Amelia saw her husband in the throng. He was clapping, a cigar wedged between his teeth.
‘I’m very much second fiddle in all this,’ Noonan commented. ‘Amelia is the star, and rightly so. My job is just to make sure we don’t get lost!’
The two aviators stepped down to the floor as the crowd whooped and applauded loudly. With Eleanor Roosevelt, they turned. Amelia could see the faces of her audience, expressions of admiration,
scepticism, envy, disbelief from some. Noonan was patted on the back, a respectful path was cleared for the First Lady, and in a few moments the band struck up again. George Putnam appeared at his
wife’s elbow, an aura of cigar smoke about his face.
‘Excellent show, sweetheart,’ he said and kissed her on the cheek. ‘You look like you could do with another glass of bubbly.’ Putnam turned and collared a waiter, plucked
up two glasses from a tray and handed one to Amelia.
‘Do you really think it went well, Georgie?’
‘I do. A triumph.’ He was about to add something when they were interrupted by a man wearing a dark-brown suit and trilby. George gave him a puzzled look.
The man removed his hat, ignored George Putnam and said to Amelia. ‘Miss Earhart, I’m sorry to interrupt you.’
‘What is it?’ Amelia replied, eyes narrowing.
‘Could I ask you to come with me?’
She looked startled and turned to her husband.
‘I’m sorry, I don’t mean to alarm you,’ the stranger added. ‘It’s just for a few minutes. My superior would like to have a brief word with you.’
‘Your superior?’
The man leaned into Amelia’s ear. ‘The president, Miss Earhart. The president wants a word.’
George went to object. ‘Now look here . . .’
Amelia silenced him with a glance, then placed a gentle hand on his. ‘Relax, George. It’s OK. I’ll be back in a minute.’ The man in the suit led the way across the hall.
No one took much notice. In a moment they had reached the door, crossed a corridor and were soon out in the crisp, cool night, the noise of the gathering in the hall dwindling to nothing.
The president’s black Lincoln was parked across a small lane close to the rear loading bay of the museum. A man dressed in a black suit and trilby was leaning back against the bonnet
smoking a cigarette. Amelia could see the driver at the wheel and hear the purr of the big engine ticking over.
‘This way please, Miss Earhart.’ The agent held her elbow gently, and guided her towards the rear of the car. The man leaning on the bonnet stood up, and opened the back door. Amelia
peered inside the car, saw President Roosevelt and lowered herself onto the soft leather seat.
‘I’m sorry about the cloak and dagger stuff, Amelia,’ the elderly man said. His voice sounded tired. She looked into his dark eyes and thought he appeared especially unwell
this evening. His cheeks were carved with deep worry lines and the skin around his mouth sagged a little.
‘I’m intrigued, sir.’
‘Good.’ He took a deep breath and glanced out of the car window to the darkness laced by a dim glow from a distant street lamp at the junction of a lane and a broader street running
beside the main building. He turned back to face Amelia.
‘The fact is, we need your help.’
‘Well . . . Sure, anything I can do.’
Roosevelt held her gaze for a moment. ‘It’s an intelligence matter.’
‘And I assume you cannot tell me too much about it?’
‘No, you’re right, I can’t.’
‘OK. What do I have to do?’
Roosevelt interlaced his long thin fingers on his lap and looked down at them. ‘We need you to pick up a package from one of the stopovers on your planned flight. They tell me you are
refuelling at Dakar, Senegal.’
‘How did you know that, sir? I only just . . .’
Roosevelt held up a hand. ‘I told you, Amelia, it’s an intelligence matter.’ He tapped the side of his nose. ‘Dakar would be the best place for you to collect the item.
It will be delivered by British Intelligence.’
‘What do I have to do with this package?’
‘Bring it back home.’
‘I see,’ Amelia replied. ‘Sounds simple.’
‘I’m not ordering you to do this, my dear. I only want it done if we have your explicit agreement.’
‘That makes it sound bad, Franklin.’ Earhart allowed herself the privilege of using the president’s first name. She had known him a long time and thought of him as a family
friend. ‘You wouldn’t be saying this if it were straightforward, would you now?’
Roosevelt considered her seriously. ‘I won’t lie; there is an element of danger. The contents of the package are extremely valuable to us. And of course that means they would also be
very valuable to others.’
‘Things really are hotting up in Europe then . . .’
Roosevelt turned his gaze back to the night. Still looking out of the window he said: ‘They are, but I have absolutely no intention of drawing this country into any damn mess our friends
across the Atlantic get sucked into. However, there are some matters of intelligence, some opportunities, let us say, that cannot be ignored.’
‘Well, as I said, sir, I’ll do anything I can.’
Roosevelt turned back and took Amelia’s hands in his. She could see the veins on the back of his gnarled left hand, a cluster of liver spots in the fleshy skin above his knuckles.
‘My Secret Service guys have told me you should remember a code word to use if you ever doubt the veracity of anyone you meet claiming they are ours or from the British. The word is:
“Pioneer”.’
‘I see,’ said Amelia. ‘I’m flattered, sir.’
‘We’ll make the necessary arrangements,’ he said. ‘And, Amelia, thank you.’
Norfolk International Airport, Virginia. Present day.
It was stifling in the small room. Lou sat on an uncomfortable metal chair bolted to the floor, his legs under a table that had also been bolted into the concrete. There was no
window, and the only light came from a stark bulb dangling from a cord. He had been marched off along a corridor straight to this room, catching a glimpse of Kate as she was escorted to another
room on the other side of the main hall. Glancing at his watch, he saw that it had been nearly ninety minutes ago.
What had happened back there? Sure, he had been tired and he had always had a problem with authority; but why had they been picked on in the first place? And why had the customs people been so
interested in the cylinder? They couldn’t possibly know how significant it might be.
He took a deep breath of stale warm air and wondered if Kate was OK. Had they interrogated her? Was that the reason for the wait? Or had they simply wanted him to stew for a bit, get him really
worried?
Lou got up from the chair and started pacing the tiny room, in tight circles around the table and chair, head down, thinking, thinking, trying to rationalize, work out a way to get things back
on track. He had behaved irrationally, he knew that, lost his cool. Over the past hour and a half though he had pulled himself together, begun to think straight, be logical, be practical. Kate
would certainly have made a better showing, he was sure of that. She was always more analytical than him, always the ‘sensible, cool one’. She had got him out of many scrapes; maybe she
would be able to sweet-talk them. He didn’t mind being considered crazy, just so long as he and Kate could be on their way.
The door opened. Lou tensed up. He was standing behind the chair, hands on its cold, metal back. The man they had seen earlier, the senior officer, Mr Manor, stood at the opening. The door was
pinned to the wall with his leg. He had a closed Manila file in one hand, and gave Lou a frigid look.
‘You may go.’
Lou stared at him.
‘You look as surprised as I feel,’ Manor said blankly. ‘Appears you have friends in high places.’
Lou walked to the door and turned into the hall. From the main room he could hear Kate’s voice. An armed guard stood at the end of the corridor, his machine gun lying diagonally across his
chest. He was staring straight ahead and ignored Lou completely.
Captain Jerry Derham turned, a grim expression on his face.
‘You look pleased to see me,’ Lou quipped.
‘I think you’ve made enough wisecracks for one night, buddy.’
Lou saw Kate. She took a step towards him, looking relieved and ran her hand along his upper arm.
The two junior customs officers stood behind the counter. Derham led the two scientists towards a table close to the exit. Their cases and other luggage lay on top. The bubble-wrapped cylinder
taken from Amelia Earhart’s plane seemed to be untouched. Lou glanced at Kate.
‘You checked it?’
She nodded towards Jerry. ‘We both have. It’s OK.’
‘Come on,’ Derham said. ‘Let’s find a trolley and get out of here.’
*
Outside the main doors to Arrivals, Lou, Kate and Jerry stood close to the pick-up and drop-off point, cabs pulling up and exchanging passengers before drifting off into the
night.
‘So what the hell happened back there, Lou?’
‘Actually, Jerry, can we save the post-mortem?’ Kate interrupted.
Derham let out a heavy sigh. ‘I had to pull out all the stops.’
‘And we both really appreciate it.’ Kate gave Lou a hard look.
‘Jerry, I’m sorry. I lost my cool.’
Derham shrugged.
‘It stinks to me though,’ Lou added, catching Kate’s eye.
‘They seemed to know exactly what to look for,’ she said. ‘That was no random search. We were targeted. They were put up to this.’
‘You’re probably right. They were very hard work . . . wouldn’t play ball, even when I told them it was a military matter. I had to put a call through to Admiral Sharp. Only
then did they sit up and take notice.’ Jerry ran a palm over his forehead.
‘You look all in,’ Kate commented.
‘I’ve felt better . . . But, I think it’s time you two explained exactly what is in that bubblewrap package, and why someone should tip off customs.’
Kate smiled for the first time in hours and nodded towards Lou. ‘He’s been wanting to tell you all about it since we were on the boat!’
*
They found Kate’s car in long-term parking where they had dropped it before leaving for the Pacific.
Jerry helped them load the luggage. He checked his watch. ‘It’s 11.45. You have your passes into the base, yeah? Meet there in an hour, my office. I have to drop off some files to
one of my superiors in town.’
‘At this time of the night?’
‘The United States Navy never sleeps, Lou,’ Jerry said with a grin. ‘Catch you later.’ He walked off across the car park, skirting a giant puddle in the middle of the
road.
Although they had only been away for just over a week, to Kate and Lou it felt a lot longer. It started to rain, smearing the view through the car windows, the water splashing against the sides
of the vehicle as it accelerated away through a set of lights, around the airport perimeter, out onto Norview Avenue and then north-west on the freeway.
The traffic was very light on the I64, the six lanes of the highway were swept by gusts of cold rain. Neither of them spoke very much for the first few minutes of the journey, each lost in their
own thoughts about the discovery they had made and the recent experiences at the airport.
Eventually Kate said: ‘Our radio transmissions from the boat must’ve been intercepted. How else could anybody have possibly known we had found anything?’
‘I guess. But why would anybody be monitoring our signal? Sounds a bit far-fetched.’
‘Well, I suppose intelligence traffic is heavier than it would normally be in that part of the world because of the Chinese business.’ She turned to look out at the windswept
landscape, the grassy banks each side of the road, a few bedraggled trees in the distance. ‘I can’t believe that one of the team would have said anything to anyone. Connor or
Gustav?’
‘No way.’
A couple of hundred yards from intersection 278 they saw, coming up directly behind them, blue and red flashing lights.
Lou slowed the car and pulled over to the hard shoulder. ‘Jesus Christ! It really isn’t our damn night, is it?’
He switched off the engine and they sat quietly listening to the crunch of the cop’s boots as he walked towards their car. There came a tap at his window and Lou lowered it. The policeman
was a beefy young Latino with a bleached blond crew-cut who looked a few years younger than them.
‘Your nearside brake light,’ he said, his voice completely expressionless. ‘It’s blinking, about to go.’
‘Thanks, officer. I hadn’t realized. I’ll get it fixed as soon as I can.’ Lou forced a brief smile.
The policeman took in Kate sitting in the passenger seat. ‘Can I see your licence please, sir?’
Lou patted his breast pocket, then realized he had put his wallet in the glove compartment. He reached over.
‘Sir,’ the policeman said.
‘I’m getting my licence.’
‘Slowly please.’
Lou found the licence, handed it to the policeman and sat waiting with his arms folded across his chest. The officer studied the licence, then handed it back.
‘Could you step out please?’
‘What? I thought you said I just had a faulty bulb?’
Lou noticed the policeman’s right hand move down a few inches to hover close to his gun holster and felt Kate jab her elbow into his side. He glanced back at the officer, sighed again and
slowly eased open the door.
The man moved very quickly. The second Lou was out of the car the barrel of a standard-issue .40 Smith and Wesson was digging into his ribs.
‘Hey!’ Lou shouted and the barrel was pressed in harder. He heard more crunching gravel behind him and saw the policeman give a brief nod to someone the other side of the car. Lou
half-turned to see a second officer, tall and bald, opening the passenger door. Kate appeared in half-shadow, the officer gripping her arm as she protested.
Lou glanced back at the police car behind Kate’s vehicle and saw a third figure at the wheel.
‘Get in the back,’ the first policeman snapped and jabbed with the gun again, sending a ripple of pain down Lou’s side. The policeman opened the rear door to Kate’s car
and pushed down on Lou’s head with his free hand. Lou saw Kate being shoved into the back seat across from him in a similar way. The doors slammed behind them. The young blond officer pulled
into the driver’s seat, the bald one sat, half-turned, in the passenger side, his revolver pointed straight at them.