Rat Race Part 7

The Major took a step forward, bristling like a terrier. 'Did I hear you turning down Annie's proposition?'

'Yes, Major.'

'Why?' he asked in an aggrieved tone. 'Our money is as good as anyone else's, and her horses are always fit.'

'I'm sorry, Major, but no. Just let's leave it at that.'

The Major looked affronted and took Annie Villars off to see if the bar was open. Colin sighed and sprawled in a wooden armchair.

'G.o.d save me,' he said, 'From crooks.'

I sat down too. 'She doesn't seem crooked to me.'

'Who, Annie? She isn't really. Just not one hundred per cent permanently scrupulous. No, it's that crummy slob Goldenberg that I don't like. She does what he says, a lot too much. I'm not taking indirect riding orders from him.'

'Like Kenny Bayst?' I suggested.

He looked at me sideways. 'The word gets around, I see. Kenny reckons he's well out of it. Well I'm not stepping in.' He paused reflectively. 'The Board of Trade investigator who came to see me asked if I thought there was any significance in Bayst having cried off the return trip the other day.'

'What did you say?'

'I said I didn't. Did you?'

'I confess I wondered, because he did go across to the aeroplane after the races, and he certainly felt murderous, but...'

'But,' he agreed, 'Would Kenny Bayst be cold blooded enough to kill you and me as well?' He shook his head. 'Not Kenny, I wouldn't have thought.'

'And besides that,' I nodded, 'He only came to the steaming boil after he lost the three thirty, and just how would he rustle up a bomb at Haydock in a little over one hour?'

'He would have to have arranged it in advance.'

'That would mean that he knew he would lose the race...'

'It's been done,' said Colin dryly.

There was a pause. Then I said, 'Anyway, I think we had it with us all the time. Right from before I left base.'

He swivelled his head and considered it. 'In that case... Larry?'

'Would he?'

'G.o.d knows. Sneaky fellow. Pinched Nancy's hundred quid. But a bomb... and what was the point?'

I shook my head.

Colin said, 'Bombs are usually either political or someone's next of kin wanting to collect the insurance.'

'Fanatics or family...' I stifled the beginnings of a yawn.

'You don't really care, do you?' he said.

'Not that much.'

'It doesn't disturb you enough to wonder whether the bomb merchant will try again?'

'About as much as it's disturbing you.'

He grinned. 'Yes... well. It would be handy to know for sure whose name was on that one. One would look so d.a.m.n silly taking fiddly precautions if it was the Major who finally got clobbered. Or you.'

'Me?' I said in astonishment.

'Why not?'

I shook my head. 'I don't stand in anyone's way to anything.'

'Someone may think you do.'

'Then they're nuts.'

'It takes a nut... a regular psycho... to put a bomb in an aeroplane...'

Tyderman and Annie Villars came back from the direction of the bar with two more people, a man and a woman.

'Oh Christ,' Colin said under his breath. 'Here comes my own personal Chanter.' He looked at me accusingly. 'You didn't tell me who the other pa.s.sengers were.'

'I don't know them. Who are they? I don't do the bookings.'

We stood up. The woman, who was in her thirties but dressed like a teenager, made a straight line for Colin and kissed him exuberantly on the cheek.

'Colin, darling, there was a spare seat and Annie said I could come. Wasn't that absolutely super of her?'

Colin glared at Annie who pretended not to notice.

The girl-woman had a strong upper cla.s.s accent, white knee socks, a camel coloured high waisted dress, several jingling gold bracelets, streaky fair brawn long hair, a knock-you-down exotic scent and an air of expecting everyone to curl up and die for her.

She latched her arm through Colin's so that he couldn't disentangle without giving offence, and said with a somehow unattractive gaiety, 'Come along everyone, let's take the plunge. Isn't it all just too unnerving, flying around with Colin these days.'

'You don't actually have to come,' Colin said without quite disguising his wishes.

She seemed oblivious. 'Darling,' she said. 'Too riveting. Nothing would stop me.'

She moved off towards the door, followed by the Major and Annie and the new man together, and finally by me. The new man was large and had the same air as the woman of expecting people to jump to it and smooth his path. The Major and Annie Villars were busy smoothing it, their ears bent deferentially to catch any falling crumbs of wisdom, their heads nodding in agreement over every opinion.

The two just-teenage girls I had stationed beside the locked aircraft were still on duty, retained more by the promise of Colin's autograph than by my money. They got both, and were delighted. No one, they anxiously insisted, had even come close enough to ask what they were doing. No one could possibly have put a piece of chewing gum on to the aeroplane, let alone a bomb.

Colin, signing away, gave me a sidelong look of amus.e.m.e.nt and appreciation and said safety came cheap at the price. He was less amused to find that the affectionate lady had stationed herself in one of the rear seats and was beckoning him to come and sit beside her.

'Who is she?' I asked.

'Fenella Payne-Percival. Fenella pain in the neck.'

I laughed. 'And the man?'

'Duke of Wess.e.x. Annie's got a horse running for him today.'

'Not Rudiments again?'

He looked up in surprise from the second autograph book.

'Yes. That's right. Bit soon, I would have thought.' He finished the book and gave it back. 'Kenny Bayst isn't riding it.' His voice was dry.

'You don't say.'

The pa.s.sengers had sorted themselves out so that Annie and the Duke sat in the centre seats, with the Major waiting for me to get in before him into the first two. He nodded his stiff little nod as I stepped up on to the wing, and pushed at his moustache. Less tense, slightly less rigid, than last time. The owner was along instead of Goldenberg and Kenny wasn't there to stir things up. No coup today, I thought. No coup to go wrong.

The flight up was easy and uneventful, homing to the radio beacon on the coast at Ottringham and tracking away from it on a radial to Redcar. We landed without fuss on the racecourse and the pa.s.sengers yawned and unbuckled themselves.

'I wish every racecourse had a landing strip,' Colin sighed. 'It makes the whole day so much easier. I hate all those dashes from airport to course by taxi.'

The racecourses which catered for aeroplanes were in a minority, which seemed a shame considering there was room enough on most, if anyone cared enough. Harley constantly raved in frustration at having to land ten or fifteen miles away and fix up transportation for the pa.s.sengers. All the conveniently placed R.A.F. airfields with superb runways who either refused to let private aircraft land at all, or shut their doors firmly at 5 p.m. weekdays and all day on Sat.u.r.days had him on the verge of tears. As also did all the airfields whose owners said they wouldn't take the responsibility of having an aircraft land there or take off if they didn't have a fire engine standing by, even though Harley's own insurance didn't require it.

'The English are as air-minded as earth worms,' Harley said.

On the other hand Honey had tacked a list to the office wall which started in big red letters 'G.o.d Bless..." and continued with all the friendly and accommodating places like Kempton Park, which let you land up the five furlong straight (except during five furlong races) and R.A.F. stations like Wroughton and Leeming and Old Sarum, who really tried for you, and the airfields who could let you land when they were officially shut, and all the privately owned strips whose owners generously agreed to you using them any time you liked.

Harley's view of Heaven was an open public landing field outside every town and a windsock and a flat four furlongs on every racecourse. It wasn't much to ask, he said plaintively. Not in view of the dozens of enormous airfields which had been built during world war two and were now disused and wasted.

He could dream, I thought. There was never any money for such schemes, except in wars.

The pa.s.sengers stretched themselves on to the gra.s.s. Fenella Payne-Percival made little up and down jumps of excitement like a small girl, the Major patted his binocular case rea.s.suringly, Annie Villars efficiently picked up her own belongings and directed a look of melting feminine helplessness towards the Duke, Colin looked at his watch and smiled, and the Duke himself glanced interestedly around and said, 'Nice day, what?'

A big man, he had a fine looking head with thick greying hair, eyebrows beginning to sprout, and a strong square jaw, but there wasn't enough living stamped on his face for a man in his fifties, and I remembered what Nancy had said of him: sweet as they come, but nothing but cottonwool upstairs.

Colin said to me, 'Are you coming into the paddock?'

I shook my head. 'Better stay with the aeroplane, this time.'

The Duke said, 'Won't you need some lunch, my dear chap?'

'It's kind of you, sir. but I often don't have any.'

'Really?' He smiled. 'Must have my lunch.'

Annie Villars said, 'We'll leave soon after the last. About a quarter to five.'

'Right,' I agreed.

'Doesn't give us time for a drink, Annie,' complained the Duke.

She swallowed her irritation. 'Any time after that, then.'

'I'll be here,' I said.

'Oh do come on,' said Fenella impatiently. 'The pilot can look after himself, can't he? Let's get going, do. Come on, Colin darling.' She twined her arm in his again and he all but squirmed. They moved away towards the paddock obediently, with only Colin looking back. I laughed at the desperation on his face and he stuck out his tongue.

There were three other aircraft parked in a row. One private, one from a Scottish taxi firm, and one Polyplane. All the pilots seemed to have gone in to the races, but when I climbed out half way through the afternoon to stretch my legs, I found the Polyplane pilot standing ten yards away, staring at the Cherokee with narrowed eyes and smoking a cigarette.

He was one of the two who had been at Haydock. He seemed surprised that I was there.

'h.e.l.lo,' I said equably. Always a sucker.

He gave me the old hard stare. 'Taking no chances today, I see.'

I ignored the sneer in his voice. 'That's right.'

'We got rid of that aircraft,' he said sarcastically nodding towards it, 'Because we'd flown the guts out of it. It's only suitable now for minor operators like you.'

'It shows signs of the way you flew it,' I agreed politely: and that deadly insult did nothing towards cooling the feud.

He compressed his lips and flicked the end of his cigarette away into the gra.s.s. A thin trickle of blue smoke arose from among the tangled green blades. I watched it without comment. He knew as well as I did that smoking near parked aircraft was incredibly foolish, and on all airfields, forbidden.

He said, 'I'm surprised you take the risk of flying Colin Ross. If your firm are proved to be responsible for his death you'll be out of business.'

'He's not dead yet.'

'If I were him I wouldn't risk flying any more with Derry-downs.'

'Did he, by any chance,' I asked, 'Once fly with Polyplanes? Is all this sourness due to his having transferred to Derrydowns instead?'

He gave me a bitter stare. 'No,' he said.

I didn't believe him. He saw that I didn't. He turned on his heel and walked away.

Rudiments won the big race. The dim green colours streaked up the centre of the track at the last possible moment and pushed Colin on the favourite into second place. I could hear the boos all the way from the stands An hour until the end of racing. I yawned, leaned back in my seat, and went to sleep.

A young voice saying 'Excuse me,' several times, woke me up. I opened my eyes. He was about ten, slightly shy, ultra well bred. Squatting down on the wing, he spoke through the open door.

'I say, I'm sorry to wake you, but my uncle wanted me to come over and fetch you. He said you hadn't had anything to eat all day. He thinks you ought to. And besides, he's had a winner and he wants you to drink his health.'

'Your uncle is remarkably kind,' I said, 'But I can't leave the aeroplane.'

'Well, actually, he thought of that. I've brought my father's chauffeur over with me, and he is going to sit here for you until you come back.' He smiled with genuine satisfaction at these arrangements.

I looked past him out of the door, and there, sure enough, was the chauffeur, all togged up in dark green with a s.h.i.+ning peak to his cap.

'O.K..' I said. 'I'll get my jacket.'

He walked with me along the paddock, through the gate, and across to the Members' bar.