First Knights

Nancy Berman and Noah Dudley

"What about this one?" The third of the models sent out for Charlie's demanding inspection stopped obligingly. Charlie summoned the couturier with a single wave of her finger. "It's very nice."

The couturier beamed inside, sensing a sale. "Mademoiselle has excellent taste. This was only this week brought in from Milan." She did not have to add that the dress was an original. Even in these sad times, some things were simply understood.

"But how do you think it would look after a flight to San Francisco?" "Eh?" Surprise quickly gave way to a restoration of professionalism. "I am told that the Coast Zeppelin has the highest quality accommodations. I am certain that you would have no trouble traveling with the gown under those circumstances." Having recovered quite well, she thought, the older woman ventured a small witticism. "Or does Mademoiselle anticipate a dashing gentleman sweeping her off her feet for a romantic supper during the flight?" "Oh, no," Charlie replied distractedly. "I was thinking of flying up by myself." Gathering her bags as she prepared to rise, she missed the couturier's renewed loss of composure. "You know, on second thought, I don't think it will work. Too much taffeta. Thank you any way." Charlie swept out of the store, leaving a very annoyed saleswoman muttering to herself about modern young women and lost revenues.

Southern California may lack the sophistication of New York City or the rough-edged gentility of San Francisco, but its one undeniable advantage was in full evidence as Charlie left the Wilshire Boulevard boutique -- during December you can walk the streets of Los Angeles, carrying bags of presents for your father (and Norm!) without losing your balance on the icy sidewalks or losing your coiffure to the icy winds.

Since beginning her flying lessons (which she still hadn't told her father about) Charlie had found more and more pleasure in doing many of the things she had once depended on others to do for her. Today, for example, she had taken the trolley from home to do her shopping instead of asking the Steele's chauffeur.

It's funny, she thought as she walked slowly along the boulevard, idly inspecting shop windows, how much more there is to see when you don't hurry from one place to another. She had come to enjoy mornings, a time she used to avoid at all costs with black-out curtains and satin sleep masks. There was a lot to be said for walking, just watching the people... and no sooner had that thought crossed her mind than Charlie stopped dead in her tracks. Crossing the street not thirty yards off was the most beautiful woman she had ever seen. She was tall, with flaming red hair, wearing an incredibly stylish suit that was surely the latest Chanel confection direct from Paris. The moment she jaywalked into the street, traffic stopped in both directions. Like a queen, the woman paraded across Wilshire Boulevard, outwardly oblivious to the stares of the masses, which included Charlie.

I know that woman! Charlie realized. She was in that motion picture with Clark-- what the...?!!

Without warning, a blast of wind roared out of the sky, knocking Charlie back against a building. Men grabbed their hats and women covered their faces as a dust storm rose up out of nowhere and enveloped the street. Suddenly Charlie became aware of a whoop-whooping sound from above, and guarding her eyes with one hand she looked up to see a huge metal dragonfly obscuring the sun, stirring up clouds and whirlwinds everywhere with its ferocious breath! Like a vulture from a horrible vision of hell, the autogyro dropped onto the boulevard, its pilot expertly placing it amongst the stopped traffic and right next to the gorgeous red-haired star. Caught in the center of the dust storm, the actress was huddled down in the center of the street.

The door of the autogyro opened and a cluster of men appeared in the opening. They were indistinguishable from each other--tall, muscular, dressed all in black and hooded. Their menacing presence paralyzed the onlookers with fear. Without an apparent signal, two of the men leaped out lightly onto the asphalt and grabbed the crouching woman, passing her up into the autogyro before she had time to struggle. The sound of her terrified scream pierced through the noise of the autogyro firing up its engines.

Charlie and everyone else watched in numb amazement as the airship's rotors picked up speed and prepared to take off. But at last moment, a cop, running up to investigate the source of the stopped traffic, shouted a warning and pulled his gun. The sound of his shot was lost in the roar of the rotors, and his bullet merely ricocheted off the steel side of the autogyro.

In the autogyro's open door two of the kidnappers pulled out Tommy guns and callously opened fire. The cop went down in the first hail of bullets, but the kidnappers kept firing, spraying the street at random. A man just in front of Charlie on the sidewalk took a bullet in the leg and fell back on her, knocking her down and probably saving her life, because the next bullet whizzed through the space her head had just occupied.

And then, just as it had started, the dust storm kicked up again and that whoop-whooping sound whined into the sky, as the autogyro rose and headed off, fading until it vanished over downtown, leaving only groans of the wounded and one woman's hysterical screaming. After many long minutes, the drawn-out moaning of sirens added their own banshee wail to the aftermath. By that time Charlie and the other witnesses had already begun to minister to those around them. She knelt over the man who had unintentionally saved her life. He seemed to be dead, although Charlie had never seen a dead person before outside of a funeral home. She had certainly never seen anyone murdered right before her eyes.

Unable to look at him any longer, Charlie moved on to the next victim, a woman shot in the left leg. She bound the wound with a silk tie she had intended to give to her father. It must have hurt, but the woman stared at Charlie with concern.

"Are you all right?" the woman asked fearfully, and when Charlie looked down she saw that the front of her dress was splattered with the blood -from the man who had saved her life. With a few words of comfort and reassurance, Charlie left her wounded charge and returned to the man for whom she could do nothing. Fumbling in her bag, Charlie pulled out a scarf that she had bought for herself and laid it gently over the man's face. He could have been a friend of mine. He could have been me. How would her father have taken that? Who was going to take care of this man's family? And what about the movie star Charlie had just seen being abducted? What was going to happen to her, at the hands of such men? All at once, the fear and the nausea of her experience became cold and hard in Charlie's stomach. She thought about her life of all-night parties and airplane rides and champagne cruises and empty pleasure. This was life. And death. What if she had died here? Would anyone remember her if she had died before she had the chance to do something worthwhile? And what gave those men the right to make that choice for her?

Charlie reached out and gently touched the colorful fabric that hid the face of a stranger who in another moment might have been herself.

"I swear," she whispered. "I swear that I will do everything in my power to find the men who did this to you. And I swear, I will make them pay." Charlie went on to help where she could. When the police came, she calmly recounted every detail from the moment she saw the actress crossing the street to the moment the airship lifted off. The cop interviewing her thanked her.

"You're one of the few people who's been able to tell us anything," he confided. "Most of these folks were just petrified."

"Don't count me out of that group," Charlie said with more humor than she felt.

"The only person who even tried to stop them was the policeman. How is he, by the way? I didn't get over to him because I was helping other victims."

"He's gonna be okay. His name's Gleason, and it takes more than a couple of thugs with Tommy guns to put an Irishman down." He pointed to his own nametag: O'Brien. Charlie smiled appreciatively. "Actually, we seem to have gotten really lucky. Only one person was killed, a man over there." He pointed, but Charlie didn't need to look.

"You're late." Norm reached for the padlock to secure his office without awaiting Charlie's response. "I told you from the start, if you're late, no lesson." He snapped the lock shut, then paused. Finally he turned to look at his silent student. "What's wrong? Is Eddie okay?"

"Norm, have you ever seen a man die?"

The old flyer's eyebrows shot toward his receding hairline. He turned around, unlocked the office, and ushered Charlie inside. Not until he had closed the door tightly did he start to speak--only to stop at the sight of Charlie sitting glumly on the sofa. The same sofa that she had, only yesterday, offered to buy at twice its worth, "just so I can burn it."

Gently he took her hand and sat down next to her. "Maybe you'd better tell me what happened."

This time the telling was not nearly so calm or succinct. Bit by bit, the horrible tale unfolded, rendered only slightly less awful by Norm's realization that Charlie herself hadn't actually murdered someone. Before she could finish, she was crying in his arms.

"It was so horrible! I'd never seen anyone die before!" She lifted her face, blinking back the tears. "And that was when I swore, on that poor man's body, that I was going to do something. And I am," she said stoutly. "I just don't know what yet."

Long moments stretched out as the girl regained her composure, long moments when, had she been looking into Norm's eyes, she would have seen a hard expression they hadn't known in a very long time.

"I've heard of these crooks," he said at last. He spoke slowly, as though each word had to fight its way out of his mouth. "The newspapers call them the Sky Slavers, because they kidnap beautiful women, and the rumors are that they sell 'em for white slaves." He felt Charlie shudder, her worst fears confirmed.

"Norm, that man died right in front of me. And everyone - including me - just stood around like bewildered sheep! I mean it, I'm going do something about this!"

"Yeah, like what?"

Charlie sat up. "This whole thing happened because we don't have any protection up there. All the other independent nations are starting up air forces. We ought to have one too!

"Uh, Charlie, who's going to fly in this air force of yours? Me? You?"

"It sure will be me! And you, if you decide to get off you butt and get involved. And I'll bet there are plenty of other fliers in Hollywood who would love a chance to fly for their country. I'll just have to find them, that's all."

Norm looked dubious, but said "Charlie, if you can pull this off, I'm with you. You know that. But nothin's going to happen tonight, so get yourself back home before Eddie starts getting suspicious." Charlie threw her arms around the grizzled old pilot. "I knew you'd be with us, Norm. I'm going to go home and get started right away! I'll talk to you tomorrow!"

Norm locked the door behind Charlie. Thoughtfully he went over to a grease-streaked old wooden filing cabinet, pulled out one slim file marked "Discontinued Parts," and started reading through it.