Free A Thousand Suns by Alex Scarrow Page B

figure I know why.’
    Chris nodded. ‘Go on.’
    McGuire smiled. ‘You planning on putting this in a book or on the TV or something? Cos if you are, I guess I’ll be due something, right?’
    ‘Sure, if I quote you, you’ll get something. That’s how it works,’ replied Chris with a reassuring smile.
    McGuire seemed satisfied with that. ‘I’ll tell you, I think there was someone real important aboard the plane that pilot was flying; maybe a general, a government man or something. I mean, there was a lot of top brass and big hats heading over the sea at the end of the war, you know? All heading over there to see what beaten Nazis looked like, and slice up that country with the Ruskies.’
    ‘And the British,’ muttered Chris quietly.
    ‘Oh, yeah, you Limes were in it at the end too, weren’t you?’
    ‘I’m sure we had something to do with it.’
    McGuire nodded. ‘Maybe you did. Anyway, so I think it was top brass who crashed out there, and they were looking for his body. And he must have been real important, because I never heard nothing on the radio or read anything in the papers about it. I reckon it was someone too important, if you know what I mean? Too important to tell everyone he’d been lost in a plane crash.’
    ‘And you think I might find out who it was out there on that wreck?’
    McGuire cast a long glance out at the grey sea and raised his hand to point. ‘They were right out there, where that trawler snagged her nets. Just out there, a few miles out. I’ll bet the barn, the wreck out there is the one they were lookin’ for.’
    Chris stood silently for a moment, following the old man’s gaze. Then he turned back to McGuire. ‘This body . . . you’re sure it was one of yours? An American airman?’
    ‘Hell, yeah. Didn’t look like a Limey to me. Sean got a better look, though.’ ‘Sean?’
    ‘My friend, he was a little older than me, he got a closer look; turned the body over an’ all. He was looking for a name on the body.’
    ‘Could I speak to him?’
    McGuire shook his head. ‘Doesn’t live here any more. Shit, I don’t know if he’s still alive any more. He moved away with his dad not long after the war. Never seen him since.’
    ‘What was his surname?’
    ‘Grady, Sean Grady. His dad was . . . Tom Grady, I think,’ McGuire smiled, ‘it’s been a long time. The old memory ain’t what it used to be.’
    ‘Do you think Sean found out the pilot’s name?’
    McGuire shrugged. ‘Don’t know, didn’t get a chance to speak with him again. He took all the damned credit for finding the body when the army came. I don’t think he bothered to mention once that I’d found it too. The army and government men made a big fuss of him while they were down there in the cove. Then, not long after, Sean and his dad moved away.’
    McGuire spat a plug of phlegm on to the beach. ‘Sean and his dad got some kind of reward. That’s what happened. Or maybe you might want to call it go-keep-it-to-yourselves money . . . either way, all of a sudden, Tom Grady didn’t need to carry on scratching a living round here any more. No, sir.’
    Chris cursed under his breath. If he had a name, it would go a long way towards making some sense of this story.
    ‘You didn’t speak to this friend of yours? Not ever again?’
    ‘No. I was too angry with him at the time. I know the bastard never mentioned me. I never got any goddamned money. To be honest, I never gave him, nor the body, nor all those ships and people a second thought until the other week when that trawler found the plane wreck. Then I figured that was the plane those ships had been looking for all that time ago.’
    ‘Right.’
    ‘You find out who it was on that plane out there, and you got yourself a story. That’s what I reckon.’
    Chris nodded. Maybe this old boy was right. Maybe there was a body out there in that plane that was going to make sense of what he knew so far.
    ‘And you get some money for this,’ McGuire