Its pilot waited for the dual line of flares to be ignited: his signal to land. On the ground was another aircraft, a seaplane with wheels encased in its pontoons, prepared for departure. It would be airborne minutes after the first plane came to the end of the primitive runway, and would carry its valuable cargo north along the eastern leg of the Rhone River, crossing the Swiss border at Versoix, and landing on Lake Geneva, twelve miles north of the city. The cargo had no name, but that did not matter to the pilots. She had paid as well as the highest-priced narcotics courier. Only once had she shown any emotion, and that was four minutes out of Avignon, toward Saint-Vallier, when the small plane had run into an unexpected and dangerous hailstorm. “The weather may be too much for this light aircraft,” the pilot said. “It would be wiser to turn back.” “Fly above it.” “We haven’t the power, and we have no idea how extensive the front is.” “Then go through it. I’m paying for a schedule as well as transportation.
What do You think about The Holcroft Covenant (2011)?
