He made a soft dry sound, then muttered something under his breath. Something along the lines of, “Same old Sam…”
The urge to grin made the muscles in her face cramp, and she bit down hard on her lower lip to quell it.
Cory clasped his hands together, then leaned forward to gaze through the windshield at the low, cloud- shrouded smudge on the horizon. Fidgeting. The thought flashed into her mind:
She said, “That’s the island you’re looking at out there. We’ll be landing in about…forty-five minutes.” He nodded but didn’t reply.
After listening to the droning of the aircraft’s engines for several minutes, she said, “Mind if I ask you something?” The look he threw her was both surprised and wary-she didn’t usually ask permission. “I’m curious-Will and I both were, actually. Why charter a plane for this? Why didn’t you just hire a boat? Woulda been a lot simpler- cheaper, too.”
He gave her a look and said mildly, “I’m going into a terrorist’s hideout to interview one of the most wanted and dangerous men in the world. When I’m done with that, I’d rather not have to get through forty miles of jungle before I’m home free.”
“Okay, I can see that. Then wouldn’t a helicopter be more practical?”
The look he gave her this time was wry. “I was specifically warned
“Ah,” said Sam, keeping her voice neutral. “So…” she persisted after a moment, “why did you ask for such a big plane? There’s just the two of you. Why not a Cessna? It’d be a whole lot easier to land and take off on those remote airstrips.”
He shifted again as if something was irritating him, but replied in a calm, almost conversational way. “That’s not a problem. Apparently, there’s a landing strip near the rendezvous point that was built by the Americans during World War Two, and the villagers have kept it up-they get most of their supplies that way. The roads in and out of the region aren’t reliable at the best of times, and during the monsoon season they’re sometimes impassable.” He threw her a grin. “You shouldn’t have any trouble. In fact, this old bird ought to feel right at home.”
Sam frowned at the cloudy horizon. “That still doesn’t explain-” Then she broke off as it hit her. “Oh, good God. They have hostages. You’re going to try to get them out.” He didn’t answer. She looked over at him. “Aren’t you? That’s what this is all about-the interview-” Her hands tightened on the wheel. “That’s how you were able to get approval from State, isn’t it? I should have known.”
Cory’s quiet, reasonable voice broke in on her silent fuming. “I intend to try to negotiate for their release during the course of the interview, sure. How can I
She let out a short, sharp breath. “Nothing-absolutely nothing. It’s exactly what you would do. Like I said-I should have known.” She threw him a distracted glance, not even registering the puzzled look on his face or the probing intensity of his eyes as she switched to her captain’s voice.
“Uh…look, we’re coming into Isabella airspace…I’m gonna need to be talking to their tower…if you wouldn’t mind taking your seat…”
“Oh-sure, no problem.”
Sam was already fiddling with the radio and hardly noticed when Cory eased out of his seat in the overly careful, oh-Lord-don’t-let-me-touch-anything way he had and made his way slowly back through the radioman’s compartment. She did glance up, though, to make sure his back was still turned while she tuned her radio to a frequency not monitored by any airport control tower anywhere in the world. Only when she was certain he was out of earshot did she begin to speak into her mouthpiece, in a monotone designed to carry no farther than the confines of the cockpit.
“Uncle Willie, this is Junebug calling. Come in…”
She waited, counting off the seconds, then repeated it. “Uncle Willie, this is June-”
“Hey, Junie-baby, this is your old Uncle Willie. How’re ya doin’, sweetcakes?”
One side of Sam’s mouth quirked upward. “Oh, fair…just fair. Got a few clouds on the horizon…”
“Yeah? How bad? Look like it might spoil our party?”
“Don’t know yet. Seems our guest of honor has some plans of his own. Might be a conflict, can’t say for sure. Does complicate things, though.”
There was a brief and thoughtful silence. Then: “Okay, stay on top of it. I trust you can handle our guest if he gets…uh, difficult?”
“He’s not exactly the ‘handling’ type.”
“Be a shame,” the voice said smoothly, “if the party had to be cancelled. The other guests would
“Right.” She let out a gust of breath. “I know. I’ll take care of it. Oh-Uncle Willie-one more thing.” She lifted a hand to her right headphone, then lightly touched the tender spot just beneath a small fresh surgical scar hidden in the thick hair behind her ear. “How’re those pictures I’ve been sending you? Still getting to you okay?”
There was a fat-sounding chuckle. “Gettin’ some as we speak, sweetcakes. Nice of you to share. Almost like bein’ right there with you.”
“Glad you’re enjoying ’em,” Sam said, grinning. “I’ll be in touch.”
“You do that, Junebug-baby. Take care now.”
“Will do, Uncle Willie. Out.”
No longer wearing any suggestion of a smile, Sam returned the DC-3’s radio to its regular frequency.
As Cory settled into his seat, Tony looked up from the paperback novel he was reading to give him what could best be described as a leer. “So, how’d it go last night? You and Captain Earhart patch up your differences?”
Cory responded with a dismissive snort. “Sam’s and my differences are pretty much irreconcilable.”
“Huh. That your opinion or hers?” When he didn’t get an answer, Tony dog-eared the page-making Cory wince-and closed the book. Tucking it between his leg and the armrest, he shifted in his seat in a settling-in kind of way and said in an undertone, “Okay. When last we left the romantic misadventures of Cory Pearson, you were telling me how you’d just, in effect, told the lady you love to grow up. After which, when she took offense-quite understandably, in my opinion-you went off and married somebody else. That doesn’t sound like ‘differences’ to me, man. Sounds to me more like you owe the lady one hell of an apology. Not to mention roses. And diamonds.”
“Yeah, well…as it happens, I tried that-the apology, anyway. After the divorce was final. I…I actually called her.”
“Yeah? And?”
Cory’s smile flickered dimly, like a dying lightbulb. “About what you’d expect. She told me to get lost. Leave her alone. Never speak to her again.”
Tony reared back in mock astonishment. “No kidding? What a shock, man. And I suppose you did just what she told you to.”
“As a matter of fact I did, yeah.” Cory was beginning to find the whole conversation annoying. “What was I supposed to do? Stalk her?”
“
“Easy for you to say,” Cory said dryly. It was, too; he’d seen Tony in action. For reasons he’d never been able to figure out, in spite of his strong resemblance to a bald-headed pit bull terrier, the man seemed to possess some kind of magic attraction irresistible to any human female between the ages of six and a hundred.
Tony made a “Tsk”-ing sound and hitched himself closer. “Look, man. Any fool can see she’s still got a thing for you. And if the feelings are there, there’s no such thing as ‘irreconcilable differences.’ Know what I mean?”
