“I don’t understand this sequence of events at all, Fraser.” His voice was kindly, but there was an underlying impatience. “Go back to where you and Carter are alone in the plane. Westrop and Field had jumped. Who went out next?”
“Please——” I implored, “let me tell it my own way. When I reached Membury——”
“Just answer my questions, will you, Fraser.” The voice was authoritative, commanding—it reminded me of Saeton’s voice. “Who jumped next?”
All my muscles seemed rigid with the violence of my need to tell it to them as a straight story. But I couldn’t fight him. I hadn’t the energy. It was so much easier just to answer the questions. “Carter,” I said in a dull voice.
“But I thought you said he came back to see you out?”
“I pushed him out.”
“I see. You pushed him out.” I could tell by the tone in which he repeated the phrase that he didn’t believe me. “And then what happened?”
“I flew the plane back to Membury. It was moonlight all the way. I found the airfield quite easily and when I landed——”
“Please, Fraser … I want to get at what happened in that plane. Now try to help me. What happened after Carter went out. We know the plane dived into the ground. I want to know how——”
“It didn’t dive into the gound,” I said. “I told you what happened. I flew it back to Membury.”
He got up and came over to me. “Now pull yourself together, please.” His hand pressed gently on my shoulder. “We naturally want to know what happened. There’s no question of the accuracy of the Russian report. They’ve even sent us a piece of the tailplane. The plane is yours all right. It has your flight number on it and it’s unquestionably a Tudor. Now what caused it to crash?”
“It didn’t crash,” I said wearily. “I tell you, I flew it——”
“Then if it didn’t crash, how the devil are the Russians able to send us a sample of the wreckage that clearly shows it to be your plane?”
“I tell you, we put it there,” I replied desperately. “We loaded it into the plane and flew it there. Saeton stooged around whilst I pushed the bits out. Then he landed me at Hollmind. That was when he flew out to Wunstorf to join the airlift. I searched all that night and all the next day for some trace of Carter. Then I found his helmet. It was just after the snow had started. It was lying on the snow and——”
“I just can’t follow what you’re saying,” the station commander interrupted. “Will you please stick to what happened in the plane.”
But before I could answer, the door of the room opened. “Come in, Pierce. You, too, Gentry.” The station commander crossed over to the taller of the two men, drawing him aside and speaking to him in a low voice. I could see the two of them glancing covertly in my direction. Symes was beating an impatient tattoo on the edge of the desk with his long fingers, his dark eyes fixed curiously on my face.
I felt as though an invisible curtain was being lowered, separating me from contact with them and I pulled myself to my feet.” You don’t understand,” I said angrily. “I joined Harcourt’s outfit in order to get hold of one of his planes. We’d crashed ours. It had to be replaced. We had to get hold of another plane in order to test the engines. Saeton was due on the airlift on the 25th. We had to have another plane. The only place we could get one was in Germany—off the airlift. It had to be a Tudor. That was why——” My voice trailed away as I saw them all staring at me as though I were crazy.
The man who was talking to the station commander said quietly. “It’s obvious he’s had a nasty shock. He’s suffering from some sort of mental disturbance—he’s all mixed up with that escape he did. I’ll get him down to the sick bay.”
The station commander stared at me and then nodded. “All right. But I wish to God I could find out what happened to that plane of yours.”
“Nothing happened to it,” I cried angrily. “There was nothing wrong with it at all. I flew it back to Membury. All the Russians have found”
“Yes, yes,” the station commander cut in impatiently. “We’ve heard all about that. All right, Gentry. Take him down to the sick bay. Only for God’s sake get some reasonable statement out of him as soon as possible.”
The M.O. nodded and started towards me. It was then that the other man stepped forward. “Mind if I have a word with him first, sir?”
The station commander shrugged his shoulders. “Just as you like, Pierce. I suppose you think in his present muddled state he’s more likely to tell you the truth.” He gave a quick laugh. “I hope you make better progress than we have.” He crossed to the door and paused with his hand on the handle. “I’d like a word with you, Symes, after breakfast.”
The I.O. rose to his feet. “Very good, sir.”
The door closed behind the station commander and as I slid wearily back into my seat the policeman came and leaned on the edge of the desk, his hard, slightly pitted features seeming to hang over me, a dark blur against the lights. “My name’s Pierce,” he said. “R.A.F. Police. You’re Fraser?”
I nodded hopelessly. All chance of a plane had vanished with the departure of the station commander and I felt drained and utterly exhausted. If only they’d let me tell my story the way I’d wanted to. But I knew that even then they wouldn’t have believed me. Put into words it immediately became fantastic.
“Christian names Neil Leyden?”
Again I nodded. It was stupid of him asking me my name when everybody in the room knew damn well who I was.
“I’ve been instructed to ask you a few questions.” His voice was quiet, almost gentle; very different from his features. “Do you remember the night of November 18th last year?”
I thought back. What an age it seemed. That was the night I’d arrived at Membury. “Yes,” I said. “I began working with Saeton that night.”
“At Membury?”
“Yes.”
“How did you get there—by car?”
“Yes, by car. There’s no train service to Membury.”
“A car was found that night at the foot of Baydon Hill. That was your car, wasn’t it?”
I stared at him, struggling to understand the drift of his questions. My hand reached up almost automatically to the crust of blood where my forehead was cut. “I had a crash,” I said.
He nodded. “You’ve another name, haven’t you? Callahan.”
I started involuntarily. So that was it. This was what Saeton had meant. I stared up at him, meeting his steady gaze, knowing they’d got me and thinking that I might just as well have refused when Saeton had forced me to take that job with Harcourt. But it didn’t matter now. So much had happened, nothing seemed to matter any more. It was as though in some queer way I was now paying the price for what I’d done to Tubby. “Yes,” I said in a whisper. “I’m Callahan.” And then in the silence that gripped the room I asked, “What happens now?”
He shrugged his shoulders. “It’s nothing to do with me, old man. I’ll send back a report to England. In due course I imagine you’ll be flown back and they’ll decide what they’re going to do about you. There’s no warrant for your arrest or anything like that at the moment.” He coughed awkwardly. “Sorry to have to put the questions so soon after your escape from the Russian Zone. Now, I think you’d better go along with Squadron Leader Gentry here. It’s time you had that cut cleaned up and you look as though you could do with a bit of rest. I shan’t be worrying you again—not for some time anyway. So you can just relax.”
I thought how reasonable and logical his questions had been. If I could get him to do the questioning about what had happened to Tubby—they’d believe me then. I pulled myself to my feet again. He was already at the door. “Just a minute,” I gasped, feeling the room reel. “I’ve got to tell you something.” He had stopped in the doorway and was looking at me with a slight frown. “You got this from Saeton, didn’t you? It was Saeton who told the authorities who I was. You know why he did that? It was because he was afraid I’d ta
lk. I didn’t want to pinch the plane. But he made me do it. He said if I didn’t he’d——” I closed my eyes trying to shut out the blurred movement of the room. The engines of a plane thundered on the perimeter track just outside the building. The windows rattled, the sound merging with the din in my ears. The sound was like the roar of a great fall; it went on and on. “Don’t you see?” I gasped. “He blackmailed me——” My knees trembled and gave. Somebody called out something and I felt myself slipping. Hands caught hold of me as I fell, supporting me whilst my legs seemed to trickle away like used-up water from the base of my body. Everything was remote and indistinct as I slipped into unconsciousness.
I suppose they gave me something for I don’t remember anything more till I woke up in bed with a nurse standing over me. “Feeling better?” Her voice was gentle and soothing.
“Yes, thanks.” I closed my eyes, searching in my mind for what had happened, gradually piecing it together.
“Open your mouth, please. I want to take your temperature.” I obeyed her automatically and she pushed a thermometer under my tongue. “You were a bit feverish when they brought you in and you’ve been talking a lot.”
“Delirious? What was I saying?”
“Keep your mouth closed now. All about your flight and a friend of yours in the Russian Zone. Squadron Leader Pierce was here for a time. They’re flying you out to-morrow—that is if the M.O. says you’re fit enough.”
“Flying me out to-morrow?” I thrust at the bed, forcing myself up into a sitting position. If they flew me out to-morrow nothing would ever be done about Tubby.
“Now don’t get excited otherwise we shan’t allow you to go.” Her hands touched my shoulders, pushing me gently back against the pillows.
My eyes went past her, searching the room. At least I was on my own. A single window rattled to the sound of the planes behind black curtains. “What’s the time?” I mumbled the question, my tongue still closed over the thermometer.
“Don’t talk please. It’s nearly seven and if you’re good you can have some supper.” She reached down and took the thermometer out of my mouth, peering at it through her thick-lensed glasses. “That’s fine. We’re back to normal now.” She shook it down with a neat, practised flick of the wrist. “I’ll get you some food. Are you hungry?”
I realised then what the faint feeling in the pit of my stomach was. I couldn’t remember when I’d last had a meal. “Very,” I said.
She smiled in her efficient, impersonal way. “Just a minute, nurse,” I said as she was going out. “I’m still at Gatow, aren’t I?” She nodded. “Will you get a message to someone for me? It’s for Mrs. Carter. She works in the Malcolm Club. I want her to come and see me—right away. It’s urgent, tell her.”
“Mrs. Carter. Is she the wife of your friend?” She nodded. “I’ll see she gets the message.”
She went out, closing the door, and I lay there staring at the light which hurt my eyes, listening to the planes coming in and taking off, and going over and over in my mind what I would say to Diana when she came. There must be no mistake this time. I had to convince her. She was my one hope. If they flew me out in the morning I’d be able to do nothing more for Tubby. And then I began to think about Saeton. I was angry then and I wished to God I had never met the man.
The nurse wasn’t away long and when she returned she had a tray full of dishes. “I brought you extra big helpings of everything,” she said. “They told me you probably hadn’t had a proper meal for some time.”
“What about Mrs. Carter?” I asked. “Is she coming?”
“I haven’t been able to get your message to her yet.”
“You must,” I said desperately. “Please, sister. It’s urgent.”
“All right. Don’t you fuss now. I’ll see she gets your message. Now you eat that.”
I thanked her for the food and she left me. For a time I could think of nothing but the joy of eating again. I ate until I was full and then I lay back replete and the thought of Tubby was nagging at my mind again. Perhaps if I put it all down on paper … The thought excited me. That was the answer. If they read it as a straightforward report … I would address it to Squadron Leader Pierce. He had a logical, reasonable mind. They couldn’t ignore it if it was sent to them in the form of a factual report. I lay there planning how I’d write it until the nurse returned.
“You must have been hungry,” she said as she saw the empty plates. “You look better, too. The M.O. will be round later. I don’t think you need be afraid he’ll stop you from going out on the P 19 in the morning.”
“What about Mrs. Carter. Did you get my message to her?” I asked.
“Yes. I went all the way down to the Malcolm Club myself. I’m sorry, Mr. Fraser, but she won’t see you.”
“Didn’t you tell her it was urgent?” The sense of being boxed in with an invisible wall of disbelief was back with me again.
“Yes, I told her that. I even told her it might affect your recovery.”
“What did she say?”
“She said there was no point in her seeing you.”
I lay back and closed my eyes, feeling suddenly exhausted. What was the good of going on fighting? Then I remembered the report I was going to write. “Can I have a pencil and some paper, please?”
She smiled. “You want to write to your girl-friend?”
“Yes. Yes, that’s it.” I nodded. “Can I have them quickly, please. It’s urgent. I must write now.”
She laughed. I remember it was a pleasant laugh. “Everything is always urgent with you, isn’t it?”
“I’d like a pen if possible,” I added. It would be better if it was written in ink. Somehow it seemed to make it more formal, more definite than if I scribbled it in pencil. “Where are my clothes? There’s a pen in my flying suit.”
“They’re in the cupboard just outside. I’ll get it for you. I haven’t any note-paper, I’m afraid. Will typing paper do?”
“Yes, anything. Only hurry, please. I’ve got a lot to write and I want to get it finished before the M.O. comes round.”
But the M.O. didn’t come round. Propped up in bed I set it all down right from the time of my arrival at Membury. I had no reason to hide anything now and my pen fairly flew over the paper. And when I was in the middle of it the door opened and Saeton walked in. He was dressed in his flying kit. “Feeling better?” he asked as he crossed the room.
“I thought you were flying tests,” I said.
“So I am. But they can’t spare tankers off the fuel run. The boffins are flying routine flights with me.”
It was odd how matter-of-fact our conversation was and Saeton kept it that way. He came over and sat down on my bed. “Writing a report?”
“Yes.”
He nodded. “I guessed you’d do that. It won’t help you, you know, Neil—unless Tubby gets back to corroborate your statement.” He glanced at his watch. “I’ve only got about five minutes so I’ll say what I’ve got to say right away.” He hesitated as though marshalling his thoughts. “You’ve put a lot of money and work into the company. I wouldn’t want you to think I’m not grateful and I wouldn’t want you to lose by it.” I think he meant that. “You’ve seen Pierce?”
“Yes,” I said.
“And you’ve guessed that it was I who put them on to you?”
I nodded.
“Well, you didn’t give me much alternative, did you? I was convinced Tubby was dead and you made it quite clear that if you didn’t find him you’d give yourself up to the police. I couldn’t risk that. I had to discredit you in advance.” He took a packet of cigarettes out of his pocket and tossed me one. His eyes were watching my face as he lit it for me. “I’m very near to success now, Neil. I’m so near success that the authorities would be most unwilling to believe any report that you made. The Rauch Motoren have got the Americans behind them. If your report were accepted, it would mean a trial and the whole thing would become public. In those circumstances the Americans would bring pr
essure to bear on our people and the engines might have to be handed back to the Rauch Motoren. At best the design would become generally available for any company in any country. You see what I’m driving at?”
“You want me to keep my mouth shut?”
“Exactly. I want you to admit that the Russian report is correct.” I started to say something, but he held up his hand. “I know it’s tough on you. You’ll go to jail for this Callahan business. But as an airlift pilot I don’t imagine you’ll get more than a year, perhaps less. After all, you’ve got a fine record. As for the fact that you came out of the crash alive, you could say it was Tubby, not you, who was scared of jumping.”
“Aren’t you forgetting one thing?” I said.
“What’s that?”
“That Tubby is alive.”
“I hadn’t forgotten that.” He leaned closer to me, his eyes still on my face. “I can cope with your evidence or Tubby’s evidence, but not the two of you together.”
“What do you mean?”
“If you do as I want you to, it doesn’t matter to me if Tubby does get out alive. A fantastic story told by a man who has been badly injured, wouldn’t carry much weight. Now as regards compensation for yourself. I’m prepared to offer you £10,000 and of course your position as a director of the firm would stand. And don’t think I won’t have the money to pay you. I’ll have all the money I want in a few days’ time.”
“And you’ll leave Tubby to rot in that farmhouse?”
He shrugged his shoulders. “I can’t do anything about getting him out, if that’s what you mean. If you admit the Russian report to be true, then I must accept it that he’s dead.”
“And if I send in this report?” I asked.
He glanced at his watch and then got to his feet. “Time I was going.” He paused, looking down at me. “If you send in that report, nothing will come of it. That I can assure you. Without Tubby’s corroborative evidence it will be disregarded. And I’ll see to it that there is no corroborative evidence.”
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