“It really isn’t important. My friend was just curious as to what was so important and needed to be protected. I guess what upset him was he just needed help and thought they were rude. If they would have been polite, he wouldn’t have given it a second thought.”
The men finished their drinks and walked out into the lobby.
“Can I give you a lift?” asked Kruger.
“No, I have a car. I just need to check on a room. The company has a guest coming in from Bombay.”
“Good luck. I can’t help you with that. With the War, the hotel has probably been booked for months.”
As planned, later that evening Zacharie and Margaux Chevalier arrived at the home of Jacques and Simone du Maurier. After Jacques had mixed them all a drink, Zacharie wasted no time getting to the matters at hand. “I have some good news and some bad. Which do you want to hear first?” Not waiting for a response, he began, “I’ll start with the good news. I think my meeting with the South African went well. It’s going to be costly, but we had planned on that. I left with a good feeling and I think he’ll come through with what we need.”
After recounting the meeting, the pending arms deal, and whether or not Kruger could be trusted, it was Simone who said, “You mentioned you also had bad news.”
“As you all know, we’ve been trying to find out more about Blaine Phillips. Today, I casually asked Kruger about the warehouse Phillips used for an address. Kruger doesn’t know exactly what it is, but he does think it’s top secret and run by some division of American military intelligence. I don’t have anything other than that to base this on, but I think there was a lot more to our Blaine Phillips than ordering supplies.”
“That would explain the pistol we found on him. That’s had me wondering from the time I found it,” said Jacques.
“I don’t like this. The local police are one thing,” Zacharie continued. “As far as we know, solving the murder of one American serviceman is not their top priority. But the Americans are a different matter. Especially if he was in military intelligence. Think about it. What if he was some sort of spy? Do you think the Americans are just going to sit back and say, ‘C’est la vie?’ “No! They are going to send someone to find out what happened to him and why. There will be another!” said Margaux.
“Spy?” asked Jacques.
“Why not? What he was working on is the big question. No telling if he was investigating us or not.”
“Then we did the right thing at the canal. He would have run as fast as he could and filed a report on us. Right now we would all be in prison,” surmised Simone.
Jacques picked up a bottle of Grand Old Parr Scotch whisky and refilled everyone’s glass. “Any more good news, Zacharie?” he asked sarcastically when he was finished.
“No, I think that about sums it up for today.”
“Then I say we put this behind us the best we can and keep moving forward. We’ve come a long way toward reaching our goal and it’s getting closer,” said Jacques.
“We move forward, but we need to be cautious. As a priority we also need to know exactly who we may be up against, and that means what branch of military intelligence. We need to know everything about them. Margaux’s right, the Americans will send someone, and when they do, I’m not going to be eating dandelions from the roots along with Phillips,” said Simone.
Emma easily found her way to the women’s quarters. When she walked into the tent, it was obvious she would be the only person there. She quickly found a cot, placed her luggage on it, and pulled down the mosquito netting. Satisfied, she began the walk back to the terminal building.
Bunnel and LaCroix walked by several tents and found one housing a group of pilots. As Bunnel had suspected, there was a card game to be found. “Sergeant at the terminal told us we could stow our gear and find a place to sleep,” he said.
One of the pilots looked up from the game and looked Bunnel and LaCroix up and down. Bunnel knew the look—you look fit and able enough, why are you out of uniform—and quickly took the initiative. Extending his hand to the pilot, he said, “I’m Jim Ferguson and this is Frank Simmons. We’re with the War Department on our way to India.”
“War Department,” said the pilot skeptically.
“He’s an engineer and I work in procurement. His job is to go into the field and test things. Make sure the equipment is up to specs in combat. My job is to make sure all matériel makes it off the dock and gets to where it needs to be as quickly as possible.”
“You’re going to India?”
“And China,” added LaCroix.
“I don’t envy you doing that. Either one of you. I hear flying over the Hump is pretty dangerous,” said the pilot, satisfied with LaCroix’s answer. “Welcome aboard. Couple of cots in the back are free. They’re like sleeping on cement, but you’re free to use them.”
After they stowed their things, LaCroix asked, “Have you been here long?”
“A few days. We’re all waiting on orders.” answered one of the pilots.
“Doesn’t look like there’s a lot to do around here,” said LaCroix.
Holding up the cards in his hand and motioning to the pot on the table, the pilot said, “This is pretty much it. There are some villages not far from here to visit. A couple of us went there yesterday—a real adventure. You have to hike through the jungle, but it’s worth it. Kind of reminded me of something you see on one of those newsreels or in National Geographic. The people were really nice. It was something I won’t ever forget.”
“Unfortunately, we leave pretty early in the morning and won’t be able to go,” said Bunnel.
“You can always sit in at the table.”
Declining politely, Bunnel and LaCroix began the walk to the terminal to meet Emma. When they reached the terminal, they found her waiting for them.
“Everything go okay?” she asked.
“I think so. We’re bunking with a group of pilots. Initially, I think they were resentful of us, as we’re in civilian clothes, but I think I adequately defused the situation. I don’t blame them for being resentful. Soon they’re going to be flying into flack and have people trying to shoot them out of the sky, and here we are, dressed like we’re going on a picnic. I told them we would be going into the field to test equipment, and that seemed to take the edge off. Later tonight I’ll let them win at poker and we’ll be remembered as good guys,” Bunnel assured her.
“That or suckers. Don’t either of you let them win too much,” replied Emma.
“Your quarters all right?” LaCroix asked her.
“I’m the only one there. It’s primitive but will be fine. What do you say we see about getting something to eat? I talked with the sergeant and he told me the mess is open all day.”
“Sounds like a good idea,” said LaCroix.
Walking to the mess hall, Emma commented, “This is a busy place. The planes haven’t stopped landing or taking off since we got here. Bombers, transports, and even some passenger planes. I don’t think I’ve ever seen anything like it.”
Looking into the sky at an approaching plane, Bunnel agreed. “It definitely looks like we’re gearing up for something, something big.”
“What’s amazing is, this kind of thing is going on all over the world,” said LaCroix. “I mean, think about it, we’re standing in a country that, unless you’re good at geography, you wouldn’t know even existed. Yet we’re flying planes in here nonstop. The same thing’s going on in London, the South Pacific, and even China. Here you get the full effect. It’s a lot different than the three of us crossing the Straits of Florida in the middle of the night. Until now the war seemed pretty isolated—it was just something taking place somewhere else.”
“I had that isolated feeling in Canada,” said Emma. “I knew I was preparing to be part of something, but at the same time, I felt detached. Seeing this today, I now feel like I’m part of it. And we’re dressed in civilian clothes, so once again, we’re on the outside looking in.”
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��Don’t ever feel that way, Emma,” said Bunnel. “I think we’re a lot better off than most of these fellas. Look around. They’re all taking orders and getting ready to do what they’re told. So are we, but at least we have a lot bigger hand in our destiny than they do. What we’re going to be doing is dangerous too, it’s just that we don’t have to wake up in the morning, fly off into God knows what, and hope we fly back. Our job is just as much a part of the war as what they’re doing. We just have a different set of skills than they do. It must be just as important, as a lot of strings have been pulled to get us here and on our way to India.”
The three of them made their way to the mess hall, went through the cafeteria-style line, and had an early dinner. They were enjoying a cool glass of tea, and Emma had just lit a cigarette, when they were approached by two of the pilots Bunnel and LaCroix were sharing quarters with.
Looking at Emma, one of the pilots said to Bunnel, “Jimmy, now I know the rush to get to the mess hall. Neither of you mentioned her!”
He turned to Emma. “I’m Dale O’Connor and this is my meter-reader, I’m sorry, co-pilot, Isaac Fleischman.”
“Katherine Williams. I’m from the L.A. Times,” replied Emma.
Also standing beside them was a native boy about sixteen or seventeen years of age.
“I know you’re leaving in the morning, but you seemed to be interested in seeing one of the local villages. The boy here was our guide yesterday. I’d introduce him, but for the life of me, I can’t pronounce his name. Anyway, if you want to go, he’s agreed to take us tonight. It’ll mean coming back through the jungle in the dark, but he assures us it’s safe. Besides, we have our service revolvers, and we’ll all be carrying machetes. I have insect repellant, so we won’t have to worry about mosquitoes,” O’Connor told them. Motioning to the backpack he was wearing, he added, “And flashlights.” He paused. “Would you like to go?”
Bunnel and LaCroix had foreseen themselves playing a few hands of cards, having a few drinks, and making an early night of it. Wondering how to respond, they casually looked at Emma.
“I’ll go!” said Emma, excitement dancing across her face. “Can I come along with you?”
“Of course, you can. Might even be a story in it for you. Be happy to have you with us,” said O’Connor.
“If we can stop by my tent first, I want to get on a better pair of shoes, and then we can go,” said Emma.
Walking to her tent, LaCroix pulled Emma aside. “Why do you want to do this? We just survived flying through a storm that was probably worse than the hurricane that leveled Galveston in nineteen hundred, and now you want to go on a hike in the jungle. God only knows what’s out there, insects that could be deadly, animals, and those are only the natural things. We don’t know anything about these villagers. What if there are other villages that aren’t friendly? We could be walking into a tribal feud. No disrespect, but this is hardly the time for an anthropology lesson. Besides, we’ll get that soon enough in India.”
“Henri, I can’t explain it, I just have to go,” Emma said. I know it sounds strange, but I feel a real compulsion. It’s something I have to do. Henri, for whatever reason, I need to be there tonight. If you and Jimmy don’t want to go, that’s fine. I won’t think anything less of either of you.”
“No, we’ll go. I still don’t like the idea, but we’ll go. We just need to be on guard and keep alert,” replied LaCroix.
After a brief stop at Emma’s tent, they were on their way. She wished she had her boots, but the shoes she had changed into would work well enough. Soon, they were at the trailhead and left civilization as they knew it behind.
A quarter of a mile into the jungle, O’Connor stopped, took off his backpack, and produced a can of insect repellent. After applying some to himself, he gave the can to Emma. “Put this on. It smells something awful, but it’ll keep you from being bitten. Pass it on to the others.”
Emma complied. The repellant did smell terrible, but she didn’t complain or ask what it was made of. When she finished she passed the can to LaCroix.
The sun had begun to set and it was apparent they would soon be walking through the jungle in the darkness. Before it became totally dark, Emma familiarized herself as best she could with the trees, plants, and sounds. She knew the shapes of the trees and the sounds would change in the blackness of the jungle, but as it became increasingly dark, she had a sense of confidence about her and shared it with Bunnel and LaCroix.
“Before the sun goes down, try to get used to everything,” she told them. “Make a mental picture of it. That way when we come back, it won’t look so spooky.”
Both nodded their heads in agreement and kept walking forward.
“Katherine, have you done this before?” asked Fleischman. “You seem like you know your way around the woods.”
“I grew up doing a lot of camping in the Sierras and Yosemite. My father is an outdoorsman—fishing, hunting, and camping. We used to ride miles into the wilderness on horseback just to camp. I hated it at the time, but now, looking back, they were great times. How about you, Isaac?”
“Camping for us was a trip out to Montauk to the beach, stopping for a lobster roll after, and trying to make it back to Queens before midnight. This is all new to me,” said Fleischman.
“How about you, Dale?” inquired Emma.
“I’m from Pittsburgh. My father was a doctor and worked all the time. Growing up, we never did much. I was in the Boy Scouts. Didn’t make Eagle Scout, but I learned a lot of outdoor skills.”
“What does he think of you being a pilot?” asked Emma.
“I don’t know. He died before I got my wings. He had worked all day and then, around seven in the evening, he received a phone call that one of his patients had gone into labor. It was a tough delivery and the baby didn’t arrive until almost six the next morning. After it was born, my father went to wash up and dropped over dead at the sink with a massive heart attack. But the mother and baby were both fine.”
“I’m so sorry. I didn’t mean to pry,” replied Emma.
“It’s okay, Katherine. You didn’t know. He would have loved this, being able to come out here and help these people. I think he would be happy I made the hike yesterday and am coming back tonight,” said O’Connor.
Emma smiled but thought, I feel like a real jerk, lying to these guys. I’ve never been camping in my life, but I can’t very well tell them I was just in Canada, learning how to stalk people in the dark and kill them.
Suddenly, she stopped and held out her hands for Fleischman to also stop. “Isaac, let me have your machete.”
“What’s wrong?”
“Snake. I don’t know what kind it is, and I don’t want to know. Don’t move. Just let it pass, and everything should be good.”
When the huge snake had slithered across the path and disappeared into the jungle, they continued their walk for another hour until the jungle gradually began to dissipate. They could see the sky illuminated by several fires and could smell the smoke of burning wood. Walking into a clearing, they arrived at the small village.
“We’re here. This is it,” said O’Connor.
Seeing the five of them enter the village created a stir, as the villagers weren’t expecting them. While they stayed at the edge of the clearing, their guide quickly found the leader of the village, an older man, and quietly talked with him. A few minutes later the leader motioned them to enter the village.
“I explained to him you were here yesterday and tonight you wanted to bring some friends to meet him. It made him very happy,” said their guide.
O’Connor took the lead and walked up to the village’s headman. A smile came across the man’s face as he recognized Fleischman and saw Emma, Bunnel, and LaCroix. O’Connor, through the guide, introduced them. The headman was especially intrigued with Emma.
“He likes your hair,” said their guide. “He would like to know if he can touch it. He means no harm.”
“Of course, tell him he ma
y,” said Emma.
The man gently ran his fingers through Emma’s hair a couple of times and said something she couldn’t understand. Their guide translated for her. “He says it is very soft and beautiful.”
Emma laughed and replied, “Thank him, and tell him it’s even softer and prettier when I haven’t been walking for a couple of hours through the jungle.”
Apparently, the boy translated well for her, as the man joined her with a deep laugh then motioned them all to sit beside him by a large fire in the middle of the village. Gradually, other men and women from the village joined them around the fire. Recognizing O’Connor and Fleischman, they greeted them and relaxed.
“Dale, it looks like you made some friends here yesterday,” said Emma.
“I think I did,” he replied.
Looking across the fire at one of the women, naked from the waste up, LaCroix commented to Bunnel, “Dale was right this afternoon. This really is something out of National Geographic. We sure don’t have anything like this back in Vermilion Parish.”
Through their guide, O’Connor made small talk with the leader of the village. After a few minutes he opened up his backpack, laid the machetes and flashlights on the ground, produced a carton of Camel cigarettes, and gave them to the old man.
“These are for you, my friend,” said O’Connor. Then, reaching into the pack, he produced a can of Spam and handed it to him, as well. “There’s more in here,” said O’Connor, pointing at the pack.
“And in here,” said Fleischman, holding up his pack and placing it in front of the overwhelmed man.
“I think you made him happy,” said Emma.
“Yep, looks like Spam’s the ticket. I just hope he doesn’t insist on me marrying his daughter. He introduced her to me yesterday, but I got off the hook by telling him I’m married and my wife wouldn’t like it,” said O’Connor.
Operation Blue Sapphire Page 7