Flyaway

'About the airplane — I don't know. But if you're right about what you heard in Bilma he's sure as hell going to kill us. Why he hasn't done it yet I don't know.'

I looked down at the sand on which I had fallen. The imprint of my body was there, but there was no stone. And yet I had felt it. 'Luke! Remember that stone axe-head you found at the Col des Chandeliers? It's in the pocket of my gandoura. Think you can get it out?'

I fell on my side and he wriggled around with his back to me, his bound arms groping for my chest. It was a grotesque business, but he got his hands into the pocket and explored around. 'It's right at the bottom.'

'Got it!' Slowly his hands came out under my nose and I saw he grasped the small object between his fingers. It wasn't very big — not more than an inch long — and was probably more of a stone scraper than an axe-head. But the edge was keen enough.

Trying to bite free?' said an amused voice behind us. Byrne dropped the scraper and it fell to the sand and I rolled on to it. 'You'll need strong teeth to bite through leather thongs,' said Lash.

I turned my head and looked at him. 'Do you blame me for trying?'

'Of course not, Colonel Stafford. It's the duty of every officer to try to escape, isn't it?' He squatted on his heels. 'But you won't, you know.'

'Get lost,' I said sourly.

'No — it will be you who are lost. If your bodies are ever found they'll look something like Billson's, I imagine. But they won't be found near here — oh, dear me, no! We couldn't have a coincidence like that'

He turned his head at the clanging of metal on rock, and I followed his gaze to see his men coming through the cleft, each carrying two jerricans. They carried them over to Flyaway and set them down, then went away again. Lash's attention returned to us. He said to Byrne, 'I've been going over what you've told me since we met this morning and I've come to a conclusion, Byrne. You're a damned liar!'. Byrne grinned tightly. 'You wouldn't say that if I had my hands free.'

'Yes, you lied about practically everything — about the position of this aeroplane, about looking for frescoes — so why shouldn't you have lied about Billson? It would fit your pattern. Where is he?'

'He left us three days ago!' said Byrne. 'His shoulder was bad and getting worse. That was where Kissack shot him. He'd had a hard time in the Tenere and it had opened up again and, like the goddamned fool he is, he said nothing about it because he wanted to find his Pappy's airplane.'

'So you know about that.' Lash glanced at me. 'Both of you.'

'When I found out how bad his shoulder was I was feared of gangrene,' said Byrne. 'So I sent him back with Atitel and Hami. I guess he's travelling slow, so he should be going down from Tamrit about now.'

'I wish I could believe you.'

'I don't give a hoot in hell whether you believe me or not.'

The men came back carrying four more jerricans which they put with the others. I watched them go back through the cleft. Lash clapped his hands together lightly. 'So, according to you, Billson never came here.'

'Not if he went back three days ago.'

'It doesn't matter,' said Lash, and stood up. 'I won't take the chance. Billson won' t leave North Africa. He's a dead man, as dead as you are.'

He went away and Byrne said, 'A real cheerful feller.'

'I wonder where Paul is?' I said in an undertone.

'Don't know, but I ain't putting my trust in a guy like him. Any help from him is as likely as a snowstorm on the Tassili.

Where's that goddamn cutter?'

I groped around for a full five minutes, sifting the sand. Got it!'

'Then hold on to it, and don't let go. We may have a chance yet.'

Kissack and Zayid came back carrying the propeller. Kissack showed the plaque to Lash who laughed. He didn't toss it aside but walked over to where the donkeys were patiently waiting and carefully stowed it. Then he climbed up on to the wing of Flyaway and looked into the cockpit 'He'll see that the compass is missing,' I muttered.'

'Maybe not,' said Byrne.

Lash made only a superficial investigation of the cockpit but then climbed up on to the fuselage and opened the cargo hatch. He peered inside, then said something to Kissack who was standing below. He seemed highly satisfied. He next made his way up the fuselage towards the engine where he sat astride the cowling just as Byrne had done. He picked up something and examined it, laughed again and tossed it down to Kissack, and pointed to us.

Kissack walked in our direction. He stood over us and held something in his fingers. 'Where's the spanner that fits this?' It was one of the nuts that secured the propeller to the engine shaft.

'Find it yourself,' said Byrne.

Kissack kicked him in the ribs. I said quickly, 'It's packed in a tool kit aboard that donkey — the one in the middle.'

Kissack grinned at me and went away. Byrne said, 'No need to help them, Max.'

'I'm not. I don't want them searching all the loads. The compass is packed among my kit.' I looked across at lash. 'Did you leave all the nuts there?'

'Yeah — in a neat row on top of the engine cowling. I'm a real tidy guy.' His voice was bitter.

Lash's men came through the cleft carrying four more jerricans; that made twelve and they apparently went back for more. A jerrican holds a nominal four gallons — actually a little more — so there was fifty gallons standing there on the sand. I said, 'What the hell do they want with all that water?'

'What makes you think it's water?'

I bunked in astonishment. 'You think it's petrol!'

They're putting the propeller back, ain't they?'

They're crazy,' I said. They can't fly it out of here.'

They don't intend to,' said Byrne. 'Remember Paul's Land-Rover? I figure they're going to burn it.'

Destroying evidence of what? I watched them replace the propeller. It was a much more laborious task for them to put it back than it was for us to take it off. At one time all five of them were engaged on the job and it was then that I took a chance and had a go at cutting the thongs around Byrne's wrists. Holding the polished and sharpened stone blade I sawed at the leather without being able to see what I was doing because Byrne and I were back to back.

Suddenly he said, 'Enough! They've finished.' I palmed the blade and twisted around again to look at Flyaway. Kissack and Zayid were handing up jerricans to Lash, who stood on the wing and was pouring petrol into the auxiliary tank. The other two were still engaged in ferrying more jerricans. Lash put fifty gallons into the tank and there was still another fifty available because I counted twenty-four jerricans in all.

'Three camel loads,' said Byrne. 'I did wonder about all those pack animals.'

Lash and Kissack came over to us. Byrne looked up at them. 'I said it to Wilbur and I said it to Orville — "It'll never get off the ground."'

'Very funny,' said Lash. 'Kissack's come up with a suggestion. He thinks we ought to put one of you into the cockpit.' He studied us, then turned to Kissack and said objectively, 'It can't be Byrne — he's too old and it might show. If it's anybody at all it'll be Stafford.'

Kissack shrugged. 'Suits me.'

Lash looked at me. 'I don't know,' be said reflectively. 'The clothes are wrong.'

'They'd be burnt.'

'Mmm. Then there are the teeth. This plane's going to be found some time, Kissack, and someone might decide to do a thorough investigative job. If they discover the wrong man in the cockpit, then a hell of a lot of questions are going to be asked.'

'After more than forty years!'

'Stranger things have happened. No, on balance I think we'll leave things as they are. We have Billson's body so let's leave it at that. It'll look as though he got out before the plane went up.' Lash looked down at me and smiled. 'Don't let your hopes soar, Stafford. It's merely a reprieve.'

I said, 'You're a cold-blooded bastard!'