Sometimes the Darkness

seated, Hanley began the startup procedure, checking his fuel and battery levels, his magneto, ignition and electric boost pumps. As always, he started the right engine first. He used a rich mixture, cracking the throttle, but with no pumping, primed for about eight seconds and, waited twenty seconds for the fuel to vaporize, turned a couple of revolutions and then hit the mags and ignition boost. The big Pratt and Whitney engine turned over as it always did. Hanley started the left engine, turned on the running lights and landing lights and began to taxi to the airstrip. As the Beech rolled to its left, Hanley saw two people standing in the wash of the plane’s lights. Two men in traditional Atuot dress stood near a bush next to the airstrip. The natives watched the plane as it moved into position. Hanley said to the nun, “Watch those men and tell me if they move toward the plane or the airstrip. If they move, tell me immediately.” When he reached the end of the airstrip, Hanley quickly looked for any cattle or wild animals standing in the path of the plane. When he was aligned with the center of the airstrip, he advanced the throttles and the Beech moved forward smoothly. Two days before, Hanley chained an old set of mattress springs to the Land Rover, weighted it down with cement blocks and pulled it over the airstrip, grading the strip’s remaining gravel to an acceptable smoothness. The plane rolled along, gathering speed until the tail rose and then the nose of the Beech rose as well. It was a smooth rotation, just like all the other times Hanley and the Beech departed. The landing gear came up and Hanley switched off the lights of the old plane as it gained altitude. He would climb to twenty-five hundred feet, which he would maintain until he was almost to Kosti, hoping to keep from appearing on any air traffic controller’s screen. Hanley also believed a quick descent to the airport would minimize his exposure to anything that might be used to prevent his landing, although he had no clue what that might be or what he would do if anyone tried to stop him. Having thought of a plan, no matter how ill-conceived it might be, made him feel better, more in control. Pretty childish, he now told himself.

“I hope your people have only twelve children when we get there. We can perhaps take one or two more if they are small, but not more than that. Any more, if they are bigger, will be a problem. I do not want to turn away a child, period. That’s a memory I do not want to live with,” Hanley said through the headphones. He was tuned to the Khartoum air traffic control frequency, listening for any mention of his aircraft.

Hanley looked over to see the nun still working her beads. Her head shook slightly from side to side. That was all the response he got from Sister Marie Claire.

28

The sky was beginning to lighten in the East, to the right of the plane. Hanley checked his watch; it was 5:36. He had been navigating by compass and time. Soon, he would begin his visual search for the White Nile River, which he would follow to Kosti and into the airport.

After almost an hour in the air, a voice came over the radio, attempting to reach Hanley and his flight. “Flight A806D this is Mapuordit mission, do you hear me? Mr Martin, please respond.” It was Father Laslo. Hanley did not respond. The attempt was repeated several times and then stopped.

Sister Marie Claire was asleep, her head resting against the side window, the headphone a pillow of sorts. When he noticed her sleeping, Hanley unplugged her headphones. He wondered if Jumma was awake. Now Hanley plugged her headphones in, keyed the mic and said, “Sister, it’s time to wake up.” She did not stir. Hanley pushed her shoulder with his finger.

The nun swatted his hand away. “I’m not asleep. You should watch where we are going and leave me alone.”

Hanley took his headset off and, shouting over the noise of the engines, asked, “Jumma, are you awake?”

“Yes, Mr Martin, I am awake. When will we be there?”

“In about one-half hour. I want you and Sister Marie Claire to be fully awake when we land. We all know what we are to do, so let’s be prepared. I want to land and depart in under twenty minutes if possible. Okay?”

***

The desk top was hard, but it was better than sleeping on the floor. Assad lay curled up on his side so all of him fit on the desk. His head rested on his left arm and he was cold, or at least he was until he drifted off to sleep. Guarding the small group of storage buildings at the airport had been his job every night for over six months. He did not mind, he slept most of the night and, during the day, he helped his older brother. It was important when you are seventeen and a man going places. He had things to do. This was not his only job, as he was assisting his brother with his business, storing electronics and other items, such as watches here in Kosti for movement to Khartoum to be sold on the streets. Why they had to be stored here, he did not understand. His job was to drive his brother’s van to meet other vans on the edge to the city, bring the merchandise back to these storage units and then guard them through the night. It was a good job and he and his brother were doing well. Anyway, no one ever bothered him out here. If they did, he was ready for them, so let them try.

Lying on the floor next to the desk was an AK-47, a fully automatic 7.62 mm rifle, one Assad knew was the most prolifically made