Shooting Script

'Dusk would be best,' Miss Jiminez said briskly. 'You would be more certain to catch all of them on the ground, then.'

'It had better be dawn,' I said firmly.

I got a sharp, rather startled, look.

'Purely military problem,' I said soothingly. 'With bombs and full fuel that plane's going to be pretty heavy for a short strip like Boscobel or Port Antonio. So I want the air as cool as I can get it for take-off; more power for the engines, more lift for the wings. If I go in at last light, I take off in the afternoon: If I attack at first light, I take off "around two in the morning. It's as simple as that.'

She frowned.'Capitán, even Clausewitz believed that a "purely military judgment is a distinction which cannot be allowed".'

'He should've tried flying an overloaded Mitchell off a 3,000-foot runway in hot weather before he started making wild statements like that.'

'One cannot avoid all risks, Capitán. As Clausewitz said-'

'Clausewitz never said one horse made a cavalry charge. If I miss a couple of Vampires, the attack's still eighty per cent successful. But if I pile into the trees on take-off, you've got a hundred per cent flop. There won't beany attack.'

There'd be a few per cent of Keith Carr missing, too, if I went tree-pruning with a load of 500-pounders. But probably Clausewitz had said something reassuring about that as well, so I kept quiet.

Whitmore said firmly: 'Okay, so you hit 'em at sun-up. If they do get any jets up, you're going to have to come a-run-ning. Be daylight.'

I just nodded. Speed wouldn't be much help against a Vampire that could go twice my speed and more. And no clouds to hide in, not around dawn. 'But at least I won't be making a night landing on a strip that doesn't have any lighting.'

Nobody had thought of that, of course. Whitmore crooked his eyebrows and said: 'But you'll have to take off in the dark – how about that?'

'A sight easier than landing. I can do it with just a hurricane lamp planted at die end of the strip.'

There was a silence while everybody thought up the next problem.

J.B. said suddenly: 'What about radar? Won't they see you coming?'

I had my mouth open when Miss Jiminez said: 'There is no radar in the Caribbean except at Puerto Rico and Cuba. You should know these things if you wish to help.'

J.B.'s face shut with a snap like a rat-trap.

Luiz said:'Señorita Penroseonly does our legal work; she does not pretend to be a general.'

'She makes contracts for my father to sign,' Miss Jiminez said scornfully.

Whitmore came to the rescue again. 'All right, kids. This is just a planning session. The real fighting comes later – and Carr does that.' He looked at me. 'Anything more, fella?'

There was one thing that had better be said, but I was uneasy about saying it in front of Miss Jiminez. I dug out my pipe and started to fill it while I gave myself time to think. Whitmore sighed, grunted, and threw me a cigarette.

I lit it, decided I'd better say my piece anyway, and said: 'Just one thing: we're dealing with an old aeroplane. It could go unserviceable – seriously – at any time. So the attack could be called off at the last minute.' I turned to Miss Jiminez. 'If your father's depending on the raid, you'd better tell him not to move until heknows it's coming off.'

There was no warmth in her look now. It was a hard searchlight stare.'Capitán- the attackmust happen. You must takeany risk.'

There wasn't much warmth in my look, either. Til give you a quotation you don't know: Keith Carr is not, repeatnot expendable. Source, Keith Carr.'

'Capitán, you have joined a noble cause,' she blazed. 'It is too late to remember you are a coward, now.'

'I haven't joined a damn thing. I'm just a hired hand. I'll fly the raid if-'

'For money! ' She bounced up, feet spread, hands on hips, her dark eyes glaring furiously. 'Teach me to fly it, then. / will make the attack! '

I just stared at her: a magnificent, angry huntress, dominating the room, turning Whitmore into a small boy flopped in a corner.

Then I shook my head and said: 'That isn't the point anyway. A starter motor could go, a tyre could burst. Then we wouldn't even get her off the ground – nobody could. Just tell your father wecan't give a guarantee.'

She went on standing there. Luiz said judiciously: 'Perhaps we could give the most careful overhaul, then…' he waved a hopeful hand.

'Overhauls wouldn't do it,' I said wearily. 'She's just too old – all of her. If we started that, we'd find we needed new wings, fuselage, tail, engines… a new aeroplane. I'll check her out on the film flying and fix anything that busts, but she'll still be held together by rust and habit – and even die rust's a bit past it by now. Well, maybe the habit'll keep up long enough. If it does, I'll fly the attack.'

Whitmore nodded. 'Okay, that sounds good enough.' He looked at Miss Jiminez. 'Better tell your old man the position, He can move when he knows Carr's on his way.'

She went on looking at me. 'Perhaps,' she said coldly, 'if the Capitánkeeps his courage in his wallet, he wants us to pay him a little more courage.'

Whitmore said firmly: 'Planning session's over. We got a movie to make tomorrow.'

She gave me one last glare, announced: 'I am eating,' and marched out.

In the silence there was just the click of her heels down the passage to the front door.

Luiz said softly: 'She should have been her brother.'

J.B. stared at him incredulously, 'Jesus, Luiz's gone queer.'

There was a sudden moment of pain on his face, then he smiled and shrugged. 'In political terms only, of course.'

Then he hurried out after her.

When he heard the apartment door shut, Whitmore shook his head and said: 'She's really got him jumping, huh?'

'He's probably rehearsing to play the lead in The Clause-witz Story,' J.B. said sourly.

'Yeah? And I play the small fat guy Napoleon?'

'You could still do most of the scenes on a horse,' I pointed out.

He just looked at me. 'Thanks, fella.' Then he finished hisdrink, lit a cigarette, and reached for one of the yellow scripts.

'So,' he said after a while, 'if you get the ship ready in acoupladays, we'll schedule the flying shots so you'll be clear whenever Jiminez rings the bell.'

'We've got Roddie's church, too,' J.B. said. 'Should be ready in a day or two.'

'You're actually building a Spanish church?' I asked.

Whitmore looked up. 'Sure. You want us to haul the whole unit to Mexico just for a three-minute sequence?'

J.B. said: 'In films, it's always cheaper to bring the mountain to Mahomet – with Mahomet on union rates.'

I shook my head; it would obviously be stupid to ask if it wouldn't be cheaper still to write the church out of the script. Anyway, it was nice to know a business where the costs were higher than in aviation.

Whitmore made a note on his script, then stood up and stretched. 'So if you're working on her up this end of the island, you better move in here. ' He looked at J.B. 'We got a room booked?'

She nodded.

I said: 'If it'll save you money, I don't mind moving in with J.B. She's got space.' I waved a hand around the big suite.

'Pull your throat in, Carr,' she snapped.

Whitmore grinned. 'Suddenly everybody's sex-crazy.' He nodded at me. 'I don't mind, fella. But if she talks contract law in her sleep don't blame me and don't try to stop her. That's what she's hired for.'

'Get out, you broken-down old cow-catcher.' The anger wasn't entirely faked either.

He just grinned again, waved in one of his big, slow gestures, and strolled whistling down the passage.

J.B. looked at me. 'Your room number's 17, Carr-'

'Fine.'

' – at the Plantation Inn.'

I winced. It was only a few hundred yards up the road, but damn it all…

'You don't trust yourself in the same hotel as me?' I asked.

She just went on looking.

'One last drink,' I suggested. 'Before the intrepid aviator wings off on the dawn patrol.'