Shooting Script

'That wasn't quite what I meant.'

'You have killed people yourself?'

'Yes, but-' I paused. 'I was going to say "Only in a good cause." But that's the only reason anybody ever gets killed.'

'And perhaps from a distance, in an aeroplane, with your own side cheering you on. That, perhaps, makes it easier.'

After a time, I asked: 'Does Whitmore know?'

'Yes: I had to tell him. He knows I have the snake gun. But for him, I had to pretend it was an affair over a girl. He would not have understood the truth.'

'And J.B.?'

'No.' He looked at me. 'Will you tell her?'

I shrugged. 'I doubt it'll come into the conversation.'

He went on looking. 'And you, my friend?'

'It's still film star bites dog, isn't it? – Who'd listen? But I won't tellher, if that's what you mean. That's your problem.'

After another time, he said quietly: 'Yes, that is what I meant. She should have been her brother, then…' But he left it there.

With the port engine grinding its heart out, we crabbed on across the night.

TWENTY-SIX

Just before we should have reached the Punta del Almirante, the southernmost tip of the Repúblicaitself, I tried restarting the starboard engine. For an air start you don't need a starter motor: unfeathering the blades should let the airflow spin the prop to a speed at which it'll fire the engine – and it did.

I throttled back the port engine to give it a rest – that was the main object of the exercise – and kept the speed down to 160 mph. We still had time to make Santo Bartolomeo at five past five. And if Clara had left most of the island still covered in cloud, first light would be a little late today.

The faint northerly wind must have backed to westerly -which made sense, if the hurricane was now about due north of us. Anyway, we reached the Punta afew minutes ahead of my revised ETA, and a bit north of track, so that we crossed the point itself for a few miles until the coastline swung sharply back north again.

I said: 'Welcome home.' Luiz peered down over the cockpit sill at the dark land until the coastline had passed beneath the wing.

'Strange,' he said quietly. 'It does not look much from here…'

'You should've seen some of the country we were fighting for in Korea.'

'I saw a lot of Texas, once.'

I grinned and swung left on to 045 degrees. By my guess, that should bring us past Santo Bartolomeo before we hit the coastline. And with an obvious landmark like the city, I could double back on an exact course for the air base without a lot of noisy searching around.

The starboard engine misfired again.

I looked sorrowfully at the engine instruments. I'd done everything I could: run it with full rich mixture, cowl, flaps wide open – everything a father could do for an engine. Andhere it was in trouble again, after just twelve minutes running.

So we tilted into another shallow dive, and stopped it again. Losing height now didn't much matter. But making the attack at ground level on two engines – that meant I'd have to escape on one. And I didn't like the idea of trying to climb on just the port engine. That could strain it a bit too much. We'd be heading for Puerto Rico low, over the sea.

I said: 'Any idea of where in Puerto Rico we might put down? You don't have any security-minded friends with private airstrips?'

He said thoughtfully: 'I have friends in the República. Had you considered landing at Santo Bartolomeo? The civil airport, naturally.'

I hadn't thought anything of the damn sort. 'Was Jiminez planning to grab it?'

'I think not. It is not important.'

That's what I'd thought: it was about fifteen miles out of town, and unless Jiminez had arranged an airlift of supplies, he wouldn't bother with it. Still, neither would the generals: they already had their own airfield.

But it was still walking down the tiger's throat and hoping he'd forget to swallow.

'We can't exactly hide the Mitchell,' I said. 'And as soon as the civil airport hears of the raid-'

'You remember most of the country telephone lines are down?' he reminded me. 'And if I know Santo Bartolomeo, that airport will very soon be full of senior civil servants suddenly remembering a holiday they had planned in Puerto Rico. It w Ul be one great confusion.'

He could be right there. I looked up at the VHP dial, but there wasn't a crystal for the SB civil frequency. I could check the radio beacon on the direction-finding set, but it probably wouldn't be on the air anyway at that hour: nobody in the Caribbean flies after midnight.

He had switched on his own radio and was twiddling once more – and suddenly it was hooting out martial music. Then a voice came, and he jammed the set against his ear.

Just for something to do, I tuned the DF set to Aguadilla beacon in Puerto Rico, found it working, and took a bearing. Itwas too close to our course to be much help navigationally, but at least it showed we couldn't be far off track.

Then Luiz put the set down in his lap.

'Well?' I asked. 'Has Jiminez moved?'

He groped for his transmit switch, and his voice was puzzled. 'I do not know. But General Boscohas moved: he has proclaimed himselfpresidente.'

When I'd digested this, I said: 'You mean the Air Force is deposing the Army?'

'It seems so. They are calling General Castillo a traitor for being too soft on the Jiminez rebels. They say Boscohas all under control.'

'Well, I suppose it adds up. The generals weren't supposed to love each other, and we know Bosco's been building up the Air Force: first the jets, then the "airfield defence units" your girl-friend told us about. He'd need ground troops to grab control of the city.'

'True – true. But why should he movetonight?'

'Exactly the same reason Jiminez is moving tonight: the hurricane's busted communications. And it's the Army that's stranded in the hills, the Army that's held up with blocked roads. The Air Force is still there just outside SB: tonight's Bosco's best chance. Now I see why Ned risked keeping the Vampires there through the winds.'

'Mother of God,' he whispered. 'Now we have a three-cornered revolution.'

"They say anything about Jiminez moving?'

'No… but mey would not, anyway. They would not want to announce it.' He jammed the set back to his ear.

I flew on. It was nearly half-past four: eighty miles and thirty-five minutes to go.

What did this do to the raid? Well, it meant the Air Force would be up and about earlier than usual – but not necessarily that they'd risk flying off the Vamps before first light. In fact, they might be more inclined to keep them at home, and when it was fully light make a few low loud passes over the city to show the citizens the Air Force was really in control.

But they'd want to run a reconnaissance to see what the Army was doing; if it was turning around and heading for SB. They might use a flight of Vamps – but it would be better to use something that could hang around the target for longer. One of their Dakotas, or – blast their eyes – my Dove.

Luiz put the radio down again. 'They are warning people to stay indoors, no matter what they hear. That means there has been shooting. Jiminezmust have moved.'

'What does this do to his chances?'

'I do not know. He has failed to take the radio. And he must have met armed Air Force squads. There is shooting in the streets.'

Revolutions always kill somebody, a voice said.

I said: 'You must have expected that.'

'Walt and J.B. are there.'

I snapped round. 'They'rewhat?'

'They went in on the Pan Am flight last night.'

I just stared. 'So Whitmore could ride in triumph behind Jiminez in the big parade? And you let J.B. go, too?'

'My friend, one does notletagirl like J.B. do things. And it was her idea, anyway; she thought it best to catch Jiminez at his moment of success when he would be most grateful… You do know why Whitmore is concerning himself in this affair?'

'I know,' I said grimly. 'But they've already been expelled from there once. The Air Force probably had them under arrest straight off the plane.'