Chapter 12

I was nearly paralysed. I said, nearly paralysed. You know what happens when a young beautiful woman presents herself to you nude. Yes! Dickie woke up. I had to do something very quick.

“Okay ... You’re here. Naked and drenched with water. So, wash my back.” I said, handing her my washcloth and turning away. I heard a giggle. Curiosity on legs had acute observation skills too.

“I did that?” Giggle

“Did what?”

“Come on! You know. THAT.”

“Okay Tray, you’re beautiful AND nude! Don’t you think any male specimen of the human species WILL react?”

“Okay ... Now stand still!” and small hands started to soap up my back with a light touch, like butterflies landing on my back.

With a lot of giggling and laughing we got done in the shower. A soapy wet Tracy, wiggling a lot, is a handful to get washed. But I did eventually get over my uncomfortable feeling with Tracy being with me in the shower. I got to wash her back too. Shampooing her hair and rinsing it off. I noticed that the marks on her back, butt, and thighs seem to be gone. Only one or two light bruises are still visible.

We got out of the shower and I discovered that the shower thing was premeditated by Tracy. A big fluffy towel for her body to be dried and a towel for her wet hair that went wrapped over her head like a turban was at hand.

When we got to the room, more evidence that the move was premeditated. Hairdryer and brush were at hand. I insisted that she get dressed. With pouting lips and long face, and: “Me just trying to have some fun!”, she did get into her t-shirt and pink panties.

“Don’t try me Tray!” I said, mocking to be stern.

“Ooh! Must watch me step. Now-now I get the belt!” Giggle

“Sit on the chair and sit still. Let me dry your hair.” I said, picking up her hairdryer and brush. When I turned back to Tracy, she was sitting on the stool in front of the dresser, looking into the mirror, hands in her lap. I started drying her hair. Blowing and brushing those long ginger tresses without getting the brush stuck in her hair.

After I was done and that ginger hair was shining in the light of the room, Tracy turned to me. She took my hand and pressed it to her cheek.

“Nobody ... Nobody has ever done that for me...” She said and a moistness came to those emerald green eyes. I just picked her up from the stool and hugged her, lifting her clear off the carpet on the floor.

“Now, I suppose you want to snuggle?” I said as I set her down again. Tracy just smiled and went over to the bed. We both got into the bed. Tracy forming herself to me, arm over my midriff.

“You ... You’re in love with her ... Heh? She said softly.

“Who?” I asked.

“Laura.”

“Yes. I am in love ... I just don’t know...” I said.

“It’s okay ... I ... I am too young ... But I love you...”

“I love you to Tray. I love you and Laura ... Both!”

“Good. Now let’s sleep ... Tomorrow will bring its own ... G’Nite Don.”

“G’Nite Tracy.”

Morning came with the alarm going off at four AM. A dressed Tracy, rolling out of bed with me. After the shower episode, where after I insisted that she get dressed before “snuggling”, Tracy did slip into her t-shirt nightie, looking a little miffed about it. I wondered why.

Laura did seem to have recovered good enough to hold up her side of, according to her, the ‘Poof Plan’. Giggling all the way with Tracy. Oh, how I love the giggle of young girls.

I called the burner phone number of the cops with the nine girls. I expected them to be in Bloemfontein by that time. Instead, they only went up as far as Colesberg and waited, sleeping in the minibus.

I gave them the instruction to divert to Laura’s place name of ‘Poof.’ They understood after I explained why the diversion. I gave them the address of a well-hidden and out of way homestead, big enough to accommodate us all.

It took me a while yesterday to get it organised and paid. We were booked for two weeks. A pretty steep price, but hey, it comes with groceries and other foodstuffs and refreshments to last us a month. So, no problem. It will be available and stocked when we get there.

Arriving at Wonderboom, we put the SUV up in the hanger after rolling out the Pilatus. The eastern sky started to light up faintly with the coming of dawn. While Aubrey, Charley, and Tracy closed the hanger doors, I took Laura around the outside of the PC-24 for a pre-flight.

(Authors Note: What will be giving in the text below will be a little indication of the pre-flight of a Pilatus PC-24 SVJ ((Super Versatile Jet.)) It is Not the full pre-flight as I do not want to bore you with technical details. Also please take note! XXX THIS IS NOT TO BE USED TO PREFLIGHT OR OPERATE THE REAL AIRCRAFT XXX. I will as far as possible, use layman’s terms. Sorry to real pilots out there.)

“There are three drain points for the fuel tanks on this aircraft,” I told Laura. “We will now take this strainer and bottle kit to each point and drain a little fuel”

“Why?” Laura questioned.

“So that we can check the fuel quality. Let me show you.” I opened the first drain point and inserted the fuel check gadget. The little bottle filled with a clear liquid. The air filled with the smell of paraffin.

“Yack! It smells like lamp-oil!” Laura said, pinching her nose. I held the bottle up to the light.

“See. No Tadpoles.” I said. “Okay Laura, A1-JET is paraffin. It’s a refined product and not your average lamp-oil, but in essence, it’s the same.” I said “Don’t use it in your lamp! You’ll regret it.”

I showed Laura the clear liquid, explaining why we do it and what to look for. Condensation is water. Water in the fuel means we go nowhere and spend a lot of money to fix it.

Discarding the three samples of fuel we proceeded to inspect and check the aircraft. Looking at the undercarriage. The shock absorbers, links, condition of the tyres, looking for oil streaks that will signify a leak. Hydraulic lines and so forth.

I showed Laura all the control surfaces and how to look at the hinges, fasteners, and all that. By this time, we were joined by Aubrey, Charley, and Tracy. All very interested in the pre-flight. Lastly, I opened a panel at the back of the aircraft. I pressed a button. The computerised self-check ran. All systems are good to go. Clever the Swiss, ain’t they?

“Don’t want something important to fall off,” Charley said.

“Especially as we can’t park on a cloud and fix it!” I chuckled. All laughed. With the walk around now nearly completed, I asked Tracy to go to the cockpit and set the parking brake, and light the panel up. Also, the navigation lights and strobes. This I will check as Tracy completed her task. She has done this before, so why not now. If you got someone you trust to help you, well, go for it. So, with all lights blinking and shining, I checked all lenses and globs. All a-okay.

With the outside done, we mounted the aircraft. Tracy relinquished the co-pilot seat in favour of Laura. Tracy asked Charley to help her secure the door and lock it, while Laura and I went through the cockpit checklist. I handed her a folder with laminated pages.

ME: “Turn to the tab; ‘Cockpit Checklist’.” Laura opened the folder and thumbed to the page.

Laura: “Okay. I’m at the page.”

ME: “Now. Read. Aloud please.”

LAURA: Park Brake?”

ME: “SET.” After I showed her where it was.

LAURA: “Starter Knobs?”

ME: “Both off” Looking up at the overhead panel.

LAURA: “Fuel?”

ME: “Two tanks full of fuel. About five hours...”

LAURA: “ ... if you can believe this TV.”

ME: “FMS.” I said.

LAURA: “Where’s it at?”

ME: “You’re looking at it. It’s not a TV. It’s the Flight Management System. FMS.”

LAURA: “Oh.” Eyes flashing cold fire at me.

LAURA: “Fuel Valve?” Laura did not know the item so I showed her

ME: “On.”

LAURA: “Battery one and Battery two?” I checked myself showing Laura the switches on the overhead panel.

ME: “On.”

ME: I checked the flight controls for full travel and free movement.

LAURA: “Power lever?” I checked. Ground idle. I checked Flaps retracted and the air brake retracted. I showed Laura.

LAURA: “Harnesses and seats?” Laura and me both looked into the cabin

TRACY: “Seats locked forward and upright. We’re all strapped in Cap’n.”

LAURA: “Windshield?” Laura Looking amused: “It’s there in front of you.”

ME laughing: “I know, but is it clean and serviceable?”

LAURA: “Looks pretty clean and solid to me.”

Okay, we checked the cockpit area for loose objects, the doors, and hatches. All correct.

LAURA: “Flight Manual? IF you don’t know how this aircraft works by now, the manual is not gonna help you, but it’s here, in the holder.” She said giggling, blue eyes laughing. I heard a giggle from the cabin too.

LAURA: “I say we’re pretty good, two wings, two exhorsie thingies at the back, and some rubber wheels underneath. Yip! We’re good. Oh, and the kids are strapped into their kiddie seats!” Laughter erupted from the back cabin. I thought I heard: “Kids in the kiddie seats, me ass.”

Time to fire up the bird. I showed Laura the same as I did for Tracy, WAY back when. Bat 1 On. Navigation lights check – ON. Beacon light check – ON. Left engine starter knob to IGN. A high pitched whiny sound from the back ... Check CAS Warning. N1 rising. ITT rising and engine combustion at 7% N1. An angry growl from the back of the aircraft. CAS warning extinguished.

Repeat the process for the right engine. Generator 1 and 2 – O N. And we’re running. Radio work. Off to runway 29. IFR to Cape Town. Here we go!

Five thirty saw us climbing out from 10 000 feet to flight level 310 with the PC-24 purring like a cat. Autopilot (George) engaged at 200 feet AGL, and now we sit back and watch. Climb-out at 80% throttle. Airspeed at 180 KIAS, (330 Km/h or 207 Mph) straight to 31,000 feet. Cabin pressurisation at 8, 000 feet.

A little while later. About three-quarters of the way to Bloemfontein, I looked across the cockpit at Laura.

“Sweetie, you look pale. Are you okay?” I said.

“Yes. I’m fine. I feel fine.” She said.

“No, you’re not,” I said and depressed my transmit button. “Johannesburg Centre, Yankee Tango Bravo, cancel IFR to Cape Town. Request to divert to FABL for Medical emergency.”

“Yankee Tango Bravo, state your medic emergency.”

“Yankee Tango Bravo, my co-pilot seems to be not well. I will land Bloemfontein as a precaution.”

“Yankee Tango Bravo, Johannesburg Centre. Your request was approved. Squawk 1200. Descend and maintain 20 500. Contact Bravo Lima Control on one two zero point eight. IFR Cancelled. Flight following cancelled.”

“Yankee Tango Bravo, IFR cancelled, Flight following cancelled. Descend and maintain 20 500. Contact Bravo Lima Control on one two zero point eight.” I transmitted.

“Yankee Tango Bravo, read-back correct. Good day Sir.”

“Is ‘Poof’ now starting?” Laura asked.

“This is the drum-roll...” I said. Laura smiled. It was quiet in the cabin. “Wait for the thunderclap.”

We landed in Bloemfontein. Spend twenty minutes drinking a soda and for a bathroom call.

We unstuck from the runway at seven twenty. Climb out to nine thousand five hundred at 180 KIAS and turn to one four two degrees magnetic. The transponder OFF. No-one will see us. We have three hours and eighteen minutes of fuel aboard. We need forty-two minutes. Straight across the tiny Kingdom country of Lesotho, an uncontrolled, unpaved two-kilometre runway, 235 Nm away.

At seven twenty-five the morning we, five people and a 9 million US Dollar JET, went, “Poof.” Evaporated into thin air.

“You sure no one can see us?” Aubrey asked, standing in the cockpit doorway.

“Nope. No transponder to identify us. We’re under 10 000 feet, no flight plan required. No radar sweeping this side of the woods. So, we’re in the clear.” I said.

“And if we crash, no one will know where we are?” Charley said.

“We’re not going to crash! And if we do, there’s this.” I indicated to them the ELT. “Emergency Locator Beacon. Off now. On only if and when needed.”

“Okay. So, can you NOW tell us where we’re going?” Charley asked.

“Yeah. For just in case I need to get crackers and bread ... You know?” from Aubrey.

“Okay. Listen up.” I said. “We’re going to a place on the South Coast of KwaZulu Natal. Somewhere on the Wild Coast. I rented a lodge there for us. ALL seventeen of us. The Cape Town twelve will join us there. I gave them directions to the place. It’s secluded. Not a soul around for miles.”

“So, can we like sunbath?” Laura asked.

“You can skinnydip too if you wish! There’s a pool and the beach is only through a gate at the end of the property.” I said. Laura smirked.

“How do Tracy say: Skinnydip me ass!” Laura imitated Tracy, not being very successful, but we all laughed.

“Way to go! Sister!” Tracy said and she High-fived Laura.

“Ain’t there an international border and some mountains in our way?” Charley asked.

“Yeah, that little detail. There!” I pointed out the windshield. “That is the start of the Drakensberg way out on the horizon. Lesotho, well we’ll be all of nineteen minutes in their airspace. All it takes to transverse that Country. Besides, they are friendly!”

“The Mountain Kingdom! They better be friendly. South Africa surrounds them!” Aubrey said.

(While our crew was winging it to “Poof” Somewhere in a nondescript red brick five-story building in the mid-city of Pretoria... )

Behind the closed door of the office of General Mashanganye, both he and Brigadier Franks sat, silently sipping tea. This morning, if all goes well, they will get another breakthrough in the case. The attack last night on the Lambert farm nearly derailed their plans. Luck, Karma, or by the Grace of God, it did go in the right direction.

Franks, on hearing the news of the attack on his friend’s farm, had called the Ladies with the strays and told them to execute “Operation Kutoweka”, Swahili for “Vanish” They should be in Bloemfontein by now or diverted as Don had arranged. He was still a bit miffed that Don did not want to say where he’s going to take the girls. Joe just hoped it would be safe. He trusts Don.