13

“The terminal is probably our best shot.”

You run towards the terminal. The heat is unbearable and forces you to a walking pace. Sweat drenches your clothes. You wish you took some water from the plane, but you don’t want to run back and risk being trapped in the plane when the men return.

You continue to walk towards the little terminal building. There is nothing to hide behind as you approach the building, but so far there is no indication that anybody is around. You get closer and notice that the fuel truck is parked in a dilapidated shed, the fuel operator sleeping under the truck again.

You enter the small building. There is a passport control desk in front of you, unmanned. You move past the kiosk into a smallish hall. A few people are milling about, locals going about the business of running a barely functional airport. You buy some water from a vendor, he accepts your money eagerly, and you and Emily gulps it down as you exit through the dirty glass doors into the outside.

A scene of utter chaos greets you. The little airport is next to a busy market place, a potholed dirt road stretches in both directions. In front of you are stalls selling a wide variety of goods, from raw meat to vibrantly coloured fabrics. An old taxi is parked in the road, its yellow paint faded to a dull and rust. Emily nudges you to get into the taxi.

The driver babbles something incomprehensible at you, looking into the skew rear-view mirror. You just shrug. “Where to?” he asked in a heavily accented English.

Emily brightens a bit and smiles at the driver. “We need to get to our embassy, how far?”

“Not far, not far,” he replies and drives off.

“They are not after the weather control technology as such,” Emily tells you. ”My grandfather was working on super-efficient high-intensity lasers as part of the system. It’s used to either increase or reduce the intensity of storms when fired from space. That is what they are after. It could be a powerful weapon if modified a bit.”

“But it’s lost. They have it. I saw them take it when they assaulted your Grandfather.”

Emily smiles even broader. “Not anymore!” She holds up the memory stick. “Those two started drinking as soon as we took off and then fell fast asleep. I simply picked their pockets. Can you imagine their faces when they realise the stick is gone?”

“Emily. You are amazing!”

After twenty minutes, the driver stops in front of a small neat building. There is a bronze plaque next to a black gate, stating you have arrived at your consulate. You pay the river, tipping him generously and hop out. The marine at the gate lets you through when you flash your passports.

An official meets you and Emily tells the whole story, leaving out the part where she has the memory stick. You play along, not deluging any more than is necessary. The official seems impressed with your story, but he is visibly disappointed that you do not have the data. Emily’s grandfather seems to be more important than you imagined.

The official informs you that there is a government plan due later the day and that you will be escorted to the airport. You are safe from now on.

Two days later, you are back at work. Emily and the professor is off to Geneva, where Emily’s friends are making the information available to the world.

Theend, go to the epilogue.