So What Happens To Me?

One

The sound of the telephone bell brought me awake. I looked at the bedside clock. The time was 09.05. I threw of the sheet and swung my legs to the floor. Through the thin ceiling I could hear my old man answering the telephone. The call had to be for me. He scarcely ever had calls. I struggled into my dressing gown, and by the time I had reached the landing, he was calling for me.

‘Someone wants you Jack.’ he said. ‘Poison... Bolson... I didn’t get his name.’

I took the stairs in three jumps, aware my old man was looking sadly at me.

‘I’m just off,’ he said. ‘I wish you’d get up a little earlier. We could have had breakfast together.’

‘Yeah.’

I swept into the tiny, drab living room and grabbed up the receiver.

‘This is Jack Crane,’ I said as I watched my old man walk down the path to his five-year-old Chevy for another stint at the bank.

‘Hi! Jack!’

Thirteen months rolled away. I would know that voice anywhere and I stiffened to attention.

‘Colonel Olson!’

‘That’s me. Jack! How are you, you old sonofabitch?’

‘I’m fine. How are you sir?’

‘Cut the “sir” crap. We’re not in the army now thank God! I’ve had one hell of a time locating you.’

The snap in that voice seemed to me to be missing. Here was the greatest bomber pilot ever with enough decorations to plaster a wall actually telling me he had been trying to locate me! Colonel Bernie Olson! My Vietnam boss! The marvellous guy I had kept in the air come rain, sun and snow while he beat the hell out of the Viets. For three years I had been his chief mechanic before he got a bullet in his groin that fixed him. Our parting was the worst moment in my life. He went home and I was detailed to look after another pilot and what a slob he turned out to be! I had hero worshipped Olson. I had never expected to hear from him again, but here he was, speaking to me after thirteen months.

‘Listen, Jack,’ he was saying, ‘I’m rushed. Have to get off to Paris. How are you fixed? I can steer you to a job, working with me if you’re interested.’

‘I’ll say! Nothing would please me more.’

‘Okay. It’s worth fifteen grand. I’ll send you your air ticket and expenses and we’ll talk about it.’ Just why did this great guy sound so flat? I wondered. ‘I want you down here. I’m calling from Paradise City: it’s around sixty miles from Miami. The job’s a toughie, but you can make it. Anyway, unless you have something else lined up... what have you to lose?’

‘Did you say fifteen thousand dollars Colonel?’

‘That’s it, but you’ll earn it.’

‘That’s fine with me.’

‘You’ll be hearing from me. I’ve got to rush. See you Jack,’ and the connection was broken.

Slowly, I replaced the receiver, then stared up at the ceiling, a surge of excitement going through me. I had been discharged from the army now for the past six months. I had come home because there was nowhere else for me to go. I had lived these months in a small time town, spending my army payout on girls, booze and generally fooling around. It hadn’t been a happy time for either myself or for my old man who managed the local bank. I had told him I’d find a job sooner or later and not to worry. He wanted to part with his savings to set me up as a garage owner, but that was the last thing I wanted to do. I wasn’t going to be just another small-timer as he was. I wanted Big Time.

This was a nice little town and the girls were willing. I had had lots of fun as well as boredom and I told myself that when my money began to run out I would look for something but not in this town. Now, out of the blue, came Colonel Bernie Olson, the man I admired the most in the world, offering me a job that I paid of fifteen thousand! Had I really heard right? Fifteen thousand! And in the most opulent city on the Florida coast! I slammed my fist into my hand. I was so excited I wanted to stand on my head!

So I waited to hear from Olson. I didn’t tell my old man, but he was a wise old guy and he knew something was cooking. When he came back from the bank for lunch, he regarded me as he cooked two steaks. My mother had died while I was in Vietnam. I knew better than to interfere with his routine. He liked to buy the food on his way back from the bank and cook it while I stood around.

‘Something good for you Jack?’ he asked as he pushed the steaks around in the pan.

‘I don’t know yet. Could be. A friend of mine wants me to go down to Paradise City, Florida about a possible job.’

‘Paradise City?’

‘Yeah... near Miami.’

He served the steaks on plates.

‘That’s a long way from here.’

‘Could be further.’

We took our plates into the living room and we ate for a while, then he said, ‘Johnson wants to sell his garage. It could be a great opportunity for you. I would put up the capital.’

I looked at him: a lonely old man, desperately trying to hold on to me. It would be more than depressing for him to live in this box of a house on his own, but what kind of life would it be for me? He had had his life. I wanted to have mine.

‘It’s an idea, dad.’ I didn’t look at him but concentrated on the steak, ‘but I’ll see what this job is first.’

He nodded.

‘Of course.’

We left it like that. He went off to the bank for the afternoon stint and I lay on my bed, thinking. Fifteen thousand dollars! Maybe it was a tough, but no job could be too tough that paid that kind of money.

As I lay there. I thought back on the past. I was now twenty-nine years of age. I was a qualified aero-engineer. There was nothing I didn’t know about the guts of an aircraft. I had had a good paying job with Lockheed until I got drafted into the Army. I had spent three years keeping Colonel Olson in the air and now back in this small time town. I knew sooner or later I would have to pick up my career. The trouble with me, I told myself, was that the Army had spoilt me. I was reluctant to begin life again where I had to think for myself and to compete. The Army had suited me fine. The money was good, the girls were willing and I went along with the discipline. But fifteen grand a year sounded like the rise of the curtain to the way I hoped to live. A toughie? Well. I told myself as I reached for a cigarette, it would have to be damned tough before I quit on that kind of money.

Two days dragged by, then I got a bulky envelope from Olson. It arrived as my old man was taking of for the bank. He came up to my room, tapped on the door and came in. I had just come awake and I felt like hell. I had had a really thick night. I had taken Suzy Dawson to the Taverna nightclub and we had got stinking drunk. Later we had rolled around on a piece of waste ground until 03.00, then somehow I had got her home and somehow I had got myself home and into bed.

I blinked at my old man, feeling my head expanding and contracting. I was getting double vision that told me how stinking I had been. He looked very tall, very thin and very tired, but what really killed me was there were two of him.

‘Hi, Dad!’ I said and forced myself to sit up.

‘Here’s a letter for you Jack,’ he said. ‘I hope it’s what you want. I have to get off. See you lunchtime.’

I took the bulky envelope.

‘Thanks... have a good morning.’ That was the least I could say.

‘The usual.’

I lay still until I heard the front door close, then I ripped open the envelope. It contained a first class ticket to Paradise City, five hundred dollars in cash and a brief note that ran:

I’ll meet your plane. Bernie.

I looked at the money. I checked the air ticket. Fifteen thousand dollars a year! In spite of my aching head and feeling drained empty, I punched the air and yelled Yippee!

As I came through the banner that led into the opulent lobby of Paradise City’s airport. I spotted him before he spotted me.

That tall, lean figure was unmistakable, but there were changes.

Then he saw me and his lean face lit up with a smile. It wasn’t that wide, friendly grin he kept especially for me out in Vietnam. It was a cynical smile of a man full of disillusions, but anyway a smile.

‘Hi! Jack!’

We shook hands. His hand was hot and sweaty: so sweaty I surreptitiously wiped my hand on the seat of my pants.

‘Hi! Colonel! It’s been a long time...’

‘Sure has.’ He regarded me. ‘Cut out the Colonel, Jack. Call me Bernie. You look fine.’

‘And you too.’

His grey eyes moved over me.

‘That’s good news. Well, come on. Let’s get out of here.’

We crossed the crowded lobby into the hot sunshine. As we walked I looked him over. He was wearing a dark blue blouse shirt, white linen slacks and expensive looking sandals. He made my seersucker brown suit and scuffed shoes shabby.

In the shade stood a white E-type Jag. He slid under the driving wheel and I got in beside him, shoving my bag at the back.

‘Some car.’

‘Yeah. It’s all right.’ He shot me a quick look. ‘It’s not mine. It belongs to the boss.’

He drove onto the highway. The time was 10.00 and the traffic was light.

‘What have you been doing since you got out?’ he asked as he steered the car past a truck loaded with crates of oranges.

‘Nothing. Just getting the feel of being out. I’m shacked up with my old man. I’ve been spending Army money. It’s running low now. You caught me at the right moment. Next week I was going to write to Lockheed to see if they could find a place for me.’

‘You wouldn’t want that, would you?’

‘I guess not, but I have to eat.’

Olson nodded.

‘That’s right... don’t we all.’

‘You look as if you eat and then some.’

‘Yeah.’

He swung the Jag of the highway and onto a dirt road that led down to the sea. A hundred yards or so down the road we came to a wooden built cafe-bar with a veranda that looked out onto the expanse of beach and beyond the sea. He pulled up.

‘We can talk here Jack,’ he said and got out.

I followed him up the creaky steps and onto the veranda. The place was empty. We sat down at a table and a girl came out and smiled at us.

‘What’ll you have?’ Olson asked.

‘A coke,’ I said although I wanted whisky.

‘Two cokes.’

The girl went away.

‘You quit drinking Jack?’ Olson asked. ‘I remember you were hitting the hard stuff pretty often.’

‘I start after six.’

‘Sound idea. I don’t touch the stuff now.’

He produced a pack of cigarettes and we lit up. The girl came with the cokes, then went away.

‘I haven’t a lot of time Jack, so let me give you the photo,’ Olson said. ‘I have a job for you... if you want it.’

‘You said fifteen grand. I’m still getting over the shock.’ I grinned at him. ‘Anyone but you who offered me that kind of money, I would have thought crazy, but coming from you. Colonel, I’m sort of excited.’

He sipped his coke and stared out across the beach.

‘I’m working for Lane Essex,’ he said and paused.

I stared at him, startled. There could be few people who hadn’t heard of Lane Essex. He was one of those colourful men like Playboy’s Hefner, although a lot richer than Hefner. Essex ran nightclubs, owned hotels in every major city in the world, ran Casinos, built blocks of apartments, owned a couple of oil fields, had a big stake in the Detroit car world and was reputed to be worth two billion dollars.

‘That’s something!’ I exclaimed. ‘Lane Essex! You mean you’re offering me a job to work for him?’

‘That’s the idea Jack, if you want it.’

‘Want it? This is terrific! Lane Essex!’

‘Sounds fine, doesn’t it? But I told you... it’s a toughie. Look, Jack, working for Essex is like getting tangled with a buzz saw.’ He stared at me. ‘I’m thirty-five and I have grey hair. Why? Because I work for Lane Essex.’

I looked directly at him and I remembered him thirteen months ago. He had aged ten years. That snap in his voice had gone. There was a shifty, worried expression in his eyes. His hands were never still. He fiddled with his glass. He kept flicking at his cigarette. He kept running his fingers through his greying hair. This wasn’t Colonel Bernie Olson I used to know.

‘Is it that tough?’

‘Essex has a saying,’ Olson said quietly. ‘He says nothing in this world is impossible. He called a meeting a couple of months ago and had all his staff gathered together in some goddamn hall. He delivered a pep talk. The theme was that if you wanted to remain with him you had to accept the impossible as possible. He has a staff of over eight hundred men and women: that’s his personal staff; people working in Paradise City; executives, P.R.O’s. lawyers, accountants, right down to people like myself. He told us if we couldn’t accept this requirement that nothing on this earth is impossible, then to see Jackson, his second-in-command, and check out. Not one of the eight hundred dummies, including myself, saw Jackson. So now we’re stuck with this slogan that nothing is impossible.’ He flicked away the butt of his cigarette and lit another. ‘Now I come to you Jack. Essex has ordered a new plane: a four jet job I’m going to fly. It’s a very special job with accommodation for a big conference, ten sleeping cabins, all the works: bar, restaurant and so on and so on, plus Essex’s suite with a circular bed. This job will be delivered in three months’ time, but Essex’s runway which takes the kite I’m flying now isn’t long enough to take the new kite. I have the job of lengthening the runway. While I’m doing this, I also have to fly him all over the goddamn world. It just can’t be done, but nothing is impossible.’ He drank some of his coke. ‘So I thought of you I’m putting the cards face up on the table Jack. I get paid forty-five thousand a year. I want you to take care of the runway and see for certain it is ready within three months from today. We get delivery of the new kite on November 1st and I expect to fly her in. I’m offering you fifteen thousand out of my pay. I tried to talk to Essex, but he wouldn’t play. “It’s your job, Olson,” he said. “How you do it doesn’t interest me but do it!” I knew better than to ask him for extra help. He doesn’t go along with that sort of talk. You don’t have to worry about expenses. I’ve got the operation started, but I want you to be there to see it keeps moving.’

‘What’s the additional length of the runway?’

‘A half a mile will do it.’

‘What’s the ground like?’

‘Pretty hellish. There’s a forest, slopes and even rocks.’

‘I’d like to take a look at it.’

‘I expected you to say that.’

We regarded each other. This wasn’t the exciting job I had been hoping for. Some instinct told me that there was something odd about it.

‘At the end of three months, providing I get the runway built, what happens to me?’

‘A good question.’ He fiddled with his glass and stared out across the beach. ‘I’ll have a talking point with Essex. He’ll be pleased. I can talk him into giving you the job as airport supervisor and you’ll earn at least thirty thousand.’

I finished my coke while I thought.

‘Suppose Essex isn’t pleased... then how do I stand?’

‘You mean if you don’t complete the job in three months?’

‘That’s what I mean.’

Olson lit another cigarette. I noticed his hands were unsteady.

‘Then I guess you and I are washed up. I told him it could be done. If you don’t fix it, then we both are out.’ He dragged smoke into his lungs. ‘I was lucky to get this job Jack. Top class pilots are a dime a dozen these days. Essex has only to snap his fingers to have a load of them in his lap.’

‘You talked about fifteen thousand a year. What it really comes down to is you will pay me $3750 for three months’ work and then it depends on how pleased Essex will be whether I get on the permanent staff — right?’

Olson stared at the tip of his cigarette.

‘That’s about it.’ He looked at me, then away. ‘After all Jack, as you have nothing to do right now it isn’t so bad is it?’

‘No, it isn’t bad.’

We sat in silence for a long moment, then he said. ‘Let’s go over to the airfield. You take a look and tell me what you think. I have to take him to New York in three hours so I haven’t a lot of time.’

‘I’d like some money paid into my bank before I start work, Bernie,’ I said. ‘I’m short.’

‘No problem, I’ll fix that.’ He got to his feet. ‘Let’s look at it.’

There’s something wrong about this setup, I told myself as he drove back onto the highway. But what can I lose? $3750 for a three months stint wasn’t bad money. If it didn’t finally jell, I still had Lockheed to fall back on. All the same my mind was uneasy. This man at my side wasn’t the great Colonel Olson I used to know. That man I would have trusted with my last cent. I would have given my life for him, but not this man.

There was an odd change in him that bothered me. I couldn’t put my finger on what the change was, but I felt wary of him and that’s a bad thing.

The Lane Essex airport was located about ten miles behind the City. Above the big-wired entrance gates was a sign that read:

The two guards in bottle green uniforms with revolvers on their hips, saluted Olson as he drove in.

The usual airport buildings looked bright, new and modem. I could see people moving around in the control tower. They also wore this bottle green uniform.

Olson drove onto the runway, sending the jag surging forward. About half a mile down the runway, I saw a big cloud of dust and Olson slowed.

‘Here we are,’ he said and pulled up. ‘Look, Jack, let me put you further in the photo. I’ve organised everything as I told you. Your job is to see that it is kept organised. I’m scared of labour trouble. We have a gang of around sixteen hundred men: most of them coloured. They sleep in tents and they are supposed to work from 07.00 to 18.00 with a two-hour break for lunch. Make no mistake about this: It’s goddamn hot in the afternoon. The man in charge is Tim O’Brien. You’ll be his boss. I’ve told him you’re coming. He’s okay, but I don’t trust the Irish over much. Your job is to supervise him while he supervises the gang. Keep clear of them. I don’t want trouble. They like O’Brien. Do you get all this?’

I stared at him.

‘So what the hell do I do?’

‘Like I said. Watch O’Brien. Move around the site. If you spot anyone lying down on the job, tell O’Brien. Make certain no one knocks of until 18.00.’

He got out of the car and walked fast towards the cloud of dust. Bewildered, I followed him. When we had got beyond the cloud of dust, I saw the work going on and it shook me. There seemed to be around twenty bulldozers levelling the ground. An army of men sweated with shovels, heaving rocks, cutting up fallen trees with electric saws. There was a road-making machine and the stink of tar was strong.

From somewhere a short, fat man wearing baggy, dirty khaki trousers and a sweat-stained shirt appeared before us.

‘Hi! Colonel,’ he said.

‘How’s it going, Tim?’ Olson asked.

The man grinned.

‘Like a dream. The boys have cut down thirty firs this morning. We’re just clearing them.’

Olson turned to me.

‘Jack... meet Tim O’Brien. You two are going to work together. Tim... this is Jack Crane.’

While he was speaking, I was looking at O’Brien. He was a solid hunk of bone, fat and muscle, around forty-five years of age, balding, with a blunt featured face, steady blue eyes and a firm mouth. This was a man no one could dislike: a worker, a man you could trust and I thrust out my hand which he gripped, shook and then released.

‘Tim... wise Crane up, I’ve got to get moving.’ Olson looked uneasily at his strap watch. ‘Get him a cabin and a jeep.’

A violent, too close explosion went off with a bang that made me jump.

O’Brien grinned.

‘We’re blasting,’ he said. ‘Got a lot of rock down there.’

Olson tapped my arm.

‘I’ve got to move Jack. I’ll be seeing you in three days’ time. Tim will look after you.’

He turned and started back to where he had left the jag.

O’Brien looked at his watch

‘Give me ten minutes, Mr. Crane and we’ll go back to the airport. I just want to see the boys get their lunch,’ and he walked of leaving me standing there like a goddamn dummy.

I watched. The operation of clearing the land was going like clockwork. Already the road-building machine had completed two hundred yards of runway. There was another bang as more explosives tore into the rocks ahead and ten bulldozers roared into action. What the hell am I doing here? I asked myself. This couldn’t be better organised. At the rate these men were working the runway would be completed in two months let alone three.

I stood waiting in the hot sunshine until someone blew a whistle. The machines cut and the noise died down. Men dropped their shovels and there was a general movement towards three big trucks where Negroes started to hand out drinks and food containers.

O’Brien drove up to me in an open jeep.

‘Hop in, Mr. Crane.’ he said. ‘I’ll take you to your cabin. You could do with a shower. I know I could!’ He grinned. ‘Then suppose you and me have a snack together in my cabin. It’s right next door.’

‘Fine.’ I got in beside him. ‘Look, Tim, suppose you call me Jack?’

He glanced at me, then nodded.

‘Why not?’

He drove fast down the runway, sheered of and headed towards a long row of cabins that stood near the control tower. He pulled up outside the row, got out and walked over to cabin 5.

‘This is yours. Make yourself at home. Suppose you come to cabin 6 in half an hour? Okay?’

‘Fine with me.’

Carrying my bag, I opened the cabin door and walked into a blessed air-conditioned atmosphere. I shut the door and looked around. Everything in the big living room was luxe. Four lounging chairs, a fully stocked refrigerated cocktail cabinet, a colour T.V., a bookshelf stuffed with books, a fitted carpet that felt like I was walking on grass and a stereo and radio set against the far wall. Beyond the living room was a small bedroom with a double bed, closets, night table with a lamp and beyond that a bathroom with all the equipment you could wish for.

I stripped of, took a shower, shaved, put on a short-sleeved shirt and a pair of linen slacks, then returned to the living room. I was tempted to have a drink, but decided against it. Checking my watch, I had five minutes to wait, so I lit a cigarette and waited. At 12.30 I went to cabin 6 and tapped.

O’Brien looking a lot less sweaty but still in the same clothes opened the door and waved me in. I entered a facsimile of the cabin I had just left. There was a smell of onions frying that made my mouth water.

‘Lunch is just about ready,’ he said. ‘What’ll you drink?’

‘Nothing, thanks.’ I sat down in one of the lounging chairs.

A girl wearing a bottle green blouse and tight bottle green pants came in with a tray. Quickly she set the table, put down two plates, then left.

‘Let’s eat,’ O’Brien said and sat at the table.

I joined him.

My plate contained a thick steak, lima beans and french fried potatoes.

‘You eat well here,’ I said as I cut into the steak.

‘Everything is top class here.’ O’Brien said. ‘We’re working for Essex.’

We ate for a minute or so, then O’Brien said, ‘I understand you and Olson were buddies in Vietnam.’

‘He was my boss. I kept him in the air.’

‘How did you like it in Vietnam?’

I cut another piece of steak, put mustard on it and stared at it.

‘It was fine with me but then I wasn’t getting shot at.’ I conveyed the steak into my mouth and chewed.

‘Makes a difference.’

‘You can say that again.’

We ate for some moments, them O’Brien said. ‘You have had a lot of experience in laying runways?’

I paused in eating and looked directly at him. He was looking directly at me. We stared at each other and I just couldn’t help liking this heavy, fat man as he chewed his steak, his frank blue eyes looking into mine.

‘I’m an aero-engineer,’ I said. ‘I know the guts of most kites, but I have no idea how to build a runway.’

He gave a little nod, then plastered a piece of his steak with mustard.

‘Yeah. Well, Jack, thanks for being frank. Let’s take it from here. Olson told me he wanted me supervised. He’s scared the runway won’t be completed in three months. He said he was getting an expert to watch me. I go along with him because the money is fine. He’s scared silly of Essex. When a man is scared of another man because he’s worried about keeping his job, then I’m sorry for him and am willing to play along.’

I hesitated, then said, ‘I knew him thirteen months ago. This is the first time I’ve seen him since then. There’s been a hell of a change.’

‘Is that right? I’ve only been on the job for a couple of weeks, but I know a scared man when I see him.’ O’Brien finished his meal, then sat back. ‘Well, Jack, what do you suggest you do? I can assure you the runway will be completed within the next six weeks. I’ve a fine gang working with me and I know I can rely on them.’

‘Olson said something about labour trouble.’

O’Brien shook his head.

‘Not a chance. Everyone’s well paid and I know how to handle them.’

I shrugged.

‘Then I’m damned if I know what I’m going to do. As soon as I saw your setup I knew there was nothing in it for me. You know, Tim there’s something, goofy about this. Olson is paying me good money out of his own pocket for what seems to be for nothing.’

O’Brien smiled.

‘Well, if you’re getting paid and it’ll make you happy, you’d better supervise me, hadn’t you?’

‘Can I come with you and take a look around?’ I felt awkward.

‘Of course.’ He looked at his watch. ‘Time I got moving anyway.’

He drove me back to the site and slid out of the jeep.

‘You take her Jack. I won’t need her this afternoon. Take a look around. I’m open to any suggestions.’

Feeling stupid, I drove by the men who had already begun working, got beyond the level ground and down into the forest. There I left the jeep and walked.

Fifty or so Negroes were felling trees with electric saws. They glanced indifferently at me, then one of them, a big, good-looking buck waved me away.

‘Ain’t safe to wander around, brother,’ he said. ‘Trees are falling like rain.’

I moved away and leaving the forest, I walked into the hot sun to where they were blasting. Again I was told to keep away. As O’Brien had said, the work was going ahead at a fast clip. He had enough machines, enough men and enough explosives to make the runway in six weeks.

I turned down a sloping path that led to a running stream, well away from the site and I sat on a rock, lit a cigarette and did some thinking.

One thing I was now certain of: there was nothing here for me to do with O’Brien in charge. So why had Olson sent for me? Why was he paying me $3750 out of his own pocket just to stooge around when he must know that O’Brien would deliver? What was behind this business? He had gone now to New York. He had said he would be back in three days. In the meantime what was I going to do? My first inclination was to go back home, leaving a letter for him, saying I couldn’t see how I could be of help, but I quickly killed that idea. I didn’t want to go back to that little drab house: back into small time again. I decided I would wait here until Olson returned and then have it out with him. In the meantime, I decided to write a report on the progress of the runway just to show him that I had been trying to earn his money.

I returned to the site and found O’Brien working on a stalled bulldozer. When he saw me, he came over.

‘Look, Tim,’ I said. I had to shout to get above the noise of the other bulldozers, ‘it looks fine to me. Of course the runway will be finished in six weeks. At the rate you’re going it could be finished in five.’

He nodded.

‘But I’ve got to do something to earn my money. I need it. Could I look at your records so I can get out some kind of report for Olson? Would you mind that?’

‘Sure, Jack. That’s no problem. Go to my cabin. In the top left-hand drawer of my desk, you’ll find everything you want. I won’t come back with you. I have this machine to fix.’

‘I appreciate that.’ I paused, then went on. ‘My report will probably lose me my job, but that’s my luck. I’m going to say there’s nothing I can do better than what you’re doing right now.’

He regarded me, smiled, then lightly punched me on my arm.

‘You’ve said it. I’ve been constructing runways now for the past twenty years. See you tonight,’ and leaving me, he returned to the stalled bulldozer.

I got in the jeep and drove back to the cabins. I was sweating. The afternoon sun was fierce and it was a relief to walk into O’Brien’s air-conditioned cabin. I paused in the doorway, startled.

A blonde girl was lolling in one of the lounging chairs. She was wearing red stretch pants and a white blouse that was open to her navel, just containing her heavy breasts. Her hair fell to her shoulders in a cascade of gold silk. She was around twenty-five years of age with a narrow, high cheek boned face with large green eyes. She was about the sexiest looking woman I had seen for more years than I cared to remember.

She regarded me coolly and then smiled. Her teeth were as white as orange pith and her lips glistening and sensual.

‘Hi!’ she said. ‘Looking for Tim?’

I moved into the room and closed the door.

‘He’s out on the site.’

‘Oh!’ She made a little face, then stirred her lush body. ‘I was hoping to catch him. How that man works!’

‘I guess that’s right.’

All right, I admit it, she turned me on. The girls in my small time town had nothing on her.

‘Who are you?’ she asked, smiling.

‘Jack Crane. I’m the new runway supervisor. Who are you?’

‘Pam Osborn. I’m deputy air hostess when Jean wants time off.’

We regarded each other

‘Well, that’s fine.’ I went over to the desk and sat down. ‘Anything I can do for you Miss Osborn?’

‘Maybe... it’s a lonely life sticking around this airport.’ She shifted a little in her chair. One of her heavy breasts nearly escaped but she pushed it back in time. ‘I looked in to chat up Tim.’

That I didn’t believe. I was sure at this hour — it was just after 16.00, she would know O’Brien would be on the site.

Again I felt wary. I was sure she had been waiting for me. Why?

‘You have no luck.’ I opened the top left-hand drawer of the desk. There was a heavy black leather folder there. I took it out. ‘I too have work to do.’

She laughed.

‘The brush-off Jack?’

‘Well...’

We looked at each other.

‘Well... what?’

I hesitated, but she had me going now.

‘My cabin’s next door,’ I said.

‘So shall we go next door?’

Again I hesitated, but women like her do things to me. I put the folder back in the drawer

‘Why not?’

She slid out of the chair as I came around the desk.

‘There’s something about you...’

‘I know, and there’s something about you too.’

I slid my arms around her as she slammed her body against mine. Her lips crushed mine and her tongue darted into my mouth.

All caution, all wariness went from my mind. I practically dragged her out of O’Brien’s cabin and into mine.

‘You’re some man,’ she said lazily.

The loving, if you can call it that, was over and she lay like a beautiful, sleek cat on the big bed beside me.

She had been the best lay I had had since the little Vietnamese way back in Saigon who had been a little more violent, a little more intense, but not much.

I reached for a cigarette, lit it and stretched. My mind became wary again.

‘Sort of sudden, wasn’t it?’ I said, not looking at her.

She laughed.

‘I suppose. I heard you had arrived. I hoped you would want a little loving. I guessed you would come to Tim’s cabin or your own. I’m a girl who needs it and Man, are there creeps on this camp: creeps who are scared of their own shadows. They would no more screw than cut their throats: that’s how scared they are of losing their jobs.’

‘So that talk about waiting to chat up Tim was so much crap?’

‘What do you think? Can you imagine a girl like me taking on a sweaty, husky like Tim? I’ve nothing against him. He’s okay, but not my type.’ She raised her arms above her head and released a contented sigh. ‘I was hoping to find new blood...I’ve found it.’

I half turned and looked at her. She was a beautiful, lush, hard piece of corruption, but she fascinated me.

‘Does Olson get it from you?’

‘Bernie?’ She shook her head and her face darkened a little. ‘Don’t you know what happened to him? He got a bullet where it does the most damage. Poor Bernie is no longer operative.’

This shocked me. I knew Olson had been hit in the groin while completing his last mission, but I hadn’t thought just what that could mean. Was that Olson’s trouble, apart from being scared he would lose his job? Judas! I thought, if that had happened to me!

‘I didn’t know.’

‘He’s a marvellous man,’ Pam said. ‘He talked to me about you. He thinks you’re marvellous too. He’s a big admirer of yours.’

‘Is that right?’

‘He needs you Jack. He’s lonely. He doesn’t get along with these other creeps. He kept asking me if I thought you would take this job. He was scared you would turn him down.’

Okay, it was well done, but there was a ring about it that warned me she had been rehearsed.

‘I wouldn’t turn Bernie down no matter what the job was.’

She raised one leg and regarded it.

‘Well, you’re here... that proves it, doesn’t it?’ She lowered her leg and smiled at me.

‘But how long do I stay? There’s no job here for me baby. Tim is taking care of the runway.’

‘Bernie wants you to watch him.’

‘I know. He told me. Tim doesn’t need watching.’ I crushed out my cigarette. ‘What else did he tell you?’

She gave me that blank look women give when they are not talking.

‘Just he wanted you with him: that’s all.’

‘You sound as if you have his confidence.’

‘You could say that. There are times when there is no flying. Essex isn’t always in the air. Bernie and I get together. He doesn’t like Jean. He’s lonely.’

‘You don’t mean he’s offering to pay me out of his own pocket because he wants my company?’

‘That’s about it Jack. I hope you’ll go along with him.’

‘I think I’d better talk to him.’

‘You do that.’

‘He seems scared of losing his job.’

‘Everyone is. Essex is hard to get along with and so is Mrs. Essex.’

‘Is there a Mrs. Essex?’

Pam wrinkled her nose.

‘You’re lucky Bernie is employing you. Yes there is a Mrs. Essex... dear Victoria. I hope you never run into her. She’s a blueprint for the biggest bitch in the world. Everyone is terrified of her.’

‘Like that?’

‘Yes. You put a foot wrong just once and Mrs. Essex gets you the gate. She has her husband in the palm of her hand. Okay, Essex is a bastard, full of conceit, but then he has something to be conceited about. But Victoria! She’s a jumped up nothing: just a beautiful face and body: a spoilt pampered bitch who plays hell with anyone who depends on Essex for a living.’

‘She sounds nice.’

‘That’s the word.’ Pam laughed. ‘Keep clear of her. What are you doing tonight? Like to take me out to dinner? I have a Mini Austin. We could go to a seafood restaurant in the City. Fancy it?’

‘Fine.’ I said. ‘Now move this beautiful body out of here. I have work to do.’

‘Not on your first day Jack. That’s always fatal,’ and she twined her arms around me.