The Kanes sprinted across the last thirty feet of tarmac, leaving Timbo in the dust. They practically leaped into the waiting Cessna and scuttled through the tight confines of the plane and into the first seats they could find. Typically, there should have been eight seats inside the cabin, situated in four rows of two. As of now, there were only four. The first two sections had been torn free to allow for more cargo space.
The Kanes fell into the new front row, sitting across the narrow aisle from one another. They swiftly buckled in, keeping watch on the doors leading from the main building to the tarmac.
“Cork!” Zahra yelled, spying movement in the cockpit. “Get us airborne — now!”
“Yeah, yeah, hold onto your cocks!”
Zahra had grown numb to Cork’s choice of words, but her father was about to get a crash course into the woman’s personality. Cork wasn’t what most people would call refined.
A muscular mass of flesh squeezed out of the cockpit and stood hunched beneath the low ceiling in front of the Kanes. Zahra didn’t pay the brash, African American Brit with a buzzcut and nose ring any attention. She was too focused on her father. His reaction was priceless.
“George Kane, meet Cork.”
Cork looked him up and down and then glanced at Zahra. “He single?”
George leaned closer to Zahra. “She knows I can hear her, right?”
Zahra bypassed the pilot’s inquiry and pointed out the window. “We really gotta go.”
The enormous woman turned and peered through the glass partition. She snorted back a laugh just as the foursome pushed through onto the tarmac. “That’s it, just the four of ’em?” She looked over her shoulder. “We’ve been in tougher scrums than this.” Cork reached for the door. “Might be a nice warmup, eh?”
“She’s not joking, is she?” George asked.
Zahra shook her head. “No, she isn’t, and no, she isn’t going anywhere, right?”
The pilot grumbled. “Killjoy.” Cork gave the advancing men one last look before reinserting herself into the cockpit. Her chair squeaked when she sat, protesting against her mass. “Alright, you two, hold on to your arses. Up we go.” She leaned around her chair and looked back into the hold. “Oi, new guy!” George glanced from Zahra to Cork. “Don’t get sick in my plane. That’s fine Corinthian leather you’re sitting on.”
George looked between his legs at the gigantic tear in the worn pleather chair.
There was nothing fine about it.
Cork throttled up the twin engines and pulled the Cessna away from the main building. It always surprised Zahra how smooth the Puss E. Galore moved. While the outside looked like a shitheap, the parts that mattered were finely tuned and well-maintained…sort of. George didn’t seem to notice any of the good that the flying machine offered. He was white-knuckling the armrests, eyes closed, teeth chattering. That, or he was praying to God not to die.
Probably both.
“What about fuel?” George asked, holding back his breakfast.
“Don’t worry about it!” Cork called back. “We should have plenty.”
“Should?”
Cork didn’t elaborate. The Cessna made it out onto the runway and without too much time wasted, she was given the all-clear from the tower, and they took off like a rocket. The rear engine spurted a bit, increasing George’s already atmospheric level anxiety. But just as quick as it sounded like it was dying, the engine kicked back into gear and roared in unison with its nose-mounted sibling. In seconds, they were airborne, and at the moment, safe.
Zahra laughed and patted her father’s shoulder. She could feel the tension in it.
“Hey,” she said softly. “We’re fine.”
George opened his eyes and looked around. Seeing that they hadn’t crashed into a fireball of metal and gas, he took a deep breath and released his death grip on the armrests.
“You know,” he said, swallowing, “I’ve never hated flying until now.”
“Oi!” Cork shouted from up front. “It wasn’t that bad!”
George gave Zahra an apologetic look, then spoke up. “I’m sorry. I’m just not used to flying in such an—” Cork glared at him in her small rearview mirror, “antiquated machine.” He gave her a false smile. “It’s a very impressive plane.”
Zahra held back a laugh.
“So…” George’s voice was low. His eyes darted to the cockpit. “How did you two meet?”
“Back in the army. Cork, as you’d expect, was a pilot — helicopters back then. After I retired, I found out that Cork also retired and had started doing private charters.”
“And the Cessna?”
Zahra grinned. “Hey, Cork, tell my dad how you acquired your bird!”
“I won it!” Cork replied, laughing. “I bet some cocksure bloat fish that I could beat him in blackjack. If he won, he could have his way with me. Anything he wanted. Anything at all. I’m open for anything as long as it doesn’t involve the Cupid Shuffle.”
Zahra had never seen her father so uncomfortable, and her smile widened.
“But if I won,” Cork continued, patting the dashboard, “I get his wings. Then, when he tried to back out of the deal, I beat him within an inch of his life until he signed it over to me.”
George’s face went white. “That’s interesting…”
Zahra took over the story. “This was back in the service too. She even ripped the cork out of her whiskey bottle and jammed down the pour guy’s throat.”
Her father nodded. “Hence the name.”
“Yep, her real name is—”
“Oi, Zahra! Shut your hole!”
Now, it was Zahra’s turn to shrink back. If there was one thing that Cork didn’t appreciate, it was someone calling her by her birth name.
Zahra leaned in close and shared a hushed giggle with her father. “It’s Gwendolyn.”
“What did you say?” Cork asked, turning and glaring at her.
“Nothing! My dad just asked me, um, ‘when do we land?’” Zahra’s big-eyed expression got a chortle out of her compatriot.
“Good cover.” George congratulated her with a sly smirk.
Zahra’s expression darkened. “Seriously, though, don’t say it out loud. She will throw you out of her plane—”
George stopped himself.
“…and she won’t land it first.”
Chapter 39
Zahra
As reliable as Cork’s Cessna was, its diminutive fuel tank and slow-as-molasses cruise speed made getting to Cairo “in a hurry” impossible. Cork never pushed her plane either, no matter the situation. Even in the face of life or death, like now, splashing down in the Mediterranean was much worse, especially to someone like Cork. The Puss E. Galore was her life, and she’d protect the aircraft as if it were her child. Unfortunately, it meant the Scales of Anubis, and Grant, would get to Egypt far in advance of them.
Zahra checked her watch. They’re probably already there. That fact deflated her a little.
The stopover wasn’t all that bad. Zahra and George were short on provisions and in need of a few things. At least Zahra had her gear with her. She had planned on being gone for days on end. Her father hadn’t been prepared to travel. Zahra had literally dragged him onto the Cessna with only what he was wearing.
Cork set down in a remote airfield on the outskirts of Barcelona. While she went over her plane and gassed-up, the Kanes took a taxi into town for a supply run. Zahra slipped her Glock into the waistband of her jeans, hiding it beneath her black shirt and jacket.