The Abacus Equation

by Peter Stremus

  Chapter 16

  Even in the middle of the night the water felt pleasantly warm. Pieter and Jane swam to the airplane wreck that they had visited earlier in more relaxed circumstances. Alternating they dragged a metal cable on which a heavy hook was assembled. After some short dives they had attached the cable to what they assumed was still the strongest and least overgrown construction: the point where the undercarriage was bolted to the fuselage. Pieter broke through the smooth surface and put up his thumbs, the sign that Jackie could start the winch. She pushed the big red button on the middle of the control panel and the cable tightened as a string in an effort to break away the wreck from its resting place.

  A century of concrescence with the coral bottom was not planning to throw in the towel easily. Pieter had to use brute force with his crowbar before the two floats broke loose in a cloud of sand and coral. In the process he realised that he had violated about all of the marine protection acts in existence. The remaining bottom of the lagoon was flat so that slowly the plane was dragged like a captured whale to the jetty.

  After some lengthy minutes the first parts came out of the water, from a safe distance watched and followed by Jane and Pieter. The water gushed out of the battered airframe.

  Although Pieter had dived around the wreck numerous times, he was still surprised to see the plane's relative good structural condition. Regretfully he thought that he would never be able to investigate what was still hidden in there. But for now, he was planning to use the wreck for a more important goal.

  With united forces they pulled the plane as close as possible to the wooden quay till it appeared about two meter above the sea level, taking care not to bump into the Grumman. With the help of the two girls he threw the protective canvas over the wreck. From the air everyone would be deceived and think that the Grumman was lying as usual next to the jetty. Only attentive pilots would miss the tail piece protruding in the middle of the lagoon and become suspicious.

  Pieter counted on the fact that the rotation of pilots these days on Diego was so big, that the chances were slim. Especially when it was still dark at dawn.

  Nervously Jackie and Jane boarded the Port of Call. While Jane untied the boat ropes, Pieter provided quick directions on how to pilot the yacht safely from the lagoon via the only channel that was deep enough for its draught. Under no circumstances they could now afford that the yacht ran aground.

  Jackie already accelerated when Jane jumped from the stern back onto the pier.

  Pieter sat on his knees on the wing, pumping frantically fuel into the large reserve tank. He thanked destiny that the crew at Diego Garcia had been as kind as to fill her up completely. But for the distance he had in mind he had to stuff all the fuel they could carry. Unless they wanted to land somewhere in the middle of the ocean. He cursed that the manual pump was dead slow and his arms hurt from quickly moving up and down the short handle.

  Jackie had already disappeared out of sight when the tank was finally topped up and Pieter could replace the cap and screw it tightly. He stepped into the plane and, leaving the door open, plumped down next to Jane in the pilot's seat. He flipped some switches and pushed buttons. And without paying too much attention to the normally required pre-flight routine he started the engines. He let them warm up for a short while. Also here the mechanics at Diego had displayed the decency to overhaul, albeit hastily, the engines. The chances that an engine would let them down had now been reduced to the normal risk taking when flying such an old relic. Since he had once experienced a misfiring engine, and barely survived the crash, he was not exactly looking forward to go through it again.

  The monotonous drone of the engines echoed into the nightly bay while Pieter piloted the plane through the channel and initiated an intercepting course towards Jackie. In the distance he saw the yacht's navigation lights and he steered the seaplane through the waves.

  Pieter set out to sail in parallel with the Port of Call and lit the large spotlight that was mounted in the wing. It threw a harsh, unromantic white light on the surface of the sea..

  “Stay on this course and speed,” he yelled through the headphones while he left his seat and crawled to the open door. Although the plane was going slowly, here on the open sea he had to shiver in the cold breeze and spurting water drops. The contrast with the warm water in the protected bay was huge and one long moment he felt sorry for himself.

  Jackie had throttled to the maximum and the ship was ploughing through the choppy waves. She checked for the last time the automatic helm, put on a pair of flippers and jumped into the water to swim towards the approaching airplane.

  After some strokes she looked out of the water to check her position vis-a-vis the plane. Frightened she realized that she had miscalculated the distance and started to crawl desperately to get closer to the plane. She was twenty meter away when it passed. She could clearly see Pieter at the door, swaying a buoy on a rope like a sea-cowboy planning to catch a siren. But she was too far away.

  Pieter bellowed in the plane's intercom that Jane had to make immediately a U-turn. She obeyed by promptly jerking at the controls which made the sluggish aircraft tilting over dangerously. Pieter had to grab the door handle and held his breath, prepared for the plane to hook with its wingtip in the water and flipping over. But the plane gently regained its balance and approached Jackie from the opposite direction.

  “Make sure we will not miss her again or worse, keelhaul her. Can you see her? Approach her from the port side so I can throw the buoy. Now is a good time to practice your man-overboard manoeuvres,” he shouted.

  Biting her lip Jane took, haphazardly, a course which she hoped to be the right one. “Come on little sister, where are you?”

  Suddenly she saw a vague white light and she cheered that Jackie had the common sense of grabbing a waterproof torch light before jumping into the water. She adjusted her course and slowed down as much as possible so that Pieter could hoist her on board. He grabbed Jackie by the shoulders of her life vest and pulled her in. She shook off her flippers and vest and wrapped herself in the blanket that Pieter handed her.

  “Welcome aboard. Why is it that I always have to rescue you from these waters?”

  He closed the door and got back into his seat. “Right. Now for the real work. In a couple of hours we should cruise over the southern islands of the Maldives and from there it is a cold trick to reach the civilized world.”

  The plane rolled and pitched heavily on the waves. Jane looked at Pieter's tense expression. It did not promise a lot of good. He muttered: “with all of the extra fuel she is way heavier than ever.” It seemed an eternity for the plane to lift from the water and it felt like in slow motion when they flew for the last time over the atoll to start their course to the north.

  “In the movies they tell you to fly as low as possible to circumvent the radar. As I don't know whether that is fact or fiction, I am not going to take any risks. If something goes wrong, we will not fall from a height either. The chances that we will hit a power mast in this area is equally limited. And even if I try, it looks like I cannot get higher with this thing.”

  Despite the tense action of the past hours, Jane could not resist to laugh with Pieter's remarks. “Well, Pieter, that is just fine. Why don't you just fly low and slow. I am going to put on some dry clothes. It is not very comfortable to fly in a wet bikini.”

  She tried to close the remains of a curtain between the cockpit and the cabin, just in time to hear Pieter reply: “you don't hear me complaining.”

  She stuck her head through the big hole torn in the curtain and said: “no peeking, you dirty old man.”

  As his only answer he adjusted one of the large rear mirrors from the cockpit and looked straight in her eyes.

  It was not that he did not have any interest in what was going on in the narrow cabin, but he stared concerned to the horizon where flashes of light had caught his attention.

  He hissed between his teeth and for the first time he got an
oppressive feeling. Maybe this time they really would get into trouble. Thunderstorms and airplanes, especially flying antiquities, are not a good combination.

  The first drops hammered the window screen when Jane entered the cockpit again. Silently she looked at the now pitch dark horizon where continuously long bolts lit the threatening cumulus. Pieter was playing with a small switch.

  “Those wipers are out of order. Actually I have never had to use them before.”

  He turned around: “Jackie, can you please find a seat with a working safety belt? It might become rather bumpy up here.” In the subdued light of the cabin he could distinguish a slightly swollen vein on her forehead as she was looking outside.

  Pieter had an uncomfortable feeling. A weird sentiment he had felt before. As if death or ill faith were physically present in the cockpit, standing behind his seat. In old etches artists would have depicted this as the Grim Reaper, shrouded in a wide cape showing his white skull and out of the wide sleeves the skeleton hands holding a big long scythe.

  A cold shiver ran over his spine. “Don't be ridiculous,” he manned himself. He sat straight and tight when the first gusts pulled the plane with a fierce power.

  “Come on. I am ready,” he said with a resolute voice.

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