Adam knew she was lying. She just wanted male company to talk to.
'No problem,' he said and went back to Billie. 'We've got a lift.'
'Why this way?' she asked.
'Because your customs and immigration never check on people leaving the country. Only on those coming in. This way we won't be on any ticket manifesto, not until we get across to Europe.'
'Smart.'
He introduced Billie to Jenny and saw her disappointment when the pilot explained she'd have to sit in the back with the ferry tanks. She would be even more disillusioned when she saw how limited the space actually was.
Forty minutes later the small plane, now over its weight limit, clawed its way into the sky, its two turbocharged 220 horsepower engines screaming at full power, and headed northwards at eleven thousand feet towards Canada and its overnight destination of Goose Bay, Labrador.
It was an eight hundred mile trip, flown in murky conditions with moderate turbulence. They rarely saw the ground, only snatches of lakes or wooded countryside appearing through the rare break in the stratus cloud.
The twenty knot tailwind helped, and their airspeed of two hundred knots reduced the journey to just over four hours.
That was four hours too long for Billie wedged in behind the ferry tanks. The bumpiness had churned her stomach and given her a headache, but she kept her complaints to herself. She started to regret her impulsiveness in joining a wild goose obstacle chase.
Up front, Adam watched the girl handle the plane with an ease that comes only with experience. She had left the plane on auto pilot as they flew north over Massachusetts, Maine and crossed the border into Canada at Presque Isle.
They came in to land in a snowscape, the lights along the thin ribbon of recently cleared runway coming into view and stretching out in front of them as the Seneca descended on its final approach to Runway 27 at Goose Bay.
She then took control and taxied off the runway as three Canadian Air Force F11's blasted into the sky on a training mission farther to the north. As she taxied in to the small civilian terminal, Adam watched the three fighter planes ease their pointed noses skyward and climb at over thirty thousand feet a minute. Now that was power. His F40 was a Dinky toy compared to them.
Billie couldn't believe the cold and she rushed towards the warmth of the terminal. Adam and Jenny followed after, carrying the bags.
'Are you crew?' asked the customs man.
'Yes.' Adam indicated Billie who was now stretching her legs in the terminal. 'She's my girl. She's along for the ride.'
'We're off at the crack of dawn,' added Jenny.
Customs nodded. He was doubling for Immigration who had gone home to babysit while his wife went to the movies with her sister. He waved them through. No record of any passengers was made of their arrival. But then ferry flights were the order of the day at Goose.
Both the Aurora Hotel and Labrador Inn were fully booked and the cab driver finally deposited them at the Royal Inn. They were lucky, there were two rooms and the women decided to share.
Adam was in Room 17, little knowing that this was where the Russian agent Hans Putiloff had been killed in the early days of this affair. He locked the door, showered and freshened up for supper. When he left his room, he knocked on the women's door; he would wait for them in the small restaurant at the front of the hotel.
They joined him ten minutes later. He was at the bar, audaciously flirting with the shapeless young waitress in the even more shapeless sweater. She was enjoying every minute of it; men of this calibre were not something you came across every day, especially in Happy Valley, Goose Bay.
'I'm having mooseburger,' he said, directing them to the table by the window. 'Mooseburger! What about that?'
The waitress took their orders. Her dream of an exciting evening had abruptly disappeared.
The discussion was general; Jenny talked about her flying experiences whilst Billie reminisced about the warmth of her native Southern California. It was easy to do, as she shivered and looked out of the window at the thick snow that reflected the street lights upwards. She had come totally unprepared for the northern climes and at Adam's insistence had bought some clothes in Newark on their way to Teterborough Airport. Her new coat was now firmly wrapped round her as she waited for her meal.
'You two spend time together?' she heard Jenny say as they sipped their coffees.
'No. We're good friends,' replied Adam, knowing what she meant.
'That's wrong,' interjected Billie. 'It's, we're just good friends.'
'What are you doing travelling together?' Jenny pressed them.
'Seeing the world.'
'There's got to be easier ways than this.'
'A sense of adventure!' exclaimed Adam.
'Rubbish.' Jenny turned to Billie. 'This is the last place you want to be. You don't like the cold. You hate it. All you have to do is hire a plane out of here and go back south. You could have both gone direct to England from New York. But you wanted to come up this way. If you think this is cold, you wait till we hit Greenland. With the chill factor it's nearly minus forty. It's only minus ten here. Are you two on the run or something?'
Later, when the women let themselves into their own room, Billie sensed she was being watched.
'Something the matter?' she asked Jenny.
'You sure there's nothing between the two of you?'
'I'm sure.'
'Then why're you along with him? He's the sort who travels alone.'
'How do you know?'
'You recognise your own.'
'I just wanted to. It seemed a good idea at the time.'
'Doesn't seem enough reason. Why don't you go next door?'
Billie was taken aback by the girl's directness. 'I'm not here for that.' She hated her own prim words. Shit, she was too old for this.
'Of course I'm sure.'
'Then do you mind if I go?'
The directness shocked her. The girl was doing what she wanted to do. If it hadn't been so fucking cold 'No,' she heard herself reply. Yes. Yes. I do mind.
'Okay. I'll see you later,' said Jenny. 'Mind you, he could toss me out. You never know with some people.'
Billie heard Jenny knock on Adam's door, heard it open and close again. She waited for a while, then she undressed and climbed into bed, the coat thrown over the top to add extra warmth. Her head lay next to the wall, next to the thin wall that separated her from the two of them.
She didn't want to hear, but she held her breath and listened for any sound.
The bed creaked, and she lay even stiller, listening intently, conjuring up the pictures the sounds made in her own mind.
'Don't do anything. I'm in charge,' she heard Jenny say. It was all so terribly clear. She hated it and listened harder.
He laughed. The bastard laughed. He was enjoying it. You stupid dame, what did you expect?
'You always like being in charge?' she heard him ask.
'Always. You bastards don't have the automatic right to do it your way. Keep still,' warned Jenny. 'Don't fucking move, you bastard.'
The sounds built, the creaks got louder, her mind was absorbed with the two of them together. She turned on her back and slipped her fingers between her legs. She felt the wetness spread, down over her fingers and her thighs. She was drowning in her own juices as they soaked the sheet. The sound from next door had risen to a mechanical drumbeat, like a pneumatic drill hammering away, it was him, banging and banging away at Jenny, she could almost hear the girl's screams. Shit, shit, shit. Why did she always have to fuck herself… Why?