They spotted the DC 3 parked across the ramp as they taxied
in and, after deplaning, inquired about it inside the office.
        Mona, the svelte 30-ish brunette behind the counter, spoke
English fairly well and the guys started trying to learn some Italian
as she told them, "walk over there...", pointing to the office across
the ramp, adding, "ask for Genevieve or Will."
        Mon then told them that she had taken charge of the medicine,
food and all that had already been delivered, when they asked if she
had seen it, walking them to the door to her hangar and showing
them the hills of boxes inside stacked up between aircraft. Kit cut
her a $1o,ooo check, "for starters," he said, then asked if she could
find them a place to stay on the beach. She said she sure could.
        Then he and the girls beckoned Ingrid to come with them and
they started across the ramp as Mona phoned and told Genevieve
on the other end that those four walking over were interested in her
3, telling her friend, "right now you get money I bet, Genny...."
        Our travelers met Gena inside her office and Jess got right to
the point with a big smile: "we want to buy your 3, Gen." Gena
led them outside to look it over and they checked it all out together.
        The Douglas was a little beat up, but looked as strong as ever
and, well, just "beautiful", Jess kept saying. They asked if
everything was OK. Gena answered "yes." They talked bucks and
bought it. $36o,ooo. One fine deal, natch. And Kit put the puters
right on it. Then they hired on Gen and her copilot-mechanic, Will,
who had come out to join them, as crew - $25,ooo each for starters
- telling them that they were taking the stuff in Mona's hangar to
Sarajevo, and that was all right with their new friends. They had
been there.
        Jess and Gena went up into the cockpit, started her up and
taxied the ship over to Mona's hangar, the others walking across,
and they started right in on loading up the boxes and such, more
goods arriving as they did. As they talked, they figured on bringing
folks needing medical care, children and parents and old folks out
of Sarajevo on the return trips, plus on opening up a mission there
in Bari for those needing. Kit, for sure, was figuring the girls would
be staying in Italy. It was his fight. And they were not going into a
war zone. That's what was in his head.
        They put up a million of their money, to start - reaching into
their capital some - to pay for the supplies and flights and people,
and another quarter million to start the mission. And, after they had
made all those arrangements and payments, Kit was going over the
flight plan with Gena and Will.
        That's when Jessy said, "hay...we're going too."
        Well, that was almost their first real fight. But Kit was never
built to go that much against her will, he told us all later. He soon
relinquished, a little chagrined, but made Jess call Ginny to tell her.
But Jessy didn't want to alarm the folks. So she made up some
"white lies".
        Kit chortled and shook his head when she hung up. "You
bad girl...you extremely bad girl."
        "Still love me?" she smiled.
        Ingy - "Griddy", by then - was all refueled and ready to head
on to another charter. They walked her out to her jet together and
had their fond "fare-thee-wells," Grid promising not to say a word
or, if forced, promising to send anyone on the proverbial goose
chase. Jessy tipped her a Sapphire-Ruby from their stash and they
all waved goodby from the ramp as Ing boarded, then fired up the
cans and taxied her Gulfstream out.
        Mona had gotten our guys an old villa on the beach for $25o
a day, and lent them her Jeep wagon. Sofia, Mona's employee,
went with them to pick up the keys, then groceries and stuff, and
to show them the place. The guys had decided to wait until dark,
if not later, to show up in Sarajevo, so they had some time to rest.
        The villa was "primo drawer" - a large stone cottage built in
the 16th century. There were palms, Cypress and ivy all around,
a vineyard spreading out up into the hills, orchards and planted
fields for miles around, and the beach a hundred yards to the East:
absolutely bella.
        They got the barby fired up and took a naked swim in the
Adriatic, young Sofi joining them. They watched sundown from
the side porch, threw food at the peacocks and such walking and
calling around the yard. Flece remarked how it was like a movie
set for Paradise. They grilled the Redfish and stuff they had
bought at the farmers' market in town when Mona, Gena and
Will showed up, as planned. The DC 3 was loaded and ready,
they reported. They all ate, drank a touch, went out into the surf -
naked, of course - and talked and such.
        There were workers' strikes all around the world for the
WPG. And Eastwood, Beatty, Newman, Connery, Poitier,
Nicholson, Fonda, Ford, Hanks and all the rest, plus all the
starwomen and the rest of the Council-designates and, Christ, ALL
of Hollywood's and Musicdom's biggest stars were working with
Sundance and Arnie and going to Washington and other capitols to
press the cause with leaders. Joni and Julio were meeting with the
President and First Lady in the White House during those very
hours. Governments everywhere were immersed in the situation.
        Government agents were under orders to try to gain control
of the matter, so were chasing WPG people and still searching for
the three who had left their plane at the Copenhagen airport. But
they were not having much luck. The demonstrations were
stronger in number with every passing hour, demonstrators
seemingly camping out everywhere there was a government official.
And Billy Joel and Lou Reed were leading on at the concert, doing
"We Didn't Start The Fire" and other tunes together with a bunch
of new lyrics.
        Our guys caught short naps or "private times" back at the
villa until they decided it was time to go. And they were ready. Kit
still tried talking the girls into staying, but it was futile. Then Pute
had news from Sundance: the World Court had agreed to hear the
WPG case! They were going to hear it at noon on the 7th!
        Jess, Flee and Kit were whooping, hugging, kissing, dancing,
jumping up and down and fiving, though just telling the others that
they had received some fantastic business news. But it was an
awesome surprise for them. Too good to believe, they were saying.
        Kit was actually beginning to think, he recalled, that maybe
they wouldn't have to slog through years of getting leaders into
office who would go with the plan. And the girls were feeling like
they were really going to win, and were going around hugging and
kissing everyone there. The others were thinking that their new
friends were just relieving their stress from getting ready to go into
the war zone. And Michael Martin Murphy was onstage at
Monument Valley, doing "Wildfire."
        William Jefferson Clinton was making a lot of phone calls
after meeting with Joni and Julio, and was pretty much beginning
to head up an international effort on it, other leaders climbing on
board with him. And big business was using its power and
influence. They liked the idea, excluding the defense industrialists,
though even some of them saw the light that their businesses
would have strong growth under the plan, with the space
development. But the signatures had made the argument for the
Court to hear the case, or at least the Court was saying that; and
the signatures were also making the case for the leaders.
        Kit worked with Pute and Cy-G on the clearances into
Sarajevo and back and got reports on the conditions there,
firefight probabilities and the rest as Will drove them all to the
airport.
        "This is getting pretty exciting, Hotey," Jess gushed,
wrapping an arm through his, reading Pute's reports with him in
the back seat.
        "Driving?" he smirked, keeping his eyes on the screen.
        "No, not driving, Mister World Peace..." and gave him a
poke in the ribs. "Getting ready to go into a war zone is, though."
        "Yea...well, don't push it, my life. People get dead in war
zones. You know I should leave you guys here."
        "Nuh unh..." Jessy came back and poked him again.
        "Yea, precious...I guess you're right. 'Nuh unh' pretty much
says it all..." and gave her kind of a stern fatherly look while the
others chuckled.
        "Yep, you gotta admit, Kit, her logic's impeccable," Felecia
quipped from the other side of the back seat.
        Well, at the airport they preflighted "Lollypop" all together,
Will loaded the flak jackets and helmets, then Kit and Jess took
the flying seats and everyone strapped their ship on. Gena started
them through the checklists, Will shot out advice, and the guys'
Alaskan DC 3 experience was kicking in.
        Flece couldn't remember Jess ever being more resolved,
more determined or more confident. Of course, they had taken
some speed. And Jess offered some to Gen and Will, who took
a pill each.
        "What the hay..." Will surmised, "y' don't fly a relic into a
war zone every night."
        "Hey now, don't you be callin' Cody here no relic, Will,"
Jess razzed.
        "That's it. You are stayin'," Kit grumbled back.
        Well, they got the 1350-or-what-horse-it-is, 18-cylinder
Wright engines started and rumbling, and all 72 spark plugs were
firing all right, Will reported. All of them still loved to hear and
feel that power. Jess told Gena and Will about Orville's and
Wiley's war service when asked about where she had gotten her
DC 3 instruction, then the girls talked about everyone they were
missing, their destiny evidently evoking plenty of emotion. Then
they went through having a quarter million worth of stuff loaded
inside.
        Jess turned to Kit and said, "remember when this plane and
load were worth all you had, Hodeyrific?"
        "S'when I met you, wasn't it?" he smiled as he tweaked a
few more instrument dials.
        "Duh," she retorted, and leaned over and kissed him. He
loved her kisses to death, and she did know that.
        They waved down to Mona and Sof, out on the ramp,
taking delivery on supplies for the next flight, and rolled off into
the dark toward the runway. Gen and Will had already contacted
friends in Sarajevo, so there would be a small army to unload
"Lolly" when they got there.
        "Anybody have any words for good luck?" Jess wondered
as she pulled them into the runup area, swinging the ship around
by its tail with a toe brake, just like some sort of pro.
        "Well," Gena volunteered, "Genavieve is the patron saint of
French flyers."
        "There we go," Jess cheered. "This morning, then, we're all
French. Oui?"
        "Sounds bon-y to me," Kit threw in after the "oui"'s.
        "Vous nymph," Jess came back.
        They got all set to go and she took them off, heading them
Northeast out over the Adriatic, and started them all into the
French anthem, asking Gena for the words, making up
replacements for the ones no one knew as she flew them on.

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