Flying the Storm

28.





Plans for Surrender

Teimuraz had got a call from security about a westerner in the airport lobby, shouting and interrogating people about whether they’d seen a blond pilot or a Skua aircraft. Teimuraz had shown the security feed to Fredrick on his desk monitor.

“Yep,” he’d said. “That’s Aiden.” The stubborn bastard had followed them all the way to Georgia.

And now Aiden was in Teimuraz’ office with them all. Fredrick had expected relief; joy, even, at being reunited, but in truth Aiden just seemed distracted. Elsewhere.

His eyes were different. His face was bruised and a little swollen, but it was his eyes that had changed the most. They stared into the distance now, through Fredrick or Solomon or the wall, and when they did move they flitted about, jumping from person to person. His speech was different too; there were long, drawn-out silences between rapid bursts of talking. Something was very wrong.

It had taken a few tries to piece together Aiden’s story in an order that made sense, but now that they had Fredrick could see why his friend was distracted. The guilt that had been heaped on him over the past few days was substantial. In his head he needed to answer for the militiamen killed in Ashtarak and the merchants lost to the bandit raid. The blame wasn’t his, but it didn’t seem like Aiden could see that.

“So this bounty hunter,” said Solomon, “this Prosper fellow, the girl is with him?”

“Yes,” said Aiden, looking out of the window of Teimuraz’ office. It was getting dark outside. “He’ll have her with him for leverage.”

“When did you say the pickup was?” asked Fredrick.

Aiden nodded at the map on Teimuraz’ desk. “Fifteen-hundred, local time,” he said. The time was written by the mark at the village of Didgori. His gaze returned to the flood-lit airport outside.

Teimuraz shifted in his chair, the plush leather squeaking under his bulk. He refilled his glass of chacha. He offered the bottle around, but nobody else had finished theirs. Least of all Aiden, who hadn’t even touched his. Teimuraz stoppered the bottle and meekly sat it back on his desk.

Solomon sat forward then, leaning on his knees. “How many men do you reckon he has with him?”

Aiden frowned. “No idea. There will be bandits. Who knows, maybe there will be marines at the pickup too.”

Solomon’s face was dark, thoughtful. Fredrick wondered how old the man was. Physically, he could have been in his thirties, and in good shape even for that. But there was something about his manner -and his eyes- that suggested he was a lot older. Those eyes had seen a lot. It was hard to say what colour they were, grey maybe. Dark grey.

“Bandits and marines,” said Solomon.

At Kakavaberd and Baku they’d had Tovmas’ militia. Here they had no one to back them up. It didn’t seem likely that Teimuraz would send his airport security people along; it was too risky. Besides, it was hardly his fight.

Without risking more lives, it didn’t seem possible to fight it. To save the merchant’s daughter, they would have to go along quietly. Elias Prosper had trapped them well.

Of course, there was no guarantee that the girl would go free even if they did hand themselves over to the Gilgamesh. They were trusting in the word of a psychopath. Somebody who was not supposed to be trusted. It was like chickens trusting a fox.

“Who’s to say she’s still alive?” asked Fredrick, blatantly. He regretted it as soon as he said it, though he knew he had to ask.

Aiden looked at him slowly. “She was alive when I heard her on the radio. Nobody’s saying she’s still alive, but if we don’t show, then she definitely won’t be.”

He was right. There was only a chance that the girl would live if they met Prosper at the pickup point. Fredrick wasn’t so keen on just handing himself over, though. They would think of something. They had to.


Teimuraz shifted again. He was obviously uncomfortable. “I would lend you some men if I could…” But it really isn’t my problem, Fredrick finished silently. It was true, though. It wasn’t Teimuraz’ problem.

“The way I see it,” said Solomon, “you guys should cut and run. Don’t go to him. I don’t think you should trade yourselves for the life of one person. There’s no guarantee she’s alive anyway, like you say.”

Vika, silent and still until now, spoke up. “And abandon the poor girl? They won’t kill her. Not right away. She’ll be given to the raiders. They will rape her. They’ll keep her with them as a camp whore, or else sell her on to the slave markets in the south. If Aiden and Fredrick don’t show, her life will become a living hell. How can you even think about abandoning her?”

“Vika,” replied Solomon, “this sort of thing happens all the time. Now I know you have had some bad experiences recently-”

Fredrick winced. Now he’d done it.

“Bad experiences?” cried Vika. “Dragged from my home to be sold as a slave to some northern beast? You think I should just have accepted it, like that poor girl should? You don’t know what you are saying!”

God, she was hot when she was angry. Her eyes seemed to glow like green flame. Fredrick would have tried to calm her down, if he didn’t like it so much.

Solomon snorted. “So you think Aiden and Fredrick should just give themselves up to be executed by the Gilgamesh? For a single girl? It is a bad death waiting for them if they are caught. They will be tortured first. Their bodies will be strung up over the docks at Sevastopol and the video of their deaths will be spread over the network for everyone to see. Do you want that for them?”

Vika took a step towards him, but Solomon did not flinch. “No, but we should at least try to save her!”

“And how do you plan to do that? Are you ex-special forces? Do you have snipers? Hostage rescue teams?” Solomon shouted back. Teimuraz cowered in his chair in the middle of it all. Fredrick didn’t know what to say.

“Enough!” commanded Aiden. Everybody turned to him, startled. “We are going,” he said. “We are not leaving her to die.”

Solomon sighed, and threw his hands up in exasperated submission. He sat back down and picked up his glass again, swirling the strange Georgian brandy. Fredrick could imagine his train of thought. He was considering how he didn’t have to be involved. The only reason he needed the pair of flyers was to take him to find the Enkidu. Somebody else could fill that gap, if necessary. For the money he was offering, no doubt a lot of people would volunteer, regardless of the dangers. As far as he was concerned, Aiden and Fredrick could do as they liked.

Fredrick couldn’t blame him.

He himself was having similar thoughts. Even if they did have a plan to save the girl and get away from Prosper, it meant a lot of risk. More risk than he could really justify. Aiden might have been set on saving the girl, but Fredrick wasn’t so certain. He’d never met her. What was it to him if she died?

He felt a bit ashamed of himself at that. He was a Wingwearer. He should act like one.

“Well, tell me your plan,” said Solomon at length. Fredrick was taken aback. The man sounded curious. Eager, even. Maybe he had misjudged him.

Aiden’s gaze turned to the people in the room again. His eyes seemed to sharpen. There was a twitch of a smile, and he looked at Vika.

“Actually,” he said, “Now you mention it, I have just thought of something.”