t know what to do with her.