“Here it is,” Harry said softly and leaned forward to watch through the windshield.
The steel doors of the truck swung open and two men, in brown uniforms and peak caps, revolvers in holsters at their hips, jumped down. One of them was carrying a small square box.
While the four cops stood guard, the other two men crossed to the aircraft, spoke to the air hostess, and then the one with the box climbed the stairway into the plane, followed by die air The other guard returned to the truck, slammed the doors, had a brief word with one of the policemen, then got into the truck and drove away.
Harry's heart skipped a beat.
“Looks like the other guy's going to travel with the rocks,” Lewin said.
“So what?” Franks said. “He won't cause trouble.”
Harry wasn't so sure. This was unexpected. He hadn't thought that a guard would fly with the diamonds.
“He's paid to cause trouble,” he said uneasily.
Franks laughed.
“Okay, so he'll earn his dough.”
The aircraft engines started up with a roar.
“They are going to bring her over,” Harry said. “We'd better get moving. You two guys know what to do; no move until I give you the signal.”
“Where will the guard be?” Lewin asked.
“He may travel in the cabin or he may keep in the luggage bay. If he travels in the cabin we'll handle him before we go to the flight deck,” Harry said.
“Okay,” Lewin opened the car door and stepped out.
Borg twisted his bulk around so he could look at Harry.
“You go with him. Franks will follow,” he said. “And listen, Green, watch your step. There are a couple of guys waiting outside the airport should you change your mind about making this trip. No diamonds, no dough—get it?”
“Sure,” Harry said and got out of the car.
“I'll be waiting at the Sky Ranch airport for you.” Borg went on, his fat face peering out of the car window.
“We'll be there,” Harry said and hoped they would be. He walked down the tarmac with Lewin towards the reception hall.
They didn't say anything to each other. As they neared the entrance, Lewin dropped back.
“You go ahead,” he said.
It seemed odd to Harry as he limped up the steps and into the luxuriously appointed reception hall to be entering this place.
Although he worked with C.A.T.C. for six years, he had never once been in the reception hall.
A dark, pretty girl, wearing the C.A.T.C. uniform, took his ticket and told him his name would be called in twenty minutes or so.
“The bar's to your right sir,” she said. “When you hear your name called would you please go to Bay Six: over there,” and she pointed. “I’ll be waiting to take you to the aircraft.”
Harry thanked her and went into the bar. There were a number of people grouped around the bar. He wondered if they would be travelling on his flight. He ordered a double Scotch and water, and, leaning against the bar, he examined them casually. They were of the same breed as those who used to travel on his aircraft when he had been crew captain. The rich, fat business men: the glamorous, mink-coated women: the hard-faced, sharp-eyed salesmen: all drinking and yakitting like magpies.
Lewin wandered into the bar and ordered a beer. He carried his drink to a table away from the group of people, lit a cigarette and stared around him, his hard eyes missing nothing. Franks didn't show up.
Harry was glad of the whisky. His nerves were jumpy, and he was sweating. He kept assuring himself nothing would go wrong, but the thought of the armed guard on the aircraft worried him.
If the fool tried to stop them, he'd get hurt. Harry shied away from the thought of violence. The guard might even get killed.
He took out his handkerchief and wiped his hands, and looked at the people at the bar. No one paid him any attention. He looked across at Lewin who stared back at him, his eyes expressionless.
Minutes ticked by, then a voice came over the loudspeaker announcing Flight Six. He heard his name called, and finishing his second drink, he limped to the door, followed by three men and two women in mink. Lewin strolled after them.
They, joined eight other passengers and Franks at Bay Six.
Hetty Collins appeared. She had the passenger list in her hand, and she quickly ticked off the names, smiling at each passenger.
“If you will please follow me?” she said, and took them down a passage into the open where the Moonbeam was waiting.
Harry felt a chill crawl up his spine as he saw the four policemen were still guarding the aircraft.
One of the women in mink said, “Look, Jack, they're giving you a police escort.”
A thick-necked, red-faced man, smoking a cigar, grunted.
“This kite carries freight,” he said. “I expect there's something valuable aboard.”
“But surely nothing as valuable as you, darling,” the woman said sarcastically.
“Oh, shut up!” the man returned, his face turning a deeper shade of red. He followed the woman up the stairway into the aircraft.
One of the policemen was standing nearby. He looked at each passenger as they mounted the stairway. He looked particularly hard at Franks who stared back at him, a twisted grin on his coarse, brutal face.
Harry was the last to limp up the gangway. He didn’t look at the policeman, but he felt him looking at him.
Hetty Collins met him as he stepped into the cabin.
“Is there anything I can get you?” she asked, professionally interested. “Would you like a drink or some coffee later on?”
“No, thanks,” Harry said.
“Your seat is right in front on the left aisle,” she told him.
He nodded and made his way along the gangway. He had been lucky to get the outside seat, right by the door to the flight deck.
The inside seat was occupied by a tall, scraggy woman in a mink coat. She looked up as Harry paused by her. She took in his shabby trench coat, his scar and his limp, and she drew the skirts of her coat around her, scarcely suppressing a shudder of disapproval.
Harry sat down beside her, then turned in his seat to see where Franks and Lewin were.
Franks was at the rear of the cabin, by the door leading to the galley. Beyond the galley were the toilets and the luggage bay where the diamonds would be: the diamonds and the guard.
Lewin sat halfway up the cabin on Harry's right. Harry was satisfied they were all well seated. Both Lewin and Franks could see him and could see his signal when the time came to take over the aircraft.
Hetty Collins moved down the aisle, seeing that the safety belts were properly fastened. The woman seated on Harry's left was having trouble with hers.
“You put that through this,” Harry said, showing her one end of the belt. “It'll clip automatically.”
She glanced at him, gave him a wintery nod and fixed the belt.
“You might care to look at the evening paper,” she said, pushing the paper at him as if she were glad to get rid of it. Then she half turned her shoulder as if dismissing him and looked out of the window.
Harry held the paper on his lap. He was fixing his belt when Hetty Collins came up.
“Oh, I see you have your belts fixed. Are they comfortable?” she asked.
The woman in mink ignored her. Harry said his was fine.
The girl smiled brightly at him, and he looked up, letting her have a good look at his face. She showed no sign of recognition and turned back to begin working down the right-hand gangway.
Harry glanced at the newspaper. His eyes scarcely took in the print. His heart was hammering so violently he wondered if the woman next to him could hear it.
Another fifteen minutes, he thought. He glanced over his shoulder and caught Lewin's eye. Lewin was poker-faced. He slouched in his seat, his collar turned up, his hat pulled low, his hands in his pockets. Harry looked beyond him at Franks who was smoking. His head was twitching and he scowled at Harry.