Skyler didn't smoke the whole cigar. He decided to rest his head on the couch while he let it die in the ashtray. As it agonized, he regaled himself by watching the graceful wisps that snaked and signed up the air long enough for them to roll out their narcotic effect on his focus. He believed he saw with increasing intermittence images of Rorschach as his mind drifted off, lurking in the mist like a wraith in a blizzard. He wondered if smoke inspired Rorschach himself, or if Rorschach had inspired smoke. That was it for his train of thought, along with his wakefulness.

And then he opened his eyes. The former cigar was nothing more than a corpse of ashes. From the cockpit, he could hear the muffled voices of Lockhart, cursing their fate, and Seiber, swearing in closed German. He tried childishly closing his eyes and falling asleep again to tune them out, but a compact turbulence tore him from his slumber.

And then he opened his eyes. He stood idly from the chair and walked to the door. When he put his hand on the knob, it twisted and opened. Over the threshold and visibly worked up was Seiber, something outright new to his eyes.

"Your brother's gonna kill me."

"What's going on?"

"We're being tailed."

"By who?"

"We don't know yet. We just know it's a plane. We didn't expect there'd be birds with long-range radar here. At the moment, it doesn't seem like they want to bring us down."

"How do you know that?"

"If they wanted to, they would have already done it."

Skyler looked at the ceiling and dropped a sigh of resignation, then looked back at Seiber.

"What's the plan now?"

"Wait for them to contact us. They'll tell us to stop to make a false inspection and take you away."

"So, what do I do?"

"All I can think of is that you parachute off the plane while we land and sidetrack them," Seiber answered with natural folly. The lack of playful wrinkles around his lips confirmed to Skyler that the proposal was nothing but earnest.

"That's the plan?"

"Didn't say it's a good one. Besides, you were into skydiving for a while, right?"

A sudden mind flash of an endless stream of gales from the San Diego sky towards a refurbished civilian base thudded against Skyler's face so hard that his wound hurt.

"But those were tandem jumps with an instructor. I've never parachuted by myself!"

"That's good enough. Solo jump's just like riding a bike..." Seiber scratched the back of his neck. "Well, if you didn't fall the first time. OK, never mind. Listen, I have to stay here with Cedric to hide everything illegal and in case of more setbacks."

Skyler sighed for the second time, unable to comprehend on how on Earth he had gone from the most peaceful sleep to the most agonizing strain in a matter of seconds. He guessed he should have gotten used to living under those contrasts the moment he had boarded the plane.

"And how are we gonna do it?"

"Cedric will fly us under the other plane on the pretext of landing. That's when you jump. The position and the plane itself will provide a screen so you won't get made out on your way down. And it's dark already, so it'll be hard for them to spot you."

"It's night already? Where are we?"

"Africa, but that's not important now. I'll give you a flashlight to guide you and a radio to keep on at all times. When we're done, I'll make contact to tell you to come back to the plane."

"OK."

"You'll be able to see us by the navigation lights, but we won't be able to see you, so we can't go looking for you. That's why you'll have to come to us. Until then, stay hidden, and don't contact me. I'll be the one to contact you."

Suddenly, a voice broken by radio interference reached the cockpit.

"Papa Oscar Tango, this is Interpol. Land immediately."

Seiber put the side of his index finger to his lip in a pensive state.

"That may explain the high-tech equipment they used to spot us. They also have worldwide jurisdiction, so it may just be a fluke that we came across one of them. But, then again, it's possible they already got word from the States about you being missing, so you can't stay here, anyway."

Lockhart turned on the microphone.

"Papa Oscar Tango here. There's no airstrip available in the vicinity."

"I didn't tell you to do it on an airstrip. Land immediately on the road you're flying over, or we'll open fire."

It was then that Seiber threw Skyler a look full of conviction.

"Parachute up."

Seiber went to the bookshelf, put his index finger on the back of one of the books, and pushed it forward, unlatching a hatch in the middle of the garnet tapestry. He entered alone, but Skyler could see from his perspective that under the false bottom hid a too heterogeneous mixture of articles, ranging from several toolboxes up to a bunch of mannequins and everything in between, including an open album with false visas, a box full of wigs, and a heater.

"What are the dummies for?"

Seiber returned from that underworld with a parachute, a flashlight, and a radio.

"Sometimes we put wigged mannequins next to the windows so we look like we're carrying a crew. It's less suspicious than having the windows tinted. Here. Wear it like a backpack. You'll have to descend with the flashlight on to guide you in the dark."

Skyler put on the parachute with Seiber's help, who also locked the harnesses around his body. He knew perfectly well that parachuting in the middle of the night was near-suicidal, but there was no way around it.

"The plane's already going down. Wait." Seiber tied a backpack to Skyler's left arm. Inside were the flashlight and the radio, along with the remains of Lockhart's stash and a sheathed knife. "Hold it tight with your left hand; your life depends on this. You have to pull the handle here, on the side, with your right hand. If it's not opening, you have this emergency handle here, on your left. Don't think it through. You start falling, count one second, and then pull the handle. Calculate about a minute to land, based on the height we're gonna be. When your descent gets smooth, pull out the flashlight and turn it on. It's just a barren floodplain; no snakes or rocks in this area. Try to flex your legs before touching down and use the knife in the bag to cut the ropes if you can't unfasten them."

"OK, but what's the point of giving me the stash?"

"It's just in case you run into strangers and need to use any form of currency to save your life. Hold on." Seiber put a pistol in the bag. "Don't show it, and use it only if strictly necessary."

"Wait, what?"

"Taking into account the height, speed, and descent, I estimate the difference between our position and yours will be about five miles. Maybe seven. Margin enough for you to find some strangers along the way," he jabbered as he continued securing the belts around him. "And strangers here look pretty much like they do in the movies."

For the umpteenth time Skyler darted a grimace of distaste at him, making a gesture with his hand for Seiber to cut the crap.

"All right, just tell me what I gotta do to not get killed on the way."

Seiber gave a final check-up tug of the harnesses and went around to Skyler's back to examine the ropes of the handles.

"This is the situation: this area is controlled by mercs, but they all respond to the same people. There are two armed groups down there, each one led by a warlord. They're rival gangs, and their bosses take good care to protect any data about them, so they stay off the grid. Even worse, things have gotten pretty wound up tight between them lately, seeing who will capture a newly discovered uranium mine. Do you follow me?"

"Yeah, I guess."

"So, if any of them spot you, all you have to say is that you come on behalf of their boss, and then say the name. They hide their identities with enough secrecy for their subordinates to believe you when they hear the name of their boss in the mouth of a white guy. After that, you just tell them to take you to him."

"And if I say the name of the wrong warlord?"

"Only top-brass mercs know the name of the warlord on the other side; the rest just know the name of the one who's paying them. If you say a name, and it doesn't ring a bell, just say that you got it wrong, and then say the other name."

"Wait, wait a minute." Skyler shook his head with his hands up. "Are you really gonna throw me to the wolves?"

"They're not wolves, just a bunch of tamed mutts. If one of them shoots a bullet too often, they get one of their children killed."

Skyler posed his hand on his forehead, overwhelmed by the circumstances, yearning for everything to just be a nightmare, for him to be just dozing on the couch he was looking at in that very same instant. Seiber grabbed him by the shoulders once he finished securing the chute, pulling him out of his lethargy and looking closely into his eyes.

"Hey, I know you're scared, and so am I, but you gotta jump off this plane while we still have the height. I'm only begging you to have grit just this once. Here..." He opened the backpack and pulled out the bag containing hashish. He put his little finger in it, took a small amount on his fingertip, and rubbed it on Skyler's lips. "A bit of it relaxes and enhances your visual and auditory perception."

Skyler barely noticed the taste when he swallowed it, aware that the sudden calm he felt right away was purely due to his own suggestion.

"OK. But if I go with them, how will you get me out?"

"Those two lords are your brother's partners." Seiber unlatched the side door of the plane, letting Skyler take in the wind, the night, and the din of the engines. "If you get them to take you to their bosses, you'll just have to ask for Atticus. They'll do the rest." He lit a Lucky Strike and held it on his lips, watching as the violent wind gusts mangled its helpless wisps with hardly any time to wrap gracefully up in the air. He felt that vision as a foreboding of what was to come. "But that'll be if you get caught. Your priority now is to get back to the plane in one piece. It's a long way down there. Come on, get off. Feet first. See you on the other side."

He gave a stout shove to Skyler, but not enough to stop him from holding to the sides with his nails.

"Wait! The warlords! What are their names?"

"Oh sure, that was a close one! They're called Nevin Wagner and René Hinault. Now, repeat them to me."

"Nevin Wagner and René Hinault. Got it. Oh, and one more thing. That Papa Oscar Tango name..."

For a moment, Seiber's smile returned to his lips.

"Yeah, Cedric came up with the name. Trademark."

"Well, 'bravo,'" Skyler replied, using the Aviation Alphabet right before making an irony-laden military salute and hurtling himself into the vacuum, towards the darkness, like an animal returning to its natural habitat.