Free Flyaway / Windfall by Desmond Bagley Page A

conscience should I renege, but the decision was made.
    I said carefully, ‘There’s a possibility—just a possibility, mind you—that I may be going to North Africa in the near future. If I do, I’ll ask around to see if I can find him.’
    She lit up as though I’d given her the key to the Bank of England. ‘That’s very good of you,’ she said warmly.
    ‘Don’t go overboard about it,’ I warned. ‘Even if I do find him your troubles aren’t over. Supposing he doesn’t want to come back—what am I supposed to do? Kidnap him? He’s a free agent, you know.’
    ‘If you find him send me a cable and I’ll fly out. If I can talk to Paul I can get him to come back.’
    ‘No doubt you can, but the first problem is to find him. But we have some things going for us. Firstly, there are large areas of the Sahara where he will not look for the aircraft.’ I paused and then said acidly, ‘Not if he has any sense, that is, which I beg leave to doubt’
    ‘Oh! Which areas?’
    ‘The inhabited bits—the Sahara is not all blasted wilderness. Then there’s the course Peter Billson intended to fly—that should give us a rough indication of where the plane is likely to be. Is there anyone who’d know such an odd item of information after forty years?’
    She shook her head despondently, then said slowly, ‘There’s a man in the Aeronautical Section of the Science Museum—Paul used to talk to him a lot. He’s some sort of aeronautical historian, he has all sorts of details in his records. I don’t remember his name, though.’
    ‘I’ll check,’ I said. ‘The other point in our favour is that in a relatively empty land a stranger tends to stand out. If Paul is buzzing about remote areas in a Land-Rover he’ll leave a pretty well-defined trail.’
    She smiled at me. ‘You’re making me feel better already.’
    ‘Don’t raise your hopes too high. When…if I go to North Africa I’ll send you an address where you can contact me.’
    She nodded briefly and we got on with the meal.
    I took her home quite early and then went back to the club to bump into Charlie Malleson who was just coming out. ‘I thought I’d missed you,’ he said. ‘I was just passing and I thought I’d pop in to see you.’
    I glanced at my watch. ‘The bar’s still open. What about a drink?’
    ‘Fine.’
    We took our drinks to an isolated table and Charlie said, ‘I rang you at home but no one was in, so I took a chance on finding you here.’ I merely nodded, and he cleared his throat uncomfortably. ‘Is it true what I hear about you and Gloria?’
    ‘Depends what you’ve heard, but I can guess what it is. Bad news gets around fast. It’s true enough. Where did you hear it?’
    ‘Brinton was saying something yesterday. Gloria’s been talking to him.’
    ‘Getting her version in first, no doubt. She won’t impress Brinton.’
    ‘Well, I’m truly sorry it happened this way. Are you starting a divorce action?’
    ‘It’s in the hands of my solicitor now.’
    ‘I see,’ he said slowly. I don’t know what he saw and I didn’t really care. ‘How are you feeling otherwise?’ he asked. ‘You’re not long out of hospital.’
    I looked at him over the edge of my glass. ‘Have you ever been beaten up, Charlie? Given a thorough going-over by experts?’
    ‘I can’t say that I have.’
    ‘It’s the most degrading thing that can happen to a man,’ I said flatly. ‘It isn’t so much what they do to the body; that can stand a lot of punishment. It’s the feeling of utter helplessness. You’re no longer your own man—you’re in the hands of others who can do with you what they like. And you ask me how I feel.’
    ‘You’re bitter about it, aren’t you, Max? You know, I didn’t expect that of you.’
    ‘Why not?’
    ‘Well, you have the reputation of being a pretty cold fish, you know. You run your end of the business like a computer.’
    ‘There’s nothing wrong with being logical and acting