2
"loveberry"
Polly Perkins was in a very bad sort of mood. And when Polly Perkin was in a bad mood, she usually had some sort of absurd reason as to why she was in one. This particular mood came about because a certain pilot had refused to take her across the Atlantic to Paris. Instead, she was to go on United Airways flight, which was in comparison a far more comfortable journey than being stuffed into the cockpit of a Warhawk. Her complaint was not about the comfort, however, but the company.
"Joe, Joe, Joe," she sighed, tilting her hat to a more rakish angle. She scowled at her reflection. "He certainly knows how to treat a woman right, doesn't he?" She adjusted her purse, looked in to catch a quick peek at her camera and the extra rolls of film, and walked briskly from the powder room out in the crowded airport. A glance up at the board where hasty letters had been manually hung read: UA 58 BOUND FOR ICELAND; PARIS: 11:30 AM, GATE 3.
Polly glanced at her watch. 11:12. She still had some time. Skirting round a man and his luggage, she slid into a private phone booth and dialed a familiar number.
"Editor Paley, the Chronicle," said the voice at one end.
"Mr. Paley? It's Polly Perkins. I have a suspicious lead from a tip-off in Shanghai, something about a Japanese weapon. I know it sounds far-fetched, but if I can get there..." A pause.
"Aren't you with Joseph now?" Paley asked, a touch of amusement in his voice. "I don't think he'll like being steered towards China."
"I'll get him there eventually," Polly said.
"I hear Nanjing's had some bad memories for you."
"I'm not upset over Nanjing anymore," said Polly, rolling her eyes as she heard Paley laugh softly on the other end. "Stop it."
"I'm stopping."
"I'm serious."
"I'm not laughing."
"I'm sure you aren't."
"All right, Polly. Get on the story. But be safe and don't jump onto any rockets this time."
"No need to worry about that, Mr. Paley."
"Don't forget extra film."
"I've taken care of that," Polly said with a smile. She hung up and pushed the glass door open. The man and his luggage were still there, joined by another man in a flight jacket. She didn't give them much thought - pilots in an airport were a common sight - until she heard, "Harker, Benjamin Harker." She stopped in her tracks, turned around with as much dignity as she could muster. The two men gave her puzzled expressions as she stared back at them for a few moments.
"Did you say Benjamin Harker?"
"Benjamin Harker at your service," said the man in the flight jacket, smiling broad but bewildered grin.
"You're a new pilot for the Flying Legion, aren't you?" Polly rummaged through her purse, producing a list she had conveniently copied from Joe's desk. Scanning the list, she saw it: Sgt. Benjamin Harker, 29. "Polly Perkins, the Chronicle's, er, Legion correspondent." She extended a hand, and Harker took it, shaking it firmly. Polly turned to the other man with a questioning look.
"Charles Loveberry," Harker put in for him. "At least, I think that's his name."
"Charles Lufbery," Lufbery said. "Just Charlie." He smiled awkwardly, and Polly smiled back. Perhaps her company on the plane wouldn't be so bad after all.
Cielag – Wow, Cielag, I'm intimidated to have a reader of your experience. Hmm, this is more set in the pre-war period, but just barely—maybe 1936 or 1937. Thank you for your review.