At the back of the room was another door that led to a spiral staircase. The group silently climbed the steps. At the top, Andy gazed around at a panoramic view of the jungle.
This must be the control tower, he mused. Andy peered through the nearest pane of glass at the runway below. Then, looking around the large square room, he spotted a desk next to a bay filled with countless switches and buttons. A microphone and headset rested on the desk, and there was a faded picture of Queen Victoria on the wall.
Suddenly, a door banged open and a very harried-looking woman entered the room.
“You’re late! I was afraid something might have happened. Who’s that fellow with the funny-looking cameraman outside? His plane landed a few hours ago…an Armstrong Whitworth European twin engine. Very nice! You know him?”
Andy noticed that the whole time the woman was speaking, she was smacking a piece of gum. Her blond hair was up in a fashionable bun, but her face was freckled and rather plain except for her lipstick, which was a startling pink. She wore a leather pilot’s jacket and high boots.
The woman noticed the others staring at her and introduced herself.
“Where are my manners? Yaw Ripcord,” she said, shaking everyone’s hand in turn. Andy noticed that she had a very firm grip.
“When I’m not piloting a plane, I’m the local dispatcher for all the flights coming in and out of the jungle. Not that we get a ton of traffic, but when we do”—she paused to pop her gum with a loud CRACK!—“I’m the gal who gets the job done.”
Without waiting for the others to introduce themselves, she wheeled back around to Rusty. “So? What kept you?”
Rusty’s eyes narrowed. “That idiot downstairs is an actor from Hollywood who’s following us. How quickly can you get us airborne? Did Ned send you a communiqué?”
Yaw patted the pocket of her flight jacket. “Got it this morning. First stop, Iquitos, Peru? He said that by the time we get to our destination in Cuzco, he should have complete mission instructions waiting for you.”
She cocked her head and, after blowing a bubble, asked, “So what’s this all about, Bucketts?”
“You know I can’t discuss Society business, Yaw. Ned keeps you on retainer for special circumstances, and we’re in a pretty special one right now.”
Andy noticed him looking out the window toward the clearing where they’d left Bartlemore. “The sooner we can get in the air, the better.”
“Cagey as always. Well, surprise, surprise, this time your boss asked me if I would join you as official pilot and guide for the expedition…said you would be too busy to fly. Paid a pretty penny, too, I might add,” she said with a wink.
Rusty looked surprised. But his expression quickly turned from concern into a grin. “Well, he couldn’t have gotten anyone more qualified.” Rusty turned to the group and gestured toward Yaw with his thumb.
“Ripcord here went to piloting school with me. Top of the class! Although I did give you a run for your money on that medical run to New Guinea. Beat you there and back with thirty minutes to spare.”
“Twenty-nine,” Yaw corrected with a smile. “Come on, let’s get aboard. I want to hear all about your motley crew and Mr. Fancy Pants downstairs. I feel like I’ve seen him somewhere before.”
Yaw turned toward a door Andy hadn’t noticed before. “Louie!” she shouted.
There was a muffled reply from somewhere behind the wall.
“Take over the tower. I’m off!”
“You got it, boss!”
Yaw turned to Rusty. “Ready?”
Rusty nodded. “The sooner we can get away from Bartlemore, the better,” he said. Then, with a nod and a wave, he gestured for the rest of the group to follow.
As they walked back down the stairs, Andy moved next to Abigail and whispered, “What do you think? Can we get out of here without Bartlemore following us this time?”
Abigail shrugged. “Fat chance,” she said.
But Andy couldn’t help noticing that when she said it, it wasn’t with the same negative feeling the others seemed to carry toward the Hollywood actor. It seemed like she wasn’t too upset at the idea of Dan Daring’s following them. In fact, it seemed like she might even like the idea. And knowing that made Andy like John Bartlemore even less than he already did.
Yaw Ripcord got them up in the air within ten minutes. But it wasn’t fast enough to shake Bartlemore. Within an hour, Yaw received a radio message from Louie that Bartlemore’s plane was following them.
“His plane is much bigger than mine,” she shouted to the group over the roar of the propellers. “It’s going to be hard to shake him.”
“Do your best,” Rusty replied. He was sitting next to Yaw in the cockpit and functioning as her copilot.
Andy and the others were sitting in the cabin. Their seats had been modified with comfortable cushions and old-fashioned upholstery. In fact, the entire interior of the plane seemed more like someone’s living room than an airplane.
Betty and Dotty noticed Andy examining a china plate with a puppy painted on it that was fastened to the cabin wall.
“I’ve heard that Yaw lives on the plane when she’s not working in the tower. That she’s got a bunk in the luggage compartment. She loves planes so much, I wouldn’t be surprised if it were true,” Betty said.
Andy raised his eyebrows in surprise. “That would explain why it feels so homey in here. Funny, at first glance she doesn’t seem like a person who would like all this kind of…” He gestured to the floral-printed chairs and silk flowers on a small dining table.
“Froufrou?” Betty asked. She laughed. “We’ve known her for years, and as tough as she seems on the outside, Yaw still has a softer side. When she’s not fixing the motor on
