Blood Storm

32

Marler drove them to a private airfield outside London where his light aircraft was housed. The owner ordered his team to trundle the machine on to the runway.

Marler was handing a helmet equipped with earphones to Harry. He explained this was so they could communicate with each other clearly in midair. Reluctantly Harry donned the helmet.

Dazed with apprehension, Harry, who hated flying, found himself seated next to Marler as the plane took off, climbed. It was a brilliantly sunny day, warmish for April. Not a cloud in the sky.

'Wobbles about a lot,' Harry complained.

'Actually, old chap, we are flying very steadily. Look out at the scenery. Marvellous view.'

'Is it?'

Harry stubbornly stared straight ahead as Marler studied the map, checking the route to Mountain High near Peckham Mallet. Near General Macomber's cottage. He glanced at Harry's ashen face.

'Shouldn't take long to get there.'

'Seems like forever already.'

'Relax. I once flew this plane down to Provence in the south of France.'

'Thank Gawd I wasn't with you.'

'Harry, take this with that bottle of water I gave you. It's a Dramamine pill. Paula swears by them when she's flying over the Atlantic. An eleven-hour flight to San Francisco.'

'She takes one?' Harry stared dubiously at the small yellow tablet. Marler waited until he had swallowed it before he replied.

'Actually, she doesn't. But she persuades Tweed to take one if he's flying or on a sea crossing.'

'Does it work for her – him?'

'Yes, it does. Every time.'

'Well, it's not working for me.'

'Give it a few minutes to get into your system.'

Harry sat very still, grimly silent. Marler was looking down, admiring the beautiful countryside, clear as crystal in the sunlight. Rolling downs like frozen green waves, dense evergreen forests, cars looking like tiny models crawling along motorways. They had crossed from Surrey into Sussex.

'May be a bit of turbulence ahead,' Marler warned.

'What's turbulence?'

'Plane might rock a bit from side to side, up and down.'

'Take me home.'

'We always complete our missions,' Marler said sternly.

'Do these things ever crash?' Harry whispered.

'Not with me as pilot.'

The plane suddenly swayed from side to side. Then it dropped, climbed again. Marler again glanced at Harry. He had a dozy expression, was now looking out and down. The plane was now flying on an even keel.

'Bit bumpy there for a moment,' Harry commented.

Glancing once more at Harry Marler noticed the colour was coming back into his face. The Dramamine had worked. Harry was taking an interest in his surroundings. He pointed ahead.

'What's that big hill ahead? An alp?'

'You only get those in Switzerland. That's Mountain High…'

'I can see a large truck in an empty field. That could be it. A man's walking towards it. Keep this thing steady.'

Harry took out his powerful binoculars, focused them. He could see the burly figure in denims and a windcheater quite clearly. Could see the man's ugly face under a peaked cap. He swore colourfully.

'What's the matter?' Marler asked.

'See that chap heading for the truck? That's Mugger Morgan. A real villain. Been hauled up for two killings, which he did. Got off on a technicality. Friend of Fitch. He's looking up at us.'

'Have to trick him. We're joy-riders. Brace yourself.'

Marler looped the loop. Harry found himself staring at the sky, then the earth above him. He yelled in terror.

'It's OK,' Marler called back.

He looped the loop a second time. Harry was staring up at earth again. They were crashing. He knew they were crashing. The plane levelled out, the view became normal. Harry let go of the breath he had been holding.

'What the hell did you do that for?'

'To fool Mugger Morgan. He'll think we're mad joyriders.'

'Mad is the word!'

'Keep an eye on him. What's he doing now?'

'Stopped looking at us. He's climbing into the cab. He's going to drive the truck off. We're well away from him.'

They both looked down at the truck, which appeared very small from their height. There was no one else about anywhere.

The truck moved forward perhaps ten feet, then the explosives detonated. The entire vehicle lifted off the field. There was a blinding flash, a distant boom. The roof shot skywards, split in two. The truck's sides blasted outwards. The cab where Mugger Morgan had sat disintegrated. A small crater appeared in the field. Fragments descended to the field as debris fell inside the crater.

Inside the Park Crescent office Marler concluded his report to Monica at about the time Tweed parked his car outside Tolhaven.

It was a different ferryman who took him across to Black Island in a calm sea. It was also a different route from the one to the east he had travelled with the team. So he saw the ugly globe-shaped structures of the oil refinery near the western tip of the island.

He was totally unprepared for what happened when he had walked past the village of Lydford.