BAMAKO - Aribert Raphael (red queen ebook TXT) 📗

ice-cold soda.
“Hassan, come and join me here,” Samir said, after drinking a long gulp. “You’ll be much more comfortable. I promise I won’t crash while you’re beside me, Allah would never forgive me if I did.”
Almost reluctantly, Hassan went to join the pilot and sat in the navigator’s seat. He soon realized Samir was right. He began to feel the tension subside.
Mohammed was also a little more relaxed now. They were at cruising altitude and the little plane seemed to be floating in the middle of the sky—no more sensation of acceleration—it was as if they weren’t moving.
“We’ll be over the Falémé in about forty minutes,” Samir said, brushing a quick glance in Hassan’s direction. “If you like, I can fly a little lower to show you some of the sights. It’s a beautiful country, you know.” Hassan was looking out the window at his elbow. “There is a mine ten minutes past the border. The owner is quite mad apparently.”
Mohammed, who had seen—rather than heard—them talking, got up and went to stand behind them at the cockpit’s door.
Samir was saying, “…he’s hired a jet last month. It was still there on the tarmac in Bamako an hour before you two showed up.”
Startled by this revelation, Hassan turned to stare at Samir.
“Do you know the owner?” Mohammed asked from behind Samir’s shoulder.
“No, I don’t, not personally, Monsieur Fade. People talk, you understand, especially when someone hires a Lear and practically never travels with it.”
Hassan’s impatience resurfaced. “Did you see them take off?”
“Yes, sure, it’s always a beautiful sight to see that bird taking flight.”
“What I meant was: did you see the people leaving with the plane this morning?”
“That’s a roger,” Samir replied, keeping his eyes on the clouds and the sky stretching ahead of them. “There was a woman with them. I had seen her going to the passengers’ lounge as I came in myself. I only saw her from the back, mind you. She has blond, almost white hair. I noticed her because she was rushing after the pilot. It looked funny; she had a hard time keeping up the pace following him.” Samir turned his head and met Hassan’s worried gaze. “Oh. I see. That’s the lady in distress, is it?”
Mohammed, who had been listening to the conversation, began to understand what could have happened. “Tell me, Samir; is it possible for the Jet to land at the mine site?”
“Oh no—not yet it isn’t. Those babies have to have solid tarmac, a real runway, to touch down. None of these stretches of dirt will do for these toys.”
What may have happened to Talya became clearer. Mohammed had to confirm his suspicion. “If they were to go to the mine site, where would they land then?”
“I’d say Kedougou. That would be the closest strip they could use.”
Hassan couldn’t keep still or quiet anymore. “Will you contact the tower in Kedougou and ask them if they have seen the Jet today, please?”
Samir’s eyebrows shot up. “No, Hassan, I can’t. Do you know what you’re asking? This isn’t a phone booth. I can’t just call them and ask, ‘Oh, by the way did you see that plane and can you tell me where it’s going?’ That’s against the rules.”
“Can’t you just break the rules then, or bend them a little? This is an emergency. We’ve got to find out where she’s gone.”
“And you have got to tell me what this is all about. I thought the lady was going to Dakar, and—”
“Not here,” Hassan flared, irritated by Samir’s queries. “When we get to Dakar, whenever that’ll be, I’ll tell you. Just trust me.”
“We know what we’re asking may be quite irregular,” Mohammed put-in, “but we have reasons to believe the lady, whose name is Talya Kartz, by the way, may be in serious danger.”
“Monsieur Fade, you just had to look at Hassan’s face a moment ago to know he wasn’t joking.”
At these words, Samir put on his earphones and started talking in an incomprehensible gibberish used by pilots the world over. A few moments later, he took off the headset again. “The jet landed in Kedougou all right. They stayed on the tarmac for a couple of hours and then took off again. Their final destination is still Dakar.”
“You mean they dropped her off and continued on to Dakar?” Hassan shouted. Shaken to the bones, he couldn’t contain himself—he wanted to get out of this darn plane. He unbuckled his belt.
“Hold on, Hassan, there is nothing to worry about, I’m sure.” Samir said. “They probably went with her to the mine for a short visit and they’re on their way to Dakar now. Maybe this was planned ahead of time.”
“But why would they do that? There must be something wrong….”
Mohammed had to intervene again. Hassan was becoming a pest.
“Please don’t mind Hassan, Samir, he hates to be sitting here all tied up and powerless. Talya means a lot to him and he just gets out of control when she’s away and possibly in danger.”
“I understand. Hassan will pay for this later, believe me.” Samir looked at the latter, grinning.
Hassan couldn’t help but return the smile although he felt utterly miserable. Defeated in his purpose he buckled up again.
Mohammed regained his seat. His legs were stiff from kneeling. After a few minutes, letting his thoughts wander, he dozed off.
Hassan, on the other hand, was far from feeling drowsy. His mind was navigating amid a sea of anger, guilt and misery. He wanted the plane to land this very minute. He checked his wristwatch—two more hours, before he’d see Talya again. The waiting had become intolerable.
60
Within twenty minutes from letting the gear down to land in Dakar, Pierre came out of the cockpit. He looked down at his passenger. She was staring out at the clouds beyond the window. She looked absent. She appeared deaf. He sat in the same seat opposite Talya. “Madame Kartz, we’ll be landing in less than a half-an-hour—”
Talya looked up at him—their eyes locked. Almost mechanically, she gave him an answer. “I promised you the whole story, so here it is….”
When Talya finished telling him what she wanted him to know, no more, no less, she said, “I hope you believe me.”
“This is the first time something like this ever happened to me, and yes, I do believe you,” Pierre replied. As for the trouble we may find waiting for us in Dakar, it’s no trouble at all. In fact, our company was quite annoyed with Monsieur Hjamal—”
Suddenly as if a voice called him from the blue yonder, Pierre got up and rushed to the cockpit, shouting over the engine’s noise, “Please buckle up, we’re landing shortly.”
Talya did as requested and relaxed. She was calm. No more fear. Just sheer determination was motioning her every thought. She was on her way to the place where all the missing pieces of this fantastic puzzle would be brought together and the picture revealed.
It was 14:15, when the Lear touched down. As soon as the plane came to a standstill in front of a hangar—not much better looking than the shack they had left behind in Bamako—Pierre came back and sat down once again.
Facing Talya, he looked into her eyes. “The ambassador isn’t here, as you can see.” He pointed out the window. “But don’t worry, I still believe you. I gather you don’t want to go to the Terranga?”
What a silly question.
“You’re right at that. There is no way I’d set foot in that hotel. But, I have a reservation at the Meridien for tomorrow.”
“Well then, we’ll take you to the Meridien. I’ll put you up in the suite that my company maintains there. You’ll be safer there than if you take up your reservation. But Monsieur Hjamal will know that you’re in Dakar the minute I contact him.”
Talya grinned. “That’s alright. I’ll see him tomorrow…, as originally planned.”
By this time, the navigator had joined them. “Madame Kartz, my name is John—and let’s leave it at that for now. Pierre has told me briefly, what’s going on. As his co-pilot, I can’t go against his orders when we’re in the air, but when we’re on the ground, that’s another matter. Down here, I trust him as a friend. After hearing your story, I think you can count on my support as well. We don’t like con-artists and criminals in general, and we certainly don’t want to work for one.”
“All I can say, gentlemen, is thank you for coming back to get me out of the mine site.” Talya felt very relieved. “I really appreciate what you’ve done, believe me.”
Not expecting to find any support or a helping hand on the ground, now that the game had taken an unexpected turn, Talya was glad to have these two men to escort her to the safe haven that the Meridien should be.
John smiled. He then turned and left Talya and Pierre, to get the door opened and the stairwell lowered. John was a handsome young man, tall with a nonchalant attitude. Yet he seemed to have inner-peace that made Talya feel comfortable in his presence. He spoke French fluently with a slight African-English accent. His caramel complexion was smooth as a baby’s bottom. With his curly black hair and thin black moustache, light brown eyes and high cheekbones, he looked like a celebrated movie actor straight out of the 1930’s picture films.
Talya shot an inquisitive glance in John’s direction. “He said his name was John, but he didn’t want to tell his last name. Why was that?”
Pierre smiled. “We call him John.” He must have been asked the same question hundreds of times. “His last name is too hard for anyone to pronounce or to remember. He’s from Ethiopia but he was raised in a French boarding school. He did his training in England. And, I’ll tell you a little secret, when he’s out of uniform he’s quite a character.”
“What about you, where were you trained?”
“In France, at the Aeronautic School near Paris. I really didn’t enjoy the training—much too rigid for me. I could hardly wait to get ‘my wings’. I only did the schooling because without it, commercial flying would have been out of reach, and when I started flying, there was no holding me back. I was like a kid at Christmas. Every time I had the yoke in my hands, I was happy. Even now, it’s like that. I can’t imagine doing anything else.”
They unloaded their luggage, and a few items that would remain at the airport waiting for their next flight. The ground attendants went deftly at their tasks and after gathering her meagre belongings, John directed Talya to the hangar where an immigration officer was waiting for them. After filling out the landing forms, having everyone’s passports stamped, John led Talya out of the hangar to a waiting car.
“We’ll wait for Pierre in the car,” he said. “He has to file the flight report and lock the engines. He won’t be long.”
“Thank you,” Talya replied, climbing in the back seat of the vehicle. “Pierre tells me