‘Careful. Yes. And what else can we infer? What’s your opinion of the man who did this?’
‘Someone who knows planes, that’s for sure. Someone who knew exactly how many threads to cut through. Someone like Ali.’
‘Ali is your rigger, you say?’
‘Yes. It’s a vital job. These crates are held together with not much more than wire, string and glue and they get buffeted out of shape in the air. As soon as they land, your rigger gets going with his spanners and his levels and he trues it all up again ready for the next flight. It’s a skilled job. Ahmed’s taken over his brother’s duties.’
‘Who would have the clout to put pressure on Ali to sabotage the plane and then make sure he wasn’t around to tell anyone?’
Stuart spread his hands in a hopeless gesture. ‘Dozens of people. The pressure could be money or it could be favours owed or promised. Society here is very. .’ He hesitated for a moment. ‘. . seigneurial. Family, tribe — it works through a hierarchy with the maharaja at the top of the pile. Everyone owes allegiance to someone above in the pecking order. Ali was quite low down the ladder and there must be, as I say, dozens of guys who could give him the run-around. And that’s not counting the women! First Her Highness would certainly not have been displeased to see Prithvi plummet to the ground!’
‘This is bringing us now to the question of who exactly was the intended victim. From your last remark I take it that you assume the intended victim died as planned?’
‘I’ve given it a lot of thought and, really, in the end, I’m wondering why anyone would want to kill me. Madeleine, perhaps — they can’t stand her — but me? I’m just a flying chauffeur. Not important. But Prithvi — coming so soon after Bishan and in the context of the ruler’s terminal illness. . You’d say there was a pattern to it even Dr Watson might spot, wouldn’t you?’
‘Tell me how Prithvi came to be at the controls. How did the switch occur?’
‘We’d planned the reception display flight a couple of days back when Claude told us you were coming. Everyone knew about it. I was tempted to sell tickets! You may be wondering,’ he said with a wry smile, ‘how you come to merit such a salute?’
‘It had crossed my mind that Edgar and I aren’t exactly in the same league as the Prince of Wales!’
‘Boredom! Day follows day out here and they’re all the same. Hot, uncomfortable, predictable. You’ll do anything to break the routine and if a half-way decent excuse for taking off and stunting about for a while presents itself, you take it.’
‘Glad to oblige,’ said Joe drily.
‘It was a diversion, a distraction, an exercise. We worked on it together but it was always going to be my flight. So, figure my surprise, when, leaving my quarters to head for the hangar, I saw the Jenny taking off. A good five minutes ahead of schedule. I hurried over and grabbed Ahmed and asked him what the hell was going on. Well, you can question him yourself if you want to. . He said Prithvi came over all geared up for a flight and told him he’d decided to take the Jenny up himself. You don’t argue with the heir to the throne so Ahmed spun the propeller and sent him on his way. . with an unwanted passenger aboard.’
Stuart fell silent, fighting down a shudder. His horror was felt by Joe who remembered the cartoon that had passed from hand to hand along the front line: a young aviator, jaw jutting into the air stream, going gallantly forward unconscious of the grey-shrouded figure he carried in the passenger seat.
‘Death,’ murmured Joe.
Stuart didn’t answer. He was reliving, Joe supposed, the vital five minutes that had separated him from a premature and inexplicable death.
‘And this Ali had every opportunity before the fatal flight to cut the wires?’
‘Oh, yes. Anyone observing him, myself included, wouldn’t have suspected a thing. To all appearances, he would just have been carrying out routine checks and refurbishment. That’s how I’d have done it. .’ Stuart said, brow creased in thought. ‘Yes. I’d have brought out a set of pre-cut elevator cables and fitted them in place of the existing ones. Then no one gets to hear a saw hacking away at wires just before a flight. He could have done his preparation work well away from the plane in the workshop at any time that suited him.’
He frowned again and watched Ahmed who was working on the engine of the Jenny.
‘Common sense tells me, Joe, that Ali cut those wires but that’s kinda hard for me to believe.’
‘You think Ali was loyal to you?’
‘Not to me. No. Nothing personal. But — we found this in the war — the air crew, the fitters and the riggers, identified with the plane they were supporting. The pilot was part of the package, like the wings or the engine. I’ve had many a bollocking from my crew when I came back to base with a damaged plane. It would go against every instinct for one of these guys to deliberately destroy his pilot and his plane. He wouldn’t have killed me. And if the pilot also happened to be his future ruler, well. .’
‘You’re saying that you don’t think Ali did it at all but that if he did do it, an overwhelming pressure must have been put on the poor chap?’
‘Doesn’t make sense, does it, but that’s about as close as I can get.’
‘Any idea where our vital witness might have gone?’
‘Sure. We’ve got ideas. Ahmed thinks he must have returned to his village. That’s a day’s camel ride from here if you want to go check. He’s probably just arriving.’
‘You think that would be a waste of time?’
‘I do!’ Stuart put his cup down carefully and squinted into the sunshine, checking that they were not overheard. ‘I think Ali is at the bottom of the lake.’
‘You’re saying he’s joined the ranks of the surplus-torequirements assassins — like the men who supplied the panther that killed Bishan Singh?’
‘Yeah. That sure was one unlucky black cat,’ said Stuart bleakly.
‘This village to which Ali may have fled — what’s its name?’ Joe asked.
‘Mmm. . let me think. . Surigargh! That’s it. Surigargh.’
‘I’ve heard of that somewhere,’ said Joe. ‘Isn’t it the maharaja’s own native village?’
‘So they say.’ Stuart fell silent for a moment, eyeing Joe with speculation.
‘And a whole day’s camel ride away, you said?’
The two men looked at each other and grinned.
‘Thought you’d never get around to asking,’ said Stuart. ‘Plane’s ready. Be delighted to take you up. The Jenny can reduce a day to a half-hour there and a half-hour back.’ He looked at his watch. ‘We could be back in time for tiffin or luncheon if you prefer. We could even land if you want to go in and lean on the headman. There’s a stretch of roadway we can use.’
Joe watched as Stuart gave a surprised Ahmed instructions in Hindi. Ahmed was putting a few finishing touches to the aircraft, spanner in hand, checking on the tightness of a screw, running a sinewy finger along the cables to test their tautness. Joe pictured his brother Ali performing just this ritual yesterday.
‘The things I do for Sir George and Merry England,’ he muttered between clenched teeth.
As they collected their flying helmets and water bottles from the hangar Stuart talked easily about his hurriedly conceived flight plan. ‘We’ll do a circuit over the town — make out that we’re a couple of airborne trippers, just sightseeing. Nothing untoward in that — everybody does it. Even HM Vyvyan made it known that, if invited, she might not be minded to decline the offer of a short spin over the kingdom!’
‘HM?’ Joe asked.
‘Her High and Mightiness!’ Stuart said cheerfully. ‘That’s what I call her! She’s everything the word “memsahib” calls to mind, aren’t I right? Ambitious, too. I think she thinks she’s in training for the position of Vicereine. . hope someone remembered to tell poor old Claude!’
Joe was startled. ‘You’re not serious? Claude as Viceroy? I don’t see it!’