KATIKA-Treason is never far away (Part.1)

Chapter 19 | Geronimo!

What a hell...

The sight before them was dismal. What they were about to undertake surpassed understanding, even for John, whose mind was reputedly rather relaxed, at least until now. Recent events had somewhat disrupted the status quo.

The contraption standing before them looked more like an antiquity than an airplane. Rust covered it, dust filled its interior. The torn seats revealed brown foam and menacing metal fragments to anyone daring to venture there.

But for old Joe, the condition of his machine mattered little. Judging by the excessive affection he showed it, the stars in his eyes when he beheld it, this heap of scrap metal was still a marvel of high-end technology.

"Ladies, please fasten your seatbelts," he quipped.

Silent, John would have loved to offer a cutting reply, but the pain caused by the old spring in his broken seat prevented him.

John would have loved to retort with sarcasm... but the pain caused by the broken spring in his seat prevented him. The old man started the engines and took the "wheel," crossing what served as a "runway," a barely visible strip of land, buried by years of sandstorms.

"YAHOOOO!" Joe shouted.

The contraption finally took off: the point of no return had been crossed. The higher the plane climbed, the faster the pressure on John's chest accelerated the frenzied dance of worries in his mind.

They were engaging in a series of federal crimes: illegal exit from the country while under investigation, violation of national security by stealing government property... And soon, manipulation of the results of an official international election. This could earn him a life sentence if he ever showed his face in his country again...

The condensation on the windows indicated extreme cold outside: oddly, the ex-COO's ears were heating up and kept getting blocked despite his efforts.

A striking detail suddenly preoccupied him: where would they land once they reached Lombardy? He turned to Carter to ask the question, but the latter was too busy emptying the contents of his stomach into a paper bag.

"Yuck!" said the lawyer disgustingly, air travel makes me sick, it's always the same...

Certainly, this flight had everything to please... Considering it best to leave Carter alone, John painfully unfastened his rusty seatbelt and headed towards the pilot.

"Mr. Joe, where will we land?" he asked politely.

Adopting a calm and respectful tone was essential to start off on the right foot with Carter's uncle. Despite John's doubts about him, their lives still hung on his mastery of the aircraft. Therefore, triggering a fit of madness in this man presented an obvious risk...

"'We'?" repeated Joe casually. Who said we were all going to land?

"He's kidding me, isn't he?" panicked John. To his greatest dismay, the pilot emitted one of those loud laughs he was famous for and pointed to the passenger seats.

"Look under your seat, kid, and you'll have your answer."

Rushing to his seat, John discovered, at the spot indicated by old Joe, a parachute model so old it seemed to date back to Lindbergh himself.

"You're joking, right?" the young man asked with a trembling voice, "You're not seriously planning to make us jump out of the plane?"

"It's the only solution," Joe replied, "I'll need to land a hundred kilometers further south from your destination on a clandestine base."

His excuse seemed so inconsistent... How could he know about the existence of a precisely "clandestine" base in a country so far from the United States?