The Last Place God Made - Jack Higgins [9]
'The Nazis, you mean?' he nodded. 'You could be right. A bunch of bastards, from what I hear. You should meet my maintenance eingineer, Mannie Sterne. Now he's a German. Was a professor of engineering at one of their universities or something. They arrested him because he was a Jew. Put him in some kind of hell-hole they call a concentration camp. He was lucky to get out with a whole skin. Came off a freighter right here in Manaus without a penny in his pocket.'
'Which was when you met him?'
'Best day's work of my life. Where aero engines are concerned the guy's the original genius.' He re-filled my glass. 'What kind of stuff were you flying with the R.A.F. then?'
'Wapitis mainly. The Auxiliaries get the oldest aircraft.'
'The stuff the regulars don't want?'
'That's right. I've even flown Bristols. There were still one or two around on some stations. And then there was the Mark One Fury. I got about thirty hours in one those just before I left.'
'What's that - a fighter?' I nodded and he sighed and shook his head. 'Christ, but I envy you, kid, going back to all that. I used to be Ace-of-Aces, did you know that? Knocked out four Fockers in one morning before I went down in flames. That was my last show. Captain Samuel B. Hannah, all of twenty-three and everything but the Congressional Medal of Honour.'
'I thought that was Eddie Rickenbacker?' I said. 'Ace-of-Aces, I mean.'
'I spent the last six months of the war in hospital,' he answered.
Those blue eyes stared vacantly into the past, caught for a moment by some ancient hurt, and then he seemed to pull himself back to reality, gave me that crooked grin and raised his glass.
'Happy landings.'
The wine had ceased to effect me or so it seemed for it went down in one single easy swallow. The final bottle was empty. He called for more, then lurched across to the sliding door and pulled it back.
The music was like a blow in the face, frenetic, exciting, filling the night, mingling with the laughter, voices singing. The girl in the red satin dress moved up the steps to join him and he pulled her into his arms and she kissed him passionately. I sat there feeling curiously detached as the waiter refilled my glass and Hannah, surfacing, grinned across at me.
The girl who slid into the opposite seat was part Indian to judge by the eyes that slanted up above high cheekbones. The face itself was calm and remote, framed by dark, shoulder-length hair and she wore a plain white cotton dress which buttoned down the front.
She helped herself to an empty glass and I reached for the newly opened bottle of wine and filled it for her. Hannah came across, put a hand under her chin and tilted her face. She didn't like that, I could tell by the way her eyes changed.
He said, 'You're new around here, aren't you? What's your name?'
'Maria, senhor.'
'Maria of the Angels, eh? I like that. You know me?'
'Everyone along the river knows you, senhor.'
He patted her cheek. 'Good girl. Senhor Mallory is a friend of mine - a good friend. You look after him. I'll see you're all right.'
'I would have thought the senhor well able to look after himself.'
He laughed harshly. 'You may be right, at that.' He turned and went back to the girl in the satin dress and took her down to the dance floor.
Maria of the Angels toasted me without a word and sipped a little of her wine. I emptied my glass in return, stood up and went to the rail. My head seemed to swell like a balloon. I tried breathing deeply and leaned out over the rail, letting the rain blow against my face.
I hadn't heard her move, but she was there behind me and when I turned, she put her hands lightly on my shoulders. 'You would like to dance, senhor?'
I shook my head. 'Too crowded in there.'
She turned without a word, crossed to the sliding door and closed it. The music was suddenly