Wings (43 page)

When they got back, Desmond was waiting for them. He was sitting in his parked car, and when he got out, he let Billy know he wanted to talk to Cassie.

“I just wanted to wish you luck tomorrow. I'll see you there before you take off, but I wanted you to know that… well, I'm sorry things didn't really work out the way we planned.” He was trying to be magnanimous, but the way he did it made her very angry.

“What exactly
did
you plan? I was planning to have a life, and a husband and children.” He was planning to have a world tour, and a mistress, and a cardboard wife he'd drag out for newsreels.

‘Then you should have married someone else, I guess. I was looking for a partnership. And not much more than that. This was business. But isn't that what marriage is, Cassie?” He tried to make it sound as though things just hadn't worked out, and not as though he had lied to her about everything, including being sterile. She could have lived with that, she could have lived with a lot of things, if he'd been honest with her. But they both knew he never had been.

“I don't think you have any idea what marriage is, Desmond.”

“Maybe not,” he said without embarrassment. ‘to tell you the truth, it's not something I've ever really wanted.”

“So why bother? I would have flown this for you, without all the nonsense, the lies… the wedding… You didn't have to go that far. You used me,” she said, relieved that she had finally had a chance to say it.

“We used each other. You're going to be the biggest star in aviation there ever was two months from now. And I put you there. In one of my planes. It's a wash, Cass. We're even.” He seemed pleased with himself. It was all he wanted. She meant nothing to him. She never had. That was the hard part.

“Congratulations. I hope you enjoy it as much as you thought you would.”

“I will.” He was sure of it. “And so will you. And so will Billy. We all win on this one.”

“If everything goes right. You're assuming an awful lot,” she said cautiously.

“I have a right to. You're flying a remarkable plane, and you're a great pilot. It doesn't take more than that. Except Lady Luck, and some fine weather.” He looked at her long and hard, willing her to do right by him, but offering her nothing in return except glory and money. Love wasn't part of his scheme of things. He didn't have it in him. “Good luck, Cass,” he said quietly.

‘Thanks,” she said, and walked upstairs to Billy's apartment.

“What did he want?” Billy asked suspiciously. He was worried that Desmond might have said something to upset Cassie.

“Just to wish us luck, I guess. In his own way. There's no one in there… I finally figured that out… the man's completely empty.” It was truer than she knew. There was no soul to Desmond Williams. Only greed and calculation, and an unfailing passion (or airplanes, never people. She was just a tool, no different from a wrench to tune the engine. She was a vehicle to success, nothing more, a cog in one of his machines, and in fact, a very small one. He was the puppeteer, the designer, the spirit behind it. In his eyes, she was nothing.

18

T
he
North Star
took off, right on schedule, on the morning of October 4, as planned, with a crowd of hundreds watching. The cardinal of Los Angeles blessed the plane. There was champagne for everyone, and she took off into the horizon on a circuitous route that was designed to break distance records, and accommodate the vagaries of world politics at the moment.

They flew south first to Guatemala City, covering two thousand two hundred miles at one gulp, without refueling. And when they arrived, they checked their maps, the weather, and spent some time investigating the area, and talking to the locals. People were fascinated by the plane, and flocked to the airport to see them. Desmond had done his homework well. People all over the world knew of Cassie's journey.

The press were waiting for them en masse at the Guatemala City airport, along with ambassadors, envoys, diplomats, and politicians. There was a marimba band playing, and Cassie and Billy posed for photographs. No one had gotten as much attention since Charles Lindbergh.

“Not a bad life, huh?” Cassie teased him as they took off for San Cristóbal in the Galápagos the next day, a mere eleven hundred miles, which took them just over three hours in the extraordinary plane Williams Aircraft had built them. Desmond had gotten his first wish this time. They had just set a record for speed and distance.

“Maybe we should just stop somewhere for a vacation,” Billy suggested, and she grinned as they were met by Ecuadorian officials, American military personnel, and local natives. There were more photographers, and the governor of the islands invited them to dinner.

The trip was going beautifully, and they spent a day there, checking the plane over carefully, and checking maps and weather again. Things couldn't have looked better.

From the Galápagos, they flew another twenty-four hundred miles to Easter Island in exactly seven hours. But this time they met with unexpected winds, and narrowly missed breaking the record.

“Better luck next time, kid,” Billy joked with her as they taxied down the runway at Easter Island. ‘that husband of yours is liable to burn our homesteads down if we don't get him some more records.” They both knew that Desmond had an eye on the Japanese who had been working on a plane for the past year which could fly nonstop from Tokyo to New York, a distance of nearly seven thousand miles, but so far they had encountered nothing but problems, and hadn't even made it as far as Alaska. Their first test flight was scheduled only a year from now. And Desmond had every intention of beating them to it, which was why these long distances across the Pacific interested him so greatly.

They found Easter Island a fascinating place while they refueled. It was filled with innocent, beautiful people and intriguing moai statues. There were stories that went back to prehistoric man, and mysteries Cassie would have loved to explore if she'd had the time to stay there.

They stayed on Easter Island for only one night, to rest up for the long leg the following day to Papeete, Tahiti. And this time they managed to just barely shave the record. They traveled two thousand seven hundred miles in seven hours fourteen minutes, without a single problem.

Landing in Tahiti was like arriving in Paradise, and as Billy looked out at the girls lined up along the runway in sarongs, waving at them and carrying leis, he let out a whoop of glee that brought Cassie to gales of laughter.

“My God, they're paying us to do this, Cass? Oh, baby, I don't believe this!”

“Behave yourself, or they're going to put us in jail if you go out there looking like that.” He was practically panting and drooling. He was like a big funny kid, and she loved flying with him. More importantly, he was an outstanding navigator and a brilliant mechanic.

In fact, he had picked up a noise he didn't like just after they took off from Easter Island. And after paying suitable homage to the local girls, he wanted to come back and check it out. When they cabled home that night, they mentioned it, but assured everyone that it was by no means a serious problem. They were giving them daily reports of their progress, and were relieved to be able to announce that they had just broken another record.

In Papeete, almost everyone spoke French, and Billy spoke just enough to get by. There was a dinner given by the French ambassador for them, and Cassie apologized that she had nothing to wear but her flight suit. Someone lent her a beautiful sarong instead, and she wore a big pink flower in her hair when Billy escorted her to dinner.

“You sure don't look like Lindy to me,” he said admiringly, putting an arm around her as they walked from their hotel to the embassy. But the relationship between them was strictly one of brother and sister. And as they walked along the beach afterward, talking about the trip, Cassie said sadly that she wished Nick could be there. Papeete was a magical place, and the people were wonderful. It was the most beautiful place she'd ever seen, and she resisted any comparison to her honeymoon in Mexico. That was a memory she wanted to forget now.

She and Billy sat on the beach late that night, talking about the people they'd met, the things they'd seen. The dinner at the embassy had been impressively civilized, and even in a sarong she felt somewhat out of place, though less so than she would have in her wrinkled flight suit.

“Sometimes the things we do still stagger me,” Cassie said with a smile, fingering the flower she'd worn in her hair that evening. “I mean how did we get so lucky? Look at the plane we're flying all over the world… the people we meet… the places we go… it's like someone else's life… how did I get here? Do you ever feel like that, Billy?” She felt so young sometimes, so old at others. At twenty-two, she felt like she'd had a lot of good luck, and not much bad luck, all things considered. But that was the way she saw things.

“I'd say you paid a high price for this trip, Cass… higher than I did,” he said seriously, thinking of her marriage, “but yeah, I feel like that. I keep waiting for someone to grab me by the scruff of the neck, and say ‘hey, what's that kid doing here? He doesn't belong here!’”

“You belong here,” she said warmly. “You're the best there is. I wouldn't have done this without you.” The only other person she could think of who she would have liked to fly it with was Nick. Maybe some day.

“It's gonna be over too soon, you know that, Cass. I thought of that when we got here. Zip… it's over… gone… you plan and practice and sweat for a whole year, and then whoops… ten days… it's over.” They were almost halfway there already, and Cassie felt sad thinking about it. She didn't want the trip to end so quickly.

They walked slowly back to their hotel after that, and she said something to Billy that surprised him. “I guess I should be grateful to Desmond for all this… and I am… but in a funny way, it doesn't seem like his trip now. He told all those lies, and did all his scheming, but it's our trip. We're doing it. We're here. He isn't. Somehow, all of a sudden, he doesn't seem all that important.” It was a relief for her, and Billy was glad she wasn't tormenting herself about the rotten deal she'd gotten from her erstwhile husband.

“Forget him, Cass. When we go back, all of that will be history. You'll have all the glory.”

“I don't think the glory is ever what I wanted,” she said honestly. “I just wanted the experience, to know I could do it.” But not enough to ruin someone's life for.

“Yeah, me too,” he agreed, but he was also realistic about the hullabaloo that would come later. “But the glory won't be bad either.” He smiled boyishly and she laughed, and then looked at him seriously.

“I was going to file for divorce before we left, but I decided to wait until after the trip, just in case some nosy reporter got wind of it. I didn't want to screw things up by moving too soon. But all the papers are ready and signed.” She sighed as she remembered going to the lawyer's office. It had been a painful experience telling him what had happened.

“What are you going to get him on?” Billy asked with interest. He could think of at least half a dozen things, none of them pleasant, starting with adultery, and ending with breaking Cassie's heart, if that was officially grounds for divorce now.

“I guess fraud, for a start. It sounds terrible, but the lawyer says we have grounds.” And then of course there was Nancy. “I think we're going to try to come to some quiet, mutual agreement. Maybe a divorce in Reno, if he'll agree to it. At least then it would be over quickly.”

“I'm sure he will,” Billy said wisely. And then they left each other for the night, and met again over breakfast on the terrace the next morning.

“What do you say we tell them they can have their plane back, and we just stay here?” He smiled happily at her, eating an omelet and croissants, and a big cup of strong French coffee, all served by a sixteen-year-old native girl with a breathtaking figure in a pareu.

“You don't think you'd get bored?” She smiled as she sat down next to him. She liked it here too, but she was excited about moving on, to Pago Pago, and then Howland Island.

“I'd never get bored,” he said, smiling up at the girl and then glancing happily at Cassie. “I think I'd like to end my life on an island. What about you?”

“Maybe.” She looked unconvinced, and then she smiled at him over coffee. “I think I'll probably end my life the way I started it, under the belly of an airplane. Maybe they could build me a special wheelchair.”

“Sounds great. I'll build you one.”

“Maybe you'd better check out the
North Star
first.”

“You mean I can't lie on the beach all day?” He pretended to look shocked, but half an hour later, they were both going over the plane with a fine-tooth comb in all seriousness. The jokes were over. And predictably, the photographers, and the visitors, came to watch them.

They were carrying a huge load of fuel on the
North Star
, and very little else except emergency supplies, a radio, life jackets, life raft. They had everything they needed. And the temptation was great at each stop to bring home souvenirs from their travels. But they had no room, and they didn't want to weigh the plane down with a single ounce of anything that was not absolutely essential.

They shared a quiet dinner that night at the hotel, and watched an extravagantly gorgeous sunset, and then they took a walk on the beach and went to bed early. And the next morning, they took off for Pago Pago.

They made it in four and a half hours, and this time broke no records. But it was easy flying, all except for a small noise Billy thought he heard in one of their engines. It was the same thing he'd heard the day before, and it was oddly persistent.

Pago Pago was a fascinating place, though they only spent one night, and they spent most of it at the airport. Billy wanted to find the cause of the noise that had been bothering him, and by midnight he thought he'd located it. It was annoying him, but he was still convinced it wasn't a major problem.

They cabled home again, as they did from every stop, and in the morning they left for Howland Island. They had already covered more than nine thousand miles, and in Cassie's mind they were almost there, though there were still more than three thousand miles between them and Honolulu. But they had already done more than half the trip, and knowing they were approaching Howland, where most people believed Earhart had gone down, made her nostalgic.