“Done — just about done!”
What should have been a simple job here at the Walsoken Plant had stretched on and on. It had been autumn when he had arrived to make the control installation, along with Buchanan, an hydraulics engineer. But Buchanan had had the bad luck — good luck really — to be laid low by an attack of appendicitis and had been spirited away by ambulance copter never to return. Nor had his replacement ever arrived. Jan had found himself supervising the mechanical installation in addition to his own electronics and autumn had stretched into winter with no end in sight.
It was in sight now. All of the major installations and repairs had been done; the plant was up and running. And he was going to get out. For a few weeks at least — and the manager would just have to fend for himself.
“Radcliffe, get in here. I have some interesting news for you.”
The words cracked from every loudspeaker in the building, rolled and echoed. Within seconds there was the sound of running footsteps and the panting manager came hurrying into the room.
“Yes… your honor?”
“I’m leaving. Today. Don’t gape, man, I thought you would be pleased at the prospect. This antique vodka works is on line and should keep on running if you take care of all the maintenance on this list. I’ve hooked the computer through the network to fuel concert where the operation will be monitored. Any problems will bring someone here fast. But I don’t expect any problems, do I, Radcliffe?”
“No, sir, of course not. Do our best, thank you, sir.”
“I hope so. And may your best be a little bit better than it has been in the past. I’ll be back as soon as I am able, to check operation and to see your list of completion. Now — unless there is anything else — I am going to get out of this place.”
“No. Nothing, sir.
“Good. See that it stays that way.
Jan waved the manager out as he unclipped his terminal and computer and stowed them in his case. Eagerly, for the first time it seemed, he pulled on the fleece-lined coat and driving gloves. One stop at the hotel to pack his bag and that was that! He whistled between his teeth as he slammed out of the door into the late afternoon gloom. The ground was frozen hard as rock and there was the smell of snow in the air. His car, red and shining, was the only touch of color in the drab landscape. Blighted fields stretched away on all sides in the flat landscape, silent under the drab gray sky. The fuel cell fired as soon as he turned the key; the heater warmed the interior with a rush of air. He drove slowly over the frozen ruts of the yard and out onto the paved road.
This was former fen country, now drained and plowed. But some of the old canals were still there; Wisbech was still an inland port. He would be glad to see the last of it. Packing took ten minutes, he believed in traveling light, and the manager held the front door and bowed him out and wished him a safe journey.
Just outside of town the motorway began. The police at the entrance saluted and he returned them an airy wave. Once on the automated road network he switched over to automatic, giving LONDON EXIT 74 as his destination. This information flashed from the transmitter under his car to the cable buried beneath the surface, to the network computer which routed him and sent hack the command to the car computer in microseconds. There was a slow surge of acceleration by the electric wheel motors up to the standard 240 K.P.H., until the landscape became a blur in the gathering dusk. Jan had no desire to look out at it. He unlocked his seat and swiveled it about to face the rear. There was whiskey ready in the bar compartment and water at the touch of a button. The television came on to a colorful and loud production of Peter Grimes. Jan enjoyed it for a minute, admiring the soprano not only for her voice — and tried to think whom she reminded him of.
“Aileen Pettit of course!” He had a warm glow of memory; if she were only free now. She had little enough to do since her divorce. She should jump at the chance to see him. To think was to act. He punched for phone, then tapped her number quickly into the keys. It rang only twice before she answered.
“Jan. How nice of you to call.”
“How nice of you to answer. Do you have camera trouble?” He pointed at his own dark screen.
“No, just blanked for privacy. You caught me in the sauna.
The screen came to life as she said this and she laughed at his expression. “Never saw a nude woman before?”
“If I have I’ve forgotten. They don’t have women where I’ve been. At least none glowing and wet like you. Honestly, Aileen, I could almost weep for joy. You’re the most beautiful sight in the world.”
“Flattery will get you everywhere.”
“And you’re coming with me. Are you free now?”
“Always free, my love, but it depends on what you have in mind.”
“Some sunshine. Some hot sun and warm ocean and good food, a case of champagne and you. What do you say?”
“I say it sounds unspeakably lovely. My bank account or yours?”
“My treat. I deserve something after this winter in the wilderness. I know this little hotel, right out in the desert on the shore of the Red Sea. If we leave in the morning we can get there…
“No details, please, my sweet. I’m going to sink back into my sauna and wait there for you. Don’t be too long.”
She broke the connection with the last word and Jan laughed out loud. Yes, life was going to be a lot better. He drained the glass of scotch and poured another one.
The frozen fen country was already gone from his mind.
He did not know that the man he had fired, Simmons, never would go back on the dole. He committed suicide just about the time Jan reached London.
Two
The circular shadow of the great flying ship drifted slowly over the blue surface of the Mediterranean far below, across the beach and onto the desert beyond. The electric motors were silent, the only sound the whir of the propellers. They were tiny, almost lost from sight under the thick, saucer-like form of the Beachy Head, for their only work was to propel her through the air. Lift was supplied by the helium bags concealed beneath the taut outer skin. The dirigible was a superior form of transportation with very low fuel consumption.
Her cargo consisted of great bundles of heavy black pipes slung beneath the body. Tonnes of them. But the Beachy Head carried passengers as well, in cabins in the bow.
“The view is incredible,” Aileen said, sitting before the angled window that made up the entire front wall of their cabin, watching the desert move by below. Jan, stretched out on the bed, nodded in silent agreement — but was looking at her. She was combing her shoulder-length coppery-red hair, her raised arms lifting her bare breasts, her back arched and lovely.
“Incredible,” he said, and she laughed and put down the comb to come and sit beside him and kiss him.
“Marry me?” Jan asked.
“Thank you, no. My divorce isn’t a month old. I want to enjoy my freedom for a while yet.”
“I’ll ask you next month.”
“Do that…” The chiming bell cut her off and the steward’s voice broke the silence of the cabin.
“All passengers. We will be landing in Suez in thirty minutes’ time. Please have your bags ready for the porters. Thirty minutes’ time. It has been our pleasure to have you aboard the Beachy Head and in the name of Captain Wetherby and the crew I want to thank you for flying British Airways.”
“A half an hour and look at my hair! And I haven’t started packing yet… ”
“There’s no hurry. And no one will throw you out of the cabin. This is a holiday, remember? I’m going to get dressed and see about the luggage. I’ll meet you on the ground.”
“Can’t you wait for me?”