Wind Raker - Book IV of The Order of the Air (13 page)

“Interesting.”

“Not very practical for civilian use,” Alma said.

Finch nodded. “I think you’ll want a plain clipper nose for that. She’ll be steadier on landing that way, too. But this is what we’ve got, unless Odlum wants to pay to modify it.”

“Not at the moment,” Alma said briskly, and thought he looked disappointed.

They spent the next hour going through the plane from nose to tail, familiarizing themselves with the systems they’d learned in California and on the voyage over, but finally Alma pulled herself away. What she really wanted was to take it up for a spin, but it was too late in the day to think of that, even if she hadn’t been tired from their arrival.

“We’ve made a good start,” she said, firmly. “Mr. Finch, thank you for all your help. Miss Lauder, we’ll talk more in the morning.”

“I’ll telephone you first thing when the engines arrive,” Finch said, and they shook hands again.

The runabout proved to be a seven-year-old Buick with a worn interior but an engine that Mitch pronounced impeccable. They climbed aboard, Alma happy for once to let Mitch drive, and he pulled sedately out of the alley beside the hangar.

Alma leaned back in her seat as they wound their way through the city and then up the hills toward the rented bungalow. It was a good day’s work, she thought. Finch seemed reasonable enough, and Lily — well, she had to be a good engineer, or Odlum wouldn’t have hired her. She was inclined to think that the first batch of pilots hadn’t quite known what to do with her — that would explain the reserve she’d suspected in their reports. She was all too aware of how many people didn’t like to rely on a woman.

She twisted in her seat as they reached the top of the long hill, looking back toward the naval harbor and the small airfield beside it. They had a better view from the bungalow’s back lanai, but she still hadn’t gotten used to the brilliant contrasts, the vivid greens and blues and the startling tropical whites and the distant ocean. Everything was strange and exotic, and she was almost as excited about it all as the children were.

She was abruptly aware that Lewis had been very quiet since they left Finch and Sons, and gave him a quick glance. “Everything all right?”

He looked up, frowning, eyes for a moment unfocused. “There’s something — off — about Miss Lauder. Something not quite right, but I can’t seem to put a finger on what it is.”

“She got two of her co-pilots killed back in the ‘20s,” Mitch said. “One was a big crash, at a county fair or something, and a family on the ground was killed, too. I reckon she still feels that.”

Alma winced at the thought. Yes, that would haunt you, and if you were a woman, you’d be blamed more than a man would be, and would have to work ten times as hard to prove you were over it. As long as it hadn’t made her overcautious — but she’d cross that bridge when they came to it.

“Maybe?” Lewis shook his head. “I’ll read the cards tonight, maybe that’ll give me something.”

“It’s not just that she’s having to prove herself, is it?” Alma said, and he gave her his shy smile.

“I thought about that, and I don’t think so. But I’ll keep it in mind.”

T
he bungalow had seemed a good deal more spacious before they’d unpacked. Lewis settled himself at the narrow desk that stood in the downstairs bedroom, the lamp casting a warm circle of light on the scratched wood. Alma was propped up in the narrow bed with book in hand, a second lamp lit on the bedside table, her shoulders bare beneath a thin chemise. The windows were open to the night air, and the tall standing fan swept back and forth, adding an extra breeze. It was still hot, but not so bad they wouldn’t eventually be able to sleep. At least everything was quiet on the sleeping porch, the two boys apparently asleep at last, and there was only the occasional creak of a floorboard overhead as the others got ready for bed.

A bigger place would be nice. Not least because he was starting to get the idea that Dr. Radke and Jerry had a thing going, which still made him blush. Not that Radke didn’t seem to be a nice guy, if a little peppery — but then, if I’d been settling in for a summer of illicit fun, I’d be a little annoyed to have my boyfriend’s friends and family pile in on top of me, Lewis reflected. You couldn’t really blame the guy. And he seemed nice enough, with a sharp sense of humor, even if he was German. Jerry had been pretty scathing about the National Socialists when he’d come back from Berlin last year, and just as sour on the Communists, so presumably he knew what he was doing. Everyone had been careful to keep away from politics over dinner, though.

And that wasn’t what he was supposed to be thinking about here. He unwrapped his deck, taking a deep breath, then crossed himself, letting the Ave Maria slide through his mind. It wasn’t that he disbelieved Alma and Stasi when they said that the cards were only a tool, that intent was everything; it was more that the prayer ordered his mind, tidied his intent into something he felt he could trust. He addressed Saint Michael as well, the same prayer he had whispered at the front in France, and felt the familiar centered calm steal over him at last.

He shuffled the cards, holding Lily Lauder’s face in his mind: strong-boned, attractive, perhaps a little foreign somehow, but there was also something there that spoke of deep unhappiness, a bone-deep sorrow that had been borne a long time. Haunted, or perhaps hunted: either one seemed possible. Diana guide me, he thought, and cut the cards, the pasteboard warm in his hands. He turned the first card.

A woman stood bound and blindfolded within a fence of eight swords: restriction, tightened circumstances, being trapped and unable to move on. That fit well enough with what he thought he had read just in her expression, and he turned the second card, laying it across the first as the force opposite, the cause of the unhappiness. The Devil scowled back at him, naked man and woman chained at his feet. He didn’t take it literally, of course, didn’t believe that Lily was actually pursued by the devil or even his agents; that didn’t seem to fit the story he could feel unfolding at his fingertips. Power and the misuse of power, yes, that he could believe. That would fit the shadows on Lily’s face.

He turned three more cards in quick succession, laid them out below the crossed cards, past, present, and future in a neat line from left to right: the Five of Cups, the Five of Coins, and the Nine of Wands. In the past , loss, disappointment, disillusionment; three spilled cups at the feet of the bowed figure. Beggars creeping through the snow beneath a well-lighted window in the present: depression and more loss, lack of employment. Lily Taylor had been a minor star, a figure of glamour, and now she was reduced to acting as someone else’s flight engineer, working not just for Odlum but for Odlum’s employees. In the future… He cocked his head at the Nine of Wands, a man with a bandaged head standing in front of a line of wands like a palisade. A battle hard fought, and not yet won.

If Mitch’s story was true, that all made sense. Tragic accidents, the loss of her livelihood, the failed marriage… And yet he was missing something. The story felt incomplete, and yet he felt no desire to turn another card. The pieces were all there, but he wasn’t seeing them clearly. The key was the Devil, he thought. Power and the misuse of power. Had Lily made poor choices? Or was someone working against her, making sure she didn’t get work? There was the ex-husband to think about, and the families of the people who’d died in her crashes. That was a heavy burden. Neither one felt quite right, though, and he sighed and swept the cards together. He’d seen all he was going to see tonight; he’d talk it over with Stasi in the morning and see if she could suggest anything more.

He returned the cards to their silk bag and began getting ready for bed, aware of Alma’s friendly attention from the bed.

“Anything useful?” she asked, slipping a piece of paper into her book.

“Maybe?” Lewis gave her an apologetic smile as he fastened his pajama top, and flicked out the desk lamp. “From what I could tell, she’s had a hard time of it — though I don’t know that we needed the cards to figure that out.”

“Not entirely,” Alma agreed, scooting over to give him more room. She switched off her own lamp, plunging the room into sudden dark. The fan seemed louder all of a sudden, and Lewis settled himself carefully next to her, working his feet under the cool sheet. “I know I read that she’d been in a bad wreck, but that was when Gil was getting sick, so — I really didn’t pay much attention. And then she just disappeared.”

“The Crash ruined a lot of flyers,” Lewis said. It had come close to ruining them; Gilchrist Aviation had survived only by winning a cross-country air race — largely thanks to Alma — and they were still struggling to pay the bills each month. This job was a lucky break, and they couldn’t afford to let Lily’s problems spill over onto them. But that didn’t seem all that likely. As long as she was halfway competent, they’d all be fine.

Alma settled on his shoulder, her hair tickling his nose, and he brushed it aside. “Not too warm?” she asked, her voice already blurred with sleep, and he shook his head.

“Just fine.”

She settled more comfortably, and he stroked her shoulder through the thin cotton.

“I expect being divorced doesn’t make it any easier,” she said, after a moment.

“Probably not.” Lewis kept his voice even, and felt her breathing shift toward sleep. Divorce was still a sore subject with him. He didn’t think it bothered Alma much at all, but he was occasionally far too aware that his divorce kept them from being married properly — there was a part of him that felt that he was lying to God every time they signed a hotel register as man and wife. At least the state of Colorado accepted his divorce, unlike some other places, but the Church made no such allowance. By its lights, he and Alma were living in sin, and theirs was no marriage at all. It wouldn’t matter so much if it wasn’t for Dora. She was getting old enough that they’d have to decide what they were going to teach her, decide whether they were going to start attending Mass at St. Mary’s so that she could be brought up in the Church. They’d managed to get her baptized without too much trouble, but that had been old Father Paul, who was careful not to ask too many awkward questions. There was a new priest now, and Lewis had heard that he was more zealous, more determined to see good done.

And that was not a problem for tonight. Dora would be two in a few more days; her party and presents were what he needed to worry about right now, not what to do about her confirmation, or how much he sometimes missed the comfort of the Mass. The incongruity of his choices provoked a wry smile: he was pretty sure no one would tell him it was all right to say an Ave Maria before he picked up his tarot deck, or to invoke St. Michael and Diana in almost the same breath. He had said that once to Jerry, after a Midwinter ritual that had gone unusually well, and Jerry had clapped him on the shoulder.
You’re not the first
, he had said.
A thousand midwinters past, how many good Christians fed a Yule fire and whispered a quick prayer to the gods of the reborn year?
It had been a startling thought, but not entirely consoling. That was Jerry’s way; he was still groping toward his own.

Chapter Six

T
he call came during breakfast, while Stasi and Mrs. Fong battled the stove and attempted to dish out eggs and bacon and, inexplicably, rice for Dr. Radke. Of course Douglas asked for some, too — Lewis was beginning to think the boy would eat anything — and was now valiantly working his way through the small bowl while Jimmy stared at his plate and the two little girls ate scrambled eggs with spoon and fingers.

Alma was closest to the telephone, and sprang to her feet with an eagerness that spoke of relief. Lewis, reaching to catch a spoonful of egg before it hit the floor, could certainly sympathize. Jerry and Radke excused themselves, Mrs. Fong bustling out with a thermos of tea to take with them, and then Miss Lee arrived and swept the girls off to wash up, promising a trip to the beach later if Mrs. Sorley said it was all right.

“Because my brother says there’s rain coming tomorrow that’ll stick around for a few days, so now might be a good time.”

Across the table, Mitch looked up sharply, and Lewis turned his head, but Miss Lee and Stasi had already disappeared into the kitchen.

“May we be excused, Mr. Sorley?” Jimmy asked, and Mitch nodded.

“Ok.”

The boys headed for the kitchen, too, though Douglas lingered long enough to snatch one last piece of bacon. Lewis covered his mouth to hide his smile, and Mitch shook his head, but said nothing. Lewis could guess why: it was a good bet the kids had gone hungry more than a few times before Joey took off for good.

The living room door opened, and Alma returned, running a hand through her hair.

“Trouble?” Lewis asked, and she shrugged.

“Nothing new. That was Finch. He’s finally got the engines, and the one that was dropped is damaged. No surprise there, but it’s a nuisance. He says he can fix it, but it’s going to add a day or two onto the whole installation. I told him we’d take her up today anyway, without the new engines, just to get the flying time. I called Miss Lauder, and she’ll meet us there.”

“Works for me,” Mitch said, and stood up, reaching for his jacket. “I’ll drive.”

Alma took her place in the passenger seat calmly enough, but Lewis, sitting in the narrow back seat, could see her hand tight on the strap above the door. The twisty roads that led down from the bungalow were definitely something to treat with respect. He glanced out the window, assessing the high haze over the harbor. It was easy to believe that Miss Lee was right and the weather was changing; he could feel it in the thread of breeze that wormed through the windows when they stopped at a light. “Do you think the Navy would be willing to give us a forecast?”

Alma gave him a sharp glance, and he shook his head.

“No, I don’t have any feeling, it just seemed like a good idea. Miss Lee said something about rain coming.”