Note: This story was dynamically reformatted for online reading convenience.
 
 THE MYSTERY OF FLIGHT TEN-SEVENTY (Chapter 4)

   By KATZMAREK

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   AUTHOR'S NOTE

   This is a work of fiction.  It remains my property and must not be used
for gain without my permission in writing.

   ---------------------------------------------------

   "The event horizon cannot be a sharply defined plane," Fuller explained.
He drew skillfully on a sketchpad he'd borrowed from Ella Hernandez.  "It
has volume, within which, there is turbulance caused by the interraction of
opposing temporal forces.  You might describe it as 'time displacement."

   He and Arnim conferred in the privacy of his room.  Kurzbach declined to
hear Fuller's latest theory, preferring to go for a walk.

   "The forces must be catastrophic," Arnim commented, "how could anything
pass through it?"

   "I don't believe the forces have a physical effect besides the
disturbance of the static electrical charge of the atmosphere."

   "The storm?"

   "Yes.  The forces are purely temporal.  But the distortions within the
horizon give rise to anomalies, and here, I think, you can have a physical
body present in both times at once.  Or, perhaps, aspects of that physical
body?  Hence you may have a radar track, even a conversation, with
something that is not fully physically present but 'in transition'.  We
were talking to Houston of 1986 while still observing 2006.  We saw the
storm, and picked it up by radar, but not the flight apparently flying
through the middle of it.  That's because the storm was in 2006 yet the
other aircraft was in 1986."

   "How do you explain pieces of the wreckage disappearing?"

   "I believe the 2006 wreckage of 1070 is slowly being moved clear of the
time portal, piece by piece."

   "You believe we crashed in 2006?"

   "I believe the aircraft could not remain long physically present in two
time periods.  The contradictions...  Perhaps we didn't remain on it, or at
least fully present physically.  There are many things for which I have no
explanation at present," he shrugged.

   "If what you say is true," Arnim considered, "the portal must still be
present.  It is maybe two way, also?  Our aircraft is disappearing back to
the future."

   "Maybe?  Maybe not?  It is vanishing, sure, but, I think, because, in
2006, it is being moved clear of the link that keeps it present in two
times."

   -----------------------------------------------

   By the end of the week, all interested parties wanted to get rid of the
clerical and legal problem that was 1070.  'It was an act of God,' the
official verdict read, and that was sufficient to foist the cost of the
clean up onto the Federal Government.

   Conducted with indecent haste, the enquiry concluded that the 747 had
inadvertantly broken through onto an undiscovered saltwater aquifer.  No
negligence could be attributed to the Airport Authority, who supervised the
tow according to its own operating rules.  Similarly, nothing was proven
wrong with the design of the aircraft, which pleased the makers, Boeing. 
All parties were anxious to sign off on 1070 and so employed a technique
known locally as 'a Texas whitewash.'

   The 'whitewash' enquiry could bear no scientific scrutiny and few
outside experts were called.  Bob Garland confirmed the 'facts' as given.
He personally saw the ground sink below the aircraft causing the
undercarriage to fail.  He was officially congratulated by the judge for
his quick thinking in getting everybody clear as the 747 toppled.

   The aircraft was a 'constructive total loss,' and the wreck was hauled
in sections to the large shed Raul had hired, awaiting the insurers.  Those
'insurers,' naturally, weren't likely to show up as 1070 wasn't yet on the
books.  But at least it was out of everybody's sight as well as their
minds. Things could get back to normal.

   Some witness's, sure, persisted with claims of supernatural goings on.
Such rumours, however, merely provided fodder for tabloids, such as the
'National Enquirer,' and so lacked any credibility.  Often these stories
were embroidered by alien spaceships who beamed up pieces of the wreckage
for their own mysterious purposes.  The stories lasted two weeks before
dying natural deaths.

   However, very few employees of the Airport or BFF went anywhere near the
shed where the wreckage was stored.  Raul put a bond seal on the doors and
secured it with heavy chains.  The Authority and the freight company shared
the cost of rental, a fact neatly concealed from BFF's head office by
bumping up the rent on existing facilities.

   Ultimately, though, some solution had to be found for the crew.  Lacking
any valid documentation, they were as illegal as any wetback.

   -----------------------------------------

   In 2006 Ben Shepherd and Ari Ramcke had made little progress towards
finding an explanation for the loss of 1070.  Slowly, the wreckage was
hauled up from the depths of the Gulf of Mexico, piece by piece, to be
reassembled at a hangar in Houston.  On thing could be ruled out virtually
straight away.  There was absolutely no evidence the aircraft was brought
down by a terrorist act.

   Two more bodies were recovered, the remainder of the relief crew, still
strapped to their seats in the upper cabin area.  Like Reinhardt Stumpf,
they were found to have died of drowning.  It was, though, just another
inexplicable fact that confounded the harrassed directors of the
investigation.

   The black box had been recovered quickly.  In a 747 it was located in a
compartment below the floor of the upper cabin, considered to be one of the
most secure areas in the event of a crash.  The forward section, containing
the cockpit, had broken from the rest of the aircraft and lay in deeper
water some distance away.  It would take the Navy another week or more to
retrieve it.  Both Ben and Ari were anxious to recover this important part
of the wreck, both to find the rest of the crew, as well as study the vital
evidence they were sure it contained.

   Ben was growing more certain the crash was the result of human error. 
Ari was reluctant to blame his fellow countrymen and remained sceptical. 
Proof might be provided by the settings of the controls in the cockpit: the
instrument recorder merely gave height, course, speed and other 'digital'
information.  Ramcke needed the cockpit O2 system, convinced the problem
had been cabin oxygen failure.

   No theory covered more than 30% of the available evidence, a unique
event in crash investigation history.  No investigation before had been
faced with so much contradictory information.  Ben found himself almost
wishing Bobby McClone's time travel story was true, although how he'd put
that in the official report he'd no idea.

   Sometimes, in a quiet moment, he'd take out the copy of 'Air Spectator'
and study the grainy photo.  The magazine, itself, had since gone out of
publication, however, most issues had been preserved in the Public Archive.
Ben had sent a young researcher to find any subsequent articles that may
have flowed on from the original piece.  There was just one, dated the next
month, reporting that Boeing had denied any prototypes were currently being
route tested.

   To Ben it was a startling and puzzling find, supporting the authenticity
of the original issue.

   Ben even began researching time travel articles on the Internet.  Most
appeared to have little supporting science behind it and the general
consensus among 'legitimate' scientists was that it was intriguing yet
impossible.

   Eventually, however, he came upon a website apparently run by a research
engineer in Seattle, Washington.  The website asked people to relate their
experience of time travel.  There were many, many posts by people who were
clearly deluded and 'fringe dwellers.' Most appeared to be fantastic and
sometimes linked their 'experiences' to some kind of extraterrestrial
activity.  Ben had never wasted his time on such bullshit before and was
surprised at the extent of the time travel sub-culture.

   But Ben was intrigued by the replies attached to some of the posts by
the Webmaster.  They were sober and logical and not afraid to dismiss
something that was clearly nonsense.  The guy appeared to have scientific
knowledge as some of the theoretical pieces testified.  On impulse he
Emailed the Webmaster, describing Bobby McClone's theory and attaching a
scan of the magazine cover.

   The reply came a day later.  'You must look for a possible portal near
the crash site,' it said, 'and there is a shed at Austin airport that you
might like to examine.  Raul Hernandez knows where it is.' It was signed
with the initials, 'JF.'

   Ben jerked in shock as if a thunderbolt had struck him.  He picked up
his phone and dialed Bobby McClone's mobile.

   ------------------------------------------------

   "Can I come in?" Ariana asked as she opened the door.  Arnim quickly
closed his laptop computer as the girl looked in.  "What's that?" she
asked.

   "Nothing, um, merely my document case.  Is there something you want?"
Arnim was irritated at this invasion of his privacy and the thought that
he'd been caught out.

   Ariana, though, sensed his defensiveness and was determined not to let
it go.  "I've never seen a briefcase like that before," she told him.

   "It's German," he replied, "I bought it in Berlin.  They are quite
common there." Arnim collected himself, but not enough to convince Ariana.
She'd glimpsed the screen as she'd walked in and knew he was lying.

   "Let me see?" she laughed playfully, "Have you got dirty pictures in
it?" she made to grab it across the bed.

   "Please!" Arnim raised his voice, agitated, "this is private!" He
quickly grabbed her around the arms, pulling her back and across his lap.

   She lay across him panting with the struggle as Arnim released her.  She
sat up and readjusted her clothes.  "Do you fancy going to the movies?" she
asked, smiling.  "There's one on about flying, it's called 'The Final
Countdown.' I missed it when it first came out."

   "Sure..." Arnim replied, shrugging, "sure, why not."

   In truth he was feeling claustrophobic.  It had been three weeks, now,
since he'd left the house.  Kurzbach was getting on his nerves and even
Fuller, whom he related to more because they were nearer in age, was
driving him a little nuts with his endless theories.

   Also, the maintenance of their cover story was wearing him down.  He
could lie for short periods about trivial things, but this ongoing pretence
was sapping his energy.  Going to the movies with Ariana would be a blessed
diversion.

   She fancied him, that was obvious.  Also obvious was the fact that he
fancied her, too.  Although sexual attraction played a big part of it, he
also just liked being around her.  They had an easy rapport, hampered, a
little, by his need for secrecy.  'Could he open up and tell her the
truth?' There were few reasons why he couldn't, besides her scepticism.  He
had promised Kurzbach that he wouldn't alter the timeline, but, according
to Fuller, everything had happened anyway.  Nothing he could say and do
would alter that basic fact.

   "Ariana?" he said, as she got up to leave, "let me show you?" Arnim
opened up the Toshiba.  Jaw sagging, she sat down beside him on his bed,
transfixed by the screen.

   -------------------------------------------

   "Ok, Bobby," Ben told him, "I'm not saying I believe this horseshit,
but, right now, we're just running out of ideas.  Every theory we've tested
so far get's unstuck at some point.  This is got to be the most frustrating
investigation I've ever been involved in."

   "Y'know what Raul told me?" Bobby replied, "he said that at times in the
history of mankind, some people are selected to go back in time to make...
er...  certain things happen."

   "What things?  Look, Bobby, I'm tired of the mumbo-jumbo.  I don't
believe in the Great Architect nor anything that can't be explained by
science.  If time travel is a fact, it's because of a natural phenomenon,
not some whacky, preudo-religious nonsense.  You want to test this theory?
Ok, let's have a look at the evidence and see what we've got."

   "You found the cockpit section?" Bobby asked.

   "Well, that's the final thing which decided me to call you.  Its seems
the Navy has...  ah...  lost it."

   "Lost it?"

   "Yep, they can't find the damn thing.  The only explanation they can
come up with is that it's been carried away by a strong current.  What the
Hell kind of current moves 14 tons of metal along the sea floor so far the
fucking Navy can't find it anymore?  You don't misplace something that big.
They used to detect Soviet submarines from space with technology far less
sophisticated than what they have now, ferchrissake!"

   "So where do you want to start?"

   "Go get this Raul," Ben said, "I want to talk to him about a shed in
Austin.  What do you suppose a 'portal' looks like?"

   "Hell, I don't know!"

   -------------------------------------------

   In 1986 President Ronald Reagan's Republican Administration was strident
in its condemnation of the 'Evil Empire' of the Soviet bloc.  Rufe Hartman
was Raul's local congressman and was known to be a fervant supporter of
Reagan's stance.

   Connie Hernandez worked for the law firm of Garcia-Rogers in downtown
Austin.  Latterly the firm had been specialising in immigration cases;
mostly involving members of the local Mexican-American community.  However,
when Connie brought the plight of three German airline pilots without
documents to the notice of the firm's senior, Beneventura Garcia, the old
lawyer knew he had an issue for Representative Hartman.

   "East Germans, you say?" the old man raised his eyebrows, "jumped ship
from an East German Interflug aircraft in Rotterdam and stowed away on a
cargo flight to America?" He could see handy publicity for the law firm and
a winner a man like Hartman would love to be involved in.  "Can they prove
their case?" he asked Connie.

   "How can they?" she replied, "the East German Government are hardly
likely to help.  But these are good men with education and skills.  There'd
be no problem finding them work."

   "Sure, sure," Garcia agreed.  "Normally, these cases can take a year or
more to resolve.  But if I get Hartman to sponsor them, I'm sure we'd get a
decision within a couple of months.  Damn, eh?  Defectors right here in
Austin?"

   "We don't want too much pressure put on these guys," Connie told him,
"they're nice boys, we don't want a circus in the media and all."

   "It'll blow over in a week," he said, "but they'll need to speak to the
papers.  It'll help their case and head off any speculation.  Would one of
your boys be willing to handle reporters?"

   "I think Arnim Krauss would," she said, "he's charmed my daughter Ariana
and that's not easy to do."

   "No," he chuckled, "that's for sure!"

   Connie left Garcia's office nervous about what she'd just done.  She'd
involved herself in immigration fraud, but she could see no other
alternative.  Raul and her daughters had urged her to see Garcia, desperate
for the plight of these men.  She was still in the dark about why they
couldn't go home, but she knew it couldn't be anything criminal.  Most
likely they *had* defected from the East, but she knew it wasn't the way
Raul had suggested.  They'd flown in, piloting an aircraft, not concealed
away somewhere in the cargo hold.

   And that was not like Raul to lie to her.  She couldn't remember there
ever being a time when he'd not told her the truth.  It could only be to
protect those men.  She knew her Raul Hernandez.

   -----------------------------------------

   Ariana found herself on a double date with her sister Ella and Fuller.
She wondered what her sister's game was.  She knew the German Flight
Engineer was married and his wife was going to have a baby.  Ella could
date pretty much whoever she wanted.  What'd she want with a married man?

   Fuller's English was the best of the three.  His was fluent and peppered
with English/American slang words.  Arnim, on the other hand, spoke English
as anyone who used it as a second language.  He tended to revert to German
word order on occasion and his descriptive words sometimes were not quite
right.  She liked the way he talked, his voice and the rhythm he used.  She
felt she could listen to him all day.

   She couldn't get over the computer he had.  It was built into a small
briefcase, had a colour screen as thin as her finger, and was incredibly
fast.  He'd explained about memories and processor speed and it was all way
over her head.  It contained music and movies, photographs of his family
and Petra, his ex-girlfriend.  He showed her some 'applications' and
introduced her to something called a 'spreadsheet.' Her Father had recently
bought her an IBM AT Personal Computer, but she could see the technology of
Arnim's 'laptop' was way more advanced.  This 'Windows,' he called it, just
made it so simple to use.  Why she'd never heard of such technology before
was a mystery.  Surely someone at UTA would've mentioned it?

   Arnim had seen an item in the financial section of the newspaper about a
company called 'Microsoft' launching a public float.  He'd suggested to her
that she ought to encourage her Father to buy shares in the company.  She
told him, however, that Raul wasn't that interested in computer companies
and was sure the whole fad would be over by Thursday.  Arnim had insisted,
though, and she'd promised to try again.

   'The Final Countdown' turned out to be a movie about an aircraft carrier
going back to the time of the Japanese attack on Pearl Harbour.  Not long
into the movie, however, Fuller, who was sitting next to Arnim, began a
prolonged commentary in German.  He was talking about time travel again. 
Ariana was sure he had some kind of fetish about it because she'd heard him
go on about it all the time.

   "No," Fuller explained at one point, "the portal cannot be like that. 
It does not have a physical manifestation beyond temporal turbulance.  That
storm wouldn't occur in that way.  The static atmospheric charge would heat
the warm air mass but it would rise, see, and produce something like an
orographical storm front complete with an electrical discharge."

   "Fuller?" Arnim leaned across, "can we just watch the movie?"

   Ariana saw her sister squirm in embarrassment.  She didn't understand
German but she was peeved, both by her date ignoring her, and by him
playing gooseberry to Arnim and Ariana.  It was a unique experience, she'd
never had trouble keeping dates interested in her before.  "Can we switch
places?" Ella asked Fuller, "I can't see the screen." The two sisters
grinned at each other and Ariana mouthed a 'thank you' to Ella.

   Relieved from the interference, Ariana rested her head on Arnim's
shoulder and he held her hand for the rest of the movie.

   -----------------------------------------------

   Fuller knew he was obsessing about time travel.  He found it hard to
cope with the knowledge he may never see his wife Anna for the next twenty
years.  Even the realisation that this part of his life had already
happened, and so wouldn't change, didn't make him feel any better.  He was
relieved a little by the thought that, for Anna, she would only have a
short time to wait before he returned, albeit older.

   Meanwhile, he had twenty years to fill in; twenty years to do something
different with his life in a new country among new people.  But what did he
want to do?  What was he *meant* to do?

   And what of his personal life?  He was only 27.  Was he expected to wait
twenty years before feeling the arms of a woman around him again?  If he
gave in to temptation, wouldn't he be betraying his promise to Anna? 
'Arnim, he was clearly not going to be a monk,' he chuckled, but then he
was free to do whatever he wanted.  On the other hand, he was being
faithful to a girl who was currently only 4 years old.

   He walked slowly along beside an 18 year old beauty who'd clearly shown
an interest in him.  He tried to ignore her advances, but he didn't know if
he had the self-discipline to resist her much longer.

   Up ahead, Arnim and Ariana were walking hand in hand and obviously
making rapid progress.  She swung her hips so they briefly brushed his. 
They smiled at each other that reminded him of he and Anna, in Berlin, not
more than month before.  They chatted amiably, interpersed with laughter
and he'd never seen Arnim so happy in a long while.

   His friend's split with Petra had hit him hard.  He'd been distraught
for weeks before the final parting and had immersed himself in work to take
his mind off their problems.  He'd got little out of him, but thought Petra
had had an affair with someone she'd worked with.  Fuller was pleased that
his friend appeared to be back in circulation.

   "A penny for them?" Ella said.

   He looked in her face and smiled.  "I'm just pleased Arnim is getting
along so well with your sister," he explained, "he needs someone."

   "And what about you?" Ella asked, "are you going back home to your wife
soon?"

   "I can't...  not yet," he answered.

   "When?"

   "A long time," he said, sadly.

   "Can't you get her out of East Germany?" she asked.

   "Huh?" Fuller had not been a part of their new cover story.  Arnim and
Raul had cooked up that story between them.  He realised what Ella had been
thinking.  His wife was trapped in the East, while he'd 'escaped' over the
Berlin Wall.  Fuller decided to go along with it.  "No, she cannot get
out," he told her after a pause.

   "I'm sorry," Ella said, putting a hand on his shoulder, "it must be hard
for you." Fuller took her hand and gave it a squeeze.  Her eyes glowed and
her face lit up with a radiant smile.  Fuller had to turn away lest he be
lost in desire.

   Ariana and Arnim turned into Independence Park and sat down on the grass
beside the artificial lake.  Watching, Fuller decided he ought to leave
them alone for a while and suggested to Ella they go for coffee at a nearby
café.  It was full of her High School friends and soon they were
surrounded. Fuller quickly overcame his intimidation and enjoyed the
animated conversation.

   There was a faint roar from the nearby freeway and sounds of laughter
from the street.  There were only a few people in the park and they were
mostly couples quietly making out.  Naturally, Arnim's arm found a purchase
around Ariana's shoulders.  In response she leaned into him and smiled.

   "It's nice here," she said, "I used to come here a lot as a child.  In
summer they sell ice cream over there in 50 flavours.  You can go horseback
riding along by the river."

   "We had a river in Thurgau," he told her, "but it was full of pollution
from the mill.  You couldn't swim in it, but we used to sail model boats.
We'd carve them out of wood and hand stitch the sails ourselves.  I used my
Mother's old underwear."

   "You washed them first, I hope?" she giggled.

   "Of course," he laughed.

   "Still, you made your own toys?  You must've been clever?"

   "We had bought toys as well!  But not as many, I think, as Western kids
have.  We made do with what we had.  I was in the 'Young Pioneers,'
similar, I think, to your American Boy Scouts.  They taught us woodworking,
metalworking, took us on outings to factories and we'd parade through the
street on May Day.  We had gymnastics classes twice a week and we played
football on the weekend.  Occasionally we had organised visits of groups
from Czechoslovakia and Poland.  We played them at football and we usually
won," he laughed, "but the Russians; they were big kids and they knocked us
all around the park.  We used to say they'd be sent to Siberia if they
lost. It was very important for them to win, I think."

   "It sounds like you missed your childhood a lot."

   "I do," he said, "it was too short.  My family was on the point of
starvation in Berlin.  East Germany may not have made us a rich family, but
it provided food and medical care.  We could afford to be kids, not so in
Berlin."

   "My childhood was easier," Ariana considered, "Mom and Dad worked hard
to provide for us.  We were lucky compared to many kids.  They helped a lot
of other families get established as well.  Some of them arrived in the
States with barely the clothes on their backs.  Dad found homes for them
and lent them money."

   "Your parents are very special people," Arnim told her, "you are very
lucky."

   "I know," she smiled, looking into his face.  They moved together and
Ariana parted her lips in anticipation.

   Across the street Fuller watched the two kissing.  He'd come outside for
some fresh air as Ella caught up with her friends.  Presently, he felt a
hand playfully slap him on the backside and he spun around.  "Hi," Ella
said, "it's rude to spy.  What are they doing?"

   "Getting better acquainted," he told her.

   "Way to go, Ariana!" she jumped, clearly excited after meeting her
friends.  "Y'know, she doesn't do as much of that as she could."

   "As much as what?"

   "Making out.  Do you know what that is?" she grinned.

   "Sure I know," he replied, "sure I know!"

   --------------------------------------------

   Raul met Bobby McClone at Austin terminal.  Ben Shepherd had already
obtained clearances for them both to restricted areas.  The Airport
Authority had even provided them with a vehicle and driver.  As they drove
along the perimeter of the airport the driver, Chet, was talkative and told
him 'that shed gave him the creeps.'

   "How so?" Bobby asked.

   "Some talk...  about twenty year ago.  Some say the shed's cursed. 
No-one goes near it now."

   "What's in it?" Bobby asked.  Raul glanced at him and smiled.  They both
wanted to hear the prevailing opinion.

   "Well, sir?  Some say there's a wreck of an aeroplane that crashed here
back in the eighties.  Others say there's an aircraft under bond because
they couldn't find the owners.  Y'know what I think?" he asked.

   "What?"

   "I don't reckon there's anything in there, nothing at all.  I reckon
whatever was there is long gone."

   "I reckon," said Raul, "that all of you are half right...  and half
wrong."

   "Least ways, I don't know how you folks are going to get in.  They got
chains on there thicker than my arm.  They welded grills over the windows
and steel plates over the ventilation ducts.  Someone didn't want anyone to
get in, that's for sure."

   "I know," said Raul, "I did it!"

   "The Hell you say?"

   Chet pulled up in front of the building and they all got out.  Raul went
up to the door and produced a key from around his neck.  The lock was
rusty, but he had in his pocket an aerosol can of CRC.  After a couple of
sprays, the lock turned, and Bobby and Chet helped him thread back the
chains.

   The door opened with a groan and a strong stench of stale air sent them
stumbling backwards.  Chet stood by the door while Bobby and Raul gingerly
stepped inside.

   "Power should still be hooked up," Raul said, "to run the security
lighting outside." With that, he flicked a switch and the darkness was
suddenly bathed in bright light.

   ----------------------------------------------

   Ella volunteered to drive home to give her sister and Arnim the luxury
of the back seat.  All the way home they scarcely came up for air.  Fuller
seemed to wear a permanent grin at the sight and occasionally looked over
at the couple grappling behind him.

   Ella was wearing white shorts that seemed to ride up even higher as she
drove.  She caught him looking, once, and smiled in return.  Fuller's mouth
and throat went dry and he requested a stop to get some beer.

   When he returned from the liquor store he had a brief glimpse of the
action in the back seat.  He had an impression of hands busy, of Ariana'a
top pulled up almost to her breasts, legs intertwined and the girl's eyes
half closed as their mouths mashed together.  Ella raised her eyes
knowingly at Fuller as he got back in the car.  From the back seat, they
heard a sigh, half cut off.

   He stared across at the teenage fox in the driving seat.  She still
smiled as if she knew something he didn't.  She was half turned to him, her
tight top seemed almost tighter, accentuating her young breasts.  Fuller
was captivated and leaned across as if he was no-longer in control of his
actions.  She accepted his kiss with a smile and a little tongue.

   "What took you so long?" she whispered, her eyes seemed to dance with
triumph.  Fuller fell back and she started the car with a little pat on his
thigh.

   He opened a beer and took a swig.  Ella asked for a sip and she put the
bottle between her lips.  Fuller felt like he was a teenager again, he and
his friend in a car with their dates, making out and drinking beer.  Ella's
hand rested on his thigh and he returned the favour.

   Ella stopped in the drive.  At last the couple in the back sat up,
readjusting their clothing.  Ariana had a slightly embarrassed expression,
her face was flushed and she fidgeted.  Ella and Fuller sat in the car as
they got out.  They watched them, arm and arm, as they went to the door. 
Ariana looked back briefly, smiled, then followed Arnim inside.

   "That friend of yours is so hot!" she told him, "Ariana's got it bad,
you can see!"

   Fuller nodded.  'Did she think *he* was hot?' Somehow, he wanted to
know. Doubts, however, flooded his mind.  He *could* make out a little with
this girl, but he thought of Anna the last time he'd seen her.  She was
heavy with child, she'd kissed him briefly and told him to hurry back.  She
must have known, then, that this would be the last time she'd see him age
27.  For her, she'd next see him as approaching middle age.  Will she be
prepared for the shock?  How would she feel having 20 years of his youth
stolen from her?

   "Your drifting away again," Ella cautioned.  He snapped back and smiled.
They got out of the car and he followed her to the door.  Ella appeared to
be swinging her hips a little more, he thought.  'Her legs, her arse, were
just perfect.'

   -------------------------------------------
   KATZMAREK (C)