Globusz^® Publishing 

t was the very evening that Peter had returned from the trip down the mountain, he was talking to Drew in the wash-rooms telling him about the incident with the dogs, Guillermo and his wife Matilde. “They didn't need to shoot him Drew; he wasn't trying to escape, only protecting his wife?”

“It was a revenge killing, for killing their damn dawg. Then I suppose without Guillermo she had nothing to live for and took her revenge on the other one. They did us a good turn really, getting rid of two of those dawgs.”

“I suppose! But at what price. I wouldn’t wish that on anyone.”

“So! That makes it more urgent to get out, are we going to continue with the model tonight?”

“Too damn right we are! I want to see Helen first though. Have you made any progress with the sailcloth, any ideas on that score? The priority is the ‘sail’ and what to make it out of?”

“Well I did consider sticking the canvas onto a plastic-bag by ironing it.”

But Drew had progressed no further, he hadn’t tried it out, it was a sticking point in more ways than one. With this in mind Peter went out side and was soon sitting with Helen at their usual place by the dividing fence. Helen was glad to see him after having heard all sorts of rumours about Matilde and the dogs. Peter explained what had happened without mentioning the comment that Drew had made, despite it being true. “Now we have two less dogs to contend with and the escape becomes more urgent before they can be replaced. Have you had any ideas about the ‘sail’ it’s the main problem outstanding at the moment?”

“As I see it Peter, we have only two options, one is to use the black canvas and do something with it to stiffen it and the other is to use sheets from the beds. But the later would put a lot of people in trouble, having no bed sheet that is. Anyhow I have already started spiriting away some of the canvas so that a large amount doesn’t disappear in one go. We may have some trouble getting it across to our quarters though, and then stitching it.”

“The sheets are white Helen and they would show up more at night. Though I suppose we could dirty them, but that canvas would be ideal except it is too... the weave is too open... too cheap! Can we close the weave somehow? Perhaps if we paint the canvas, not that I have seen any paint. Drew suggested ironing a plastic-bag onto it, if we could melt the plastic into the canvas and get it to stick.”

“Gosh! I don’t think that would work, it would make an awful mess of the iron; you’d end up with a gooey mess. Leave it with me Peter, let me think about it some more. How is the model going, have you got it flying yet?”

“Not yet, I still have to cover it with the newspaper and sticky tape and then it’s a case of seeing if it will fly. If it works I’ll use the paper as a template and make a ‘sail’ out of a sheet that someone donated. You know it continues to amaze me where all these items come from.”

“Well it shouldn’t Peter, everyone wants to get out you know... Including me. How strong is that rattan rope you wove? Will it support my weight do you think?”

Peter looked her over, but the look deliberately took much longer than assessing her weight. Helen coloured with embarrassment, which showed even in the evening sunshine. “It took my weight so it should easily take yours, as long as you don’t put more weight on.” he replied.

“No chance of that on these rations,” she retorted as a smile chivvied the corner of her mouth.

“Why do you ask though? You know it’s strong enough.” Peter added.

“Yes! That’s all very well when you’re only ten feet above the ground, I’m thinking of relying on it with a hundred metre drop below.”

“Oh! You mean for getting out of the women's dormitory, how do you propose to do that?”

“Out through the back window of the wash-rooms, then up a rope onto its flat roof. Cross that, down into the bamboo store then up a rope or a pole onto your wash-room roof. It has the advantage that I will be out of sight until I reach the store.”

“Yes! I like it. You could wait on the roof of your washrooms quite safely until you get an all clear. Do that, but make two ropes, in case one breaks.”

Helen, deliberately misinterpreting him, commented. “I won’t need a second rope; if the first one breaks I’ll be spread all over that road a hundred metre below the window.”

This generated the smile that she’d intended as Peter, giving her a side ways look and added. “Not if you use both ropes at the same time you won’t. And where are you going to hide the rope?”

Helen had been looking around all the while they were talking, the guards only allowed them to talk for so long, now one of them began taking an interest in their tête-à-tête. “Damn! Sorry Peter we have to end this conversation, I’ll have a think about the canvas.” She climbed to her feet. “See you tomorrow?” she added, in a half question, half statement as she made her way back to her dormitory.

Some time later Helen was lying on her bunk pondering the problem of the sail. ‘What we really need was a paint of some sort to seal the weave. But as Peter said I’ve never seen any paint here either so what can we use instead?’ She was tossing and turning pushing this problem around in her mind. ‘Perhaps if we double the canvas, use two pieces of cloth, sew them together, or glue them together. No glue! ... Can I make some glue? ... Out of bones or... starch! Rice starch. – Yes! We cook plenty of rice, the starch from that will fill the weave in the canvas. That may do it!’ She tossed this idea around in her head but could see no real difficulty. ‘Will it work? Should I tell Peter tomorrow? No! Better still, I’ll do some experiments first or else Drew will take over and the whole idea will become his.’ With this thought in mind she settled down and was soon asleep.

After Helen had left him, Peter also made his way inside to continue with the model of the glider. First thing was to make the sail from the newspaper and get the model to fly. Once he had a flying model he could experiment and decide how to scale it up to carry two people. Despite his promise to Drew, Peter was intending to only consider the weight of him self and Helen. She was so enthusiastic for the project; there was no way that she was going to step aside for Drew.

At last the model was covered, a rope sandal was used as ballast where the passengers would be and the first flight attempted. It was a disaster, the model stalled and crashed. Drew was at his elbow all the time making suggestions and offering advice. It was only when in desperation he gave him another job that he managed getting rid of him whilst he sorted out what was wrong. Adjusting the ballast and it flew a little better, but not much. It was only when he stopped the ballast from swinging (the arms of the pilot would do that job in the real thing) that things improved. Slightly encouraged Peter experimented further and it wasn’t long before he managed to get it to glide. Gradually building up more confidence, by the time it became dark he was able to launch it from head height and watch it glide down between the bunks. Drew, at last, interrupted him and insisted they finished for the night. Peter was all for continuing, but the experiments couldn’t be hidden from the other men and this generated much talking and excitement in the dormitory. It was late and the noise was bound to attract attention from the guards if it continued, so the model was put away in the roof void.

* * *

It took a week for Fidel to purchase the gas have it stowed in two containers along with the fans and a fork lift truck. The man packing the container didn’t much fancy putting the oxygen bottles in the same container as the gas, until a suitable amount of remuneration changed hands and the bold statement that ‘there aren't any gas leaks’ enabled the job to be completed. The many arrangements for shipping the containers were soon completed and Fidel found him self with two days to wait before the ship sailed. For these two days it was back to Bogotá to consolidate his alibi before returning to Caracas to watch the loading of his containers. They were stowed on the deck of the container ship and next day he watched it sail before returning to Cordillera to wait whilst the ship sailed the 3,000 miles through the Caribbean, the Panama Canal into the Pacific and South to Porto Agusta.

On his return he reported progress to Noberto, once again sitting in his office with the door firmly closed whilst they drank coffee. “I had a further idea whilst loading those containers,” Fidel muttered on conclusion, and between sips of his drink. “We have to dispose of the containers after using the gas; we don't want some noisy official poking around and looking inside later. So I propose to drill some holes in the top and bottom of the containers then stow them near the waters edge in the harbour. When the dam breaks the flood will obligingly wash the containers out to sea where they will sink. A good safe disposal don’t you think?”

“You are becoming too clever for your own good Fidel. Though I must admit it has a certain ‘finesse' to the problem of disposing of the evidence. You must get the size and number of holes right though, we don’t want them to float for too long, on the other hand they mustn't sink too quickly and block the channel, else they may have to be salvaged later.”

“I don’t anticipate that being a problem, everyone will be too busy saving the survivors to worry about two empty containers floating out to sea.”

* * *

It was the end of the week before the lorry came with more supplies and the bamboo store was again full. But that night several lengths disappeared into the loft space before it could all be assessed the following day. Peter and Drew had managed to get on the unloading detail and pre-select certain lengths of bamboo, ensuring these pieces were stacked near the top of the pile. This enabled the job of relocating them to the roof void during the night to be easily completed.

Having scaled up the model to carry both of them Peter found the result frightening. The glider needed to be big and therefore heavy, perhaps too heavy for Helen to carry one end when folded. It was time for a serious conference and he mentioned it to Helen in passing during the day.

“Well! I have to prove I can get across to the men’s quarters too. I suggest I try tonight and then we can talk, all night if necessary and I can check how heavy it’s going to be whilst I’m there.”

“That’s risky Helen. I don’t know that it’s worth it.”

“Peter, I have to prove the route, besides I have some things to bring over. I think I’ve solved the problem about the ‘sail’ though. We’ll talk some more at the fence this evening.” She didn’t have time to say more and moved on leaving Peter curious and wondering about the ‘sail’ problem.

Early in the evening both Peter and Drew were sitting by the fence in their usual place waiting for Helen. “She only said she had resolved the ‘sail’ issue,” Peter answered in reply to Drew’s enquiry.

“And she didn’t say how, a bit dramatic isn’t it. Like a conjuror waiting for the drum roll to pull the rabbit out of the hat.”

“Hey! Don’t knock it, if she has resolved that issue then she’s entitled to a drum roll.”

“So where the hell is she? She should be here by now.”

As Peter had brought Drew along for the chat, Helen was deliberately delaying her arrival; she took great delight in baiting that man as he was so vulnerable to it. She stepped out of the women’s dormitory into the yard. A loose white blouse covered her flat chest and hung over well-worn faded jeans, the legs of which were cut off halfway up the calf, (the lower part had been used for patching). Her hair now cut short and bleached almost blonde by the sun was mussed about. She appeared to notice them for the first time and ambled over to the fence, her rope sandals kicked up the dust as she walked. Sitting down on her side of the fence she passed the customary greeting. “Hi! Evening guys.” Then, before they could reply, continued. “About tonight. I’ll come across when the guard has completed his petrol after midnight. Peter can you have a rattan rope ready with a loop in it? I can put it over my head and arms if you lower it from the roof. Then I shin up a pole as you pull from above.”

Drew, neglecting to answer the greeting, was first to speak. “You won’t need the rope or to shin up any pole, we have a ladder, as soon as you're in the compound we’ll lower it for you.”

“Oh! That’s even better, makes it much easier. Do I wave or something when it’s all clear?”

“No!” Peter added, “Wait on the roof of your wash-room and we’ll give you a wave to come over as we lower the ladder. Also we’ve built a step against your wash-room wall; if you take a glance when you leave you’ll see it. Use that to get down from your roof.”

“We’ll keep a lookout for the guards, so don’t bother about them.” added Drew.

“Even better Drew, a lady could get used to this treatment. Anything else?”

“Yes Helen, stop being so obtuse. It was very naughty leaving us I suspense, Drew and I are waiting to here what you propose we make the ‘sail’ from.”

Helen couldn’t help grinning broadly. “Oh that!” Then added offhandedly, “I thought we could starch the canvas.” This had the desired effect and created a surprised, though puzzled expression on both their faces as she paused for effect. “We use rice starch. Heavens, we eat enough rice. If you soak the canvas in it, let it dry, then sort of... paint some more on top. It seals the weave quite well, shrinks the canvas and makes it stronger. I’ll bring a length over with me tonight.”

“You’ve tried it? Checked that it works?” Peter asked.

“Of course! As I said, I’ve got a length already treated. I’ll bring it later. Must dash now... the guards you know.”

Drew regaining his composure lent forward to look past Peter. “See you Helen, and well done. Don’t forget to check where that step is.”

With this short compliment from Drew ringing in her ears Helen jumped to her feet, took a quick look in the bamboo store before making her way back to the women’s quarters. Drew and Peter remained seated leaning back against the fence. Peter had a lazy smile on his face as he turned towards the American with a raised eyebrow. “Yeah! Okay. So she’s a smart lady. Mind you I never said she wasn’t... But don’t tell her I said that.”

“You know, she’s right Drew, you are a male chauvinist.” Peter replied grinning broadly.

Helen now had a bounce in her step and as she entered the dormitory, caught the eye of Maria then walking along towards her bunk she tweaked the toe of Angie as she passed and gestured her to follow. After giving the nod to Gina the four of them were soon ensconced in the wash-room. “I’m going over to the men’s quarters tonight and I need help. Anyone care to give me a hand?”

“Tonight!” Exclaimed Angie.

Gina eyes lit up as she realised the implications. “The men’s quarters, of course we will.”

“How?” Said the ever practical Maria.

“Well first I have to get onto the roof above us. To do that I need to reach through the sash and remove the putty holding that lower pane of glass, your knife should help Gina. With the window out I can climb through and then with the aid of a length of rope I have, I can scramble onto the roof.”

“Yes you can borrow my knife,” this from Gina. Whilst Angie, wide eyed, murmured, “You have rope?”

“The rope, well it’s made out of rattan and bamboo, but it is very strong. I’ll show you.” Helen climbed onto the sink below the window and reaching through one side of the sash caught the end which she had left dangling after tossing the remainder onto the roof. She drew it in and showed it to them as Gina fetched her knife. Maria then volunteered to act as lookout as climbing onto the sink for her was questionable, the other three took it in turns to reach out through the sash and dig at the putty.

“What ever you do don’t drop my knife,” said Gina. “If it’s too difficult, leave it, we’ll come back to it later.” But the putty was old and brittle, it soon succumbed to their combined attacks and the glass was removed. With the aid of a hair clip four small holes were made in the frame one on each side, then the glass replaced and small bamboo pegs inserted in the holes so that the glass would not fall out of the frame.

That was all that could be done for now and they called Maria back to check their handy work and rejoin the group. Gina looking out through the open sash at the drop below declared she didn’t fancy going out there. “Not even for all the men over in the men’s quarters would I climb out over that drop.” Whilst Maria, looking at the window, muttered that they would have to take the whole frame out for her to have any chance of getting through.

“And have a crane to lift you up on to the roof,” added Gina. Receiving a black look from Maria by way of a reply.

They now had several hours to kill before midnight and took it in turns to stay awake. Helen meanwhile decided to make her self more presentable. She changed her white top for a dark long sleeved jersey, beneath which she wrapped the length of starched canvas and also decided to wear her one and only bra. It made her feel good and boosted her confidence, which she greatly needed at the moment. A splash of water on her hair fluffing it out completed the transformation. Gina, watching with some amusement, offered. “I have a dash of nail varnish if you want to do your toe nails.”

Helen, not knowing weather or not she was joking, turned down the offer. “A little lipstick maybe but toe nails, that’s a bit over the top, besides it will be dark. They won’t be able to see.”

“Oh! They’ll see, don’t you fret, they’ll see all right. Sorry, no lippy,” Gina replied flippantly.

It was late and their best guess was just before midnight as the four conspirators assembled in the wash-rooms. The idea was for Helen to get onto the roof, wait there until after the new guard did his rounds. Then she would make her way across the roof and wait for the signal from the men. Helen held a short loop of rope in her hand whilst a second length was tied loosely around her waist; the other three were going to hold onto that. She climbed up to the window and carefully reaching through the sash removed the pegs from outside the window before carefully handing the glass back to the others. A wriggle and her head and shoulders were through, the rope around her waist tightened. “More slack, give me more slack on the rope,” she whispered. A little further manoeuvring and she was out side and able to stand crouched on the window-sill whilst holding onto the frame. “Now I need to stand up but I don’t want to fall backwards so give me some rope, just keep a firm hold.” Helen stood and could now see over the edge of the roof, and there only a meter away was the top of the air vent she had seen from inside. With the other length of rope she tried to throw a loop over it and made it on the third attempt. Now she had something else to hang onto and stop her self from falling backwards. “Okay,” she whispered, “you can give me more slack I’m going to climb onto the roof now.”

The three women left behind saw her legs disappear upwards. Angie climbed up to the window and putting her head out looked up in time to see the grinning face of Helen peering down at her. “Are you okay?”

“Fine never felt better. That was exhilarating Angie. Have a look below you,” she added.

Angie turned her head, pausing for a moment before being able to distinguish in the gloom a sheer one hundred metre drop to the road below. She shuddered before turning back to Helen commenting. “Rather you than me... Okay! At least one of us will be waiting for you when you get back, be careful now.”

Helen crawled to the other side of the roof before carefully raising her head above the pitched roof of the dormitory. Nothing in sight no guards patrolling and as far as she could make out no one was on the other roof. Now she had a wait, possibly a long wait as the guards didn’t always start their patrol immediately after beginning their shift. ‘Damn I wish some one had a watch, I may have to wait here an hour or so. I wonder what time it really is... Should I risk it and go now? No! What's the point I would only have to wait in the compound for the ladder?’ She lay back, forcing her self to relax and gazed up at the stars. The moon hadn’t yet risen, there was no light pollution and so the stars shone with a brilliance that only a night in the tropics could display. Helen, almost falling asleep, had no idea how long she waited before she heard the tread of one of the guards. Once again she peeked over the edge of the roof and saw him walking past the end of the compound with one of the dogs. Ducking down she huddled against the gable end, hoping, praying that the dog didn't catch her scent. All remained quiet and a few moments later she heard them returning. Now she concentrated on the roof opposite but it was a good five minutes by her estimation before she saw a break in the line of the roof. ‘Yes! There’s a face and is that a wave? Are they waving me across, or is it a wave off?’ She gazed some more before seeing the wave again. ‘No! They wouldn’t give a wave off; they just wouldn’t come onto the roof if there was a problem. Damn, now the time’s come to commit myself and I have butterflies. This is scary. If I mess up now! Get a grip woman, time to go.’

Helen got to her feet and standing upright, trusting the men were right, walked to the edge of the roof before climbing down into the bamboo store. By the time she reached the other side the ladder was waiting. Quickly she scrambled up the ladder only to be lifted of the top rung by Peter who held onto her for a moment, very aware of her new shape. Another two men raised the ladder and laid it flat on the roof. At last Peter let go of her arm, and a moment later she was guided into the roof void where the glimmer of a candle showed the floor covered in strips of bamboo. Peter, entering behind her asked, “Did you have any problem?”

“Not really, just trying to see your signals and keeping awake whilst waiting for the guard to do his rounds. It’s a real pain not having a time piece.”

Drew, stood looking at her with his mouth open. “Err! Yes, we’ve noted that. Have you brought the canvas you treated?”

“Yes!” Helen lifted her jersey, and in an appreciative silence unwound the starched canvas from around her middle. Eager hands reached for it as she pulled down her jersey and sat on the floor.

Both Peter and Drew felt it, tried blowing through it then looking through it at the candle. “It feels good, much better than the original and it’s almost air proof, I think this is great. What do you think Drew?”

Drew was staring at Helen as he felt the canvas. “It’s good, very good, it’s stiff and stronger. You say this is two coats of starch, have you tried a third?” He asked, without shifting his eyes.

Helen, only catching a vague impression of his eyes in the flickering candlelight, became embarrassed. “No, not yet, I haven't had time, but I did try wetting it again afterwards, just at one end, and you see it lost some of the stiffness so we must ensure not to get it wet. That could be a problem in the rain forest.”

“Yes right! I think more experiments are called for, the first thing that springs to mind we cover it in black bags for carrying.” Peter glanced between the two of them. “Right Drew?”

“No!” Drew interjected, shifting his gaze to Peter. “Bin bags are too thin. The material for the seats, it comes in rolls covered in a clear plastic-bag, we unwrap the next roll carefully.”

“Of course!” said Helen, “they’re ideal.”

The discussion continued for some time before Helen raised the subject of the weight. “You said it was heavy Peter, how heavy is that?”

A stack of bamboo poles lay along one side of the loft and Peter indicated them with a nod of his head. “That heavy, all those poles.”

Helen scrambled to her feet and walked over to the pile, lifting one end of four of them. She carefully replaced them before picking up the length of canvas and sliding it underneath one end lifted all the poles. “Heavy! Too heavy, - it will be difficult to walk with those let alone climb a hill.” Helen’s spirits sank, just when it all was progressing so well. “You have to make it lighter Peter. Somehow you have to make it lighter.”

Again Drew averted his gaze from Helen and looked at Peter, “I said she wouldn’t be strong enough, you need two men to carry it.”

“Maybe, but I would have difficulty carrying one end myself. I can’t see you carrying that weight for long, especially up hill in the forest.” He thought about it some more and decided to sleep on it. “I’ll have to think about it. Meanwhile, the nights getting on, time to send you back home Helen. Sorry I can’t see you to your door.”

Drew checked with the lookout to see if the guard had stepped out of his hut. Received the all clear and Peter ushered her out onto the roof. Peter slipped his hand around her waist, ostensibly to guide her to the ladder. Leaning in close he whispered in her ear. “I think you are getting to Drew, he’s beginning to like you. He said something nice about you this afternoon.”

“So tell him to stop undressing me with those eyes.”

Peter smiled “That wasn’t only Drew. Besides it was in part your fault, I haven’t seen you look so good since Da... Never mind, off you go, and be careful.” With that he gave her a peck on the cheek as she stepped on the ladder.

Helen quickly slid down to the bamboo store and as she stepped of the last rung the bamboo ladder disappeared upwards. It was then only moments before she was on the roof of the other washroom and tapping on the window below. Angie’s face appeared. “Wait a moment whilst I get the others, and put that rope round your waist.” Five minutes later she was back in the wash-room, the glass was in place and they could all relax. But she couldn’t go to bed, still high with adrenaline and had to recount every last detail of the journey to her three conspirators.

* * *

Peter was dispirited, two days had passed since Helen had had been over with the canvas and the high generated by solving the sail problem had evaporated. He was nowhere nearer solving the problem of the excess weight. If you wanted the strength as he did, it had to be the larger diameter bamboo, and they wear heavy, too heavy. He had been examining the bamboo poles with Drew. Now sitting down in the loft, they had two candles burning, an extravagance he had not allowed before as they discussed the problem. “Peter, as I see it the only way you can make it lighter is either reduce the number of bamboo poles or use thinner ones.”

Peter forgo the temptation to give an obvious retort, they were both on edge. “Okay let’s consider the number of poles, we need the two leading edges, the cross piece to keep them apart and the centre pole to brace the vertical column with. And then there is the ‘A’ frame.”

“Can you use only one for the vertical in place of the ‘A’ frame?”

“Then we wouldn’t be able to bank the glider, the pole would come down between us. No! I can’t see a way of reducing the number of poles.”

“So you have to use lighter, thinner poles. There’s no other alternative Peter.”

“But they would be too bendy and the wings would twist upwards... Or even break.”

“Then you have to make it smaller, for one only, and we hide Helen in the loft here.”

“I did think about that but then I would have to carry it up hill on my own. You need two people for that, one at each end.”

There was a long pause in the conversation as both men tossed the problem over in their heads. Then by way of a diversion Peter leant over and stubbed out one of the candles with a sigh and a muttered, “we don’t need to waste it.”

“How do they do it for real Peter, is aluminium tube that much stronger? Don’t they brace it like a mast for a sail boat?”

“A yacht’s mast! But I am already bracing it.” Drew was about to reply when Peter interrupted. “Shush! Let me think a moment.” He took his mind back to that last hike in Derbyshire, walking his boots in, up on ‘Mam Tor’. They were flying hang-gliders and para-gliders from there like bright coloured kites souring along the ridge on the up currents of air. But what did the gliders look like when on the ground. Aluminium poles with ‘hi-teck’ wire bracing. The poles only in compression and the bracing provided the strength.

For two minutes not a word was said as both men chased their own thoughts, eventually Peter broke the silence. “Yes! More bracing, more stays. We use much thinner poles, but we’ll need more bracing and stays and we have to fasten them efficiently, everything must be able to be dismantled and reassembled easily.” His eyes flickered in the light from the one candle as he turned to Drew. “It’s going to take longer to build, but it’s the only way forward that I can see.”

“Well we have lots of time Peter. If you can design the fastenings I’ll get them made. Pegs, odd pieces of wood, no problem. Better still if they are all similar or the even the same. Do we use bamboo strip for the stays or rattan?”

“The bamboo is stronger so long as you don’t tie it or bend it sharply. Drew you’re right, it’s definitely the way to do it. Brace thin poles of bamboo, like a yacht’s mast, then the problem is all in the fastenings... We have to do more experiments and find the best way to tie it all together.”

Drew with new confidence after that comment from Peter made a decision. “Okay! That’s it for tonight, let’s pack up for now get some rest and think about the problems.” Peter looked at him with surprise, it was early and Drew was usually a bit of a slave driver, but he did appreciate the wisdom of a rest, and a long think. Sometime later with the ceiling panel back in place he lay on his back. He could rest his body but couldn’t stop thinking, and still it was not late. The fastenings, it was a problem but an intriguing one, joining stays and bamboo lengths crosswise and lengthwise. It all ran through his head for an hour, two hours, three hours until he eventually fell asleep wishing that Guillermo was still alive.

It took a long time; days ran into a week, as Peter strove to prove the fastenings and where the extra bracing was required. Even then he wasn’t absolutely sure, though it did appear to make sense, of a sort. One thin pole of bamboo was eventually braced to become as rigid as a pole over twice its weight. During the day he neglected his work at the ‘factory’ as he made the fastenings and then discarded or improved on them. After two weeks Peter thought he had resolved most of the issues. The bamboo poles he was now proposing to use were much thinner and lighter, which allowed the glider to be less than half the original weight. The measurements for the ‘sail’ had been passed to Helen and the construction of this was well under way. Mostly hand stitched and starched in the women's quarters under Helens critical eye. There was a danger though, all of the prisoners new something was going on, most of them had a pretty good idea what was going on, and some, a few, knew it all. Could they keep the secret form the guards?

Meanwhile Helen, resigned to carrying a heavy weight, whilst climbing up hill, had been getting her self fit. Exercising in the washroom each evening, doing press ups, stepping up and down on and off a box. Lately she had been carrying Angie ‘piggyback' for a short while, trying to extend the number of steps each time. She knew that Peter had reduced the weight, but by how much? Drew and Peter had told her it was going to take longer to build, but how long? Helen was impatient. She had received the latest dimensions for the ‘sail’ that the women were making and it was progressing nicely, folded neatly inside her mattress cover during the day and worked on in the evening. Another week passed, before she took the completed ‘sail’ across to the men's quarters for them to do the final fitting. Since then she had rarely seen Peter at all. Now it was late in the evening as Helen walked into the hut looking very despondent, she had not been able to talk to Peter or Drew this evening so she didn’t know the progress with the glider. That and the way she was walking gave the impression of a beaten woman consumed with lassitude. It had become second nature by now to walk with head lowered and round shouldered to reduce the appearance of her bust and disguise the woman's figure beneath the loose floppy clothing. Although dusk it was still warm, the overcast day had raised the humidity which had not yet disappeared and she was perspiring. Moving to her bunk in the very corner she kicked off her rope sandals, took off her blouse and jeans before removing the bandage that strapped her bust in flat. Lying down on her bunk with only a clean, well-worn pair of knickers to cover her modesty she was revelling in the sense of freedom around her chest. ‘Will I ever get back to a proper woman's shape if... no when we get out of this place?’ She usually managed to take the bandage off once or twice during the day when out of site of any guards But she dare not leave it off for long as they were always turning up unexpectedly. She was determined to keep the pseudonym of a woman with a little bust. Occasionally she got her one and only bra from under the mattress and put it on in the evening, just to see what it felt like and to boost her moral. ‘Let’s hope I can keep on fooling the guards into thinking I’m not worth any attention. That guard gave me a second look when I stood and stretched my back the other day, or was that just wishful thinking on my part. Obviously the trick was to attract as little attention as possible, the last thing I need was to have to fight one of them off. Thank heavens they generally like their women plump and well rounded.’

Her eyes soon closed but she didn’t sleep, tossing and turning as her thoughts ran wild. Unconsciously she ran her hands over her breasts pushing them into shape, then caressing her flat stomach and wiping the perspiration off. The open window provided a little air to drift over the rest of her near naked body. Her thoughts drifted to the past, when she was last in South Africa, how she would lie with David beside her. If there were air conditioning they would switch it off and open the windows to the night breeze. ‘How we had enjoyed making love, the sweat running off both our bodies only to become mingled in the damp sheet of the bed. It was only a year ago, and now, David and all our plans long gone, what have I done to deserve this? To be stuck here in this hell hole.’ It was a shock to discover that she couldn’t recall David’s face as it kept on getting confused with Peter’s. ‘Perhaps some time soon we will lie beside each other. Peter and I, would that be betraying David? Surly he would have wanted me to go forward and develop other relationships... Too soon perhaps!’ Her mind rambled whilst on the verge of sleep as she continued caressing her self. ‘I really did miss talking to Peter today.’ In fact it was usually the highlight of her day. ‘If I don’t speak to him or even sometimes don’t see him... well!’ A deep sigh escaped. She new the escape plan was progressing. ‘But I want to be part of this escape all the time, not just putting my little bit in whenever the opportunity arises. How long have we been here now? Three months nearly and still the only thing to look forward to was jumping off the roof. Ha! Jumping off the roof! I hope to God I’ll be able to do it when the time comes.’ She again went over in her mind the list of things to do and acquire before the escape, there wasn’t much left now. ‘Just food and water and that would have to wait until we had a definite GO date. Another plastic bottle wouldn’t go amiss. Now where can I scrounge another water bottle?’ It was with these thoughts in her mind that she eventually fell asleep.

In the bunk next to hers Gina turned away, she had been watching from the moment Helen had come in. She watched her friend caressing her self in the dark, sighing deeply, obviously badly missing her man. If something doesn’t happen soon she is going to go crazy. Gina had assisted Helen to get across to the men’s quarters two nights ago with the almost completed ‘sail’ for the men to fit and finish off themselves. ‘I’ll bet she did more than hand it to them though... I know I would if I’d gone across... But not for any man in the world am I going to hang out over that drop like Helen does.’ The very thought of it sent a shiver through her. ‘I must change my bunk tomorrow, when she does go and escape I don’t want to be singled out by the guards because of sleeping next to her. Perhaps it would be best to appear to fall out... have a cat-fight in front of the guards! No, that would attract too much attention. I’ll talk it over with Helen in the morning, she’ll understand, she would know what’s best.’

* * *

It was near the end of the week when once again the beat up old army truck arrived with more supplies, some more rattan and one more prisoner. He was pushed through the door of the men’s top floor dormitory late at night. A sorry state and barely able to stand even with a man either side supporting him, he had been badly beaten up. With bruises on both face and arms he looked in a sorry state and when they helped him to a bunk the bruises on his ribs where he had been kicked showed even in the meagre light available. The man didn’t complain but took a sip of water that was offered and soon fell asleep with exhaustion. In the morning, he was still alive and breathing heavily, when Miguel went over to talk to him, it wasn’t long before Miguel asked Drew to have a look at the poor fellow. Drew checked him out as best he could, no limbs broken but possibly two or three cracked ribs and bruises everywhere. They strapped his chest, brought him food and water and let him rest.

* * *

It was the middle of the day, the sun was high and there was a faint waft of a sea breeze as the group of U.S. Navy ships steamed slowly southwards some five miles off the coast. The sea was smooth, disturbed only by the long Pacific swell and white arrow heads at the throat of each of the four ships. The little fleet comprised a carrier in the lead, a fleet auxiliary in line astern and a destroyer on either flank. As Cabo Cordillera appeared on their beam the carrier lazily turned to port. The flanking destroyers changed position taking station ahead and astern and the little fleet headed into the bay. Arranged on the flight deck of the light aircraft carrier were four marine helicopters down the port side, and on the bow, two AV8B VTOL aircraft added to the impression of purpose. She was still about a mile out from the shore when the carrier turned aside from the line of ships and with a churn of white from the stern came to a stop to the North of the main channel. Then slowly drifted astern as her anchor hit the water with a splash. She needed swinging room when anchored, and closer in to the port of Sao Agusta, the channel was too narrow. Out of this channel, the rest of the bay was too shallow for the carrier’s draught. The accompanying ships steamed past. The destroyers, with shallower draft, anchored closer in to the shore, also to the North of the main channel whilst the fleet auxiliary continued in to the port.

They were on a ‘good will’ visit, ostensibly showing the flag before a combined exercise during the week. Everything was being done at a slow pace, made more so because it was a week end and just beyond the middle of the day at siesta time. As the ships came to rest the sea returned to a smooth oily Pacific swell. Nothing further appeared to move... Nothing happening... No boats were lowered to dash off to the shore, and none came out to visit any of the ships. Even the sea birds paid no attention to the new arrivals. The port, the city and the country ignored the small fleet of ships and the ships ignored the shore. The three ships had lost the sea breeze now, enclosed as they were by the arms of the bay, and it was just too damn hot. The stars and stripes hung listlessly with just an occasional flick of the tail, whilst the sun reflected mercilessly off the mercury surface of the sea.

The bay was a rough semicircle, bounded by the usual South American Pacific coastline. To the North, small white breakers drew a thin line between the blue of the sea and the lush green vegetation of the rain forest. This emerald green carpet spread up the steep slope to the top of the hills. The green of the vegetation enhanced even more by the occasional outcrop of rock, bleached white by the relentless sun. To the South the land was much flatter, the demarcation between land and sea etched by the golden line of a beach. In between these two arms of the bay were the city, holiday resort and port of Sao Agusta. Three grey blocks of flats rose prominently from the clutter of the buildings around the port. Whilst in the resort area perched almost on the beach, four new multi-storey hotels shone white in the mid day sun. A man, on the carrier, armed with a good pair of binoculars would be able to see beyond the port. Past the city to some high ground where a pale cream hacienda set on delightful green lawns. A polished dark maroon helicopter resting on the heli’ pad beside it and in front of the hacienda he would see a flag-pole, where the red and yellow of a different flag also indicated the lack of any sort of breeze ashore.

“No movement, nothing Sir. I can see the president’s place clearly and there is no movement, at all.” Reported the lieutenant as he backed away from the powerful binoculars mounted on a swivel.

“Well! I guess they’re all asleep, they’ll see we have arrived when they wake up. Have someone keep an eye on that place and let me know if there is any change.” With that the captain made his way aft, along the passage to his day cabin. He was a bit peeved at the lack of any form of reception. In all fairness there was an excuse, it was nice and cool in the air-conditioned confines of the U.S.S. Portland but topside, the flight deck was almost hot enough to fry eggs.

* * *

Up in the mountains two thousand metres above the sea and some one hundred miles inland to the East the air was much cooler but there was a little wind to disturb it. However the sun was even more relentless and grabbed at any skin exposed to its glare. The three men cowering in the shade sat in the dust their backs against the wall with their legs drawn up under them. Occasionally one would straighten a knee to relieve the cramp only to quickly pull his leg back out of the sun. No air-conditioning here, only a two-foot wide strip of shade at this time of day.

Miguel wore on his head the biggest bamboo and straw hat imaginable that threw his deep set eyes into even more shade. He broke the silence after checking first that no-one else was within hearing distance. “I definitely heard him say the fleet would be arriving today and then the other one said their marines where conducting combined exercises with the army for a week.”

Drew was doubtful. “Well if that is correct, it can only be a U.S. fleet. And that means we only have this week to get to the coast, they are bound to leave shortly after the exercise is completed. If we could get on board one of the Navy ships or even get a message to one of the officers. That must be better; it must be easier, than trying to get out of the country. I know a senator’s assistant doesn’t have much sway in U.S. politics but nonetheless they don’t like to lose one of us.”

Peter with his head bowed low looked as if he was asleep under his wide brimmed hat. “I know Drew, I’ve heard all the arguments but to do it in less than a week is a tall order. It must be at least a hundred miles. We would have to leave tomorrow night, latest. Flying all the way at night as we couldn’t trust the road and climbing through the forest during the day so we have enough height to fly again. Then there are the other issues, we still have to gather food, water and that forest... that jungle.”

“But Peter the glider is ready.”

“Yes the glider is ready, and the moon is just right. In fact everything is ready, but I have cold feet, and that’s nothing to do with these sandals.”

“Cold feet! Just push them out into the sun Señor Peter.” Commented Miguel, always the realist.

Peter, ignoring the comment, continued. “To be quite honest I’m beginning to get second thoughts. It’s the risk of it not working and crashing. It only needs one of the stays to break and the whole thing will come apart. Well! ... I don’t mind taking the risk myself but putting Helen in such a position... I just don’t know.”

Drew frowned at Miguel before turning back to Peter. “Look! We have to do something, you know this. We’ve looked at all the pro’s and con’s, this is our best option, it’s what we have been working at for three months. You know we will never get another chance like this again, it’s now or never Peter. We’ve been through all this with her and she’s never once hesitated. If you like we’ll make her a hiding place. Then if she changes her mind about flying, well I’ll come with you. Miguel, you would look after her in the hiding place wouldn’t you?”

“Si... if I can. Also I will get the other men to give food for you, and her if she stays.”

“Yes! I’m sure you would Miguel.” Then with a resigned sigh Peter bowed to the inevitable. “Okay Drew, I suppose it’s no use delaying it any longer. You two stay here, I’m going to take a little stroll over to the fence and see if I can have a chat with her. I doubt she would fancy staying in hiding for a month or even a couple of weeks.”

“Peter, if she is agreeable then I suggest you tell her to start across ten minutes after the guard changes at midnight. That will then give us just enough time to rig the glider before the moon rises.” This, from Drew, was really putting pressure on Peter, but he had the distinct impression that Helen was more willing for them to go now than Peter was. Not realising that Peter’s main concern was Helen, irrespective whether she stayed or flew with him.

Peter climbed slowly to his feet and started shuffling along by the wall, still keeping to the shade of the building. He was stiff from squatting in the small area of shade; perspiration ran down his forehead, dripped off the end of his nose and was lost in the dry dusty earth. As he came to the corner of the building he stopped. Looked across at the fence that divided the women's compound from the men's. He couldn’t see her but figured that if he walked over, one of the other women that he could see would let her know he was there. Shuffling along and kicking the dust over his feet, keeping his head bowed and staring at the ground he looked a beaten man as he wandered over to the fence. Here he paused only to find that she had anticipated him and was already there. The women must have been keeping a good lookout. She also wore the obligatory wide brimmed straw hat that threw her face in shade. Beneath this hat was a slender, scruffy urchin trying to hide a smile of welcome. Patched well-worn jeans, two sizes too large. A loose once white blouse and rope sandals completed her attire. They turned together and began to stroll slowly along with just the fence between them.

“Do you still want to fly, are you still game for it?” he asked.

“Yes of course I am, is the glider ready? When are we going? This waiting is killing me, let’s make it sooner rather than later please. I think one of the guards is beginning to take an interest in me.” Though not strictly true. ‘I hope it’s not too unbelievable,’ she thought.

“Tomorrow night early enough?”

“Tomorrow!” She glanced at him whilst suppressing a smile, then with building excitement in her voice. “Yes I can do that. I’ll have to call in some favours for food but that should be okay. I’ve been saving those favours for just this moment. Do you see how slim I am?” She added patting her stomach and almost pirouetting in front of him. “When do you want me to come across? What time?”

“Just after the guards change over at midnight, say ten minutes after. But be careful the guards sometimes do a repeat patrol soon after the change over. Try not to be late though, as we need to rig the glider before the moon rises, I estimate that at about 12:50.” He turned and looked straight at her face, trying to gaze into her sole through those deep blue eyes. “Now don’t take offence I have to ask this once more. Are you sure about the flying and jumping off the roof. Only we could hide you somewhere whilst Drew and I flew the glider.”

“Peter how many times do I have to tell you,” she said in exasperation. “I’m not going to funk it, to slink into some cubby hole and hide when I could be flying free. Besides you know Drew, he’s not fit and far too heavy.”

“He’s lost a lot of weight lately Helen.”

“Yes! But he had a lot to lose in the first case. Anyhow he’s a city man, can you see him climbing through that jungle? I bet he hasn’t got any decent boots either.”

He couldn’t resist surprising her again. Watching her face for the reaction, he commented casually. “Sorry it’s such short notice but we have to go to morrow if we are to catch the U.S. Navy in port.” It worked a treat, her eyes went wide and her chin dropped but her recovery was superb as a smile crept into the corners of her mouth.

“That should be interesting, the U.S. marines to the rescue. Are you serious?”

“Possibly! Miguel overheard some talk about the fleet coming for a visit.”

“For how long, can we make it in time? We had better break of now. I’ll see you tomorrow night just after midnight then, same procedure as last time.”

Helen turned and slowly walked away from the fence, trying to show utter depression and despondency to anyone watching whilst actually wanting to shout with glee. As she approached the door of the women's building Maria came out. An arm, as thick as a normal woman's leg landed across Helens shoulders. “Why, you’re shaking! Cheer up girl, they’re trying their best, what does it matter another week or so?”

Helen raised a secret smile. ‘If I can deceive her then the guards wouldn’t suspect anything.’ It was her worst fear that she would somehow betray them. “Let’s walk over there on our own, so no one can hear.” But just a few paces further and she could contain it no longer she was so excited. “It’s tomorrow night Maria, tomorrow night. I’m not depressed, just hamming it up. I don’t want to show how happy I am. Peter just told me we go after midnight tomorrow.”

“Tomorrow night, that’s good then. I’ll call in a few debts and we’ll go through that list you made. Food and a water bottle are the most important, and we must dig up those boots that you buried. It was lucky you managed to hang onto them. I hope you remember where you buried them.”

“Oh yes! I check the mark on the wall every day... And those jeans that Angie gave me, they’re going to be useful. You know Maria. I’ll never understand how she ever managed to get a decent pair of jeans that fit me? I shudder to think what she did to get them. Peter only asked the other day if I had sensible clothes and my boots. I can’t wait to see the expression on his face when I come across in those jeans, they are really tight. Heavens I hope I don’t bust out of them.”

“It would be a little embarrassing if you did bust out of them especially with this diet. Angie has a good head on her shoulders for a young girl; she got them by a bit of judicious black mail.”

“Yes! It’s a good job I’ve lost so much weight... I hope my boots still fit, that would be worse. Did you know I first met Peter when I was buying shoes in a shoe shop? Heavens that appears such a long while ago now.”

“Are you going to ware your boots when you go across tomorrow?”

“No! Not whilst...” She nearly said flying. “Going across, I don’t fancy them for climbing ladders and going over the roof. I’d make too much noise. I’ll go over in my sandals with socks over them. I’ll put my boots on when we start walking in the rain forest.” She had to keep on saying to her self ‘need to know’ the only way to keep a secret is to tell only what they ‘need to know’. But it stuck in her throat all the same, Maria had helped so much. ‘Anyhow she would almost certainly be able to guess what she didn’t know for fact. You can’t hide the shape of that sail.’

* * *

This time Noberto closed the door of his office gently, a broad smile spread across his face as he dropped into his chair and using the intercom’ asked Teresa to invite Señor Gamboa to come to his office. “And Teresa,” he added, “use the term ‘invite him to come to my office’ if you will, please.” Then uncharacteristically he twirled his chair around, once, twice, before putting his feet on the window-sill and gazing out across the river.

Fidel wasted no time answering the unusual invitation but knocked out of habit before entering the office. “You’re in a good spirits this morning Noberto. To what do we owe this for?” He said, once again leaning back on the door to ensure it closed properly.

“Ah! Fidel you could never guess. Fix yourself a drink and mix me one, then I will tell you a little story.” He brought his feet down and spun the chair around. “I have just come from a meeting with the U.S. Navy. They are being crafty. If we stop these kidnappers... find their senators assistant and return him. They will offer us some credit to buy helicopters, as a good will gesture. One million dollars of credit, which need not be repaid of course, and just happens to be the same as the ransom asked for their senator’s assistant. But they will not pay the ransom, you understand! Some more credit may be offered, if the people from the (IMAF) are also included.”

“That’s no damn good! ... On second thoughts, will El Presidante Gotari put up the money?”

“I have just had a word with our president Señor Carlos Gotari. He suggests we offer one million dollars for the senator’s assistant and the three (IMAF) people. Then we keep any extra that the Americano’s pay. So the country makes a profit and generates much good will. He has no vision our president. I think our contact could agree to that. Don’t you think?”

“I suppose, it doesn’t matter that we haven’t got all three from the (IMAF) seeing as none will survive. But the norteamericanos, they will not honour their agreement when they turn up dead.”

“So the money comes from the treasury. Does it matter Fidel, so long as we get it.”

“No! Though I would like the Americano’s to pay. After all they sent him here to snoop.”

“True! True my friend, but we can’t always have what we want.” He paused, before looking hard at Fidel. “Now! When should we do the job, whilst the Americano’s are in port I think, the army will be on an exercise and some of their marines will be involved, it should help to confuse the issue. Can you get the prisoners to that place below the dam? Will it take long to set up the explosive?”

“I’ll send instructions to the prison tomorrow. One of the soldiers can take it by motorbike, and then we can have those three sent down on the truck. The two containers at the port will be sent up to the railhead below the dam and we will take over security of the power station by the specials. I’ve had a word with that Shaun and he thinks no more than a few hours to set up the explosive, then maybe a day to fill the void with gas. We should be ready by the middle of the week, say Thursday latest.”