"I'm paying you to fly, not talk."
"I can do both!" he says, his grin getting wider. "It doesn't work like that with me, mate. With me, you've gotta pay me if you want me not to talk!"
Stevo's comment was right, though. These are remarkable lengths to go to for a meeting. Somewhere out there in the mountains waits Jian Zhu, a man whose name you only learned yesterday when you read it at the end of a telegram. The message had reached you at your hotel in Srinigar after you got home from tedious negotiations with the director of the museum there. It was such a striking message that you can still remember it word for word:
DR SPILLANE STOP KNOW YOUR WORK STOP NEED YOUR HELP STOP PRECIOUS TREASURE OF CHINESE PEOPLE AT RISK FROM NAZI AGENTS STOP GENEROUS REWARD OFFERED STOP MEET ME AT AIRFIELD AT FOLLOWING COORDINATES STOP FAST ACTION ESSENTIAL
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Kapitel 72: 72
The pilot, who is sitting up front, cranes his head around, grins, and gives you a thumbs-up. "This is the life, eh, Namen Oberhelm?" he bellows over the howling Himalayan wind. "This is what it's all about!"
Ted "Stevo" Stevenson is an ungainly Australian Aboriginal man with rugged features, enormous brown eyes, and a lopsided smile. He seems to be one of the most genuinely optimistic people you have ever met. He has few needs, and he meets them by working as a freelance pilot, taking fares wherever they want to go and spending the money he makes on lodgings, beer, and adventure. When the cash runs out, he takes on another job. It's a wildly itinerant lifestyle, a mode of living that has blown him like an autumn leaf back and forth across the globe. Most recently, it has taken him to the Indian city of Srinigar, where you found him and gave him this job.
He's still talking. He never seems to stop.
"You must really like this fella," he shouts. "Coming all this way just to see him!"