Final Flight (24 page)

The Palestinians were a running sore because the
system could not expand to take them in. The system could
not grant their desire for nationhood because none of the
Arabs truly had a nation. So the Palestinians were
cast out, as the culturally oppressed in Iran
felt they, too, had been cast out.

Would he find the crate? Inshallah, “if
Allah wills it,” his people would say.

I will find it, Qazi told himself. The Arabs have
been a long time dying. The crate will be there and I will
find it. Because I will it.

He pulled his cap visor down to protect his
eyes and began vigorously applying paint.

“Is Chaplain Berkowitz around?” Jake
Grafton asked the sailor at the desk in the
chaplain’s office. “CAG, is that you?”
Berkowitz’s door opened wide and he stood there
smiling. “Come in, please.”

Berkowitz was short and wiry, with a luxuriant
head of hair that always looked as if he had missed
his last appointment with the barber. He was the senior
chaplain aboard-the United States had three-and
held the rank of commander.

“I was aboard last night when the OOD’S
messenger found me.

I was delighted to help out.” Berkowitz dropped
into one of the visitor’s chairs near Jake.

Jake glanced around. The chaplain had painted his
office a light beige and procured carpets from
somewhere. A Star of David hung on one wall.

On the opposite wall was a cross.

“So how is Bull?”

“I can’t violate a confidence, of
course, but I think he is coming to terms with himself, which
is the important thing.” Jake nodded. “I was a
little worried. You know how it is with guilt. It’s
an acid that eats away everything.”

“Chaplain Kerin is talking with him this morning.
Commander Majeska’s a Protestant, and Kerin is
about as near to his denomination as we have aboard ship.
It was a terrible thing about Lieutenant Reed, but
Majeska is only a man and he made a very
human decision. It’s the same decision most of us
would have made had we been in his place. I think he
sees that. But until he understands that emotionally and
comes to term with it . Berkowitz ran out of words.

“Yeah,” Jake said. “Thanks again, Rabbi.”

“Umph. You aviators. You all think you are
supermen.” Berkowitz smiled to take the sting out of his
words. “Naval aviation is the home of more titanic
egos than any other enterprise I’ve ever
encountered. With the possible exception of television
evangelists and congressmen.” He grinned again as a
smile flickered on Jake’s face. “Sometimes
it’s hard for supermen to face their own humanity.”

“Yeah.” Jake started to rise but Berkowitz
motioned him back into his chair.

“I’ve wondered how you felt since the
doctor grounded you.” The chaplain leaned forward.
“So this visit is not unwelcome. Perhaps you could
tell me how you’re handling it and that would help me when
I counsel the other fliers. I see more of them than
you might suspect.”

Jake moved forward in his chair until only
three inches of his bottom was on the seat. “I’m not
very religious, you know.” The expression on
Berkowitz’s face forced him to add, “But you guys
do great work. We sure do need chaplains…”

“As a safety valve? To keep the pressure
cooker from exploding? Every man is a pressure
cooker, CAG, including you.

“Call me Jake.”

“Jake.”

“Yeah. Well, I’m making it.”

Berkowitz rose and retrieved several sheets of
paper off his desk. “All the men aren’t making it,
Jake. Five more UA’S this morning.” UA’S were
unauthorized absentees. “It’s curious.
Normally we don’t lose men like this, although maybe
the four months we spent at sea is a factor.
But two of these people are petty officers.” He read
Jake the ratings: communications technician first and
quartermaster third. “Curious.”

Jake examined the list.

“One of the nonrated men who disappeared the last time
we were in Naples has shown up in San
Diego.” The chaplain shrugged. “Do we have a
problem?”

“Thanks for your time. How about keeping an eye
on Bull?” Jake shook hands and left, headed
for the XO’S office.

Ray Reynolds was on the phone. “Listen,
Lieutenant. These men aren’t all drunk up in the
Gut. Now I want them found.” He covered the
mouthpiece with his hand and whispered to Jake, “Shore
Patrol.” There was a permanent Shore Patrol
detachment stationed in Naples under a U.s.

Navy Lieutenant. Reynolds had
undoubtedly reached him on the ship-to-shore
telephone. “So what if I give you some more men?
Will you search if I sent you some more men? … How
many do you need?”

He motioned Jake toward a chair and consulted his
watch. “I’ll have them come in on the noon boat.”
Reynolds listened a moment. “I know what your
responsibilities are. I’m sending these men with
their own officer, and I expect you to cooperate with
him. And this evening I’m going to be there to have
a little face-to-face with you. You’d better have some
good news for me.

Reynolds hung the phone up with the
lieutenant’s voice still coming out.

His voice had not risen once during that conversation.
He was known as a man who maintained an even
strain, a man who never got excited, but you had
better listen to what was said and ignore the conversational
tone of voice or you weren’t going to get the
message. Jake wondered if the shore patrol
officer had listened carefully enough.

“Jake, I need another dozen enlisted from the
air wing and one more officer to augment the shore
patrol. Make him a lieutenant commander so he
doesn’t have to take any shit from that lieutenant on
the beach.

Everybody in whites. Relieve them every eight
hours. Have the officer come see me before he goes
ashore.”

Jake picked up the phone on his desk and
called Farnsworth, relaying the order.

“Something is going on,” Reynolds said when
Jake hung up. “We’re bleeding men like the
Confederate army at Petersburg. If we get
one more UA, just one, we’re securing
liberty.”

Jake pursed his lips for a silent whistle.
Locking the men up on the ship after four months at
sea was a drastic step. “Been to see the
captain?”

Ray nodded. “Laird James is not happy.
He’s sending a message to everyone in uniform east
of the Mississippi. He’s going to get on the
PA system in a little while and tell the men what’s
going on.”

“What is going on?”

“Damned if anyone knows.” Reynold’s
massive shoulders moved up and down. “I still think
it’s the goddamn Arabs, but guesses are three
for a quarter. We’ve got to protect our men.

“Maybe we oughta go see the local authorities?”

“Admiral Parker already choppered off this morning
to do just that. He isn’t happy, either.”

Jake stood up. “I’ll have all the squadron
skippers talk to their men before liberty call goes
down. At least they can stick together, look after each
other.”

“Do that.” The XO picked up the phone and started
dialing.

Jake headed for the door.

Colonel Qazi and Yasim were eating lunch with the
Italian workmen on the paint scow when Captain
James began speaking on the PA system. The
bosun’s pipe that preceded his remarks echoed through the
hangar bay and was perfectly audible to the men on the
scow. The workmen stopped talking to listen to the whistle
of the pipe, but they ignored the captain since most of
them didn’t speak English. Qazi, though, listened
carefully as he chewed pickled olives and sipped
a local red wine.

After lunch he spoke to the painting supervisor,
who had one of his men start the engine in the boat
moored alongside and take Qazi and Yasim
ashore. The workmen would keep their mouths shut, at
least for a few days, Qazi knew, because they had
been well paid. By one of Pagliacci’s men. That
fact was probably more important than the money.

As the boat carried them away from the ship, Qazi
looked back.

She was so huge he felt a moment’s unease.
He could see the tails of the airplanes protruding
over the edge of the flight deck and the top of the
massive island with its arrays of antennas. In the
catwalk on the port side he saw one
of the fifty-caliber machine guns. The marine wore
a helmet and was waving at them.

Qazi waved back.

“Lieutenant Tarkington is out here to see you,
sir,” Farnsworth said, leaning through the door
to Jake’s office.

“What’s he want?”

Farnsworth managed an off-balance shrug.
“Okay.” Farnsworth stepped through the door, opening
it wide and holding it. When Toad passed, the
yeoman exited and closed the door. The Keeper
of the King’s Gate, Jake thought. He would have
to speak to Farnsworth. His doorman’s bit was
becoming too theatrical.

“Good morning, sir.”

Jake stared at the junior officer standing
exactly two feet in front of his desk.
“Thanks a lot for your efforts last night,
Tarkington. I really appreciated your suave and
de-boner performance.”

“I’m sorry, sir.”

Daggone, Jake thought, he appears sincere.
Jake bit a small piece of his lower lip
to hold back the smile.

“So why are you here to waste my time?”
Jake shook a piece of paper at Toad, who was
staring at a spot two feet over Jake’s head.

“Uh, I’ve made a serious mistake, sir.
Judith really is a very nice girl.”

Jake snorted and pretended to read the paper in his
hand. “She’s really not like she seems. She’s a
highly intelligent lady.” He cleared his
throat. “I really want to get to know her better,
sir.

“Really? Tarkington, that woman could rip the
balls off a brass monkey.

Why are you standing here in front of my desk?”

“She’s a wonderful woman, sir. I see that
now. At first I thought she was just another airhead.
You know, a great bod and a brain that went into storage
overload by the time she was in the fifth grade.” His
voice fell and he confided, “You know the type,
serious astrology and screwball causes and
long-haired cats. But Judith’s not like that at
all. Uh, I guess I’ve sort of … like .
um, fallen for her.”

“Do I look like a chaplain? I don’t give
a damn about your love life or lack of it. That
goddamn witch is probably related to the
Borgias. Go write a long letter home
to momma and tell her all about it. Get out of my
office.”

“I want you to get me another date with her,
sir,” Toad blurted.

“Please,” he added as Jake stood up so fast
his chair crashed against the bulkhead.

Jake leaned across the desk and roared, “I
don’t procure women for anybody, mister. I’m
a captain in the United States Navy. You’re
a fucking lieutenant and don’t you forget it. How
dare you come into my office and ask me to fix you up!”
The last three words dripped off his lips like
poison from a snake. “Jesus H. Christ!”

“But “Shut up!” He could have silenced a riot
with that shout. “I’m doing the talking here. Now when I
finish, you will about-face and march your brassy, sassy
ass out of my office. If I ever again lay eyes
on you in this office on anything other than official
business, you will be the radar intercept officer on a
garbage scow in Newark for the rest of your naval
career. Are you reading me loud and clear?” He was in
fine voice, braying at the top of his lungs.

“Yes, sir.”

“Don’t you ever again ask a senior officer
to assist you in your debaucheries.” He
lowered his voice: “You ask the senior officer’s
wife. Mine is still at the hotel.” The volume
went back up: “Now get out! Out out out!”

Toad fled. As the door to the outer office
closed smartly, Jake collapsed in laughter
into his chair. This was the first good laugh he had had in
months. Farnsworth appeared in the door with his
eyes wide and his mouth hanging open.

COLONEL QAZI AND ALI sat in the car
and stared through the chain-link fence at the six
helicopters sitting on the concrete mat.

“There’s another in the hangar,” Ali said.
“Pagliacci’s man says the choppers will be fueled
and ready tomorrow night. The watchman at the gate and the
man at the office of the helicopter company have been
visited by Pagliacci’s men. We are to tie up the
watchman.”

“We only need three helicopters.”

“We may take any three. All will be fueled
and ready, so if we have a problem with one, we merely
leave it and take another.”

“What if none of them are ready?”

“But “What if the watchman gets frightened before you
arrive and calls the police? What if there is a
police car sitting there beside the office?

What if the transport company manager has
panicked and sabotaged the helicopters and none of
them will start? We will already be aboard the ship. We will
be committed. What will you do then?”

“Well, if it’s just a police car, we’ll
kill the policeman and proceed as planned. If
the helicopters won’t start, we will go to the backup
machines at the military base.” Weeks ago
Qazi and Ali had examined every airport within
fifty miles, and had located acceptable machines
they thought they could steal if necessary. “Nothing will go
wrong, Colonel. We will get the choppers.

“Where is our watcher?”

“Over there.” Ali nodded toward an abandoned
warehouse. “He’s in that little room up at the
apex. We relieve him every twelve hours and
Yasim develops his photographs. If the
watchers see anything suspicious, they will let us
know immediately by telephone.”

“Who are you using as watchers?”

“The pilots. Here and at the military
airfield. But the last shift before departure will have
to be stood by nonpilots. It’s unavoidable.

We only have four of them. Still, it’s an
acceptable risk. Nothing will go wrong,
inskallah.”

“Don’t give me that “if Allah wills
it” dung! You will succeed no matter what
happens, because you will be very careful, take
precautions, and be ready for the unexpected.”