Flying to Pieces

by Dean Ing

  During a brief rest, Reventlo brought out his radio and found to his delight that he could talk with Benteen. He reported their location and asked, "Any sign of trouble?"

  "Nothing yet. I guess Jean-Claude expects us to come to him."

  "Perhaps we shall, my dear, one way or another. Keep the home fires burning." With that, he put the radio away.

  As they neared a stone outcrop a half-mile from the tiny village, Keikano cupped hands at his cheeks. The staccato bleat of a goat floated on the air, and another. It was so realistic, Lovett needed a moment to realize Keikano was the goat. A child's. head popped up from among the rocks with a similar bleat, and Keikano called down a brief message. The child sprang off and down the slope without a response, disappearing finally among the houses.

  Lovett glanced at Reventio who said, "Japanese. I'm a bit misty but something about officers coming in peace."

  Keikano led them more slowly now, and Lovett noted what might have been a small garden shrine near a sparkling little pool made by damming the creek above the houses. Something was very different about this hanflet, and Lovett smiled when he realized it was the utter cleanliness of it all; houses on pilings with tin-can skirts to deter rats; no debris. And no bustle of natives. The only friendly native seemed to be a half-grown cat which padded to Keikano like an old friend, tail held like a flag, and wound around his ankles. It had a coat similar to the one they'd seen on the heights one day, golden with umber markings. When Lovett knelt, it regarded him solemnly for a long moment before it approached, allowing him to scratch its cheeks before it ambled off again as Keikano watched in silent surprise.

  "This must be one of the friendly cats you mentioned," Lovett said.

  "Only to a few," said the schoolteacher, in smiling puzzlement. "I did not think he would do that."

  Now Lovett could see that the village people were near, peeping from window frames. The person who met them was Yohei Ohtsu, dressed in his uniform so hurriedly that one of his leg-wraps was awry.

  Keikano's bow was a peculiar one, his voice a rapid singsong to the old man who only nodded before Keikano stepped backward a few paces, clasped his hands; bowed again. Then Ohtsu bowed and spoke.

  Reventlo bowed as well, and nudged Lovett who made a clumsy try at it.

  "My honored grandfather welcomes you to the north village and thanks you for the medicines," Keikano said.

  Reventlo smiled. "I heard him. He also apologizes for his escape." When Keikano looked up, startled, the Brit went on: "I told you I was in a Japanese prison camp, remember?' I Thdn he began to speak, haltingly, in Japanese. The old man's face began to lose a few of its frown lines.

  Lovett kept silent in the interchange that followed, his anxiety level rising. At a pause, he said, "What's going on, Cris?"

  Reventlo turned to Lovett. "I've told him he can thank us all equally for the carton I brought. Wanted to know if I can speak for you; his way of finding out who's senior man. I told him we are equals in our decisions." Both men saw Keikano listening and nodding. "I doubt he's used to democratic process, but he's just going to have to accept it.

  The way I have to accept his breath. If I'm any judge, someone's put the poor old punter on a carrion diet," Reventlo finished with a grin.

  "Let's get on with it," Lovett urged, with a glance at the sun.

  "Not that simple, old man. This fellow is caught in a time warp from-"

  He turned to Ohtsu and spoke briefly, getting a longer answer. "The last modern city he saw was Manila in 1942-the year 2602 by prewar Japanese reckoning. If we want something of him, we damned well observe the culture he remembers and keeps."

  At this point Keikano began to speak with soft urgency to the old man, whose wrinkles went through some interesting gymnastics.

  "Keikano told him we didn't come to imprison him; we're in a great hurry because, uh, his boyfriend, well, let's say his best friend, not to put too fine a point-"

  "Forget you're a Brit and cut to the chase, Cris," Lovett interrupted brusquely.

  "Right," said Reventio, trying not to look offended. "His friend is held by Pelele for no good reason and you're the lad's family patriarch and we don't have bags of time. He was more circumspect than that, but the old boy knows we're time-bound."

  "That's more like it. Thanks, Keikano."

  But Ohtsu was already motioning them to follow him toward the perfect little garden beyond the houses, Keikano following behind the visitors.

  Lovett, his inner ear hearing the clock ticks of fleeing seconds, thought he was going to begin yelling from frustration when old Ohtsu took his time leading them to low handmade benches in the garden.

  Keikano had disappeared into the largest of the houses where a distant conversation ensued. Reventlo made what were obviously complimentary remarks about the place, which looked like exactly what it was: Japanese homes in-iitated fairly well with Fundabora's materials.

  Presently Keikano arrived in the garden and served tea from a service clearly fired from local clay, then stood quietly in the background.

  Reventlo seemed nonplussed at first. But Lovett played "Simon says,"

  imitating Reventlo, and soon the old Japanese began to show less formal reserve. After one exchange, the Brit said, "He knows it was Chip he met in the cave, and wonders where his father is. He's really asking about your own relationship."

  Lovett gave the basics in a few short sentences, ending with, "Chip's my one best reason for living, I guess. If anything happens to him, I'm gonna do a Rambo number on those bastards. That way I might be able to face my daughter.

  From the tail of his eye, Lovett saw Keikano regarding him intently. As Reventio explained in his halting Japanese, old Ohtsu's glance became more thoughtful as well. He replied slowly, and Lovett caught the word seppuku in it.

  I 'He agrees; it is better to take enemies with you than to die a failure, by your own hand. He's assuming you'dsuicide if we don't, um, well..." Reventlo paused and shrugged.

  "Got it. Let him think what he likes; will he help us against Pelele?"

  Reventlo needed some aid from Keikano now, and Lovett's anxiety level climbed up his spine like mercury in a thermometer. He didn't know why Keikano hurried away until the youth returned with a small polished wooden tray containing a cloth-wrapped package. The old Japanese took the tray and offered it to Reventlo, who accepted the little package gravely. When unwrapped, it proved to be two clips of rifle ammunition, and Reventlo made much of them as he pocketed the rounds.

  "It's necessary for him to give me something special for all the goods I flew in for him. He says those bullets fit the rifle we took from him,"

  the Brit said.

  "Does that mean he will, or he won't, help us?"

  "I'm not certain yet." And Reventlo resumed the negotiations as if he had all the time in the world. Just when Lovett felt his head would burst with frustration, his friend turned to him. "The old boy can see you're in a state, Wade. You've treated him honorably and he wants to respond in kind. He says his cat never makes mistakes about a man's character but he won't conunit any of his people to your fight. Too risky for them."

  "Then he won't help," Lovett said.

  "He didn't say that. He just won't drag his own extended family into general hostilities. I believe he's sent them all out of sight to avoid letting us know how many, or how few, they are. They're all a lot of cousins to Jean-Claude's villagers, you see. As far as his own help: yes, he will," Reventlo said.

  Expelling a huge sigh: "And how many years do we sit here jawing about it?"

  "Rome wasn't burnt in a day," Reventlo told him, and resumed in Japanese, with Keikano supplying the occasional phrase. At length Reventlo said, "I've explained how we're using our wingless Tojo-by the way, to him it's a Shoki, a devil-beater. He says he could pull one of the machine guns from the 'Cigar'-that's what the pilots called their bomber without much trouble."

  "I can see us hand-firing it like some movie hero. Knock you flat on your butt."
<
br />   "These are copies of the Lewis gun, Wade, little thirtycalibres, not all that heavy."

  "Whatthehell. We'll radio Coop and suggest it."

  "And, um, there's one more suggestion he made. I hardly dare mention it, but he seems rather sanguine about it."

  Lovett knew the old Japanese was watching for his reaction. "Don't keep me in suspense."

  "He assures me the big cigar will fly, and it carries twenty mike-mike cannon as well as that dreadful fucking suicide bomb. If worst comes to worst, it's practically an air force."

  "That's it? He wants us to strafe a village full of drunks?"

  "Not the south village itself-I think. But if we dropped the bomb on Jead-Claude's council house, at the least he'd be just another fat man without a palace or a way to enjoy his pornography or, for that matter, those pathetic pretensions of his, and he'd lose ninety percent of his prestige."

  "And at most we'd blow the sonofabitch to smithereens," Lovett nodded.

  "I like it. I wouldn't do it with Chip anywhere near it, but-oh, hell."

  "What?" 'We're talking sheer bullshit, Cris. We're assuming this old guy's right, and that we could get that Betty in the air."

  "And back down again, don't forget that. I'll grant you, it's a bit much," Reventlo said, "but don't forget to smile."

  Both men turned to Ohtsu and made a brave show of teeth.

  feel like we've-wasted a day," said Lovett, his chest heaving as he leaned against a boulder high above the north village. Reflections of a midafternoon sun winked at him from the mangrove swamp far below on the island's western fnargin. "At least we should've-insisted Ohtsu-come with us.' Reventlo forced several hard breaths, a tactic that allowed him to speak with less effort. "I don't think he would've, absent force.

  We don't know what'd happen if we tried that. Certainly make at least two enemies we need as friends." He panted hard again. "Even if we're gaijin friends, definitely inferiors."

  "I didn't get that impression."

  "No?" A knowing chuckle. "You'll notice he didn't invite us into his house. Keikano had to retrieve that blood-pressure cuff so that I could show them how it's used. But I grant you, he was quite friendly for a thirties nip, especially a military man." More forced breaths as. he hauled out his radio. "I say, Melanie. Crusoe to Friday, if you need call signs. Over to you.

  After a moment the little comm set responded with Coop's voice. "She's making a tunnel out of fronds up on the bluff. Will I do?"

  The Brit told him they were enroute back to the cave, adding that the old Japanese had promised to help against Pelele, and passed on the suggestion about dismounting a machine gun or two. "Anything new from your end?"

  "Naw. Me and Myles are startin' to wonder if it was really Pelele who snatched Chip."

  "What? You think he wandered off and injured himseip" 'Nope. It's a possibility, but we have an eyewitness that says otherwise., And that's all we have-hey, is little light foot with you?" 'No. He'll be coming later with the old man."

  "He hasn't got a radio? Wouldn't put it past him."

  "We have two, you have two. That's the lot." Reventlo stood up again and began to walk, Lovett a stride behind. "Whatever can you be thinking of, Coop?"

  "All we have is Keikano's word. What if he, or the old Jap, or some of their folks, are holding Chip? Bad blood between the villages for a long time. We go to Jean-Claude mad as hell, piss him off, we don't believe him when he says he's pure as the driven slush. Somebody gives the wrong order, somebody else raises a club, and both sides thin each other out some while the old Jap sits back and applauds. You thought about that possibility?"

  "I confess I hadn't. Not a pretty scenario. We'll think on it, Coop.

  Reventlo out," he said, and pocketed his comm-set. "You heard that, Wade?"

  "Yeah. Didn't like it worth a damn," said Lovett, a pace behind.

  "Then you don't think-"

  "I'think it could be true. Chip's the only one of us that wouldn't be in danger, and that just might suit Keikano. Hell, Cris, I don't know. My grandson is my life, and for the first time ever I've got a glimmer of how a kamikaze must've, felt. Let me think."

  They did not speak again until they reached the first man trap, pausing to rest after going around the hidden punji stakes. Lovett leaned against a tree and asked, "If Keikano's people have Chip, where would they keep him?"

  "Not where we might find him. And I can't believe they'd have trussed him up and carried him north. I hate to mention this, but they could have, um, put him down somewhere in the jungle."

  "No. Keikano wouldn't let that happen. I know it, Cris, I goddamn know it."

  "Hope you're right, old man. In any case, the sooner we face Jean-Claude, the sooner we may know.".

  Lovett agreed as they set off again, adding, "if Jeanclaude's innocent, we might just throw in with him; get him to help us lay siege to the north village. He'd love that."

  "Mm, yes. We do know where the traps are," Reventlo mused.

  "And Keikano knows we know. If he were guilty, I don't think he'd have shown us."

  "It's a knotty one," said the Brit, picking his way toward the naked rocky spine of the island.

  They found the cave a subtly different place as they circled around to its upper entrance in late afternoon. Benteen had covered the approach with fronds so that they found it possible to come down the stairwell without showing themselves at the top of the low cliff. It nearly got them shot.

  "It's us! Jesus, put that thing down," Lovett said quickly, as Myles, hearing them, trained his little burp gun on the steps.

  "You ever hear of a radio," Myles growled.

  "My mind was somewhere else. I'm.bushed," Lovett complained.

  Coop was sitting in the wingless Tojo while Mel Benteen perched behind the remains of the wall with the old Japanese rifle. She hugged Reventlo, a nuance Lovett did not miss and, curiously, didn't really mind. "I hope we're wrong about what we've been thinking," she said.

  Myles handed Lovett and Reventlo two tape-wrapped packages apiece, lumps the size of a child's fist with bright orange ftizes the length of a finger protruding from the tape. "Twelve-second delays, give or take,"

  he said shortly. "Frag grenades. The initiator caps are down inside but I wouldn't get too playful with 'em. They'll stow in your pockets."

  "And we don't know who to toss 'em at," said Lovett.

  "We may, after we approach Jean-Claude," said Reventlo. it, s a fair bet he's not anxious to come here."

  "Yes, but how do we approach him," Benteen asked.

  "From a position of strength," Myles said. "The Le Toumeau's hopper can take us all."

  "Not a plan," said the Brit. "We're delicate eggs; we shouldn't tempt them by gathering all in the same basket."

  "The goddamn hopper is bulletproof," Myles insisted. ",And let's say, for the sake of argument, they decide to toss some of those bloody fireworks inside," Reventio re plied. "I for one would come out of there like a flipping tiddledy-wink."

  "You think they're that smart," Myles sneered.

  "I think the score is one to zip, and we're the zip. You decide who looks smart, so far," Lovett said. "Cris is right, but somebody as to go. I vote for me."

  "I'd rather have my pistol than this rifle, if I'm going in there,"

  Benteen said, offering the rifle to Myles. "You can't," Reventlo said, aghast. 'Oh? And who else can drive the Letoumeau: you? Coop? Anybody at all?" She looked about her, showed her open hands in an enormous shrug.

  "The Letoumeau is power, all right, but I'm the only driver. End of argument, guys. And," she said with sweet softness, "if you want to worry about someone, worry about a certain randy gent who's the biggest target on Fundabora. I will put numerous little holes in people if I have to. Count on it."

  "Not from more than twenty yards. That's no target pistol," Myles warned.

  "Then we'll just have to get closer," Benteen replied smoothly.

  The general silence hinted at misgivings as Lovett clarnbered
up to perch near Melanie Benteen on the looming Letoumeau. The nervous glances among all of them suggested that each crew member was hoping someone else would think of a better tactic at the last moment. Because no such brilliant idea came to any of them, Benteen could only wave as she put her rumbling vehicle in motion, Lovett scanning the jungle's verge. He'd decided against carrying a weapon, but at least he could furnish an extra pair of eyes. He might as well have, kept them shut; they saw no one during the ride.

  Benteen let the Letoumeau expire near the council house with a last flourish of engine noise. As a pair of Pelele's burly guards caromed off each other in the doorway, Benteen made heir way to the ground with Lovett, stuffing her pistol into a hip pocket of her slacks. "Stupid gomers are drunk as skunks," she observed.

  "Only makes them more unpredictable," Lovett replied, and tried to look pleasant as the two of them mounted the verandah. Benteen's curt pidgin to the guards parted them like a. wedge and all four of them strode directly through the lobby, then down the hallway. "You are one gutty lady," Lovett muttered to the woman pacing beside him.

  am about to foul my scanties," she murmured back without looking at him.

  Merizo may have been sober; it was hard to tell. Jeanclaude, with a bottle of Reventio's rotgut in hand, was getting a rubdown from three of his teenyboppers but sat up straight on the edge of his vast bed to welcome his visitors. The look that passed between the President and his minister Was a smug "told you so" in all known languages.

  "Tell him we assume the best man won and is still undisputed champ,"

  Lovett suggested. Benteen's pidgin brought a slack grin to Pelele's features as he replied.

  "Ever the generous winner, he's not through celebrating, so we're invited back to the village," she said.

  "We'd just adore it, but my grandson is missing," Lovett said. "We ma show up after we find him and does His Nibs have any idea where he might be?"

  Benteen duly pasted this into pidgin. Broad shrugs and a wave of sausage fingers around the big room as Jean-Claude replied. Benteen said, "He takes care of his, you take care of yours. Did we think he was here?"