‘And then?’
‘Christ!’ I said. ‘Don’t you see? It was because he was so bloody decent. That was why he died. Because he was so bloody decent. He was afraid I wouldn’t jump. He was going to take the controls…’ I was almost sobbing.
Saeton pushed the tumbler into my hand. ‘Drink up,’ he said. The drink produced a little oasis of warmth in the cold pit of my stomach. ‘You’re at a thousand feet. What happened then?’
I swallowed another mouthful. ‘I was on two motors then. I cut one. I nearly convinced him. He was just going aft again when he saw the clips. He took control then and turned the machine back into the corridor.’
‘I see. And you tried to persuade him to make for Membury. That’s when you told him our plan?’
That’s right. But he wouldn’t. His Methodist upbringing. You told me about that. You warned me …’ My mind was confused now. I felt damnably tired.
He shook my shoulder. ‘Then you had a fight. That’s what you told me.’
‘Yes. He called me a dirty little crook. That made me mad. I cut the engine out then. I told him either we crashed or he let me take over. That’s when he came at me with a spanner. The rest you know.’ My eyelids felt heavy. I couldn’t keep them open. ‘What are you going to do?’ I mumbled.
‘How long between his returning to the cockpit and the fight?’
‘Five minutes — ten minutes. I don’t know.’
‘What height were you when Tubby went out through the fuselage door?’
‘I don’t know. Yes. Wait a minute. About seven hundred. I climbed to over two thousand and then went down to five hundred again to search for him.’
‘You mentioned a disused airfield.’
‘Yes.’ My head nodded forward uncontrollably and I felt him shaking me. There was a small town. There was a river, too, and a road ran north, quite straight, past the edge of the airfield.’ I stared at him dully. He was peering at the map, marking off distances with a rule. ‘Can you find it?’ I asked.
He nodded. ‘Yes. Hollmind. No doubt of it.’
‘What are you going to do?’ I asked again.
‘Nothing much we can do,’ he said. ‘But an old friend of mine is at Lubeck, flying Daks. I’ll cable him and have him search the area as he flies over in daylight.’
I nodded vaguely. I couldn’t keep my eyes open.
‘You’re dead beat, Neil. Better get some sleep.’ His voice sounded miles away. I felt his hands under my arm. ‘Come on, old chap.’
I think Saeton must have put something in my drink, for I don’t remember anything more until I woke to sunlight streaming into the familiar, comfortless little room. It had never done that before and when I glanced at my watch I found it was past two. I was still in my clothes and I had slept for nearly twelve hours. I fumbled for a cigarette, lit it and lay back.
The events of the night before came back to me then, like some nightmare half forgotten in waking. Tubby’s death was no longer vivid in my memory. The whole thing had an unreal quality, until I went across to the hangar and saw the plane with Saeton already at work on the inboard engines.
‘Feeling better?’ he asked. ‘I left some food out for you. Did you find it?’
‘No.’ I walked round to the front of the machine and saw that he had already got the starboard engine out. The single-purposed drive of the man was incredible.
‘I’m having difficulty with the securing nuts of this engine,’ he said. ‘Can you come up and give me a hand?’
I didn’t move. I stood there, staring at the shining sweep of the wings — hating the plane, hating Saeton, and hating myself worst of all. Slowly my eyes travelled from the plane to the litter of the hangar. God, how the man must have worked whilst I’d been at Wunstorf! He’d cut the old machine to pieces with an oxy-acetylene cutter; wings, tail, fuselage were a jumble of unrecognisable fragments piled along the walls. Only the engines were left intact.
He climbed down from the wheeled gantry. ‘Snap out of it, Neil!’ His voice was hard, almost violent. ‘Put your overalls on and get to work on that engine.’ His face, close to, looked grey and haggard, his eyes shadowed with sleeplessness. He looked old. ‘I’m going to get some sleep.’ He cleared a space for himself on the bench and lay down. He kept his eyes open until I’d climbed the gantry and started work. After that he didn’t stir until I switched the light plant on.
He brought some food over then and we worked on together until we had the port engine lowered on to the concrete floor. It was then eight forty-five. ‘Nearly news time,’ I said and lit a cigarette, my hands trembling.
We got the news on the plane’s radio. There was nothing in the summary. With the earphones clamped to my ears the announcer’s voice seemed to be there in my head, telling me of political wrangles, strikes, a depression over Iceland, anything but what I wanted to hear. Right at the end, however, he paused. There was a rustle of paper and then his voice was back in my ears and I gripped the edge of the seat.
News has fust come in that the Tudor aircraft, missing on the airlift since last night, has crashed in the Russian Zone of Germany. Two members of the crew, who baled out, crossed the frontier into the British Zone this morning. They are R. E. Field, navigator, and H. L. Westrop, radio operator. According to their report, the plane’s engines failed shortly after it had turned into the northern approach corridor to Berlin and the captain ordered the crew to bale out. Still missing are N. L. Fraser, pilot, and R. C. Carter, flight engineer. The pilot of one of the planes following the missing Tudor has reported seeing a single parachute open at about a thousand feet. It was clearly visible in brilliant moonlight. As Field and Westrop came down together, it is thought that this parachute may belong to one of the other two members of the crew. So far the Russians have denied that any plane crashed in their territory or that they hold any of our aircrews. The plane was a Tudor tanker belonging to the Harcourt Charter Company. Squadron Leader Neil Fraser
escaped from Germany during the war by Hying out a Messerschmitt after-
I switched it off and removed my headphones. A single parachute! ‘Do you think he’s alive?’ The sudden relief of hope made my voice unsteady. Saeton made no answer. He was staring down the fuselage at nothing in particular. ‘A single parachute! That must be Tubby. The others went out together. They came down together. The news said so.’
‘We’ll see what the papers say tomorrow.’ Saeton got to his feet.
I caught hold of his arm as he passed me. ‘What’s the matter? Aren’t you glad?’
He looked down at me, his eyes grey like slate. ‘Of course, I’m glad.’ There was no enthusiasm in his voice.
His reaction left me with a sense of depression. The report was third or fourth hand. The pilot might have been seeing two parachutes as one. It might mean nothing — or everything. I got out on to the floor of the hangar and stood, staring at the plane. If only Saeton hadn’t taken the inboard engines out. If the machine had been left as I had brought it in, we could have gone over landed on that disused airfield and searched the area. It was a crazy idea, but it stuck in my mind.
And as though Saeton had also thought of that, he pressed straight on with the installation of the first of our own engines. We finished it at three in the morning. But even then I couldn’t sleep. My mind kept on seeing that single parachute, a white mushroom of silk in the moonlight, picturing Tubby forced to consciousness by the rush of cold air, tugging at the release. Pray God the papers carried more detail.
I was up at eight. The quarters were silent. There was no sign of Saeton. I thought he must be over at the hangar until I found a note on the mess table to say he’d gone into Baydon for the papers. By the time I’d cooked the bacon he was back. I saw at once he had some news. There was a gleam of excitement in his eyes and his face looked younger as though all the sleeplessness had been wiped away. ‘What is it?’ I asked breathlessly. ‘Have they found him?’