Chapter Sixteen

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Two days visiting local clubs in Monrovia lured Abed further into believing that Sam was sleeping with Margaux.  Then they took a ride to Spriggs-Payne Airport, which is used to this day for flights to local African countries.  They were careful not to show up at the same time as Gary and his mother.

Gary and his mother took an earlier flight while Margaux was to accompany Sam on a separate flight later. Sam had already persuaded Spike to fake flight plans just to make sure that the information did not get back to Aziz.  For this Sam would pay double Spike's usual fees. After Gary and Hilary had taken off, they had to wait longer than expected to allow President Doe to meet Emperor Bokassa, a self-styled despot from Niger, a largely desert land in the Sahara Desert.

When at length Bokassa did arrive, the welcome ceremony consisted of a band playing the national anthem of Niger as he got off the plane.  President Doe saluted during the music. It was a real dog and pony show. The less power the despots have, the more medals they create out of nothing and pin on themselves.  Emperor Bokassa had a chest full of medals.

Whereas Hitler, for all his infamous deeds, wore only a lone Iron Cross for real bravery in World War One, which chewed up soldiers by the millions as they marched into withering machine gun fire.

Before long, the Emperor drove off with President Doe in a Rolls Royce. After the ceremonies, Honor Guard soldiers in strack, starched uniforms and chrome-plated rifles boarded a truck and slipped away.

Assuming someone might be watching, Sam held his arm around Margaux's shoulder and said, "Now that the circus has left town, let's be catching a plane." They proceeded to a crude wooden shack at the middle of the airport. There was a half-cannibalized plane almost covered with vines. Sam inspected the three planes that they had and approached the head pilot. It was all pre-arranged, but they played their parts under the assumption that Aziz had someone watching, protecting his investment in Margaux.

"We got a hundred pounds of baggage. Can you take the two of us to Holy Cross Mission?"

The head honcho threw back the scarf he always wore when flying. He looked up annoyed. "I think Bolahun is still where I left it last week." That remark broke the ice leaving both men laughing and shaking hands. "I'm Spike the pilot. They got a challenging airstrip that scares off a lot of newbie flyers. The monks can't cut down the trees at one end of its runway because they're oil palms belonging to a very rich paramount chief among the Kisi tribe. He's also a member of St. Mary's Church up there. He'll do anything for a friend, including hire men to drag my plane back to the airstrip any time I overshoot the runway during landing. I didn't even have to pay him for the labor last time. Later I had airplane parts flown up from Monrovia. The chief then personally helped me with repairs."

Spike concluded business and said, "I gotta file my flight plan with the control tower. Back in twenty minutes. Enjoy a break at that Loma woman's snack stand. The latrine with the airport's flush toilet is a hundred feet away. If you don't want to walk that far, use my out building with a wooden box behind the shed over there."

They checked out the snack stand, a crude wooden counter painted blue with large pink umbrella and aluminum chairs with frayed plastic interlaced. Sam tested the first one. Satisfied they'd all hold together, they relaxed, eating bananas and washing them down with an off-brand cola. Once they visited the W.C., Spike had come back with his fake flight plan approved. Then he ordered the plane to be packed.

With a clear sky and good headwind, the plane needed but half the runway to lift off the ground. It soon rose and passed the communities surrounding Monrovia: Sinkor, Paintsville, and Buchanan in the distance. The lattice work of roads with houses spread farther apart than normal, and with time gave way to lazy, muddy rivers meandering through thick, secondary rain forests.

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