The Lieutenant Takes the Sky

 

Captain Mike Malloy was conducted to the general’s office with great speed. Before the door, the files grounded their Lebels with a loud crash and the corporal threw the portal wide.

 

The people in the office turned. General LeRoi gave a start and scowled.

 

He had not expected his order to be so promptly carried out, and he had never imagined for an instant that Captain Mike Malloy of the French Air Service could be anything but neat. Just now, Mike was not at all polished. A week in jail had taken away all gloss. His beard was dark; his tunic was ripped from shoulder to waist, and the flapping cloth almost obscured his pilot’s wings; the bill of his dusty kepi was broken and, all in all, his condition yelled, “Dungeons!”

 

But for all that Mike was cool enough. He pushed his kepi to the back of his head and walked out of the guard file and into the office. He stopped before the general’s desk, looking neither right nor left.

 

“You sent for me, sir?”

 

“I did!” said LeRoi, white mustaches bristling and ruddy face scarlet. “You seem to be somewhat untidy.”

 

“No illusion about it,” said Mike. “Your observation is correct.”

 

LeRoi coughed and glared, and then gradually composed himself through necessity.

 

“Captain Malloy, I wish to introduce you to M’m’selle Lois DuGanne,” said the general.

 

Mike turned and then blushed for the wretchedness of his appearance. Lois DuGanne, a little bewildered, nodded to him and gave him a slight smile. Mike bowed but he did not lower his glance. She was a very lovely woman, all neat and crisp in delicate whites. Her eyes were blue and frank. Mike was spellbound.

 

The general coughed to distract Mike’s attention. 

 

“And,” said LeRoi loudly, “I wish to present you to M. Delage, and his secretary, Henri Corvault.”

 

Mike turned to shake Delage’s hand. The man was patently important. His linen was expensive, and was cut on the pattern of most French politicians’. He was around forty, and there was a certain arresting quality about him which one could trace to his eyes. They were odd, those eyes, because it was impossible to tell their exact color.

 

Henri, the secretary, was too thin to throw a decent shadow. His head was too big for his body and his neck too small. He seemed to be a very timid echo of Delage.

 

“Captain Malloy,” said General LeRoi, “is the man I have been telling you about. He has just returned from scout duty and I apologize for his appearance. However, it has nothing to do with his competence. He knows every square inch of the Middle Atlas, having fought throughout the last campaign in that region, and he is one of our best pilots.”

 

Mike looked on in amazement and heard in astonishment such praise.

 

“In addition, we will send with you our Lieutenant Reynard, who is also an excellent pilot,” continued LeRoi. “I doubt you will suffer any inconveniences on your trip.”

 

Delage stood up. “General, I am very pleased at your generosity. I could have hoped for nothing more satisfactory.”

 

“M. Delage,” said the general, “it is with extreme pleasure that I am able to extend to you the courtesies of the French Army. It is little enough to do for such an important personage as yourself.”

 

They bowed to each other.

 

Miss DuGanne stood up. “And I too thank you, General.”

 

“M’m’selle,” said LeRoi, “while I regret your insistence upon accompanying the party into the Middle Atlas—which I assure you is no place for a lovely woman—I shall nevertheless do all in my power to aid you.”

 

Henri scuttled to the door and opened it for Delage. The personage bowed in the entrance to the general and then to Mike. “We shall see you in the morning, Captain.”

 

Miss DuGanne smiled at the two officers and withdrew.

 

When the door had closed, Mike looked with suspicion at LeRoi. “If you don’t mind my saying so, sir, it’s hardly the time for an expedition of a private sort—”

 

“Nobody asked your opinion,” snapped LeRoi, sitting down. “Why did they have to bring you here in that condition! If you could see yourself . . . !”

 

“Sir, I assure you that if I had had time, and if I had known, I would have presented another facet of my glittering self. But your guards are most abrupt and your jail . . . General, you should look into that jail.”

 

“None of your insolence, Malloy. You were brought here for one purpose and one purpose only. You can go to the bataillon pénal, as scheduled, or you can fly this party into the Middle Atlas. I give you that choice.”

 

Mike was suspicious. “By any chance, would the Middle Atlas trip be worse than the bataillon pénal ?”

 

“Probably,” snapped LeRoi. “You know the conditions inland as well as I do. Berbers sniping at planes, strange troop movements, and the lid about to blow off all Morocco. I chose you because I would not order an officer on such duty—”

 

“You are ordering Lieutenant Reynard,” said Mike.

 

“Yes, Lieutenant Reynard. He has committed one too many murders in the name of espionage. As he cannot be censured for doing his duty, I can only send him on such a mission.”

 

Mike was very puzzled by now. “Sir, if it is going to be as bad as all that, how can you send such an important man as M. Delage into the interior—”

 

“I send him nowhere,” corrected LeRoi. “M. Delage is much less important than he himself thinks. He is a small-time politician in France, has some remote connection with the French Academy and, through ignorance, has selected this time to go searching for a book in the Middle Atlas.”

 

“A book?” said Mike.

 

“Yes. I understand that it is the girl’s idea. She is an American and, like you, seems to be crazy. The book is L’Aud, the only volume missing from the Karaouine University Library. It has been gone for eight hundred years, and was last in the possession of Sultan Ibn Tumart. I believe it contained an alchemical formula for the manufacture of gold from base metals. That is all pure bosh, but these three people are crazy to go on their trip, and they have asked the French Army to help them. Very well, help them we shall. But they will also help us.”