Read Online 02 _ Maltese Goddess, The by Lyn Hamilton - Free Book Online Page B

they’ll be back in business by tonight, so we’ll try and find a flight then. Dave says don’t panic yet!”
    “Yet!” I grumped. But there was nothing I could do.
    By late Monday night, Malta time, the situation didn’t look any better. The airport might be reopening, but the flights were backed up and Dave was having trouble finding space for such a large shipment at such short notice. Furthermore, a pipe had burst in his warehouse out near the airport, and he hadn’t been able to bring the two shipments there to pack them.
    “I could probably get the stuff to Paris tonight,” he said. “But I’m told there’s going to be a countrywide transportation strike in France as early as tomorrow, and they’re saying it may last several days. I don’t want to risk getting the stuff there and then not being able to get it out again.”
    I knew he was telling the truth. I’d read the Paris papers on the way over and they’d said as much.
    “So I’m working on something to Italy. Both Air Malta and Alitalia fly to Malta from Rome. Hang in, Lara,”‘ he told me. “I’ll get it there somehow. As soon as I know which flight we’ve got, I’ll get all the stuff picked up and packed in a container, and deliver it direct to the plane. I’ve already contacted a customs broker at the airport in Malta, and he’s standing by to clear it through in a hurry and transport it to the house. You be ready to move fast. Mrs. Galea is being very nice about this, by the way.” Then he added, “But I haven’t talked to the Great One himself yet. Can’t say I’m looking forward to that conversation!”
    By late Tuesday afternoon I was truly despairing of ever meeting my commitment to Galea. There was nothing more I could do that day, however, except worry, and I didn’t want to disappoint Sophia, so I decided to go to the lecture and to try to forget all the aggravations of the past couple of days, for an hour or so, at least.
    But there was the small matter of making my way to the University on time.
    Marissa had given me rather complicated directions for taking the bus into the terminal and then another one out again. The bus route network in Malta seemed to operate on a hub and spoke model, with all routes radiating out from the Valletta terminal. This meant it was not possible to take one bus from the house to the University. On top of that the lecture was in the evening, and Marissa had told me the last bus service was about ten. I decided to drive. The car had been locked in the garage ever since it had been repaired, and I checked the padlock carefully to reassure myself it would be safe to use the car.
    I knew from Marissa’s instructions that the University was at the intersection of the regional road to Mellieha and the road to Balzan. When I consulted the map she had given me, it seemed to be almost due north of the house. The island was only eight or nine miles wide, and I prided myself on my sense of direction. I also prided myself on my ability to drive almost anywhere. My buying trips had taken me all over the world, and I’d found myself in pretty obscure places. I’d driven on the left and the right. Why, I’d even driven in Rome. And I was used to almost any kind of vehicle. I once rode a donkey up a steep slope to get to a village that had particularly lovely weavings. How difficult could this be?
    As the saying goes, pride goeth before a fall.
    I mapped out a route that took me to a place called Siggiewi, then Zebbug, to Attard, then Balzan, then on to the University. But I ended up on the road to someplace called Rabat. Cars roared past me on both the passing lane and on the inside shoulder; I dodged donkey carts and potholes the size of craters on the moon; I passed through towns that reminded me of illustrations in my childhood book of Bible stories; I whizzed around roundabouts; and I got totally, utterly, irretrievably lost.
    I also learned that second gear is a really important feature in a car.