The Nemesis Origin

XVI

‘Are you sure you know what you’re doing?’

The town of Purot was nestled against mountainous and forested hillsides that overlooked a perfect blue ocean that sparkled in the sunlight as Ethan stepped off a battered fishing trawler and onto a rickety jetty.

‘Trust me, we’re better off moving this way from now on,’ Ethan replied to Lucy. ‘If we can’t be tracked, we can’t be attacked.’

Ethan had spent two years working in the Philippines and Indonesia with his former fiancee, Joanna Defoe. Much of their work had involved exposing corruption in local governments, whereby major corporations were obtaining legal rights to land owned by fishermen in the wake of natural disasters such as tsunami. The government took control of the damaged land under the pretence of health and safety, but instead of returning the land to villagers instead allowed corporations to build new resorts and hotels in return for cash, the fishermen forced to move on and their livelihoods taken away from them. Once independent and proud villagers now laboured for miserable salaries as porters and servants in those massive hotels, their rights to ownership of the land revoked by the government.

As a result of his work, Ethan had made many friends among the ordinary people of the Philippines and it had taken only a phone call or two to arrange discrete passage for himself and Lucy aboard a small freighter bound from Japan to Sumatra. The local fishermen of the Philippines had been more than happy to pick him up as the freighter moved through the Sulu Sea, although Lucy had been most disconcerted about the nature of their transfer. Her hair was still wet from where she had hurled herself over the freighter’s side with Ethan in hot pursuit, the captain turning a discreet blind eye to the exit.

‘I’m not used all this creeping around,’ she complained, ‘or travelling this light.’

‘That’s probably why you got caught in Israel,’ Ethan pointed out.

They both carried a single rucksack that contained their essential papers and passports, along with changes of clothes and what they could fit inside before they had hurried away from Japan. A waterproof cover protected the contents from their unscheduled dips in the ocean.

Ethan turned and paid the fishermen for their passage despite the old man’s insistence that he take no money. Ethan was not an expert in local dialects, but he took the old man’s shoulder firmly in his hand and squeezed it gently to convey the importance of the journey and the great assistance the fisherman had provided them with. The old man ceased his arguing and took Ethan’s money with a toothy smile and a flurry of well wishes.

‘Now what the hell do we do?’ Lucy asked. ‘Couldn’t we have just taken the freighter all the way to Cambodia?’

Ethan set off along the jetty as he replied. ‘We could have, if the freighter had been going to Cambodia. This is as close as we could get and frankly it’s exactly where I want to be.’

‘Do you have friends here?’ Lucy asked as they walked into the small town and searched open fronted buildings that they passed.

‘Kind of.’

‘What’s that supposed to mean?’

‘Well, they were friends, and now they’re sort of acquaintances.’

‘Sort of acquaintances?’ Lucy echoed uncomfortably. ‘So what you mean is you know some people who don’t like you?’

Ethan’s jaw split in a wry grin. ‘Now you’re getting to know me.’

Ethan changed direction and began heading towards one of the open fronted buildings, outside which stood some thatch-weaved tables and chairs. There were few tourists at such a remote location, but Ethan wasn’t looking particularly for tourists. He had already seen a man sitting outside, a fedora over his face as he reclined in a chair. He was wearing denim shorts over tanned legs, hiking boots and a loose white shirt unbuttoned to reveal a densely forested chest. On a table before him was a steaming cup of coffee, an unusual drink considering the heat and humidity.

Ethan came to stand in front of the man as Lucy moved alongside him.

‘Let me guess, another heavy night at the bar?’ Ethan asked.

The head turned slightly as the man heard the sound of Ethan’s voice, and then one big hand moved lazily to lift the hat off his face as he squinted up at the new arrival. It looked as though the man had noticed something unpleasant tasting in his mouth as he screwed his face up and then replaced the hat.

‘Piss off, Warner,’ the man replied in a rough English accent.

Ethan grinned as he sat down in a seat opposite the man and gestured for Lucy to do likewise.

‘That’s no way to greet an old friend.’

‘That’s right,’ the man replied from behind his hat.

‘This is Lucy Morgan,’ Ethan said as he gestured to Lucy.

The man still didn’t remove the hat as he replied. ‘Pleasure to meet you.’

‘And this is?’ Lucy asked.

‘This,’ Ethan introduced the man, ‘is the finest bush pilot you’ll ever meet. He goes by the name of Arnie Hackett.’

Arnie wearily lifted the battered fedora from his face and shook his head as he squinted at Ethan in the bright morning sunlight. ‘You’re a shameless scumbag, Warner. Every compliment that falls from your lips is tainted with the scent of treachery.’

‘You’re British,’ Lucy observed.

‘And I see you share Warner’s keen detective skills,’ Arnie replied with a raised eyebrow that appeared to cause his headache to increase in intensity. He let the hat drop back over his face and leaned back in his chair once more. ‘If you’ll excuse me, I have a great deal of sleeping to do.’

‘I need to hire you for some work,’ Ethan said.

‘I’d rather sever my own testicles with a blunt coconut.’

‘I can arrange that.’

Arnie removed the hat from his face once more with an irritated flourish and pointed at Warner. ‘The last time I did any work for you I almost became a piece of bullet art. Trouble follows you around, sunshine.’ Arnie glanced at Lucy. ‘You’d do well to stay away from this guy.’

‘I’d like to,’ Lucy admitted, ‘but we have a mutual interest that unfortunately means we’re tied at the hip.’

‘You have my condolences.’

‘It’s important, Arnie,’ Ethan insisted. ‘You’ll be well paid.’

‘I’d rather be poor, drunk and alive.’

‘It’s just a flight,’ Ethan said.

Arnie chuckled and shook his head beneath his hat. ‘It’s never just a flight.’

‘We need a ride to Cambodia, no questions asked.’

‘There won’t be any questions asked because there won’t be any flight.’

‘Arnie, Lucy is in trouble and we need your help.’

Arnie sighed mightily beneath his hat and finally tossed it irritably onto the table top before him. ‘It’s going to be one of those days. First a hefty bar bill, then a hangover and then you.’

‘Third time lucky for good news,’ Ethan grinned.

Arnie leaned briskly forward on the table as he jabbed a finger at Ethan’s face. ‘You walked out of here with that damned fiancee of yours and left me with a ten thousand dollar bill for repairs to my last aircraft. What you paid me barely covered the cost.’

‘You knew the risks,’ Ethan said as he waved his hand dismissively through the air between them. ‘Don’t try and tell me you think you’ve been conned.’

‘I had to forge new registrations in three different countries because of what you did,’ Arnie snapped back. ‘Those were major corporations you took on, and after you skipped the country they started focusing on everyone else who assisted you. I’m not just lucky to still be flying, I’m lucky to still be alive.’

‘We just need to get out of here without being traced,’ Lucy explained. ‘I came here to do some archaeological digs and suddenly I find myself being shot at. The sooner we leave, the less chance there will be of somebody catching on to us.’

‘Why don’t I find that reassuring?’

‘I promise you Arnie,’ Ethan said, ‘it’s just a flight we need. If we take a charter of any other kind the paperwork will lead straight to us. This way, we are out of sight and out of mind.’

‘Just how I’d like you to be,’ Arnie mumbled as he looked at Lucy. ‘It will be double the normal cost, by the hour not by the flight.’

‘Standard plus fifty percent.’

‘Do you want to fly or not?’ Arnie peered at him.

‘I’ll pay,’ Lucy insisted. ‘I won’t be able to draw the funds out without drawing attention to you, so I would have to find another way of paying you.’

‘Don’t give him any ideas,’ Ethan warned her. ‘You don’t know where he’s been.’

‘I won’t even be walking towards my aircraft without payment upfront, in full,’ Arnie insisted.

‘I’ve got ten thousand on me now,’ Lucy said.

‘You have?’ Ethan asked

‘You have?’ Arnie echoed as he peered at the rucksack slung across her shoulder. ‘Good, that will get you halfway across the ocean. I can drop you out there and you can swim the rest of the way.’

‘How about you show us your aircraft before we start paying you money?’ Ethan suggested. ‘That last wreck you dragged us about in was on the verge of falling apart.’

‘It was in perfect flying condition until you got on board,’ Arnie protested as he grabbed his hat and dragged himself wearily to his feet. ‘Bullet holes and aeroplanes don’t generally go together.’

Ethan got up as Arnie turned away and dumped the fedora back onto his head. Lucy stood and joined him as they followed the pilot away from the bar toward a dusty path that led down between dense ranks of palm trees.

‘He’s got a hangover,’ Lucy pointed out, ‘and he looks like he hasn’t washed in a week. You sure you want him to be flying us anywhere?’

‘If you want to travel incognito than people like Arnie are your only bet,’ Ethan advised. ‘Besides, he’s from the old school of flying, does everything by the seat of his pants. If we run into trouble it’s a pilot like Arnie who’ll be able to get us out of it.’

The path wound down from the town towards a large bay of deep azure water that sparkled in the sunlight, ringed by an immaculate crescent of white sand. Ranks of fishing boats, their sails stowed and their cargoes being unloaded, crowded the ramshackle jetties that lined one half of the beach. Ethan followed Arnie down onto the beach and past the jetties to where a large twin-engine aircraft floated on the water, moored to a low jetty.

Ethan was not an expert on aircraft but he could recognise some of the more classically shaped airframes and the one before him now was a fugitive from the golden age of aviation. The Consolidated PBY Catalina was painted white and looked like a giant dove as it sat on the immaculate blue surface of the bay. A veteran of World War II, the amphibious Catalina had a long hull with an equally wide wingspan atop it, two large piston engines set into the high wing either side of an angular glass cockpit with multiple windows. On her rear fuselage, two bulbous Perspex viewing bubbles that had once held cannons glinted in the sunlight, and a large side door was open with a ramp that extended down onto the jetty. Capable of landing both on the water and on land, the Catalina had been renowned during the war for its reliability, durability and extremely long range.

‘Well, you can’t have been doing too badly to have upgraded so well,’ Ethan called to Arnie as he surveyed the Catalina.

‘Are you kidding?’ Arnie protested. ‘I had this thing dragged from the jungles where it crashed about forty years ago and spent most of the rest of my money bring her up to flying condition, or what at least passes for flying condition in this corner of the world.’

As they approached the aircraft, a young Asian woman stepped out of the interior and into the bright sunlight. Wearing boots, shorts and a loose fitting shirt, her eyes were concealed behind aggressive black sunglasses and long black hair tied in a ponytail behind her head. Arnie gestured towards the woman as they walked down onto the jetty.

‘My wife, Yin Lee,’ he introduced her. ‘Yin is my co-pilot, or captain if I’m drunk enough.’

Yin directed a curt nod at Ethan and Lucy as she cleaned her hands on a rag, evidently having been busy fixing something inside the aircraft. Now that they were standing closer to the Catalina it became clear to Ethan that despite the white paint flaring in the sunlight the aircraft was very much a work in progress. Oil streaks stained the wings and many of the panels that had once been mangled in whatever crash had originally damaged the aircraft looked as though they had been beaten back into shape on Arnie’s forehead.

‘Are you sure this thing can make it all the way to Cambodia?’

‘Are you sure you can pay me to get you all the way to Cambodia?’ Arnie shot back.

‘We’ll get you the money,’ Ethan promised, ‘one way or the other. I suspect you’ll need it to finish your repairs and turn this wreck into a proper aircraft. When can we leave?’

Arnie looked at Ethan and Lucy for a long moment, evidently weighing up the pros and cons of risking his quiet life for some extra cash. As if on cue, Lucy opened her bag and pulled out a thick wad of American dollars. Displaying a hitherto unsuspected mercenary streak, she grinned at Arnie with a glint in her eye.

‘Should be enough for a decent paint job,’ she suggested mildly.

Arnie winced, at himself rather than Ethan and Lucy, as he took the wad of cash and turned to call over his shoulder.

‘Lock the repairs down and check the tanks,’ he said to Yin. ‘Let’s get her ready for flight.’