Free An Old Captivity by Nevil Shute Page B

you can get another pilot, or send a man with Mr. Lockwood instead.”
    Sir David thought about it for a minute. “I’ll give you this next week. You’ll be seeing Alix again, Mr. Ross. Try and get alongside her. I want her to go, and I’d just as soon you had the job as anybody else.”
    Ross nodded. “I’ll do my best, sir. I’ve only spoken to her twice, but each time we had a bloody row.”
    “Well, see you don’t have a third.”
    Ross went back into Hanson’s office and began upon the preparations for the flight. That afternoon they put in a transatlantic telephone call to Johnnie Finck, in Detroit. It came through at about four o’clock, clear and distinct.
    “Hey, Johnnie,” said the pilot. “This is Ross—Donald Ross, used to be with Cooper in Quebec. That’s right. How are you keeping? How’s Rosie? Fine. Look, Johnnie—I want a ship, a new ship for delivery at once.”
    The secretary listened on another receiver as they talked.“I want the wings and the fuselage all chrome,” the pilot said. “That’s important. Tell Edo that I want the colonial-type pontoons, the strongest he can build for beaching. They’ve got to be able to take it, where I’m going to.”
    They talked for a quarter of an hour. When he put down the telephone Ross had placed his order for delivery on the quayside in New York, crated and packed for shipment, in three weeks’ time.
    “It’s the best I can do,” he said, a little ruefully. “And that’s better than I hoped for. Add a fortnight for the crossing—that means we’ll have it in Southampton by June 25th. Then it’s got to be erected and tested, and have the camera and wireless installed. We shan’t get away before the first week in July.”
    The secretary nodded. “Still, that leaves three weeks before you want to be in Brattalid.”
    “And that may not be too much, either. We may be later starting or we may get stopped by weather.”
    They worked together till six o’clock upon the programme of arrangements for the flight. Then they got on the telephone to Lockwood in Oxford. Ross left Coventry shortly before seven, and was in the study in Lockwood’s house by half-past nine. Alix was there; over a whisky and soda the pilot outlined to the don what had happened in Coventry. The girl sat quietly in a chair, saying nothing.
    Presently Ross turned to her. “Sir David told me that you had decided to come with us, Miss Lockwood,” he said pleasantly.
    She said, a little primly: “We decided that my father ought to have somebody with him.”
    “Of course.” He turned again to the don. “Have you got a map of Brattalid? I want to get an accurate idea of the area to be surveyed, so that we can get quotations for the job.”
    Lockwood raised his eyes. “Quotations?”
    The pilot explained. “I talked this over with Mr. Hanson. If you agree, we thought it would be best to put the photographic work with a firm of repute who are used to thissort of thing. You couldn’t go to better people than Photowork—they do this all over the world. I’m going to see them to-morrow. I was going to try and fix that they should send out a photographer ahead of us by one of the boats from Denmark, to meet us in Julianehaab. He’ll probably have to start within the next fortnight to get there in time.”
    “That seems to be a very good arrangement, Mr. Ross.”
    “I think it will be, if I can get them to take the job upon those lines. I can get a man who’s used to aero engines, too—most of their photographers are ground engineers as well. He’ll be able to give me a hand with the maintenance of the machine.”
    “Is that a very big job?”
    “There’s a lot of work in it—more than I’d care to tackle single-handed for any length of time. You must have help with a machine like that.”
    The don got up and poured him out another whisky and soda. “Have you made out a route yet, Mr. Ross?”
    Ross took the glass. “We’ll have to go by Reykjavik and