JonDLundyn Parker #2 19/2
May 29th 2007 20:32
The men were eating dark rye bread smothered in goose liver pate. Lundyn had finely sliced shallots and radishes over the sandwiches as a kind of salad. The thermos flasks of green tea for the General and coffee for Lundyn and Roscoe were steaming on the small card table between their seats. The hum of the engine droned in the background and each man chewed looking thoughtfully out the cabin window at the Coral Sea marching in long waves toward the Australian mainland. Lundyn had a chart plotter activated and was measuring the distance from their GPS position to the target area. He had calculated the wind direction and strength and looking at the plan of the bay that their target was situated in, guessed that unless they had reason to move they would still be where they had last been seen. No reason to move from a well protected anchorage. He put the plane into a two mile glide that would bring him down to one thousand feet.
“We are just a couple of minutes from the target” lundyn said turning to his friends. “If they are still there we will assess the situation, but either way the shit hits the fan soon!”
His friends merely nodded and shifted in their seats. Their eyes however took on a menacing glare as a small tropical island started to appear ahead of them. It was not covered in lush vegetation like many of the other islands. This one had been used for extensive grazing and was covered in mainly grass meadows with small thickets of trees scattered about. Small bays with sandy beaches indented the side they were approaching from and glancing at the chart to orientate himself the General pointed his long bony finger to a small bay which had two rocky arms encircling it.
“This looks a good spot to land, out of site and launch a land attack.”
Lundyn nodded agreement and said, “Yes I agree but I want to take a look at the bay and the boat they are in.” the general nodded and smiled, crinkling his eyes with amusement.
“If you want to do that, fine. But we are better off to just land in that bay out of site and move in.”
Lundyn knew that the General was right but his hunting instinct was to sight his quarry first. He pulled back gently on the stick and the Seawind rose in response to clear the main hill on the island. Once over he immediately looked into the clear bay and spied the sleek charter boat sitting at anchor in the calm bay. Its white hull and polished timber work glinted in the sun. A picture perfect scene for a postcard. He levelled out his plane and flew a course forty five degrees away from the anchored boat. It was the suspect alright, he felt it in his water. He was again concentrating on the chart to work out a route to come back to the island more or less unobserved when Roscoe called out.
“We are just a couple of minutes from the target” lundyn said turning to his friends. “If they are still there we will assess the situation, but either way the shit hits the fan soon!”
His friends merely nodded and shifted in their seats. Their eyes however took on a menacing glare as a small tropical island started to appear ahead of them. It was not covered in lush vegetation like many of the other islands. This one had been used for extensive grazing and was covered in mainly grass meadows with small thickets of trees scattered about. Small bays with sandy beaches indented the side they were approaching from and glancing at the chart to orientate himself the General pointed his long bony finger to a small bay which had two rocky arms encircling it.
“This looks a good spot to land, out of site and launch a land attack.”
Lundyn nodded agreement and said, “Yes I agree but I want to take a look at the bay and the boat they are in.” the general nodded and smiled, crinkling his eyes with amusement.
“If you want to do that, fine. But we are better off to just land in that bay out of site and move in.”
Lundyn knew that the General was right but his hunting instinct was to sight his quarry first. He pulled back gently on the stick and the Seawind rose in response to clear the main hill on the island. Once over he immediately looked into the clear bay and spied the sleek charter boat sitting at anchor in the calm bay. Its white hull and polished timber work glinted in the sun. A picture perfect scene for a postcard. He levelled out his plane and flew a course forty five degrees away from the anchored boat. It was the suspect alright, he felt it in his water. He was again concentrating on the chart to work out a route to come back to the island more or less unobserved when Roscoe called out.
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