"Innes, Hammond - Air Bridge" - читать интересную книгу автора (Innes Hammond)

He replaced the receiver slowly. 'Was that Dick?' Carter asked.

Saeton nodded. 'Yes. He's had an offer for the aircraft and all the equipment here. He's threatening to sell us up.' He picked up a stool and sent it spinning across the hangar. 'God damn him, why can't he understand we're on the verge of success at last?'

Carter said nothing. I returned to my lathe. Saeton hesitated and then seized hold of the folder of specifications. For a moment he held it in his hands as though about to tear it across. His face was dark with passion. Then he flung it down and went over to the engine standing on its blocks against the wall. He pressed a switch and the thing roared into life, a shattering, earsplitting din that drowned all sound of my lathe. And he stood watching it, caressing it with his eyes as though all his world was concentrated in the live, dinning roar of it.




CHAPTER TWO

As I worked at the lathe and the day wore on, it slowly dawned on me what an incredible stroke of luck I had had. It was as though I had been given another chance. And this was legal. I might not have taken Saeton's word for it, but the presence of Tubby Carter proved there was nothing wrong with the setup. He was so unquestionably honest. With him working beside me the whole thing became ordinary, matter-of-fact.

Saeton was different. It wasn't that I didn't trust the man. But he was a human dynamo, full of nervous, violent energy. The mercurial emotionalism of the Celt seemed mixed with a Saxon stolidity and singleness of purpose and I felt he was capable of anything. He was a born leader with that vital spark that can kindle enthusiasm in others, the type that can whip the dull heart of the mob into thundering passion. His strength was that he didn't need the support of others. It was all there inside him. He showed that when he switched off the thundering din of that one engine and turned with a grim concentration to the job of winding the armature of a starter motor. The structure of his life was crumbling about him. His partner was selling him up. But he didn't discuss it. He threw himself into the work that littered the bench with the silent preoccupation of a man who can see the finished article in his mind's eye.

Something of his drive and purpose seemed to enter into the two of us as we worked beside him. And the fascination of seeing a part of a complicated machine take shape under my hands so engrossed me that I lost all sense of time. I didn't notice Carter's wife bring in our lunch. Saeton pushed a mug of tea and some sandwiches along the bench to me and I ate whilst I worked. He and Carter did the same.

The only interruption was just after we'd switched on the light plant, shortly after four. There was a banging on the door. Saeton shouted to know who it was and a voice answered, 'The police.' I looked up at him from the lathe, my heart suddenly in my mouth. I had so completely lost myself in the work that the reminder that the authorities were searching for me came as a shock.

' Saeton tossed me a flash-mask. 'Put that on,' he ordered crisply. 'The oxy-acetylene equipment is at the end of the bench there.' I saw Carter looking at me curiously. Then I had the mask on and was hurrying across to the oxygen cylinders.

By the time Saeton came back with a police inspector and a sergeant I had the flame going and was cutting across a piece of scrap metal. 'Just routine,' the

Inspector said as he asked for our identity cards. He glanced at them idly, talking to Saeton all the time. 'Thought we'd take a look round Membury before we packed it in. But he'll be out of the district by now. Probably out of the country in some private plane. Still, we'll just take a look round - in case. Quite a handy place, an old aerodrome, for a man to lie up.' He handed back our cards. 'No fear of his pinching your plane, anyway, sir. Can't fly a plane with two of its engines missing, can you?'

'No,' Saeton answered and he didn't join in the Inspector's good-humoured laughter.

They left then and I put the flash-mask aside and got back to my lathe with a feeling that the last hurdle had been overcome. I was safe now. So long as I remained at Membury I was safe.

But as we worked on in the evening I was conscious of Carter watching me periodically from the other end of the bench. We knocked off at about eight. I was pretty tired by then and I might have felt depressed, but Saeton clapped his hand on my shoulder. 'You're a better acquisition than I'd dared to hope,' he said, and that word of praise lifted me above physical tiredness. 'It's a pity though,' he added.

'What's a pity?' Carter asked.

'That Dick Randall doesn't know anything about engineering,' he answered. 'If he could understand just how much we've achieved in one single day with the three of us working without interruption for meal-getting, then he'd realise how close we are to success.'

It was cold outside the hangar and the biting north wind made the cut on ray forehead ache as though the bone had been smashed. Back at the quarters there was a smell of roasting chicken. We cleaned ourselves up and then gathered in the front room. The trestle table had been covered. It was only an old curtain, but it gave it a more friendly air. The table was laid for four. Saeton crossed to a cupboard and brought out glasses and a bottle of whisky. 'I thought you were broke,' Carter said.

Saeton laughed. 'Only bankrupts can afford to be spendthrifts.' But though he laughed, there was no laughter in his eyes. 'No point in hoarding when Randall may sell us out tomorrow.'

The click of high-heeled shoes sounded on the concrete of the passage outside and Saeton sprang to open the door.

Diana Carter was such a contrast to her husband that she produced in me a sense almost of shock. She was a product of the war, a hard, experienced-looking woman with a wide, over-thick mouth and hennaed hair. There was nothing homely about her. She swept in, a flash of red dirndl skirt and tawny hair with eyes that matched the green of her jersey and a motion of the body that was quite uninhibited. Her glance went straight to Saeton and then fell to the bottle. 'What are we celebrating, Bill?' Her voice was deep and throaty with just the trace of an American accent.

'The fact that we're broke,' Saeton answered, handing her a glass. 'Randall's selling us up tomorrow. Then you and Tubby can go and raise a family in peace.'

She made a face at him and raised her glass. 'You'll talk him out of it,' she said. 'But I'll need some cur-tains, tablecloths, bed-linen and china. I'm not going to live in a pig-sty. And we're short of beds.' Her gaze had fastened on me. It was a curiously personal stare and her green eyes were a little too narrow, a little too close.

Saeton introduced us. Her eyes strayed to the adhesive tape across my forehead. But all she said was, "Where is he going to sleep?'

'I'll fix him up,' Saeton answered.