ARCANA Chapter 6 by William James Johnson

The others in the crew noticed the change in John Robins' behaviour, but Henley and Sandra were the only ones who knew the real reason. His friendly American approach to everyone was replaced by a sullen dedication to his flying. Carlo broached the subject as tactfully as his temperament would permit when the others had gone to bed.

"What's chewing at you?" asked Carlo, using John's idiom.

He did not respond in words but the rush of blood made his temples throb. Carlo tried again.

"No one said you had to fly this thing all by yourself. You haven't taken a break since our crossing of Sardinia twelve hours ago."

"When I need your help, I'll ask for it."

"Hold on, my friend. You seem to forget, I'm still the Commander. Go on back and get some pit time. Maybe you'll feel more like talking after you've had a rest."

Being unable to conceal his feelings always annoyed John. What you saw was what you got. He was never successful at role playing. His basic honesty had gotten him into trouble with his wife, and now this Sandra thing had taken the excitement out of the journey.

Only Michael and Carlo were awake as he made his way to his cabin. The sliding panel opened silently when he touched the energizer beside the entrance. As he stepped into his room he heard the soft whisper of a woman.

"Don't turn on the light."

"What the hell are you doing in my cabin?"

"I had to speak to you, John. Please listen."

"Don't waste your time. You had your say this morning."

There was pain in his voice. She came closer to him. The starry night outside the porthole let in just enough light for him to see the wonderfully lean face of this beautiful woman. Moist eyes, and a loss of assurance in her voice weakened John's determination to make her leave.

"You can't stay here. You heard what Henley said if I came near you again. Why didn't you tell me about you and him?"

"Forget about Henley. You've got to give me a chance to explain." She pulled him gently towards his bed and the two sat in the dark on the edge of the bunk.

"Henley Armstrong is a mad man."

"He was certainly mad this morning," agreed John.

"I mean it. He had to pull a lot of strings to get me on this mission. He feels I owe him something, and maybe I do. But you can be sure he's been paid in full. We first met when I was shooting a documentary for the BBC on Henley's discovery of a male contraceptive...he is brilliant in some ways. From the start he made no secrets about how he felt about me. I'll level with you John, I've had my share of one nighters, and Henley was one of them."

"And me...I'm just another one nighter."

"No. You're different...but about last night, be honest, that wasn't very satisfying, now was it?"

"Not very... But you told Henley..."

"I told him what he wanted to hear. He's insanely jealous. He's married you know. At one time he even threatened to kill his wife because she showed an interest in one of his students. He told me he was going to poison her."

"What the hell for? Why not just divorce her?"

"Not Henley. Divorce would be admitting defeat. I told you the man is mental...really mental. You saw how he acted when Michael saved him when he almost fell from the ladder. He made a real show of thanking him, but to me he admitted how ashamed he was that Michael interfered. He would've preferred to have fallen rather than accept help...honestly, he is really strange."

"If he's such a nut, why are you taking this chance being here with me?"

"Henley's asleep. He had a splitting headache after what happened this morning and his heavy drinking last night. He was uptight all day. He asked me for a couple of aspirins and I told him I had something better which would help him relax. Actually the pills I gave him were barbiturates. He'll sleep for about eight hours. Believe me, he needs the rest."

"Gawd! What a scheming wench."

"I had to John. I hated to see you hurt so much this morning. I just had to explain. I hope you'll understand."

"If it weren't for this mission, I would've punched out the limey bastard."

"I know, darling. Your restraint was marvellous."

She placed her hands on each side of his face, feeling the stubble which had sprouted during the long hours he had been at the controls. Her mouth opened gently and her warm tongue searched for his as the two slumped backwards on to the air mattress.

"You're different, John. You're real. We mustn't let Henley know about us. I promise you I'll lie if he presses me about you, but you must believe me, you're the man I want to be with, not him."

His hands thrilled as they probed the firm breasts which burst out of the crew suit when the zippers glided smoothly to her waist. She knew how to get the best out of a man. His body tingled with her warm breath and squirming tongue. She gave him everything he had ever fantasized. If there had been doubt before, he was now convinced she was intent on proving her love for him. To hell with Henley Armstrong. He would take care of him when the time was right. Now all he wanted was to be as close to Sandra as he could get and she in turn was all giving.

They stayed together until the Mediterranean sky revealed the first subtle shafts of a new day creeping up the rear of the dirigible. John left his cabin first and went to the flight deck. Carlo saw instinctively that the rest he had ordered had done its job.

"That's more like it. Welcome back to the human race. No more of these twelve hour stints. From now on we'll spell each other off every six hours."

"You were right, Commander. I had no idea how tired I was until I hit the sack. You better do the same. I've got control."

As Carlo left for his much needed break, John reached out for the navigation video and requested a fix. The Nobile was floating peacefully between North Africa and Southern Spain.

The airship came to life again as other crew members made their way to the pilot's compartment. The brilliant cloudless sky promised another ideal day for riding in their giant balloon.

The others were happy to see that John was himself again. They had already forgotten about his moodiness of the previous day. The aroma of fresh coffee increased the friendly warmth which this new day had started. Helga brought a cup of the steaming brew to John. This was the only provisional concession made by the planners when stocking the Nobile's larder, all other provisions being of the concentrated variety used by astronauts.

"This will help recharge your battery, Skipper." He laughed at her comment. It seemed his argot was being adopted by the other crew members and he considered it a compliment.

"Thanks, sweet thing. Seems like batteries really turn you on. How long have you had this problem?"

"Clever. I must say you certainly look refreshed this morning."

Each cabin had been equipped with its own closed circuit recycling shower and it was one of the many comforts which Verdi had incorporated that everyone looked forward to using daily. As each crew member came to the flight deck, he brought with him the aroma of fresh smelling body, bursting with energy for a new day.

"I feel terrific. Yesterday was a downer because the excitement of beginning our journey had come and gone and the long hours of sitting here trying to keep alert finally got to me."

Moysev joined the two having their morning coffee.

"You are radiant this morning, my dear Helga."

As he said this, he sucked in his stomach and forced his mighty chest tightly against his dark crew suit. His obvious pleasure at being involved in such an exciting adventure at this stage in his life in the company of such young, energetic companions was clear to everyone.

"And you, my dear Nicholas, are more handsome than I can ever remember." She kissed him on the forehead and the old scientist purred with pleasure at this fawning.

"What have we got here?" asked John, enjoying the pleasantries they both exchanged so generously.

"Helga is my secret passion. Look at her, my boy. Is she not truly magnificent?"

John studied the wide Russian cheek bones of this former champion athlete, remembering how she stirred the hearts of all the world at the Montreal Olympics in her dangerous vaults from the parallel beam. Her lips were full and sensuous, well supplied with the vigour of one still in top physical condition. Her shining blond hair against her pale blue crew suit grabbed your attention and wouldn't let go. Her lithe cat like movements seldom went unnoticed.

"You're a lucky man, Nicholas. She is a lovely creature."

"Don't stop," said Helga. "I love it. I love everyone on the Nobile."

John echoed her feelings of being sincerely appreciated. He wanted to be wanted for what he was, not for what people wanted him to be. At last after years of searching, a sense of fulfilment surged through his body. He was doing something important with his life, maybe even historical. There was no doubt about it; he was on a roll.
Tuma was next to join the trio.

"Do you see Dr. Armstrong? Andre and Tuma need help in laboratory."

At the mention of Henley's name, John felt like someone had hit him in the solar plexus.

"Check his cabin Tuma. He may still be asleep."

"Me look in, but him not there."

"Fill in for me, Nicholas. Keep it heading 265...come on, Tuma. Let's have another look."

As they hurried along the corridor, they were met by Andre Goulet whose ashen face brought a sick feeling to John's stomach.

"He's dead, Skipper. Dr. Armstrong is dead."

John rushed past Andre into Henley's cabin. There, on the floor of the washroom, his nude body extended out of the shower cubicle. He had been dead for hours.

"Oh no. Jesus...Jesus no. Henley...Why?" cried John.

"Tuma. Go get Carlo. Hurry."

Andre and John lifted his stiff body to the bunk and covered it with a blanket. John was afraid his guilt would make him blurt out what had happened between him and Sandra, and he was prepared to accept the blame for this tragic death. Andre was the first to speculate.

"Must have been his heart. Remember how shaken he was when he had that trouble on the ladder. From the way I found him, I am almost sure it was his heart. He loved his drinking. Last night he was out of his mind drunk. This man had his problems."

"Gawd almighty. First Arnhem and now Henley. This goddamn flight is hexed."

"Don't talk foolishness, mon ami. Please stay with the body while I get my bag. I'll be right back."

Andre passed Carlo as he left the cabin.

"My God John...What happened?"

"Who knows...Andre found him dead in the shower. Thinks it might have been his heart."

"What should we do?...I hate to think of heading back."

As soon as Carlo spoke he felt ashamed. He knew he should have been thinking about Henley and his family. Instead he could only think of himself and the chance their mission would be recalled. For a moment he even remembered the years of disgrace endured by his grandfather after the Italia disaster.

John tried to calm him. "We have to tell the others. Maybe they can suggest what must be done."

Andre returned quickly. Opening a black bag he removed a syringe and firmly pressed the needle into Henley's arm. Slowly the clear cylinder darkened with blood as he pulled back the plunger.

"Why are you doing that?" asked Carlo.

"Hopefully, I can determine the cause of death," replied Andre.

"Why bother? There's nothing we can do for him now."

"We must be sure that what has happened to Henley will not happen to the rest of us. I suspect it was his heart, but I don't know for sure."

The thought of Sandra's words, 'I gave him what he thinks are two headache pills', reverberated inside John's head with such force he was afraid he would shout it out. The night of ecstasy spent with her compounded his devastating guilt as he looked at the pale body of her former lover. He was certain they had caused this tragic accident. He wasn't even sure now that it was an accident.

Carlo agreed with Andre that he was doing the right thing. "How long before you'll know the cause of his death?"

"About an hour. Come, Tuma, let's go to work."

Still visily shaken, John turned to Carlo. "Do you think it could have been murder?"
The word was uppermost in his mind and now that he said it, he regretted his lack of composure that made him reveal his true feelings.

"Are you crazy? Who would want to kill Henley? Stop talking nonsense and give Andre a chance to find out the cause of death. I'm more concerned about what we are going to do with the body. Pull yourself together and help me tell the others."

From the pilot's compartment Carlo requested that the crew come forward. John replaced Nicholas at the controls. As they gathered on the flight deck, the crew sensed something serious had happened.

"I'm very sorry to have to tell you; we lost another crew member last night. Henley was found dead in his cabin this morning."

"Oh no...no...Henley," screamed Sandra, as she ran from the others to his cabin.

John selected autopilot on the Nobile and ran after her. She fell to her knees beside his bed and extended her arms across his rigid body, crying violently.

"I didn't mean it, Henley...I never wanted to hurt you."

John shook her violently. "Stop this...stop it now. Do you want the others to hear? Hold on to me. Tight. Real tight. We'll get through this together."

He pulled her up from her kneeling position and held her very closely as she sobbed against him. Gradually she began to settle down. The others knew how much Henley meant to her and they let John comfort her alone rather than interfere with her grief.

"That's better," said John, encouraging her as she wiped her eyes on the sleeve of her flight suit.

"It's true...I would never do anything to hurt anyone, most of all Henley. He has done so much for me."

"Andre is testing a blood sample now. At least his findings will make the others feel it was an accident...it was an accident, wasn't it Sandra?"

She pushed him away and anger suddenly took the place of grief.

"You miserable little man...how can you say such a thing?"

It was his own guilt about their affair that had thrown him off balance.

"Sandra...darling. I'm sorry. I don't know why I said that. Please forgive me. It's just that you told me about those pills and...well I was wondering...do you think they could have killed Henley?"

"How could they?...I use them myself when I am uptight and need a good night's sleep...unless.." Suddenly it hit her.

"Unless what?"

"I didn't tell him they were sleeping pills, and if he took some other sleeping pills along with them...oh my God John..."

"He overdosed...that's what killed him."

"And I did it ...oh poor Henley, that poor unfortunate man...what can I do now?"

"Stop it, Sandra...you didn't kill him. It was an accident."

"But I feel so terrible."

She sobbed quietly as he tried to calm her down. After a few minutes, with his arm around her shoulder he led her back to the others.

Carlo was the first to speak. "Sandra. What can I say? We're all very sorry. We know how much Henley meant to you. We'll all feel his loss very deeply."

Carlo's sincere expression of sympathy evoked audible sobbing from Sandra and Helga moved gently by her side and touched her in a soft, gentle way that only two women could understand.

"We have a real dilemma, John. Shall we notify them below about Henley's death, or keep it from them.?"

"You can't keep this secret. They've got to know."

Liu interrupted. "If we tell them, they'll order us to return. There'll certainly be an investigation and who knows, maybe the journey will be cancelled. The man is dead. We may all be dead before this mission is completed. I'm against notifying anyone. What they don't know wont hurt them."

His cool, dispassionate appraisal was correct in many respects, but it lacked any semblance of humaneness. Carlo agreed with Liu.

"Makes sense, John. If we return, it could be the end for all of us. I think we should vote. Those in favour of keeping Henley's death a secret, say aye."

All agreed except John and Sandra who, for reasons known only to themselves, were prepared to resolve their feelings of guilt by confrontation with the authorities.

"Well, that's settled then," stated Carlo.

"No way. Tuma and Andre haven't voted yet."

"It's decided."

John and Sandra were relieved the others were firm in their decision.

"And now the next question, what are we going to do with the body?" asked Carlo.

Michael suggested burial at sea, but the others were afraid the corpse might wash up on a Spanish shore and the problem would have to be faced again. It was Helga who proposed using the Ionization Chamber. The irony of her idea brought silence to the group. The machine which had been devised to save their lives was now to be used to eliminate all evidence of life.Carlo liked the suggestion.

"A truly unique solution."

"And a way even Dr. Armstrong would have approved, I'm sure. This way will give us further evidence of the effectiveness of the SIC. I say let's do it," said Moysev.

Andre and Tuma entered the compartment.

"I have determined the cause of death. Dr. Armstrong's blood contained an abnormal amount of malonylurea, a strong barbiturate. I believe the unfortunate man overdosed on sleeping pills. Tuma found a container of the same pills in his night table. There were still several remaining. Obviously the combination of the warm water in his shower and the extra dose of amytal resulted in a cardiac arrest. I'm certain it was an accident."

Sandra and John felt the burden of guilt fall from their shoulders when Andre stressed his opinion that Henley's death was accidental. Carlo briefed the others on Helga's proposal for disposing of the corpse. Michael and Andre agreed to prepare it for the chamber. Within an hour, Henley Armstrong was lying peacefully in the centre of the SIC, dressed in his navy blue crew suit. The others positioned themselves around the glass enclosed chamber while Moysev and Helga made calculations at the computer.

"We're ready," Moysev announced.

"Farewell dear friend," said Carlo in his resonant voice.

The blue stroboscopic effect dazzled the crew as before their eyes Henley Armstrong became pure energy. Anyone who had been watching closely would have seen the incredible look of relief come over the countenances of Sandra and John.

View original art work by William James Johnson at www.noozoon.com