time when women didn’t do things like fly planes. About two years before her death she had started to plan the most audacious flight anyone could imagine – a
circumnavigation of the globe. She had a navigator with her, a man called Fred Noonan. They set off from Miami, flying to South America, across the Atlantic to Africa, then on to South East Asia,
Australia and Papua New Guinea. Eventually they flew across the Pacific to Honolulu, planning to fly over to the mainland of America and back down to Miami. Needless to say, they didn’t make
it to Honolulu.’
‘And there’s no evidence of her being involved in any strange conspiracies? There has to be a reason for the cylinder and the cryptic message inside.’
‘I agree.’ Kate gazed out of her window to the vast expanse of water, the sun low over the waves. ‘There have always been loads of stories linked to her disappearance,
obviously. If one of the world’s most famous women disappears on a trans-Pacific flight at a time when war was brewing, it’s bound to spark all sorts of rumours.’
She pulled out her phone, checked for a signal, was pleasantly surprised to see she had a couple of bars and called up Google. A moment later they were looking at a website called:
Amelia
Earhart: 10 Conspiracy Theories.
She scrolled down and they both read the screen.
‘Yep, all there,’ Lou commented. ‘Alien abduction, suicide, murder, captured by the Japanese.’
‘And a theory she was a spy for the US government.’
‘That’s not in the same league as alien abduction.’
‘No, it’s not!’ Kate laughed. ‘The US military helped to fund her trip. That’s a documented fact. The intelligence service would have wanted something in return,
you can be sure of that.’
‘All right, well it’s all food for thought,’ Lou concluded. They felt the plane begin to descend. A voice came over the cabin PA. ‘Doctors Bates and Wetherall,
we’re about to begin our descent into Kiribati. Please buckle up. We should be landing at Bonriki International Airport in about ten minutes.’
*
It was probably the smallest and shabbiest ‘international’ airport in the world. Consisting of two large huts joined by a glass-covered walkway, it boasted
hand-painted signs to ‘Customs’ and ‘Quarantine’ and a handful of very laidback staff. From Kiribati, Kate and Lou had to first travel in the opposite direction to their
final destination. A 727 took them west to Brisbane, and from there they flew east on a direct flight to Los Angeles.
*
Landing at LAX, Lou opened a fresh text from Jerry Derham, a reply to his answer-phone message asking what the exciting news was about.
‘Don’t call him again,’ Kate said to Lou as they headed towards the departure lounge for the connecting flight to Norfolk. ‘We’ll be there in a few hours. You never
know who’s listening in to mobiles.’
‘A little paranoid, isn’t it?’
‘Maybe, but the paranoid are usually the last to die.’
Lou texted back: ‘Can’t explain now. About to board flight home. Stopover in Des Moines. ETA Norfolk, 6.05 p.m. Will call then.’
*
They managed to snatch a few hours of fitful sleep. The in-flight food was almost inedible, they had seen all the movies before and they hit severe turbulence half an hour
before reaching Norfolk, leaving them unsettled and anxious. By the time they arrived at Norfolk International Airport, night was drawing in. They felt wrung out and jet-lagged.
Passing through passport control in a daze, they collected their cases and loaded a pair of trolleys with their personal luggage and a large metal box containing their equipment and samples.
Before leaving
Inca
they had wrapped the canister from Amelia Earhart’s plane in bubble wrap and enclosed it in a padded envelope. Lou had put this into his briefcase, never letting
it out of his sight.
‘We need some good strong coffee before we pick up the car,’ he remarked, turning to Kate walking
circumnavigation of the globe. She had a navigator with her, a man called Fred Noonan. They set off from Miami, flying to South America, across the Atlantic to Africa, then on to South East Asia,
Australia and Papua New Guinea. Eventually they flew across the Pacific to Honolulu, planning to fly over to the mainland of America and back down to Miami. Needless to say, they didn’t make
it to Honolulu.’
‘And there’s no evidence of her being involved in any strange conspiracies? There has to be a reason for the cylinder and the cryptic message inside.’
‘I agree.’ Kate gazed out of her window to the vast expanse of water, the sun low over the waves. ‘There have always been loads of stories linked to her disappearance,
obviously. If one of the world’s most famous women disappears on a trans-Pacific flight at a time when war was brewing, it’s bound to spark all sorts of rumours.’
She pulled out her phone, checked for a signal, was pleasantly surprised to see she had a couple of bars and called up Google. A moment later they were looking at a website called:
Amelia
Earhart: 10 Conspiracy Theories.
She scrolled down and they both read the screen.
‘Yep, all there,’ Lou commented. ‘Alien abduction, suicide, murder, captured by the Japanese.’
‘And a theory she was a spy for the US government.’
‘That’s not in the same league as alien abduction.’
‘No, it’s not!’ Kate laughed. ‘The US military helped to fund her trip. That’s a documented fact. The intelligence service would have wanted something in return,
you can be sure of that.’
‘All right, well it’s all food for thought,’ Lou concluded. They felt the plane begin to descend. A voice came over the cabin PA. ‘Doctors Bates and Wetherall,
we’re about to begin our descent into Kiribati. Please buckle up. We should be landing at Bonriki International Airport in about ten minutes.’
*
It was probably the smallest and shabbiest ‘international’ airport in the world. Consisting of two large huts joined by a glass-covered walkway, it boasted
hand-painted signs to ‘Customs’ and ‘Quarantine’ and a handful of very laidback staff. From Kiribati, Kate and Lou had to first travel in the opposite direction to their
final destination. A 727 took them west to Brisbane, and from there they flew east on a direct flight to Los Angeles.
*
Landing at LAX, Lou opened a fresh text from Jerry Derham, a reply to his answer-phone message asking what the exciting news was about.
‘Don’t call him again,’ Kate said to Lou as they headed towards the departure lounge for the connecting flight to Norfolk. ‘We’ll be there in a few hours. You never
know who’s listening in to mobiles.’
‘A little paranoid, isn’t it?’
‘Maybe, but the paranoid are usually the last to die.’
Lou texted back: ‘Can’t explain now. About to board flight home. Stopover in Des Moines. ETA Norfolk, 6.05 p.m. Will call then.’
*
They managed to snatch a few hours of fitful sleep. The in-flight food was almost inedible, they had seen all the movies before and they hit severe turbulence half an hour
before reaching Norfolk, leaving them unsettled and anxious. By the time they arrived at Norfolk International Airport, night was drawing in. They felt wrung out and jet-lagged.
Passing through passport control in a daze, they collected their cases and loaded a pair of trolleys with their personal luggage and a large metal box containing their equipment and samples.
Before leaving
Inca
they had wrapped the canister from Amelia Earhart’s plane in bubble wrap and enclosed it in a padded envelope. Lou had put this into his briefcase, never letting
it out of his sight.
‘We need some good strong coffee before we pick up the car,’ he remarked, turning to Kate walking
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