Flyaway

CHAPTER TWENTY-NINE

That seemingly small task took longer than I thought and by the time we had finished the sun was setting. We had our evening meal and went to sleep early. At dawn the following morning Paul and I helped Byrne take out the last two bolts that held the propeller to the shaft and we lowered it to the ground using a rope made up of bits and pieces of the donkey harness. Byrne and I carried it to the grave in the cave while Paul brought the plaque. We set the propeller upright near the grave and Byrne fastened the plaque to the boss using some wire he had found in Flyaway.

Then we stood there for a while, doing nothing, but just standing there. Byrne said, 'I guess Billson was the first guy to see those pictures in here in a few thousand years. Maybe this propeller and the inscription will still be there in a thousand years from now. Aluminium don't rust and things change slow in the desert. It's a good marker.'

After a while we went away, leaving Paul to his own thoughts.

In spite of the hobbles the donkeys had moved a fair way in search of grazing and it took us a while to find them and it was an hour before we got them back to the camp. Paul had come back looking sombre and helped us load them. It was time to go.

We took one last long look at Flyaway and then began the awkward business of coaxing the donkeys through the narrow cleft in the rock. When we got them out Byrne said, 'Okay — back to Tamrit Maybe three days.'

Paul said, 'Do you mind waiting a minute? I won't be long. I just want…' He swallowed convulsively and looked at me. 'You didn't take a picture of the plaque. I'd like that.'

I glanced at Byrne who said, 'All right, Paul, but not more than fifteen minutes. Tether those donkeys firmly. We'll stroll ahead.' He pointed. 'That's the line we take.'

I unfastened my bag and took out my camera. 'Shall I come with you, or can you take the pictures?'

'I can do it,' he said, so I gave him the camera and he went back through the cleft.

Byrne said, 'Funny thing, this flesh and blood. You wouldn't think he'd feel like that about a man he hardly knew.' He tugged at the donkey rein. 'Let's go; he can catch up.'

We went at an easy pace, threading our way among the rocks for about half a mile. I looked back and said, 'Perhaps we'd better wait for Paul.'

'Huh?' said Byrne abstractedly. He was staring at the ground. 'Been camels here.'

I looked down at the enormous pad marks in the sand. 'You said there were wild camels.'

Byrne dropped on one knee. 'Yeah, I know I did — but wild camels don't repair their own pads.' He traced a line on one of the footprints. 'This one cut its foot and someone put a leather patch on.'

I frowned. 'Can that be done?'

'Sure. I just said so, didn't I?' He stood up and looked around. 'And there it is.'

I turned and, coming up from behind us was a man riding a camel — the Arab who had been with Kissack. He whistled shrilly and from our front came an answering whistle. There were five of them altogether; Kissack and the Arab, and Lash and his two musclemen, all mounted on camels and with no less than six baggage animals. There was no weapons in sight but that didn't mean a thing.

Lash looked down at us from the enormous height a camel confers. 'Mr Byrne,' he said pleasantly. 'And Mr Stafford. Well met. I didn't expect to find you here. Looking for frescoes, I take it?'

Kissack said, 'You're a long way from Kano, Stafford.

You've come the wrong way.'

'And there's someone missing.' Lash snapped his fingers. 'What was his name? Ah, yes — Billson. Where is Mr Billson?' One of the men behind him muttered something, and he added, 'And the Tuareg who were with you?'

Byrne dropped the leading rein of his donkey and put his foot on it. 'Paul went sick so they took him back to Djanet' It was a good improvised lie.

'Strange that we didn't meet him,' observed Lash. He beckoned to the Arab, who came close to him. Lash tossed him the camel reins and the Arab coaxed the camel to its knees and Lash dismounted awkwardly. He had not been riding in the Tuareg manner with his feet on the neck of the camel, but had stirrups. He grimaced. 'Damned uncomfortable beasts.'

'No call to ride them if you don't want,' said Byrne. 'You'd do better with a Tuareg saddle instead of that Chaamba rig.' He jerked his head at the Arab. 'His, I suppose.'

'You suppose correctly.' Lash waved his hand and all the men dismounted, the camels grunting discontentedly. 'Cat got your tongue, Mr Stafford?'

'I've found nothing interesting to say, so far.'

'Oh, you will,' he assured me. 'I'm certain you will. You've both already met Kissack so there's no need to introduce him. As for my other friends, they have no English.'

'Friends!' I said. 'Not guides?'

Lash smiled thinly. 'Propinquity breeds friendship. From the direction you're taking it seems you are returning to Tamrit. Do I gather that you've found what you were looking for?'

'Yeah, we found some paintings,' said Byrne. 'And I guess these are new ones — not seen before.'

'You weren't looking for frescoes,' said Lash flatly. 'Let's cut the cat and mouse act, shall we? You were looking for an aeroplane. Did you find it?'

'I don't know what business it is of yours,' I said.

Lash looked at me unsmilingly. 'Or yours, either. You wouldn't take a warning back in London. You had to play the thick-headed hero and meddle in things that don't concern you.'

So there it was said outright — Lash had been responsible for having me beaten up. 'Who's paying you?' I asked.

'Still meddling? That's dangerous. Now, Where's Billson?'

'You've just been told,' I said. 'He went back to Djanet three days ago. He had an injury which was inflamed.' I touched my own shoulder. 'Here.' I was careful not to look at Kissack.

The play of expression on Lash's face was interesting because what I had just said could be circumstantially true. He dismissed Billson for the moment. 'And the aeroplane — where is it?'

'What airplane?' asked Byrne.

Lash sighed. 'Look, Byrne; don't play with me. That's just being stupid.' He turned away and began to talk to the Arab in low tones. The Arab remounted his camel, urged it to its feet, and began to backtrack along the way we had come, if he went far enough he'd find the donkeys Paul had left tethered outside the cleft in the rock. He might even find Paul.

Lash turned back to face us. 'Where's that aeroplane? And don't ask which aeroplane. It's a Northrop "Gamma" 2-D, built in 1934 and called Flyaway. It was crashed around here in 1936 by Peter Billson.' As Byrne opened his mouth Lash held up his hand. 'Don't tell me you don't know what I'm talking about. That would be a big mistake.'

Before Byrne could reply Kissack said, 'You're wasting time, Mr Lash. Let me try.'

'Shut up!' said Lash coldly.

Byrne said, 'I don't know what you're talking about.'

'All right;' said Lash wearily. 'We'll try it your way, Kissack.'

There was suddenly a gun in Kissack's hand. He stepped forward and looked at us speculatively. 'The old geezer knows more about the desert than Stafford, I reckon; so he'd be a better guide.' I looked at the pistol he lifted; the muzzle was pointing directly between my eyes and I knew I was close to death. 'If you don't tell us, Stafford will be dead meat.'

It seemed an eternity before Byrne said, 'Okay — it's about ten kilometres back.'

A grunt of satisfaction came from Lash, and Kissack said, 'Do I kill him anyway, Mr Lash?'

'No,' said Lash. 'We might need him again — and for the same reason. Search them.'

They found our pistols, of course. Kissack checked the loads on the three donkeys. 'You had a rifle — where is it?'

I realized it had been packed on one of Paul's donkeys.

2/7 Byrne said, 'Left it behind in the Tenere. Too much sand and the action jammed. That's the only reason you're still alive, Kissack.'

Kissack's face whitened and he lifted the pistol again and pointed it at Byrne. 'What, for Christ's sake, did you do to Bailly?'

'That's enough,' commanded Lash. 'We're wasting time. Help me get up on this bloody camel.' They all remounted and now they all had guns showing except Lash, who seemed to be unarmed. 'About face,' he ordered. 'Now, take us to that aeroplane. No tricks, Byrne, or you'll be shot in the back where you stand.'

And so we retraced our steps. I glanced sideways at Byrne whose nose was beakier than ever. He didn't look at me but gazed ahead with a bleak expression. All he had bought was time — ten kilometres' worth of it — say, four or five hours. Then it would all start again.

I wondered about Paul — Byrne had given him fifteen minutes and he ought to have shown up by now. I prayed to God that he would live up to his reputation. Be a nebbish, Paul, I thought. Be the invisible man.

I tramped along, conscious of the guns at my back, and a rhyme chittered insanely through my mind over and over again As I was going up the stair, I met a man who wasn't there; He wasn't there again today, I wish to hell he'd go away!

We hadn't been moving long when the Arab appeared and reined his camel alongside Lash. There was a muttered conversation, and Lash called 'Stop!' I stopped and looked back. Lash said silkily, 'More tricks, Byrne? I warned you about that. Follow Zayid.'

The Arab moved in front of us and veered to the left on a course which would take us directly to where we had left Paul. Byrne grunted and shrugged imperceptibly. It seemed that Zayid was a good tracker — good enough to call Byrne's bluff.

We came to the cleft in the rock and there were no donkeys and no sign of Paul. If he was a nebbish he had also the characteristics of a boojum because, wraithlike, he had 'softly and suddenly vanished away'. Byrne looked at me and raised his eyebrows, and I shook my head to indicate that I didn't know, either. The little man who wasn't there had indeed gone away.

There was a bit of discussion in French with Zayid pointing out the imprint of donkey hooves in the sand and a clear indication they had gone through the cleft. Lash said, 'Kissack, get down and go through there, and tell me what you see.'

Kissack dismounted and, with drawn gun, went through the cleft. He disappeared from sight because there was a bend half-way through and then all was silence except for the snuffling of a camel behind me. Suddenly there was a shout, incoherent and without words, which echoed among the rock pillars, and Kissack came back, yelling excitedly, 'It's there, Mr Lash; the bloody plane is there!'

'Is it?' Lash seemed unmoved. 'Zayid!' The Arab helped him dismount. 'Now let's all go and look at this aeroplane which is unaccountably ten kilometres out of position according to Mr Byrne's reckoning.'

There was no choice for it so we went. The camels were too big to go through the cleft so Zayid hobbled them and left them outside, but they took the donkeys through. And there stood Flyaway just as we had left her. Zayid and Lash's hired thugs from Algiers weren't very much interested, but Lash and Kissack were. They went towards her, Lash at a steady pace and Kissack practically dancing a jig. 'Is it the one, Mr Lash?' he asked excitedly. 'Is it the one?'

Lash took a paper from his pocket and unfolded it, then studied it and compared it with what was before him. He peered at the side of the fuselage and said, 'Yes, Kissack, my boy; this is indeed the one.'

'Christ!' said Kissack, and jumped up and down. 'Five thousand quid! Five grand!'

'Keep your damned mouth shut,' said Lash. 'You talk too much.' He swung on his heel and stared back at us. 'You — come here!' Byrne and I were hustled forward, and Lash pointed to the hole we had cut 'Did you do that?'

'Yeah,' said Byrne.

'Why?'

'We found Billson's body. We wanted to mark the grave.' He nodded up towards the engine. 'That's also why we took the propeller.'

'You buried the body?'

'What there was of it The ground is pretty hard. We built a cairn over it'

Lash showed his teeth in a grim smile. 'So that's what you did. Then all is not lost.' I didn't know what he meant by that. 'Where is the body?'

Byrne told him. 'Get that propeller, Kissack,' said Lash. 'Take Zayid with you. But first tie these two — arms behind them and ankles secured.'

So we were tied up and left to lie under the rock wall of the gully. Kissack and Zayid went off to find the grave and Lash and the other two ducked into the cleft. Where they were going I didn't know. I said, 'Sorry to have got you into this, Luke.'

He merely grunted and wriggled, and hi his struggles with his bonds he fell against me and knocked me over. I fell heavily and a stone dug into my breastbone. When I got back into a sitting position I was panting. 'It's no good,' he said. 'They know how to tie a guy. Struggle and the knots tighten.'

'Yes. What do you think he's going to do?'

'About the airplane — I don't know. But if you're right about what you heard in Bilma he's sure as hell going to kill us. Why he hasn't done it yet I don't know.'

I looked down at the sand on which I had fallen. The imprint of my body was there, but there was no stone. And yet I had felt it. 'Luke! Remember that stone axe-head you found at the Col des Chandeliers? It's in the pocket of my gandoura. Think you can get it out?'

I fell on my side and he wriggled around with his back to me, his bound arms groping for my chest. It was a grotesque business, but he got his hands into the pocket and explored around. 'It's right at the bottom.'

'Got it!' Slowly his hands came out under my nose and I saw he grasped the small object between his fingers. It wasn't very big — not more than an inch long — and was probably more of a stone scraper than an axe-head. But the edge was keen enough.

Trying to bite free?' said an amused voice behind us. Byrne dropped the scraper and it fell to the sand and I rolled on to it. 'You'll need strong teeth to bite through leather thongs,' said Lash.

I turned my head and looked at him. 'Do you blame me for trying?'

'Of course not, Colonel Stafford. It's the duty of every officer to try to escape, isn't it?' He squatted on his heels. 'But you won't, you know.'

'Get lost,' I said sourly.

'No — it will be you who are lost. If your bodies are ever found they'll look something like Billson's, I imagine. But they won't be found near here — oh, dear me, no! We couldn't have a coincidence like that'

He turned his head at the clanging of metal on rock, and I followed his gaze to see his men coming through the cleft, each carrying two jerricans. They carried them over to Flyaway and set them down, then went away again. Lash's attention returned to us. He said to Byrne, 'I've been going over what you've told me since we met this morning and I've come to a conclusion, Byrne. You're a damned liar!'. Byrne grinned tightly. 'You wouldn't say that if I had my hands free.'

'Yes, you lied about practically everything — about the position of this aeroplane, about looking for frescoes — so why shouldn't you have lied about Billson? It would fit your pattern. Where is he?'

'He left us three days ago!' said Byrne. 'His shoulder was bad and getting worse. That was where Kissack shot him. He'd had a hard time in the Tenere and it had opened up again and, like the goddamned fool he is, he said nothing about it because he wanted to find his Pappy's airplane.'

'So you know about that.' Lash glanced at me. 'Both of you.'

'When I found out how bad his shoulder was I was feared of gangrene,' said Byrne. 'So I sent him back with Atitel and Hami. I guess he's travelling slow, so he should be going down from Tamrit about now.'

'I wish I could believe you.'

'I don't give a hoot in hell whether you believe me or not.'

The men came back carrying four more jerricans which they put with the others. I watched them go back through the cleft. Lash clapped his hands together lightly. 'So, according to you, Billson never came here.'

'Not if he went back three days ago.'

'It doesn't matter,' said Lash, and stood up. 'I won't take the chance. Billson won' t leave North Africa. He's a dead man, as dead as you are.'

He went away and Byrne said, 'A real cheerful feller.'

'I wonder where Paul is?' I said in an undertone.

'Don't know, but I ain't putting my trust in a guy like him. Any help from him is as likely as a snowstorm on the Tassili.

Where's that goddamn cutter?'

I groped around for a full five minutes, sifting the sand. Got it!'

'Then hold on to it, and don't let go. We may have a chance yet.'

Kissack and Zayid came back carrying the propeller. Kissack showed the plaque to Lash who laughed. He didn't toss it aside but walked over to where the donkeys were patiently waiting and carefully stowed it. Then he climbed up on to the wing of Flyaway and looked into the cockpit 'He'll see that the compass is missing,' I muttered.'

'Maybe not,' said Byrne.

Lash made only a superficial investigation of the cockpit but then climbed up on to the fuselage and opened the cargo hatch. He peered inside, then said something to Kissack who was standing below. He seemed highly satisfied. He next made his way up the fuselage towards the engine where he sat astride the cowling just as Byrne had done. He picked up something and examined it, laughed again and tossed it down to Kissack, and pointed to us.

Kissack walked in our direction. He stood over us and held something in his fingers. 'Where's the spanner that fits this?' It was one of the nuts that secured the propeller to the engine shaft.

'Find it yourself,' said Byrne.

Kissack kicked him in the ribs. I said quickly, 'It's packed in a tool kit aboard that donkey — the one in the middle.'

Kissack grinned at me and went away. Byrne said, 'No need to help them, Max.'

'I'm not. I don't want them searching all the loads. The compass is packed among my kit.' I looked across at lash. 'Did you leave all the nuts there?'

'Yeah — in a neat row on top of the engine cowling. I'm a real tidy guy.' His voice was bitter.

Lash's men came through the cleft carrying four more jerricans; that made twelve and they apparently went back for more. A jerrican holds a nominal four gallons — actually a little more — so there was fifty gallons standing there on the sand. I said, 'What the hell do they want with all that water?'

'What makes you think it's water?'

I bunked in astonishment. 'You think it's petrol!'

They're putting the propeller back, ain't they?'

They're crazy,' I said. They can't fly it out of here.'

They don't intend to,' said Byrne. 'Remember Paul's Land-Rover? I figure they're going to burn it.'

Destroying evidence of what? I watched them replace the propeller. It was a much more laborious task for them to put it back than it was for us to take it off. At one time all five of them were engaged on the job and it was then that I took a chance and had a go at cutting the thongs around Byrne's wrists. Holding the polished and sharpened stone blade I sawed at the leather without being able to see what I was doing because Byrne and I were back to back.

Suddenly he said, 'Enough! They've finished.' I palmed the blade and twisted around again to look at Flyaway. Kissack and Zayid were handing up jerricans to Lash, who stood on the wing and was pouring petrol into the auxiliary tank. The other two were still engaged in ferrying more jerricans. Lash put fifty gallons into the tank and there was still another fifty available because I counted twenty-four jerricans in all.

'Three camel loads,' said Byrne. 'I did wonder about all those pack animals.'

Lash and Kissack came over to us. Byrne looked up at them. 'I said it to Wilbur and I said it to Orville — "It'll never get off the ground."'

'Very funny,' said Lash. 'Kissack's come up with a suggestion. He thinks we ought to put one of you into the cockpit.' He studied us, then turned to Kissack and said objectively, 'It can't be Byrne — he's too old and it might show. If it's anybody at all it'll be Stafford.'

Kissack shrugged. 'Suits me.'

Lash looked at me. 'I don't know,' be said reflectively. 'The clothes are wrong.'

'They'd be burnt.'

'Mmm. Then there are the teeth. This plane's going to be found some time, Kissack, and someone might decide to do a thorough investigative job. If they discover the wrong man in the cockpit, then a hell of a lot of questions are going to be asked.'

'After more than forty years!'

'Stranger things have happened. No, on balance I think we'll leave things as they are. We have Billson's body so let's leave it at that. It'll look as though he got out before the plane went up.' Lash looked down at me and smiled. 'Don't let your hopes soar, Stafford. It's merely a reprieve.'

I said, 'You're a cold-blooded bastard!'

Kissack kicked me in the ribs and Lash caught his arm.

'Don't do that. I detest gratuitous violence.'

Kissack said, 'Gratty-what violence?'

'I mean I don't get my kicks out of it as you do.' Lash turned and looked at Flyaway. 'It doesn't look crashed,' he complained. 'Not so it would burn out. We'll have to raise the tail and tip the whole plane forward on to the engine.'

'Hell, that thing's heavy!'

'Not as heavy as all that, and there are five of us. All we have to do is to lift up the tail and put stones under it. When we get the pile of stones high enough it'll tip forward like a see-saw. But first, some petrol, I think.'

They walked away towards Flyaway and Lash climbed up on to the wing again. Kissack handed him a full jerrican and Lash poured it into the cockpit, and then poured another into the cargo compartment. Then he did the same thing again with two more jerricans and I saw the shimmering haze of evaporating petrol above the aircraft. It was like a bomb and only needed a spark to explode.

All five of them assembled at the tail. While four of them lifted the other piled stones underneath and gradually the tail rose higher and higher. While all eyes were off me I got busy with the stone blade at Byrne's wrists. I didn't see Flyaway tip over but when I looked her fuselage was at forty-five degrees and her tail was pointing to the sky. The rending noise had been the propeller bending under the sudden weight of the engine as it hit the ground.

They poured more petrol into her and Kissack used the last can to lay a trail across the sand. He didn't want to be too close when he tossed in a naked flame. He was quite a competent arsonist. Lash, standing close by us, took a paper from his pocket; I think it was the same one he had used to identify Flyaway. 'I won't need this any more,' he said conversationally, and lit one corner with a cigarette lighter. He held it up to make sure it was aflame, then tossed it into the petrol-soaked sand.

At first nothing happened. In the bright glare of the sun it was impossible to see the flames as they ran towards Flyaway. But then she exploded in fire; flames gouted out of the cockpit with a roar as though under forced draught, and ran up the fuselage right up to the tail and rudder until she was totally enveloped.

The donkeys brayed and plunged in fright. Lash shouted, 'Get those bloody donkeys out of here!' I don't think he had realized until then how much heat so much petrol would generate. They rounded up the donkeys and pushed them through the cleft, then went through themselves, leaving us lying there.

I took the opportunity of trying to cut the thongs at Byrne's wrists again, but he snatched himself away. 'For Christ's sake!' he said. 'Roll over against the rock and keep your head down. That goddamn auxiliary tank will be going up any second.'

We rolled over and huddled against the rock, keeping our faces away from the burning aeroplane. Behind us, seventy yards away, the auxiliary fuel tank exploded like a bomb and I felt a wave of searing heat. There was a pattering noise all about and something hit me in the small of the back. When I looked at Flyaway again she had blown in two, and her tail-plane and rudder were lying some distance from the forward section. One wing was also detached.

And I had lost my stone blade.

After that the flames died down very quickly and Lash came back. He looked down at us quizzically. 'Feeling a trifle singed? Never mind, it will make your hair grow.'

'Go to hell!' said Byrne.

Lash ignored him and looked at the wreck of Flyaway. 'A really nice job,' he said with satisfaction. 'I had considered using gelignite but it might not have looked right. This looks perfectly natural. Anyone who goes to the movies knows that, crashed aircraft burn well.' He beckoned to Kissack. 'Get these two on their feet and walking. We'll visit the grave.'

Kissack bent down and cut the thongs at my ankles and he wasn't particularly considerate about it because he cut me, too. I got to my feet laboriously because my hands were still tied behind my back and I lost my balance. Lash and Zayid led the way, with Byrne and me following, Kissack behind us with a pistol in his hand. The other two tagged on behind.

The cairn of stones had been disarranged and Billson's skull was showing. Lash looked down at it unemotionally. 'Well, we've got the body but we can't leave it like this, can we? I mean, the man wouldn't have died and conveniently buried himself.'

He gave orders in French and his men began to dismantle the cairn. I said, 'How did you know the plane would need burning?'

Lash shrugged. 'I didn't. If it had burned forty years ago it would have saved me a considerable amount of trouble. But I didn't take the chance. I never take chances. I came prepared for anything.'

He looked down as the desiccated corpse was revealed. 'Kissack wanted to put this in the cockpit before we burned the plane — but Kissack is a fool, as I'm sure you've learned. As soon as he told me there was an arm missing I vetoed that suggestion. Everything must not only look right — it must be right. I never take chances.'

The body was soon wholly uncovered. Lash looked down at it. 'Is this as you found it?'

'Yes.'

'I don't believe you. He would have left a message of some kind — left his papers.' His head came up and he stared at us. 'Where are they?'

'Maybe you just burned them,' said Byrne. 'You didn't search that airplane too well.'

'But you did,' said Lash. He turned to Kissack and said abruptly, 'When we get back down there I want those donkeys unloaded and everything searched.'

'All right,' said Kissack. He held the pistol negligently in his hand, muzzle down.

I wasn't worried about Billson's papers because Paul had them, wherever Paul was, which was probably a long way over the horizon by now. But if our stuff was searched they'd find the compass. Why in hell I was worried about that I don't know; it should have been the least of my worries.

I said, 'Kissack!'

'What?'

'When you burned Paul Billson's Land-Rover did you search it first?'

'What the hell? No, I didn't. What's it to you?'

'Nothing. You're getting paid five thousand pounds for this job, aren't you? I bet Lash is getting ten times as much.'

Lash's eyes flickered. 'Mr Stafford exaggerates.'

I stared at Kissack. 'Didn't Lash tell you?'

'Tell me what, for God's sake? What's Billson's Land-Rover got to do with my five thousand quid?'

I shrugged. 'Just that Billson was carrying quite a lot of cash. More than five thousand — much more. I can't believe Lash didn't tell you.'

'How much more?' Kissack said hoarsely.

'Fifty-six thousand in British currency. It was in his suitcase in the back of the Land-Rover.'

Kissack's eyes widened, and he whirled on Lash. 'Is that true?'

'How would I know?' said Lash in a bored voice. 'Keep your cool, man. Stafford's just trying to needle you.'

'Is he, now? I wonder?'

Lash lost his boredom. 'Damn it, if I'd known do you think I wouldn't have told you? Do you think I'd have stood by and let you burn money? I'm not such a — '

He had no time to say more because there was a shockingly loud bang from quite close and the top of Kissack's head blew off, spattering grey fragments of brain all about. His knees buckled and he collapsed to the ground, letting the pistol fall as he did so.

Paul Billson always did over-react.