Twenty-Nine Cozy Bears

12

Tehran province, Tehran, Iran

Alek stood where he stood for most of the flight — leaning against the side of the plane, one hand braced against the wall above the small window he searched through. His ice blue eyes, bright and invested, searching the world outside. The three of them — along with two others they didn't know but were traveling to Turkey — were down in the hold of the cargo plane — an An-124 Ruslan, a massive transport plane which could carry tanks just as easy as it carried lumber.

The lumber was just that, lumber, and the camouflage for their equipment, which was packed inside one of the pallets of 2x4x10 The stack, which came up to Alek's waist, had been hollowed and loaded with all of their gear. It would be off loaded with the rest of the pallets. The camouflaged containers like large ice chests wrapped in building studs.

After they landed at the non-military airport, the three of them would be left in the confusion of a large amount of construction lumber being off loaded with apparently no destination. But, who didn't like lumber?

Their contacts would be among those who are sent for to help solve the mystery and get the lumber off the air field.

The man stood from his chair, setting his laptop on a nearby table and stretched his body from the stiffness that had crept into his muscles and bones during the flight. Exhaling he reached his arms above his head and let the yawn take him when it arose. Refreshed he dropped to the deck and did twenty pushups. As he rose from the floor, Luca fell forward onto his hands and began a set of push-ups as well.

"If you haven't spotted it by now," the man said to Alek as he came up from behind, "might I suggest that it might be because it is not out there."

"But it is," Alek said. He turned from the window, a easy relaxed smile on his lips and his eyes bright and round. "We are flying."

The man looked around the hull, "Yes, yes we are."

"I mean, in the air. In a metal machine." Alek said this, adding in hints and encouragements. "Ten thousand. Twenty thousand. In the air."

"Yes," the man agreed, his confused patience showing thin through his proffered understanding.

Alek shook his head with a weary, sad frustration, then gazed back out of the window. "These are magical times we live in, and we — us three — we are the wizards of this magical world. A few of them. There are many more, which only makes this even more amazing. So amazing. And yet... And yet no one is happy."

The man thought that observation through, and agreed, "Does seem that way."

Alek shook his head again, then swallowed a laugh of pity.

The man felt a sharp pain of intrusion. Intrusion into his life and judgement. "Ja, we are flying," he said, his voice not friendly. "And we are wizards, so it falls to you to tell me I'm wasting my miracle? That I don't understand the value of my life?"

The amused pity vanished from Alek, leaving a death mask, "I meant no disrespect, Captain."

The man checked himself. "No, it is me. I'm too long in the dark. Maybe I should have spent some time gazing out the window myself."

"Not too late, I'm going to get a coke, you want one?" Alek asked.

"Ja, I'll accept," the man agreed.

When Alek left to the kitchen area, the man stepped up to the window. Looking out he expected nothing but sand dunes and camel trains, and people wrapped in fine yards of cloth. They were still too high to see anything like that. What he did find was a range of snow topped mountains. And nestled up beside them as if cozying up to keep the wind off — a city. A city that even from this height he knew could change his life.

The plane began to descend, as Alek came back and handed him a warm bottle of coke. The man raised an eyebrow at this.

Alek shrugged the eyebrow off himself, "The fridge is copouts. Nothing is cold."

The man looked back out of the window. It was a miracle. Flight.