Wings of the Morning (49 page)

DAVID HEAVEN & AISCHA GOMES — September 1999

They were stalked by death during those summer months. Cestac and Toussaint were buried at sea and they left not a trace behind: no word of enquiry, no acquaintance of either
to mourn.

Connie Aveling had suffered not a heart attack, but a stroke and it was very severe. He was paralysed down the left side of his body and he lost the power of speech. They did their very best for
him, but he had lost the will to live. He died in hospital at the end of August, over the Bank Holiday weekend. Tepee was with him at the end and his three children, Peter, Oscar and Camilla. Pente
Broke Smith took his funeral service at which all who had mattered to him were present in the small Hampshire Church in which he had worshipped. Alexa and Hugh from Hong Kong, David and Aischa,
Kingston Offenbach, Martin and Ruth Kirchoff, Sebastien and Izzy together with Rory Trollope and a contingent from the business which Connie had nurtured.

The Oxford Five were reduced to Four. David was distraught. Tepee did not reproach him. She was simply sad and lost and inconsolable. Alexa was shattered for her. Connie had gone to his grave in
defence of her for a second time and his sacrifice had cost her dearest friend Tepee the companionship on which she depended. Talking about it later, David said to Aischa,

‘I’m haunted by that last look he gave me when he said he’d done it for Alexa. He meant more than that I’m sure. He was also confirming his rejection of me and my
philosophy and the whole Zero concept. And, no doubt, ramming it home that if I could conceive of such a thing, so could a villain like Cestac with no motive except his self satisfaction. Connie
will have died mighty disappointed in me, that’s for sure.’

David shook his head in sadness as he reached for his whisky glass, but Aischa was having none of it.

‘You’re not attractive when you’re wallowing,’ she said sharply, ‘and you’re not looking at the facts. Poor Connie was already a sick man before this tragedy.
He had worked too hard for too long. He was depressed by the world in which he worked and anyway, he refused to recognise depression. He barely listened to your proposal before rejecting it out of
hand. Tepee knows all this and it tortures her now. She saw him withdrawing into his moods and now she wishes she had done more to change his lifestyle. Oscar thinks the same. He and Anna have
talked it over endlessly and she has told me of course. Alexa understands it best of all, not surprising after all she went through. So for God’s sake, David, don’t you start mooning
around in recriminations. It’s not right and it’s not fair to the memory of a great guy who just lost his way a bit, but who certainly pulled your walnuts out of the fire at the very
end.’

David was startled by her words and her tone, but properly rebuked.

‘I think you mean chestnuts, Darling, but otherwise I take your points.’

He continued to brood over ensuing days but kept his thoughts to himself. Aischa was right and he knew it, but the memory of Connie and his friendship burned bright. David had always believed
that their relationship would return in full strength, but now it was gone forever.

Then life moved them on again and brought another departure. Aischa returned to Lisbon at the beginning of September and a week later, she called David to say that Alves was in a hospice in
Lisbon and slipping away. Anna was already on her way there and David jumped for the first plane. They were both too late. With a lack of drama and a self effacement which was the style of the man,
Alves Gomes went on his way, happy to leave the party of life while he was still enjoying it. He and Aischa had shared some precious conversations during his last couple of days. He had some final
words of advice and they had both been smiling as he said,

‘Don’t delay now. Get on and get married properly. You’re like me and not getting any younger.’

Anna endorsed this advice, but Aischa was still amazed to find that it was already on David’s mind. He proposed to her on the day they buried Alves and they married in Lisbon before the
weekend. Anna stood as witness and the Mori’s at the restaurant baked a cake. They all sensed that Alves was beaming down on them.

‘We will honeymoon,’ said David, ‘in a new century and on another shore.’

DAVID HEAVEN — December 1999

At midday on Christmas Eve, David and Aischa walked out of the apartment above The Mansion House and descended the building to find his car waiting outside in a quiet
Piccadilly. They didn’t linger and as the driver took them away, David wondered if and when he would come back.

The previous evening had been a subdued occasion touched with apprehension. They had gathered together for a final report, a last hurrah, some quiet time of reflective conversation before the
pandemonium of their own making swept over them. As he walked into the dining room of The Mansion House, David saw that it was set for fourteen which set him wondering until he saw that Ursula had
included places for Conrad and Tepee — one who could not join them and the other who would not. He was touched, and more so when he noted that they would have made the total thirteen, a
number for bad luck, and so she had put the bust of old Sol in front of a chair. She was right: he would certainly be with them in spirit.

They enjoyed a glass or two of champagne before they sat down. Then Pente recited a special grace of his own creation, looking around as he did so to embrace them all. The food was excellent and
the wines peerless. Ursula administered and Bill Evans assured their privacy from his watching post in reception. When coffee and liqueurs had been circulated, David called for a moment’s
silence while he brought them up to date.

‘Our fleet has sailed. The “Orphans Angel” left Hong Kong on schedule with her full complement of crew and passengers, nearly three thousand in total. We attracted some
outstanding press coverage as you will have seen. Her voyage, which some journalistic bright spark has dubbed “Mission of Mercy”, seems to have caught the global imagination and getting
under way just before Christmas has given a further boost. We have published the schedule and the dates, so the world is informed that “Orphans” will be putting into five different
ports and countries down the West coast of Africa over the next nine months and we have got correspondence with all five to prove she is expected. Only we know that she’ll be delayed into all
but one.

‘Her journey is uneventful so far and the captain told me earlier today that they have all settled down together. The ship is now in the Pacific and closing on Cape Town where Fergus will
join her by helicopter. He will be flying out to Cape Town tomorrow and can tell you this evening that the embarkation of the Strike Force was complicated, but no worse than anticipated.

‘The “Hope” did have some problems which delayed her arrival into Felixstowe and had us sweating a bit. But they managed to make up time in loading her there and she’s
made a good passage since. We know that she’ll make the rendezvous with the others.

‘So far, so good. Now for the rest of us, the original plan is unchanged. Martin and Ruth are staying here of course. Fergus goes tomorrow which leaves me and Aischa, Alexa and Hugh,
Felix, Pente, King and Ursula. The eight of us fly out of London Stansted on New Year’s Eve. We’ll have plenty of space. Hugh has bought us a Boeing 747. It’s not new and
it’s unusual as it’s a short bodied model designed for both passengers and cargo. That will be useful as we have a bit of kit to take with us, a couple of vehicles and a whole lot of
medical supplies in particular. The aircraft came fitted out with a cabin full of sophisticated communications gear which will be useful to us. Also with a flight crew, led by an experienced chief
pilot called Arnie Schwartz, a South African who is quite a character. Hugh and I had no choice but to tell him what we’re about. It was a risk, but he had to know and we think we‘ve
struck lucky. Arnie is delighted and now, so am I.’

David paused to sip at his port and his silence denoted that he was ready for questions. But overall, the prevailing mood was of a weary resolution: let’s get on with it for all that
we’re scared of what the future holds. That goes for me also, thought David to himself.

They broke up before midnight, going their separate ways and conscious that they were now bound together, for better or worse. In the back of the company Range Rover the following day, Aischa
took his hand and squeezed in comfort as the chauffeur piloted them through Knightsbridge ablaze with the Christmas lights, over Hammersmith flyover and onto the motorway to Heathrow. They were
going home to Lisbon for a few days before returning to spend a night with Oscar and Anna in their draughty old house outside Hereford.

And then.

FERGUS CARRADINE — New Year’s Day 2000

Fergus spent a sleepless New Year’s Eve because one of the two lifts from hold to flight deck on the ‘Dawn’ went unserviceable and the engineer who could fix
it was being carried on the ‘Angel’. Typically of Carradine, he didn’t waste time wondering at the cause of this cock up, but concentrated on sorting it out. And they did, but
only just before daybreak after the technician had been trying to give advice over a mobile phone whilst in an inflatable ploughing through heavy swell from ship to ship. Then the omens got worse.
The first aircraft away was a Chinook, perhaps a little overloaded for the flight conditions. It crabbed off the deck and clipped a container in passing. The container was pushed over the side of
‘Dawn’ and the chopper had to ditch a mile away. All the guys on board were saved, but only at the cost of time and effort. The machine and its load went down of course, so all this
meant that they were behind schedule with some loss of assets.

After this poor start, he was mighty relieved that everything went exactly to plan. They were lucky in some things, but Fergus held to the belief that you make your own luck and he had ensured
this through nit-picking planning and rigorous, repeated training until all his people were as near perfect in their roles as could be achieved.

There were others outside his immediate control. Patrick Nugumu and the advance team had been in place for weeks and were careful to draw no attention to themselves. They were thorough also,
refining their observations to identify the hard targets which the Strike Force needed to hit first. The docks, so the three ships could come in to unload. The large barracks just out of town. The
Presidential Palace, for obvious reasons but also because it was so near the base for the praetorian guard, the regime’s best troops, who were quartered just half a kilometre distant. Then
there was City Hall, both radio stations, the main bus depot and the single TV transmitter. There was also the airport, but that was to come in for attention a little later.

Fergus had been preoccupied with how to get himself from ship to shore. He wanted to direct matters from the quayside, but was reluctant to leave his command and it was essential that
‘Dawn’, with the Strike Force, and ‘Hope’ remained out of sight over the horizon until ‘Orphans Angel’ had received her welcome to enter harbour. He cudgelled
his brain for alternatives and his best hopes were rewarded. As the first light of a new century was brushing the waves, Alec Singleton, Master of the ‘Angel’ sent a message announcing
their arrival to the authorities. He received a polite response saying he was expected, but please to wait an hour until the pilot boat from the harbour could come out to greet him. This gave
Fergus ample time to gather a small team and transfer to the ‘Angel’, so it was from her deck that he saw his first view of the city which was to become Century before that day was
out.