Harder and Grant sat on the porch steps while Harder explained the plane’s special equipment. He had made a rude sketch of a heavy drum and a large handle. “Now, Clive, the thing is almost automatic. You swing the arm straight out from the side of the ship and latch it in place. Then let the cable pay out by pushing the lever back until the white band on the cable is next to the pulley at the end of the arm. That means that I’ll have fifty feet of cable. Then lie on the floor with your head out the door when I dive. I’ll pull up sharp and you give me a circle with your fingers if I’ve made contact. If I’m too high, estimate the number of feet and show me with your fingers. Then I’ll come around and try again. When I make contact, the drum will unwind fast, and gradually brake to a stop. Then it will start winding up the other way. You watch and when the end of the cable gets up to the pulley, push the handle back as far as it will go. Then help him in.” They walked out to the plane to look at the drum and check how much gas was left.
Henry Ames, the island medico, reported to the prison commander as ordered. “Yes sir,” he said, “I checked on this Rama and I figure he’s maybe going out of his head. We’ll have to watch him. He is over on the big knoll, and he has cut himself a couple of sticks maybe twelve feet high, using sharp rocks to cut ’em with. He’s got a notch on the top side of each of the sticks, and he’s got ’em propped up in the dirt and rocks maybe twenty feet apart. He acts nervous, but I don’t see as how he can do any harm. He smiled at me and mumbled something I couldn’t catch. When I left he was picking up all the rocks in a big space between the two sticks and throwing them over to one side.” The commander looked puzzled, and gave the medico permission to leave.
Back on the knoll, Haidari Rama looked carefully around. There was no one within two hundred yards of him. He scuttled down a rocky slope and uncovered the bundle that had been dropped. He ripped the burlap covering off of it and took out a complicated harness made of wide bands of heavy canvas with many buckles. After three times he managed to get the rig on and tighten all the buckles. It went around his body at the chest and waist and around his upper arms and thighs. The second item in the package was a loop of rubberized rope sixty feet in diameter. He carried the rope up to the poles and stretched it carefully across the two so that he had a sagging length of rope hung loosely between the two poles. Then he walked to a position midway between the two poles and about twenty feet away from an imaginary line drawn between them. He reached back over his shoulder and clipped the loop of the rope into a massive snap on the heavy straps which protruded between his shoulder blades. Looking over his shoulder, he sat down midway with his back toward the poles and inched forward until the rubberized rope swung clear of the ground. An imaginary line between the two poles would have formed the base of an equilateral triangle, with the sitting figure of Haidari Rama as the apex.
A group of the other prisoners noticed the strange activity on top of the knoll and came walking over, their faces filled with curiosity. When they asked questions, Haidari Rama replied in senseless babbling, and when they approached too closely, he screamed and roared with such venom that they dropped back. The universal fear of madness kept them many feet from him. They muttered and stared. Surely the man was mad. For what purpose would he sit in the sun with a great loop of rope fastened to his back. Haidari Rama stared straight ahead into the afternoon sky.
The guard on the central tower on the north side of the island was the first one to see the small plane. It came steadily toward the island at about fifteen hundred feet. He looked at it curiously, wondering whether the pilot would realize his mistake and swing out to sea, or would pass directly over the island in direct violation of existing orders. The plane came steadily on.
The group near Haidari Rama babbled and pointed up at the plane as it approached. They didn’t notice the sitting man draw his knees up, clasp his arms around them and drop his head forward as he had been instructed. They watched the plane. In sudden alarm they saw it nose down and start a steep glide toward them. They shouted and scattered into the rocky ravines. Those who looked back saw a big hook swoop down toward the sitting man, skim over his head and catch the rope.
Haidari Rama felt a sudden wrench that strained every joint and muscle in his body. Then he was swinging and spinning in the air. He caught one flash of the startled faces turned up at him, and he wanted to laugh through his fear. The far fence flashed under him and then there was only the blue sea. He looked up and saw that the body of the plane was coming gradually closer. He was drawn up close to an arm that projected out beside the wide door of the cabin. Then hands reached for him and he was dragged in out of the blinding wind, into the roar of the cabin. A strange man slammed the cabin door and then started to help him with the straps and buckles.
Back on the island the prisoners walked up the knoll and looked at the spot where the man had been sitting. They they looked at the two poles. One of them was still standing. Then turned and looked south. The plane was still visible, a speck that was fast disappearing. They shook their heads and muttered.
The Superintendent of Police in Colombo tried in vain to interrupt the flow of language coming over his telephone. Then he sat and listened patiently until Mr. Constance had finished. He sighed and said, “Yes, Mr. Constance. We are willing to admit that the aircraft mentioned in the papers was the one which was stolen from Hindustan Aircraft, the one on which you had them install the snatch-up equipment for island package delivery. But, Mr. Constance, we still do not know where the aircraft is. We would like very much to find it. Delhi is very interested. It has been reported in newspapers all over the world. Everybody is interested. I assure you that we are trying to locate the aircraft, and as I promised you before, when we find it, you shall have it... That’s right... Good-bye, Mr. Constance.” He hung up and took the liberty of thumping himself several times on the forehead with a big hairy fist. He roared and listened to the sounds of feet scurrying toward his office.
Meanwhile J. Haggard Brown sat down in his room and tried to relax. He shut his eyes, but it was of no use. Each time he thought of the way Haidari Rama had been snatched out of his hands, his pulse-drummed, his breath came fast and a red haze seemed to creep up in front of his eyes. He knew he would have to think quickly and coldly. There was too much at stake for him to be emotional about it. It was a cold hard game he was in, a profitable game — but the penalty for failure was as high as the profits. He shut his eyes and all he could see was the smooth young face of Harder. He jumped to his feet and paced to the window. He muttered, “My guess is that they’re still in Ceylon, and now they don’t dare use the plane again. There is only one way to get off this island inconspicuously, and that is by way of the Talimannar ferry. It’s a long shot, but it’s worth it if I can get my hands around the neck of that milk-fed puppy.” He clenched his fists and enjoyed the image of Harder’s pale blue eyes bulging from their sockets. He picked up the room phone and called the desk, asking for information on the times trains left for Colombo. He realized that in Colombo he could obtain a fast car and a driver.