CHAPTER 85
IN HIS MIND?S EAR, CORKY LAPUTA LISTENED TO Richard Wagner?s Die Walküre, particularly to the music meant to portray the flight of the Valkyries.
Through the drizzle and fog, through the windless Bel Air, the mad Queeg?s miniblimp sailed as smoothly as one dream melting into another.
The swish and sizzle of the rain entirely masked what noise the battery-powered propellers made, so that it seemed as though Corky and his sour-faced pilot journeyed in utter silence, without sough or bated billow. Neither the sun nor the moon could claim a quieter ascent and transit of the sky.
Suspended under the airship, the open gondola was similar to a rowboat, but with rounded stern and prow. The two bench-style seats were capable of accommodating four.
Facing forward, Trotter sat at the yoke on the bench nearer the stern. He was immediately in front of the engine, the helium feed, and the other controls.
At first Corky faced Trotter, looking back the way they had come. Then he turned to look forward, frequently leaning out to one side or the other to spot landmarks through the misty murk.
[531] Treetops slid by only a few feet below them. Casting no faintest shadow in the absence of the moon and stars, they progressed with such stealth and with such minimal disturbance to the air that birds in the highest branches, sheltering from the rain, were not once frightened into flight.
This wealthy community had been built in a forest of oak and ficus and evergreen, of metrosideros and podocarpus and California pepper. More accurately, a forest had been imported to dress these hills, glens, and canyons, which long ago had been only semiarid pastures of wild grass and bleak ravines cluttered with scrub.
To pass all but invisibly above unsuspecting Bel Air, they were required to stay at the lowest prudent altitude. In these hills, most streets were serpentine and quite narrow, flanked and often overhung by huge trees, providing motorists with tightly circumscribed views of the sky. As long as the blimp seldom crossed above streets and thereby took full advantage of the forests that would screen it from all eyes except those directly below, it might slip all the way to Palazzo Rospo and back again without being noticed, for few if any residents would be afoot on their properties-and in a position to look up-in this weather.
A direct route as the blimp flies, from the ruined chateau on the knoll to Palazzo Rospo, downslope, measured less than half a mile. In windless conditions like these, running on batteries, the airship could make a top speed of fifteen miles per hour. To disturb the fog as little as possible and thus shroud themselves in its welcome veils, they were making just ten miles per hour, which would get them from door to door in approximately three minutes.
Through the Internet, Corky had accessed not only maps and city-planning charts but also a trove of aerial photography produced by the state of California, offering a bird?s view of these exclusive and secluded enclaves. A majority of the homes in this community were true estates, particularly in that portion over which they now flew; and Corky had memorized the roof lines and the salient features of each palatial structure that lay along their route.
[532] Trotter had done his homework, too. He consulted landmarks less often than Corky, however, for he relied more on compass readings.
The only light associated with the airship was the soft glow of the compass, the altimeter, and the few other gauges on the control panel. They were swivel-mounted on a stanchion, allowing Trotter to position them as needed. The combined radiance of these instruments was insufficient to paint the faintest glimmer on the curve of the helium bag immediately overhead.
Indeed, more light rose from the great houses over which they glided than from the craft controls. Gold and silver reflections of this rising incandescence glimmered briefly across the belly of the blimp, as if luminous lichen encrusted it.
Past chimneys they sailed, skimming wet rooftops with but a few feet to spare. They were close enough for Corky to discern individual roofing tiles and shingles even in the night and fog.
Some impatient child at a bedroom window, eager for Christmas, sky gazing, dreaming of a reindeer-drawn sleigh, might see Trotter?s folly sailing through the rain and think that Santa Claus had come two nights early and by unconventional transport.
And here, now, after so much planning: the Manheim estate.
Undetected, they crossed approximately forty feet above the monitored wall.
They crossed over the motion detectors that were alert for intruders at ground level.
They crossed scores of sentinel cameras, not one of which was aimed at the sky.
Corky did not wish to be deposited at the house. Instead, he must lower himself with great care from the gondola to the roof of the groundskeeper?s building at the back of the property.
To this point, Trotter had not done a great deal of piloting, for the line of travel had been straight and true. Now he needed to maneuver the airship to the target building, align it just-so with a particular [533] portion of the roof, and hover with as little lateral and stern-to-bow drift as possible.
The four fins at the back of the blimp each featured a rudder. These were operated by electrical switches that were signaled through low-voltage cable, by controls on the yoke.
Trotter could lose altitude by bleeding helium from the vessel. If he needed to gain altitude, he would do so by feeding more helium into the gas bag overhead or, more quickly, by dumping water from the ballast tanks along both sides of the gondola.
Gracefully, almost majestically, the airship adjusted course for the groundskeeper?s building and arrived there as soundlessly as the stars turn through the sky from dusk to dawn. With a grace equal to a series of perfectly executed ballet steps, with a delicate touch equal to that required to construct a house of cards, Jack Trotter brought the blimp lower and positioned it as required.
According to the wristwatch favored by discerning anarchists-a reliable Rolex-transit time had been three minutes, twenty seconds.
8:33. Service to all Manheim phones, hard-wired and cellular, had been discontinued three minutes ago.