Chapter 22
After a not too early breakfast Grimes sent for Sanchez.
Su Lin was present while the two men studied charts spread on the desk in the Governor’s office. Whatever the bugs picked up and reported would not be what was actually being said.
“I suggest, sir,” said the pilot, “that we start by flying to the McReady estate. There are mooring facilities there.”
“A surprise visit, Raoul?”
“More or less. We’ll give him a call about an hour before we’re due. That’ll give him time to muster a few hands and to get his own blimp away from the mast and into the hangar.”
“It sounds rather high-handed.”
“You’re the Governor, sir.”
“But not an absolute monarch. Mphm.”
“If we cast off at noon,” said Sanchez, “we should arrive at about 0900 hours, McReady’s time, tomorrow morning. The actual flying time will be seventeen hours, weather permitting. At this time of the year there shouldn’t be much wind, either with us or against us. Would you mind standing a watch or two, sir? There’s an automatic pilot, of course, but I’m old fashioned. I feel that the control room should be manned at all times.”
“So do I,” said Grimes.
“I can stand a watch too,” put in Su Lin. “I may not hold any licenses or certificates but I can handle lighter than air craft.”
“Did you fly with Governor Wibberley?” Grimes asked.
“No. I learned . . . elsewhere.”
“But what gave you the idea that you were coming with us?”
“The Lord High Governor must have his personal maidservant in attendance, mustn’t he? Who’s going to make your tea and cook your meals?”
“I can handle an autochef,” Grimes told her huffily. “When I was by myself in Little Sister I fed quite well. I don’t need a huge kitchen, such as here, with hordes of chefs and scullions.”
“Three watches will be better than watch and watch, sir,” said Sanchez.
“I suppose so. But you’re the expert, Raoul. Shall we need any crew apart from the three of us?”
“What for?”
“As long as you’re happy,” said Grimes, “I am. I don’t want any of Smith’s nongs in my hair. Come to that—I don’t want Smith himself, even though he is alleged to be my ADC.”
“He hates flying,” said Su Lin. “Whenever possible he found some excuse to avoid accompanying Governor Wibberley on his flights.”
“He knew what was going to happen,” said Sanchez bitterly.
“Could it happen to me?” asked Grimes interestedly. “To us?”
“Fat Susie is clean.” the pilot told him. “So far. And I’ve set up an intrusion recorder that will let me know if anybody has been sniffing around her during my absence.”
“One of your electronic toys, Su Lin?” asked Grimes.
“Yes.”
“Then all right. Raoul. Get Fat Susie ready for flight. I’ll see Smith and Jaconelli and tell them that I shall be away from the Residence for a while.”
“Perhaps you’d better tell Madam President and Colonel Bardon as well,” suggested Su Lin.
Sanchez left.
Grimes picked up the telephone on his desk, was able to get in touch with the ADC and the secretary without any trouble. After a very short while they came into the office.
“Good morning, gentlemen,” said Grimes.
“Good morning. Your Excellency,” they chorused.
“Captain Sanchez and I are going to take Fat Susie out for a trial flight. I can’t be sure when I shall be back.”
“Will you require me. Your Excellency?” asked Smith.
“No, thank you. Somebody has to mind the shop during my absence, to maintain my liaison with the military. . . .” Smith looked relieved. “And you, of course, Mr. Jaconelli, will maintain liaison with the civil government. I’d like you both to pass out the necessary information regarding my temporary absence from the Residence.”
“Will you be filing a flight plan, Your Excellency?” asked Smith.
“No. Captain Sanchez and I will just be swanning around, admiring the scenery, letting the wind blow us where it lists. . . .”
“It is a calm day. Your Excellency,” said Smith.
“Just a figure of speech, Lieutenant.”
“And should we wish to get in touch with you, Your Excellency?”
“Fat Susie’s radio telephone system will be operative throughout.”
Smith, Grimes noticed, was sneaking glances at the charts laid out on the desk. He wouldn’t learn much. The one with the courses plotted on it was under all the others, the one on display was of the Lake Country, west of Libertad.
“I think that’s all, gentlemen,” said Grimes.
“Thank you, Your Excellency.”
“And will you pack an overnight bag for me, Su Lin?”
“Very good, Your Excellency.”
After having made sure that his tobacco pouch was full Grimes strolled out of the Residence and made his way to the mini-airport.
Fat Susie was swinging lazily at the low mast. The end of the ladder hanging from her control cab was just clear of the ground. Grimes caught hold of the side rails, got his feet onto the bottom step. He heard, above him, the air pump whine briefly as pressure in the atmospheric trimming cells was reduced to compensate. He climbed up to the cab, through the open door, went forward.
“Permission to board. Captain?” he asked Sanchez, who was feeding information into the auto-pilot.
“Glad to have you aboard, Commodore,” replied the young man.
“What courses do you propose to steer?”
“With your permission, sir, north at first to make a circuit of Mount Bakunin. When it’s erupting it’s very spectacular—but it’s been quiet for some years now. Of course, if it were erupting we shouldn’t be going near it. After that we follow a great circle to the McReady place. That takes us over Rumpel’s Canyon and, a bit farther on, the townships of Vanzetti and Princeps. . . .”
“Should be a scenic trip.”
“Yes, sir.”
Through an open window came the sound of a female voice.
“Ahoy, Fat Susie! Fat Susie, ahoy!”
Grimes looked out and down. Su Lin was standing there, two large suitcases on the ground beside her.
“Your Excellency,” she called, “could you send a line down for the baggage?”
“I’ll fix it, sir,” said Sanchez.
Grimes watched with interest as the pilot opened a hatch in the deck of the cab, lowering through it a wire from a winch secured to the overhead. Su Lin hooked on both bags. By the time that they were inboard she was half-way up the ladder. She did not stay long in the control cab but went up into the body of the ship. Sanchez and Grimes were again discussing the navigational details of the flight when she came back.
“I’ve checked the autochef,” she said. “It’s very short on spices. No mace, no cumin, no turmeric. No . . .”
“You’ve time to get some from the kitchen, Su,” said Sanchez. “But make it snappy.” He turned to Grimes. “Women . . .”he said.
“Don’t spoil the ship for a ha’porth of tar,” Grimes told him. “Don’t spoil the stew for a pinch of salt. Don’t spoil the roast for a sliver of garlic. Don’t . . .”
“Wasn’t your Survey Service nickname Gutsy Grimes, sir?” asked Sanchez respectfully.
“It was. For some obscure reason people still find occasion to remind me of it. What time did you order the ground crew for?”
“They should be along now,” said Sanchez.
And there they were, following in the wake of Su Lin, who was carrying a quite large bag. Again the winch was put to use and then, as soon as the girl was aboard, the ladder was retracted. Two soldiers clambered up the other ladder, that inside the metal tripod, to the head of the mast. Sanchez stuck his head out through a forward window of the cab, a portable loud speaker to his mouth.
“Let go!” he shouted.
There was a faint clang as the quick release shackle at the end of the airship’s mooring wire was given a sharp blow.
“Lift!” called Sanchez.
Grimes, who had been given instructions on the drill by the pilot, used the air pump to reduce pressure in the midships trimming cell. Fat Susie drifted lazily astern, drifted and lifted, going up like an unpowered balloon. She cleared the Residence roof with ease. Grimes, looking out and down, saw that an almost horizontal part of it was being used as a sunbathing area by female members of his domestic staff. Apparently unembarrassed, one of the naked girls got to her feet to wave to the slowly ascending dirigible.
“Back inside, sir,” ordered Sanchez. “I’m going to close the windows.”
The transparent panels slid silently into place. Almost as silently the motors started. Sanchez put the wheel over, watching the gyro-compass repeater. When he was satisfied he switched to automatic.
Fat Susie, maintaining course and above-ground altitude, would find her own way to Mount Bakunin.
Su Lin came back into the control cab carrying an insulated container.
“I thought.” she said, “that you would both like lunch here.”
“The Governor,” said Sanchez, “would like lunch anywhere.”
“I resent that,” said Grimes, but jocularly. From the steam that issued from the box when its lid was removed he thought that the girl had conjured up a meal of chili beef. He sat down on the settee, gratefully took the bowl and chopsticks that she handed to him.