Chapter Two Thousand Nineteen
7th September 1970
Tempelhof, Berlin
Of course, no one believed Marie Alexandra for a second when she said that her Summer Holiday had been so bad that she had actually looked forward to coming back to school. Getting caught trying to talk to a couple boys over a fence had set the tone for the remainder of the holiday. Marie’s mother had told the camp’s staff to handle the situation appropriately and left in at that, but not before telling them to tell her that they would have to discuss this when she returned home at the end of August. So, even when Marie had completed the tasks that she had been given as punishment for breaking the rules, namely breaking curfew, she still had that hanging over her for the rest of the holiday.
Maja had been totally unrepentant. The other girl in their age group had wanted to talk to them about the two boys they had talked to and that made them popular for a few days until everyone found something better to talk about. For Marie, it didn’t seem like it was worth it. Over the following weeks she had pushed the matter out of her mind until shortly after she had gotten home. Then she had been sat down and experienced the joys of having an uncomfortable talk with her mother because she had shown that she had an interest in boys. Marie would have rather endured a public flogging than go through that. Boys, sex, babies, venereal disease, all of that was enough to make her want to run from the room screaming. Then her mother had mentioned the importance of committed relationships, using the one between her and Marie’s father, or that of her Great Aunt Marcella and her late husband as examples within her own family. That caused several unfortunate images to come to Marie’s mind. Horrifying. It was enough to make her want to take a vow of celibacy though she wasn’t a Catholic.
Going to back school the following Monday was a profound relief compared to all of that. That was, until she had seen the syllabus for the upcoming school term. If there were one word that she would use to describe it, that word would be daunting.
“I got a letter from my brother” Zoe Brun, the girl who Marie had sat next to in the classroom for the last three years, said in a whisper. “From Argentina.”
Zoe was trying not to attract the Professor’s attention when they were supposed to be reading the syllabus. Marie remembered meeting Zoe’s brother Engel a couple years earlier and he was a few years older than Zoe, not much more than that though. He was in Argentina?
“See” Zoe whispered as she showed Marie a photograph of Engel leaning on the fender of a military vehicle. In the background was scrubby bushes and shrubs off to a very flat horizon. Marie didn’t recall thinking that he was cute when she had met him before, but he was, sort of.
Base Aérea Chabunco, Punta Arenas, Chile
His name wasn’t Reinaldo Contreras, but he had been told that it supposedly sounded enough like his actual name to not cause him any trouble. He didn’t have the first clue as to why anyone in their right mind would think that, but when he had volunteered to come here and help the Chilian Air Force the CIA working with their counterparts in Santiago had furnished him with the necessary documentation. It had included that name. It also identified him as a pilot in the FACh, which he had not liked because he was actually a Lieutenant in the U.S. Navy. That was something that he had been advised not to advertise and that he would be disavowed if he got into too much trouble down here.
Walking down the flight line, he saw the mix of airplanes mostly old Curtis Goshawk III fighters that had been kept around after having been modified for use in close air support. There was also two dozen of the airplanes that had replaced them, Grumman F-11C Super Tigers which had been sent to Chile as part of a military aid package a few years earlier. Those were the planes that Reinaldo had been sent to fly because he was already familiar with the type having flown an F-11B from Aircraft Carriers.
“Hey Jefe, got plans?” Pancho, Reinaldo’s Wingman, asked.
“Just trying to stay out of trouble” Reinaldo replied.
“You bore me Jefe” Pancho said, “A man needs a night out on the town every now and again or else he goes nuts.”
“Not much of a town” Reinaldo said, “And what’s up with this Jefe business?”
“El Jefe, you know, the Boss” Pancho said, “Would you prefer I just called you “That Yanqui” like your Crew Chief does?”
Reinaldo knew that he would need to have a word with his Crew Chief, and he would need to get a lot better at Spanish, fast. It also seemed odd to see a Chilian University Student turned Fighter Pilot using air quotes like an American would. The influence of television if Reinaldo had to guess.
“The Boss” Reinaldo said with a chuckle, “I like that.”
“So, what do you say?” Pancho asked, “A few beers, dancing with the ladies…”
“Getting into a fight with the ladies’ boyfriends” Reinaldo continued, “Getting thrown into what passes for the drunk tank.”
“The Policía here in Punta Arenas just have the one jail cell” Pancho said, “No dedicated drunk tank, this isn’t the big city.”