flight attendants had dimmed the lights, to help people sleep away the time zones. Wally had traveled a lot since joining the Committee, but he still hadn’t learned how to sleep on an airplane.
He yawned; his jaw hinges creaked. Wally stretched until the metal in his seat groaned. He made another attempt to focus on the guidebooks they’d purchased, but they were full of stuff he didn’t understand. He figured it would all make more sense once he got there.
The in-flight movie looked good; it even had a couple folks laughing. But the headphones didn’t fit him.
“Hey, Jerusha?”
“Uh-huh?”
“What do you think we’ll find over there? In Congo?”
In a stage whisper, Jerusha said, “The horror. The horror.” She grinned, as if she’d just made a joke.
Wally stared at her.
“Maybe we’ll find an ivory dealer.”
Wally shook his head, slowly.
“Joseph Conrad?
Heart of Darkness
?”
Wally shrugged.
“It’s a book.”
“Oh. I don’t read much.” He shrugged, but inwardly he cringed. This was the sort of admission that attracted cutting remarks the way magnets attracted iron filings. He braced himself for the inevitable sneer.
But something strange happened: she shrugged, too. “You’re not missing anything. I had to read it in high school. Royally hated it, too.”
“We had to read
The Great Gatsby
. That’s the longest book I’ve ever read. I had to ask Mr. Schwandt for an extra week, but I finished it.”
“Good for you.” Weird—it sounded like she meant it. No sarcasm. “Oh, I know. Do you see many movies?”
“Oh, sure. Lots.”
“Ever see
Apocalypse Now
? It’s based on
Heart of Darkness
.”
“Yeah, I saw that one. I liked it pretty good when I saw it.” Thinking about war movies reminded him of what he’d seen and done in the past couple of years. More quietly, he said, “I don’t think I’d like it so much now.”
Wally was quiet for a long time. When he looked up again, he found Jerusha still looking at him.
“Wally? How many kids do you sponsor?”
“Seven. Counting Lucien.” Again, that pang of worry. “We’re gonna find him, right?”
“You know what I think? I think we’ll get all the way over there, and find out that Lucien is a little boy.”
“What does that mean?”
“It means he’s a kid. Kids are forgetful. They play and make up games and forget to do the things their parents tell them. That’s what kids are supposed to do.”
“I never thought about it like that. I hope so.”
In a lighter tone, Jerusha asked, “So. How’s it coming with those guidebooks?”
“Oh, good. Real good.” She looked at the unopened books on his tray table, then cocked an eyebrow at him.
Wally’s sigh sounded like the release valve on an overheated boiler. “I don’t read much,” he confessed.
“Did you do any preparation at all for this trip before you called me?”
“Well, I have all of Lucien’s letters. And on Saturdays back home my brother and I used to watch those old Tarzan movies on TV. I’ve probably seen them all.”
“Tarzan.” Jerusha rubbed her eyes. “Great.”
“I can even do a pretty good Tarzan yell.”
Quickly she said, “Please don’t.”
“You’re not mad, are ya?”
“I’m not mad at
you
, Wally. I’m mad at . . .” She gave him a wan little smile. “I’m just a little tired, that’s all. I haven’t slept since yesterday.”
Wally didn’t know what to say, so he said, “Thanks.”
He picked up a guidebook. And when he woke up, they were in Rome.
Headquarters of Silver Helix
London, England
Noel sat on the floor of the file room, sucking on a Tootsie Roll Pop (part of the leftover Halloween candy stash, another peculiar American custom) and reading through the agency’s files on the Nshombos. He had quit the Silver Helix last year, and he and the organization had a fragile peace.
Noel’s statements to the Hague had led to the arrest of John Bruckner, aka the Highwayman, and Brigadier
He yawned; his jaw hinges creaked. Wally stretched until the metal in his seat groaned. He made another attempt to focus on the guidebooks they’d purchased, but they were full of stuff he didn’t understand. He figured it would all make more sense once he got there.
The in-flight movie looked good; it even had a couple folks laughing. But the headphones didn’t fit him.
“Hey, Jerusha?”
“Uh-huh?”
“What do you think we’ll find over there? In Congo?”
In a stage whisper, Jerusha said, “The horror. The horror.” She grinned, as if she’d just made a joke.
Wally stared at her.
“Maybe we’ll find an ivory dealer.”
Wally shook his head, slowly.
“Joseph Conrad?
Heart of Darkness
?”
Wally shrugged.
“It’s a book.”
“Oh. I don’t read much.” He shrugged, but inwardly he cringed. This was the sort of admission that attracted cutting remarks the way magnets attracted iron filings. He braced himself for the inevitable sneer.
But something strange happened: she shrugged, too. “You’re not missing anything. I had to read it in high school. Royally hated it, too.”
“We had to read
The Great Gatsby
. That’s the longest book I’ve ever read. I had to ask Mr. Schwandt for an extra week, but I finished it.”
“Good for you.” Weird—it sounded like she meant it. No sarcasm. “Oh, I know. Do you see many movies?”
“Oh, sure. Lots.”
“Ever see
Apocalypse Now
? It’s based on
Heart of Darkness
.”
“Yeah, I saw that one. I liked it pretty good when I saw it.” Thinking about war movies reminded him of what he’d seen and done in the past couple of years. More quietly, he said, “I don’t think I’d like it so much now.”
Wally was quiet for a long time. When he looked up again, he found Jerusha still looking at him.
“Wally? How many kids do you sponsor?”
“Seven. Counting Lucien.” Again, that pang of worry. “We’re gonna find him, right?”
“You know what I think? I think we’ll get all the way over there, and find out that Lucien is a little boy.”
“What does that mean?”
“It means he’s a kid. Kids are forgetful. They play and make up games and forget to do the things their parents tell them. That’s what kids are supposed to do.”
“I never thought about it like that. I hope so.”
In a lighter tone, Jerusha asked, “So. How’s it coming with those guidebooks?”
“Oh, good. Real good.” She looked at the unopened books on his tray table, then cocked an eyebrow at him.
Wally’s sigh sounded like the release valve on an overheated boiler. “I don’t read much,” he confessed.
“Did you do any preparation at all for this trip before you called me?”
“Well, I have all of Lucien’s letters. And on Saturdays back home my brother and I used to watch those old Tarzan movies on TV. I’ve probably seen them all.”
“Tarzan.” Jerusha rubbed her eyes. “Great.”
“I can even do a pretty good Tarzan yell.”
Quickly she said, “Please don’t.”
“You’re not mad, are ya?”
“I’m not mad at
you
, Wally. I’m mad at . . .” She gave him a wan little smile. “I’m just a little tired, that’s all. I haven’t slept since yesterday.”
Wally didn’t know what to say, so he said, “Thanks.”
He picked up a guidebook. And when he woke up, they were in Rome.
Headquarters of Silver Helix
London, England
Noel sat on the floor of the file room, sucking on a Tootsie Roll Pop (part of the leftover Halloween candy stash, another peculiar American custom) and reading through the agency’s files on the Nshombos. He had quit the Silver Helix last year, and he and the organization had a fragile peace.
Noel’s statements to the Hague had led to the arrest of John Bruckner, aka the Highwayman, and Brigadier
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