Part 4 (2/2)

'And you believe all this c.o.c.k about a secret mercy-mission?'

Ritchie gave him a grim smile. 'You know, I'm beginning to understand why Peters wanted to work you over this afternoon. I'm not in charge - I don't give a d.a.m.n. But if you want to make real trouble for yourself, don't think I'm going to throw you a life-belt. I don't want to know. See?'

They drove for some time in silence. Rawcliff had a vivid image of six huge heavy-bellied transport planes s.h.i.+mmering on some sandy strip, while Jotrotted between the six mercenary pilots, serving long drinks and binding up snake-bitten ankles and slapping hunks of cold meat on to bruised faces.

'You can drop me at the corner here,' he said, as they came into Battersea Park Road. 'This car might upset the social harmony of the street.'

Ritchie pulled up and Rawcliff climbed out into the evening drizzle. He was about to close the door, when Ritchie leant across towards him. 'A word of advice, old sport. Play it easy. Newby and Peters mean business. They won't tolerate being messed around again. As for Peters, I'll do my best to square it with him - though it might be a good idea to apologize.'

'What should I do - send him some flowers?'

Ritchie gave his manly chuckle. 'He might appreciate that, you never know!

Look after yourself.'

Rawcliff heard the Jaguar's growling whine as he walked under the narrow railway bridge, past the Council estate and down the empty street to his semi-detached. He noticed that there were several slates missing and some of the guttering was gone.

Three.

At five that same evening, Group Captain Neil Batsford, Station Commander of Benson Aerodrome, Oxon, received a visit from the officer in charge of Camp Security, Provost Branch.

'Small item, sir, may be nothing in it. I logged it just for the record. Bit of chit-chat from Number Four. Waley reported it. He'd been briefing the men for the German posting. One of them's Flight-Lieutenant Mason who's been on that special course in London. Wife, three kids. Waley was expecting him to be rather sore, being uprooted twice in one week. Not at all, the chap seemed as pleased as Punch! Waley got chatting to him, wondering if there were any domestic problems. After all, you know what it's like in Germany, wives don't always take too well to the new environment.'

'Go on,' said Batsford quietly.

'He told Waley a rather odd story, sir. Waley said he checked it with him and took some notes. I've got it all here.'

When he had finished, Batsford sat tapping a pen against his teeth. 'When did we last have this happen, Provost Marshal?'

'Two years ago, I think it was, sir. Those Belgians who got hold of Yates - wanted a chopper-pilot to help them take over a mine in Zaire. Thank G.o.d Mason had the good sense to turn this one up. Though he's still not entirely happy about the incident, sir. That's why he's so keen on the German posting, in spite of the upheaval.'

'You say it was a chance encounter? With Thurgood?'

'Yes, sir. Rum fellow, Thurgood.'

'Quite. Most unsatisfactory character.' 'I wonder if they know about those headaches of his?'

'I don't suppose he's volunteered the information. Are you recommending that I take this further?'

. 61 'We might mention it to Special Branch, just for the record, sir. And the Ministry had better know, in case they go sniffing around any of our other bases.'

'Quite. If they strike again, we don't want to find ourselves with egg all over our faces. But if it's a really big op, the Ministry may have a whiff of it already. Six C-130s are pretty difficult things to keep hidden. Waley's report may just help tie up the ends.' He pointed his pen at the Provost Marshal. 'Give me those names again - besides Thurgood's.'

At 7.42 that evening Sergeant Bates, of Military Police, Benson, took a radio call from a Thames Valley Panda Patrol: 'Man identified as Flight-Lieutenant Terence Mason, RAF Benson, victim of hit-and-run driver on A 428 to Warborough. Unconscious, multiple injuries, taken by ambulance to Radcliffe Infirmary, Oxford.'

Batsford was about to go into the Mess. He said into the phone, 'I want Security up here right away. And put me through to Oxford Central, Senior Officer, priority.' Then he called the Mess and told them to send up sandwiches and a pot of tea.

The Inspector said: 'He was found by a young couple driving a van. The girl stayed with him while the man called us from Warborough. Seems he was conscious at first. Said he was. .h.i.t from behind by a Range-Rover, T registration, though he didn't get the number or a sight of the driver. The girl was quite sure about that - sharp, very articulate - will make an excellent witness. In the ambulance Mason was already in a coma. He was admitted to the Radcliffe with fractures to the skull and ribs, and possible internal injuries.'

'Is he expected to live?'

'1 have no information about that, sir. Two officers are by his bed, in case he regains consciousness.'

'Thank you. And keep this line clear.' Batsford looked at the Inspector, then at the Provost Marshal. 'His wife's been informed, I a.s.sume?'

'One of our men drove her to the hospital, sir.'

'Right. I want the local press kept away from her. And I want them kept away from here, too.' He turned to the Inspector. 'I'd appreciate it, under the circ.u.mstances, if you'd play this close to the ground. Simple case of hit-and-run, one of our men injured. No mention of his ident.i.ty, or of the Range-Rover.'

'I'll do my best. But I'm afraid that if he dies, the hospital will release his name.'

'Not if the Special Branch put in the boot, they won't. I'm sorry, Inspector, but there are certain aspects to this case which, in my judgement, should be pa.s.sed to higher authority. If your men can meanwhile establish all they can about the accident - road conditions, why Mason had stopped - breakdown, puncture - usual drill.' 'It's already been done. Slow puncture in the rim of the rear off-side tyre.

Sort of thing you get from vandals, made by any small sharp instrument.

Unlikely to have been an accident. No skid marks, but a dangerous bit of road.

Blind bend for oncoming traffic.'

Batsford nodded. 'I want to know the moment you hear anything more from the hospital.'

As he spoke, the telephone rang. Batsford s.n.a.t.c.hed it up, nodded and thrust the receiver at the policeman. 'For you -urgent.' He sat back and watched the Inspector holding the receiver with one hand and clumsily jotting down notes with the other. He finally hung up.

'Well that's a break, sir. They've got the Range-Rover.'

Four.

'Oh you poor fool! I can just about put up with you feeling sorry for yourself, but now you want to be a hero! You talk about this wonderful Swiss bank account, and all you bring back is a b.l.o.o.d.y great black eye and a sore head.' She was sitting half up in bed, with the light on, while Rawcliff lay-facing the wall.

'Do keep your voice down,' he said, 'you'll wake Tom.'

'Yes - Tom! I'm glad you've given him a thought. I suppose it doesn't matter if he's left without a father and I'm a widow?'

'Oh don't be b.l.o.o.d.y silly.'

'b.l.o.o.d.y silly! Who's talking? You said yourself you don't know what the h.e.l.l it's all about. A mercy-mission, so they told you? Whoever heard of a mercy-mission that was set up with secret phone calls, dangling illegal Swiss numbered accounts in front of your nose, and not telling you what it's all about? Except you've got to fly a plane fifty feet above the ground. That's to avoid radar and missiles - even I know that much! Does that sound like an ordinary mercy-mission to you? Or perhaps you're kidding yourself that you're going into World War Three? G.o.d, you ought to be back at prep school.'

'Do turn out the light, love. I want to sleep.'

'You just want to avoid the issue. I'll tell you something, Charles Rawcliff.

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