fabulous image be brought from the Mountains of the Moon and placed in this monastery. Mind you, there was no sense to it. There was no such Buddha; it was a figment of superstition. But she demanded it.
“All right,” said Duane. “Tell her it’ll take a bit of time. Tell her she must prepare a place here to receive the image. A room thirty feet square, with no roof, so when the Buddha comes from the moon he can be landed safely.”
Wang chattered away and the cracked voice chattered back. Ming Shui agreed to make the place ready and asked if Duane could guarantee delivery.
“Tell her yes,” said Duane. “Tell her any damned thing you like, Wang. But I want some guarantee from her that if she gets the Buddha, Stratolines gets the franchise.”
This was ironed out. Tea swimming with rancid butter was served, and the visitors took their leave. Duane wanted to get back for lunch and damned ceremony.
“It’s a complete mess,” he told Agnes Lawton over the luncheon table. “This old hag wants a miracle-working image that doesn’t exist. She’s important enough so this blasted Turkestan government backs her up and stops all progress. If she gets what she wants—will she play ball? I’ve decided she will. I think she’s on the level. No one could be that big a fool and not be on the level.”
The cool eyes of Agnes Lawton twinkled at him.
“Are you going to supply what she wants, Mr. Duane?”
“I am,” he snapped.
“Then perhaps she’s not so big a fool as appears.”
He grunted. “Huh! Hadn’t thought of that.” It was a startling thought. A waiter brought a radiophone and connected it; there was a call from New York.
“Well?” demanded Duane, when the answer came.
“Parks at headquarters laboratories, Mr. Duane. Did you put in a call for me?”
“Yes,” snapped Duane. “I need you here quick. Drop everything else.”
“Okay,” said Parks. “I’ll be there tomorrow night.”
“Bring your best technician and all the electronics gadgets you can pack.”
He hung up and looked at Miss Lawton. She was good to look at.
“You’re actually attempting this impossible rubbish?” she said.
He nodded. “Nothing’s impossible. Your brother is famous for his work with plastics; now, you go to bat for him. Make me a plastic bronze Buddha ten feet high.”
“Make it?” she repeated, startled.
“Make it. Regardless of expense. Commandeer anything you need in the way of help, materials, money, brains. Get whatever you want, here at Korla, but do it.”
“Very well,” she said slowly. “But I’d like to point out one thing to you. This, Ming Shui is, as you say, on the level. That doesn’t mean everyone else is—say, in the government. I’m thinking of General Li Hung, the governor himself.”
“Thanks,” said Duane, “I was thinking of that myself; glad you put the finger on him. Guess I’ll have a talk with your brother, Miss Lawton, while you get to work.”
Agnes Lawton disappeared that afternoon. Duane sat beside the bed of her brother and talked with him at length, regardless of weakness and fever. If delirium had brought this man to the verge of suicide, there must be a reason more vital than mere defeat and discouraged effort.
The sick man, bitterly ashamed of his own weakness, spoke freely. Things had gone from bad to worse, with the construction here at Korla. The first estimates of cost had been doubled and trebled. Stratolines had poured out money like water, to no avail. The new base promised to be the finest in Asia; but it would be worthless without the new franchise. Behind Ming Shui was the governor, General Li Hung.
“Can’t make him out,” said Lawton. “He’s no grafter. He’s shrewd, cultured, one of the best men in today’s China; but he’s against us. Why? No reason.”
Duane went away thoughtfully. At five that afternoon, he secured a private interview with General Li Hung; he talked with the brilliant, able governor for an hour and came away baffled. General Li would say only that he backed Ming Shui’s wisdom, blandly waving aside any hint of bribes or personal ambitions.
* * * *
Next afternoon Agnes Lawton came to him with a report.
“I can do what you want,” she said calmly.
“Oh, the Buddha?”
“Yes. It will require every resource I can command. This plastic figure can be supplied in a little over two weeks. The total cost will run close to two hundred thousand dollars; but the value of the finished article will be scarcely fifty dollars. Is this madness worth while?”
“Certainly. Go to it,” said Duane. “Parks is en route from New York and will get in tonight. I’ll turn him over to you tomorrow; he’ll work with you. Well, I saw General Li last night and had a talk with him.”
“What did you discover?”
“That he’s on the level. I can’t savvy it at all.”
“Perhaps the fault is yours,” she said quietly. “Often we go looking for some deep, dark secret, when all the time it’s in plain sight.”
“Meaning what?”
“I’m not sure. But in spite of all his culture, education, ability, he’s still a Chinese. And at heart every Chinese is superstitious. A quality so simple that it may be the reason why he stands with Ming Shui.”
Duane’s eyes widened a trifle.
“Upon my word, you’re an angel of light!” he exclaimed. She laughed and went her way, leaving him thoughtful.
Parks got in late that night, and Duane spent four hours with him. Parks was a wizard with electronics. He had an absolute mastery of the radionic marvels that had resulted from the war. High frequencies, ultrasonic vibrations, the thousand and one applications of these wonders to everyday life, all were just so much hamburger to Parks. He listened to Duane and nodded.
“I can do what you want,” he said. “Mind, it’s not easy; it’ll cost like hell. But it can be done. If the image of Buddha is ready in two weeks, I’ll guarantee to have it in shape in another week. I’ll have to work on it with Miss Lawton, of course.”
“Go to it,” said Duane.
During the next few days he was very busy arranging for that Buddha to get from the moon to the earth. The ordinary bronze Buddha could never make it because of his weight; but one of light plastic would be very different, though looking the same. With the help of Wang, Duane got his plans laid, ordered the necessary helicopter, and made an eventful second trip with Wang to the Heavenly Peace Monastery.
And just here, destiny lammed him under the jaw.
* * * *
Winging
