Valhalla Rising (Dirk Pitt 16)

"What are you going to do for relaxation?" Gunn asked Pitt and Giordino jointly.

"Before I left for the Pacific, I bought a thirty-six-foot sailboat that I keep at a marina near Annapolis. I thought I'd gather up a couple of ladies and cruise Chesapeake Bay."

Gunn turned to Pitt. "And you?"

"Me?" Pitt shrugged casually. "I'm going to an air show."

23

The day could not have been more perfect for the air show and the benefit for the disabled children. More than ten thousand people attended under a cobalt sky free of clouds. A slight breeze blew in off the Atlantic Ocean and cooled the warm summer temperatures.

Gene Taylor Field was a private airport in the middle of a housing community whose residents all owned airplanes. The streets were laid out so families could taxi their aircraft from their houses to the runway and back. Unlike most fields, the immediate area around the runway was landscaped with small bushes, hedges and flowerbeds. Acres of grass surrounded most of the paved area for car parking and picnicking. The crowds could congregate on the grassy lawns to watch the planes and their pilots performing acrobatics in the air, or they could walk among the vintage aircraft that were parked on display around one end of the runway.

The disabled children were brought in by families, schools and hospitals from four states. There was no shortage of volunteers to escort them around the aircraft on display. It was an emotional event, and everyone was proud to be a part of it.

Kelly was stressed to the limit. She knew her blood pressure was reaching the point of no return. Until now, everything had run smoothly, no glitches, no problems, the volunteers incredibly helpful. The owners and pilots of the ninety aircraft were happy to give their time and participate at their own expense. They were extremely gracious in allowing the children to sit in the cockpits while explaining the story behind their airplanes.

But the one aircraft Kelly was counting on, the transport that was scheduled to give rides to the children, flying them over the skyscrapers of Manhattan, had failed to show. She was on the verge of announcing the bad news to the children when her close friend and co-worker Mary Conrow approached her.

"I'm sorry," she said sympathetically. "I know you were counting on him."

"I can't believe Dirk didn't call me if he couldn't arrange for a plane," Kelly murmured dejectedly.

Mary was a very attractive woman, in her middle thirties, stylishly groomed and fashionably dressed. She wore her autumn-leaf blond hair in long ringlets that fanned out over her shoulders. Wide pale-green eyes stared at the world with a self-assurance that accented her high cheekbones and tapered chin. She was about to say something, when suddenly she shaded her eyes with one hand and pointed into the sky.

"What's that flying in from the south?"

Kelly stared in the direction where Mary gestured. "I can't make it out."

"Looks like an old transport plane!" said Mary excitedly. "I think he's coming!"

Vast relief flowed through Kelly's veins, and her heartbeat increased. "It has to be him!" she shouted. "Dirk didn't let me down."

They watched, the children watched, the whole crowd watched, as the strange-looking old aircraft lumbered across the sky only a few hundred feet above the tops of the trees surrounding the field. It came slowly, no more than seventy-five miles an hour. There was an awkward sort of grace in her flight through the sky, the reason she had been affectionately known as the Tin Goose, the most successful commercial airliner of her time.

The 5-AT Trimotor had been built by the Ford Motor Company in the early nineteen thirties; Pitt's was one of the few that still survived in museums or private collections. Most had color schemes painted with the identifying schemes and emblems of the old airlines they served. He had retained the pure silver look on the corrugated aluminum wings and fuselage, with only the registration number and Ford logo as markings.

Since it was the only plane in the air at that moment, the crowd and participating pilots all paused and gazed skyward at the legendary aircraft as it banked and lined up on the runway. The toothpick-fixed propellers on the engines flashed in the sun and whipped the air with a distinctive buzzing sound.

Two engines hung from the wings while the third protruded from the bow of the fuselage. The big, thick wings looked like they could lift a plane twice its size. The forward vee-windshield had a comical look to it, but the side windows were large, offering the pilots more than ample vision. The ageless machine seemed to hang motionlessly for a moment, like a true goose just before its feet touched water. Then, very slowly, she settled to the ground, her big tires biting the asphalt with a slight puff of white smoke and a barely audible squeal.

A volunteer raced across the runway in a World War II restored jeep and motioned the trimotor to follow toward its assigned parking place near the end of a row of vintage and antique aircraft. Pitt taxied between a World War I Fokker DR.l triplane, painted a bright red like Baron Von Richthofen's famous aircraft, and a blue 1932 Sikorsky S-38 amphibian that could land on water as well as land.

Kelly and Mary drove up to the aircraft, chauffeured by a volunteer in his private 1918 Cadillac touring car. They hopped out and waited until the twin-bladed propellers spun to a stop. A minute later, the passengers' door opened and Pitt leaned out. He dropped a boarding stool to the ground before stepping down.

"You!" Kelly gasped. "You didn't say the aircraft belonged to you."

"I thought I'd surprise you," he said, with a devilish smile. "Forgive my tardiness. I encountered strong headwinds on the way from Washington." His eyes were drawn to Mary. "Hello."

"Oh, I'm sorry," said Kelly. "This is my very dear friend Mary Conrow. She's my assistant chairman for the event. And this is-"

"Yes, I know. The Dirk Pitt you never stop talking about." Mary sized Pitt up and was immediately swept into his green eyes. "A pleasure to meet you," she murmured.

"The pleasure is mine."

"The children are excited about flying in your plane," said Kelly. "That's all they've talked about since they saw you coming. We're already lining them up for the flights."

Pitt stared at the crowd of disabled children, many in wheelchairs, who were assembling for the rides. "How many of them want to go? The plane can only carry fifteen passengers at a time."