Flight Path: A Wright & Tran Novel by Ian Andrew Page A

took in trams, cyclists and cars sharing the same relatively narrow piece of road that was squeezed into a space begrudgingly sacrificed by the gently flowing water. The scent of a roadside flower stall, with hundreds of bouquets and thousands of blooms spilling onto the surrounding pavement, fragranced the street, giving the dulled, late-Autumnal day a fresh, spring-like aroma.
    As the taxi departed and Kara made her way to the apartment’s door, Jacob asked, “Are you okay Tien?”
    She spoke over her shoulder, “Yeah, I’m fine. It’s stunning though, isn’t it?”
    “Haven’t you been here before?” he asked, coming to stand beside her.
    “No, never. Not sure why not, considering how little time it took to get here,” she said checking her watch. It showed 3:00pm. “I mean we only left for Heathrow at ten and we’ve lost an hour to a time zone change. I could’ve easily been spending weekends here. Look at it. It’s amazing.”
    Jacob laughed. “You’ve seen a few streets and a canal. Easily impressed much?”
    “Not really. Not usually,” she said, turning to him, and aware that she was smiling broadly. “I suppose, it’s just that feeling you get sometimes. You know, when you go somewhere and you instantly know it’s an amazing place. That it just fits you. Know what I mean?”
    Jacob nodded, “I felt that way about Toronto. I went over with the QCS once. Liked it so much I went back on holiday the same summer. Reckon I’ll end up there if I can manage it.”
    “QCS?” Tien asked.
    “The Queen’s Colour Squadron. We did the ceremonial drill displays for the Air Force?”
    “Oh right,” she said, “The ones that do it all with no words of command. Very impressive.”
    Jacob dipped his head in acknowledgment of her compliment, “Thanks. It was fun doing it.”
    As Tien watched a tram making its near-silent way along the street she said, almost as an afterthought, “I thought you were a proper field gunner.”
    “We were proper gunners too,” Jacob said, too quickly and with a hint of sternness in his voice.
    Tien turned back to him and with a warm smile put her hand on his arm, “Oops, my mistake. I didn’t mean to offend. So you did that and all the normal stuff?”
    Jacob reddened under her gaze. “Yeah, we were a field regiment too.”
    “That’s how you ended up in Afghanistan?” Tien asked.
    Jacob nodded.
    Tien saw the same look in his eyes at the mention of that far-away country that she sometimes saw in her own reflection. She took his hand, “Come on, let’s go see where Kara has booked us into. I don’t normally let her online with a credit card.”
    Jacob didn’t resist and allowed himself to be led across to the narrow black door that Kara had already knocked on. It opened to reveal a round-faced man, with an even rounder stature. He had the complexion of a shined apple. Sweat was beaded on a forehead barely visible under a riot of dishevelled jet-black hair, and even though his Mexican-styled moustache drooped downwards, Tien desperately wanted to call him Mario. When she realised that he held a large monkey-wrench in his left hand she almost laughed out loud. ‘I love this place,’ she thought. The man spoke with the peculiar Dutch accent that gave a lisp to his pronunciation of English.
    “Good afternoon, you must be the London people, the Wrights, yes?” he asked, wiping his right hand on his jeans and offering it to Kara.
    “Yes, good afternoon,” she said shaking the chubby hand.
    “Please come in. It is so nice of you to be choosing us for your stay in Amsterdam,” he said, turning and leading them into a tiny hallway. Jacob remained outside and allowed Tien to step into the tight space.
    “I am Bernard, the caretaker.”
    Tien managed to suppress a sigh. ‘You’ll always be Mario to me,’ she thought.
    “I’m just glad we could get it so quickly,” Kara said, oblivious to her friend’s amusement.
    “Oh yes, well it is November so we have