"... weighing about two hundred pounds each. Call that another thou-sand pounds. Weight of team and radar, two thousand pounds total. This is a seventeen-passenger aircraft, plus a crew of three-"
Clete interrupted himself: "That's something else. I will not have a copilot. That will make landing it even harder."
"OK," Ashton said. "What was that about a seventeen-passenger aircraft?"
"Seventeen passengers, plus a crew of three. You usually figure weight and balance using two hundred pounds per man. Twenty times two hundred is four thousand pounds. In other words, with everything aboard, we'll have about half a normal load. Less, if you take into consideration that we'll have zero pounds of cargo. I don't really think that dropping you and the crates-in other words, getting rid of two thousand pounds-is going to make a hell of a difference in an airplane with a takeoff weight of about eighteen thousand pounds."
"Parachutes sometimes don't work," Ashton said. "And we're dealing with delicate radio equipment. Aside from my massive cowardice, one of the prob-lems I had with parachuting the radar in was subjecting it to the shock of land-ing. I need all four of my crates."
"What I said was you and your guys can jump, and I will land with the radar on board."
"I've got a problem with that," Ashton said. "I have no intention of jump-ing out of an airplane unless the sonofabitch is on fire. If I don't jump, and tell the other guys to jump, they're going to wonder why-except, of course, the gorilla. He would love to jump out of your airplane. Screaming, 'Geronimo!'" Clete chuckled. "the problem with that," Ashton went on, "is that he'd probably break his leg, and we'd have to carry him wherever the hell we're going."
"Well, I can leave you all here," Clete said. "And you figure out some way to get you and the radar across the river-without using a rubber boat. That doesn't seem like such a bad idea, really."
"Was your attention entirely focused on Consuelo's magnificent ass, or did you hear me when I said gambling was among my many vices?"
"Meaning you want to take a chance with me?"
"Look at it this way, mi Mayor," Ashton said. "Unless we get all the crates-in other words, the radar in a functioning condition-and everybody on my team where we are supposed to go, there's no point in the whole operation. Three crates won't work, and I can't afford to do without any member of my team. Let's give Colonel Graham the benefit of the doubt and accept that get-ting that radar in operation is important; that maybe down the line, if we carry this off, we'll save more lives than the six people who'll be on the airplane...." "Seven," Clete thought out loud. "I'll have Enrico with me."
"So I don't see where we have any choice but to roll the dice and see what happens. You agree?"
"It's not my decision," Clete said.
"Meaning what?" Ashton asked.
"On Guadalcanal, when I saw the rifle platoon leaders, I was glad I was an aviator. I didn't have to tell people to do something that was likely to get them killed."
"You want to know what I've been thinking?" Ashton asked.
Clete nodded.
"First I thought, 'This goddamned Marine hero is dumping this decision on me. Why doesn't the sonofabitch just have the balls to say, "Captain, get your men on my airplane"?'"
"Because this sonofabitch is not good at telling people to do something that's liable to get them killed," Clete said.
"But you're going, right? Whether or not we go with you?"
"I don't have any choice," Clete said.
"Neither do I, mi Mayor," Ashton said. "I don't want to get on that airplane, and I don't like having to order my team to get on it. And you are a three-star s
onofabitch for spelling out everything that can go wrong."
Clete met his eyes and shrugged.
"But if you get us on the ground at Santo Tome in one piece, mi Mayor, I may forgive you."
"For what this is worth, Ashton, when my ass is exposed I am a very care-ful airplane driver."
"You better be, mi Mayor," Ashton said. "When do we go?"
"That's another problem," Clete said.
"Oh, shit! What?"
"I didn't know whether you would be going with me or not," Clete said. "So I told Colonel Wallace I wanted to shoot some more touch-and-goes tonight-at night, in other words. The plane's being serviced, and is supposed to be ready at twenty-one hundred."