Went tripping over the plain;

the stores and petrol drums and lashing them on the sledge." He glanced up through the skylight. "The plane, wasn't it?" " 'Was' is right." I glanced at the stewardess. "My apologies, Miss Ross. You did hear somebody out there." "You meanyou mean it wasn't an accident?" Zagero asked. There's a fair chance that you know damned well that it wasn't, I thought. Aloud, I said: "It was no accident." "So there goes your evidence, eh?" Corazzini asked. "The pilot and Colonel Harrison, I mean." "No. The nose and tail of the plane are still intact. I don't know what the reason could bebut I'm sure there's a damned good one. And you can put these bags away, Mr Corazzini. We're not, as you say, playing with children or amateurs." There was silence while Corazzini returned the bags, then Joss looked at me quizzically. "Well, that explains one thing at least." "The messed-up explosives?" I remembered with chagrin how I had listened to the abnormally loud hissing out by the plane, but had ignored it. Someone who had known very clearly what he was doing had led a fuse into petrol lines or tanks or carburettors. "It certainly does." "What's all this about explosives and fuses?" Senator Brewster demanded. It was the first word he had spoken since Jackstraw had scared the wits out of him, and even yet the colour wasn't all back in his face. "Somebody stole the fuses to set fire to the plane. For all I know it may have been you." I held up my hand to still his outraged spluttering and went on wearily: "It may equally well have been one of the other seven of you. I don't know. All I know is that the person or persons responsible for the murders were responsible for the theft of the fuses. And for the smashing of the radio valves. And for the theft of the condensers." "And for the theft of the sugar," Joss put in. "Though heaven only knows why they should want to steal that." "Sugar!" I exclaimed, and then the question died in my throat. I happened to be looking straight at the little Jew, Theodore Mahler, and the nervous start he gave, the quick flicker of his eyes in Joss's direction, was unmistakable. I knew I couldn't have imagined it. But I looked away quickly, before he could see my face. "Our last bag," Joss explained. "Maybe thirty pounds. It's gone. I found what little was left of itjust a handful lying on the floor of the tunnelmixed up with the smashed valves." I shook my head and said nothing. The reason for this olympus sp-350 8mp digital camera last theft I couldn't even begin to imagine. Supper that night was a sketchy affairsoup, coffee and a couple of biscuits each as the only solids. The soup was thin, the biscuits no more than a bite and the coffee, for me at any rate, all but undrinkable without sugar. And the meal was as silent as it was miserable, conversation being limited to what was absolutely necessary. Time and again I would see someone turn to his neighbour and make to say something, then his lips would clamp tightly shut, the expression drain out of his face as he turned away without a word: with almost everyone thinking that his or her neighbour might be a murderer, or, what was almost as bad, that his or her neighbour might be thinking that he was a murderer, the meal was by all odds the most awkward and uncomfortable that I'd ever had. Or, that is, the first part of it was: but by and by I came to the conclusion that I'd a great deal more to worry about than the niceties of social intercourse. After the meal I rose, pulled on parka and gloves, picked up the searchlight; told Jackstraw and Joss to come with me and headed for the trap-door. Zagero's voice stopped me. "Where you goin', Doc?" "That's no concern of yours. Well, Mrs Dansby-Gregg?" "Shouldn't youshouldn't you take the rifle with you?" "Don't worry." I smiled thinly. "With everyone watching everyone else like hawks, that rifle's as safe as houses." "Butbut someone could jump for it," she said nervously. "They could get you when you're coming down the hatch" "Mr Nielsen and I are the last two persons they'd ever shoot. Without us, they couldn't get a mile from here. The most likely candidates for the next bullet are some of yourselves. You're absolutely inessential and, as far as the killers are concerned, represent nothing more than a waste of priceless rations." With this comforting thought I left them, each person trying to watch all the others at one and the same time, while doing his level best to give the appearance of watching no one. The wind was so slight now that the anemometer cups had stopped turning. The dying embers of the burnt-out plane were a dull smouldering glow to the north-east. The snow had gone completely and the first faint stars were beginning to show through the thinning cloud above. It was typically Greenland, this

There lies a knight slain under his shield.

that I am grateful for you forgiving my rascally son I think that would be my preeminent task, Olav Dahl, Killashandra replied with a grim smile. I dont know which Elder supervises Security on this planet, but from what I have seen, your son is probably first on their list of suspects whether or not theyve any evidence at all. Oh, I agree, Olav, Nahia said. Will Security believe your explanation? Corish asked skeptically. What? Killashandra rose in a flowing movement, drawing herself up to her full height, in a pose of haughty self-confidence. Refute the statement of a crystal singer, a member of the Heptite Guild, a craftsman whose services are vital to the all-important tourist season? You must be joking! How, under which ever name you hold sacred, can they challenge what I say? Besides, she said, relaxing and flashing a friendly smile, I have every confidence in Larss ability to lend credence to the account. Dont you? I must say, when you assume that pose, Killashandra, Id hesitate to contradict you. Corish rose to his feet. But now, I think that Nahia and I had better join Hauness and prepare to disappear. If they credit Killashandras explanation, theyll not be likely to mount a twenty-five hour radar watch, will they? So we wont have that problem to contend with. Nahia had returned to the console, and was taking some hard copy from the retrieval slot. Ive all the charts we need, Olav, and my thanks for your suggestions. Just in case, I think we will take the devious course through the islands and then double back north. Lars, Olver survived the purge and you can contact us through him when you need to. Corish had her by the arm and was drawing her toward a rear exit. May I hope to see you again, Killashandra? If that is at all possible, officially, yes, of course, and I look forward to the occasion. Abruptly, annoyed at her stilted phrases, Killashandra stepped forward and swiftly embraced Nahia, kissing her on both cheeks. She stepped back, rather surprised at her uncharacteristic effusiveness until she saw the pleasure in Nahias brilliant eyes and smiling face. Oh, you are kind! Dont he ridiculous! Killashandra replied fiercely, and then smiled with embarrassment. She felt Lars take her elbow and squeeze it gently. Should I need to contact you, Killashandra, Corish added, opening the door and all but pushing Nahia out, Ill leave a first mass produced camera not digital message at the Piper Facility. As I already have. The door closed behind them with an emphatic slam. Come, Olav said, striding toward his front office. Well signal the jet. Fortunately, the return of the Pearl has been entered in the Harbor log and not too much time will have elapsed before we inform them of this good news. Olav paused in front of the huge console, frowning slightly at Killashandra. You are certain you wish to go through with this? It could be dangerous! Far more dangerous for them, Killashandra said with a snort. To have put me in such a situation in the first place. Then she laughed. Just think, Olav, with Larss confession that Torkes and Ampris hired him to assault me, to prove my identity, how they have compromised themselves. I actually had not considered that aspect. He turned to the console and began to send out the message. The jet cruiser responded instantly with a request for visual with which Olav instantly complied. Look pleased but humble, Lars , Killashandra muttered before she turned to the screen, once more the haughty and arrogant crystal singer. Elder Torkes, I must protest! It is over five weeks since I was abducted from the City a City, I might add, in which I had already been assaulted though I had been told in unequivocal terms that Optheria was a secure planet, where everyone knew his place, and no unusual activities were condoned or permitted. Killashandra stressed the words as sarcastically as possible, enjoying the shock on the Elders face. Yet I could also be insulted by a minor and officious idiot, and kidnapped! I could be abandoned on this dreadful world. And it has taken you all this time to come to the islands which you yourself told me were populated by a dissident group. Dissident they might be, but courteous they are, and I have been made to feel far more welcome in these islands than I was during your pompous, ill-provisioned reception. I will also inform you, if you havent already heard from them, that my Guild will take a very dim view of this whole incident. In fact, reparations may well be required. Now, what have you to say to me? Honored Guildmember, I cannot adequately express our horror, our concern for you during your terrible ordeal. Those in the Harbor Masters office saw the effort which Elder Torkes was forced to make to moderate his own manner. I dont know how the Council can ever redeem itself in your eyes. Anything we can do I

And light is thy fame;

just the high dignities patiently awaiting the dissolution of the reception line. Thyrol glanced at Killashandra, her hand on Ampriss arm, then he turned to the nearest Elder woman and offered his arm. No fuss, no confusion, no dithering about altered escorts or who would be left to descend alone: everything was already worked out, planned down to the last detail, including the unexpected. For, obviously, no one could have expected Ampris to confer such an honor as his personal escort on Killashandra. Killashandra wondered if the foodstuffs had been minutely measured, for two bites disposed of each of the four small tidbits, five mouthfuls emptied the wine glass. But she was among the lucky minority who had their glasses refilled and were offered additional canapies. This will be over soon, Ampris murmured to her, his lips barely moving. A proper meal will be served us when the lesser orders have dutifully taken their sip and sup and toddled back to the comfort of their routines. He spoke with neither scorn nor malice: Ampris was stating a fact about the majority of the assembled. Having had their rare treats of standing in the same room with a real live breathing Crystal Singer? You are that! Ampriss gaze returned hers with no trace of guile or evasion but he had a definite twinkle in his eye. Three minutes after you reached the infirmary, the news of your regenerative powers had seeped to the basements. Surely you are not housed in a basement? Ampriss bright brown eyes twinkled again. The seat of all knowledge So you can get to the bottom of things? Of course. And a position of maximum security? Killashandra taunted him. Why shouldnt she start at the top with her covert inquiries? Security is never a problem on such a well-ordered world as Optheria. He inclined his head to acknowledge the passing of three of the dignitaries circulating the gathering. Everyone is secure he paused on Optheria, each knowing his place and his duties. Security is the foundation of the serenity of spirit which typifies this natural world. Killashandra could find no mockery in his words nor any special inflection in his voice. No sparkle of amusement lit his eye, no cynical expression molded his face, yet Killashandra heard the denial as clearly as if he had phrased it. Someone must have had a momentarily troubled spirit to launch that sipix mini digital video camera little star-knife at me. An island weapon, Ampris said. We allowed that settlement too much leeway during the early years on Optheria. Its original colonists were, naturally, of our mind, but before we could reestablish contact with them, they had deviated from the original intent. Optheria was to be an autonomous world: not to consist of autonomous groups. Ampriss humorless voice and manner implied the treatment which had undoubtedly been meted out to the dissenters. The matter of that outrageous attack on your person will be resolved, I can assure you, Guildmember Killashandra. I dont doubt that for a moment. Ampris searched her face. On an ordered planet, the unusual is always remarkable. Ampris, you may not monopolize our distinguished visitor, said a deep grating voice and Killashandra turned to find herself scrutinized by one of the other male Elders. He had the eyes of a scavenger, bright, dark, piercing. His thin, hooked nose did much to encourage the analogy. His skin had a curious lacquered look, crinkling at the edges of his face from whatever minor shift of expression he permitted. His glance dropped briefly to her left shoulder, as if his gaze could penetrate the silk and examine the healing wound beneath. Monopoly has never been my passion, Torkes, Ampris said. My associate, Torkes, holds the Communications Seat on Optheria. We work closely together in our adjacent disciplines. He maintains that Music is dependent on Communications, and I, of course, take the position that Music is independent and without it, Communications would have nothing to disseminate! But of course! Killashandra mustered a broad and giddy smile with which she favored both men impartially. Ampris accepted her evasion with a slight smile while Torkes bowed as if her ambiguous reply awarded him the decision. What sort of crystal network does your facility use, Elder Torkes? Crystal? Torkess piercing stare was affronted. We have no funds to waste on that sort of technology. Crystal is reserved for musicians! Really? And Killashandra caught the barest glimpse of the satisfied reaction from Ampris. Torkes seemed totally oblivious to the implication of his statement. Even when crystal is a very natural Crystal is not natural to Optheria. Not a native product, you understand. And we must maintain the integrity of our Charter. Indeed? Do you

In thy once smiling garden, the hemlock and thistle

fire burning continuously, the lack of almost all ventilation had made it uncomfortably warm. He was back in the cave in thirty seconds, drawing the screen tightly shut behind him. "Quiet, everybody!" he whispered softly. He gestured behind him. "There's something moving out there, down the slope a bit. I heard it twice, sir." Panayis swore softly, twisted to his feet like a wild cat. A foot-long, two-edged throwing knife gleamed evilly in his hand and he had vanished through the canvas screen before anyone could speak. Andrea made to follow him, but Mallory stretched out his hand. "Stay where you are, Andrea. Our friend Panayis is just that little bit too precipitate," he said softly. "There may be nothingor it might be some diversionary move. . . . Oh, damn!" Stevens had just started babbling to himself in a loud voice. "He would start talking now. Can't you do something . . ." But Andrea was already bent over the sick boy, holding his hand in his own, smoothing the hot forehead and hair with his free hand and talking to him soothingly, softly, conthuously. At first he paid no attention, kept on talking in a rambling, inconsequential fashion about nothing in particular; gradually, however, the hypnotic effect of the stroking hand, the gentle caressing murmur took effect, and the babbling died away to a barely audible muttering, ceased altogether. Suddenly his eyes opened and he was awake and quite rationaL "What is it, Andrea? Why are you?" "Shh!" Mallory held up his hand. "I can hear someone" "It's Panayis, sir." Brown had his eye at a crack in the curtain. "Just moving up the gully." Seconds later, Panayis was inside the cave, squatting down by the fire. He looked thoroughly disgusted. "There is no one there," he reported. "Some goats I saw, down the bill, but that was all." Mallory translated to the others. "Didn't sound like goats to me," Brown said doggedly. "Different kind of sound altogether." "I will take a look," Andrea volunteered. "Just to make sure. But I do not think the dark one would make a mistake." Before Mallory could say anything he was gone, as quickly and silently as Panayis. He was back in three minutes, shaking his head. "Panayis is right. There is no one. I did not even see the goats." "And that's what it must have been, Casey," Mallory said. "Still, I don't like it. Snow almost stopped, wind dropping and the valley probably swarming with kodak and digital and cameras German patrolsI think it's time you two were away. For God's sake, be careful. If anyone tries to stop you, shoot to kill. They'll blame it On us anyway." "Shoot to kill!" Louki laughed dryly. "Unnecessary advice, Major, when the dark one is with us. He never shoots any other way." "Right, away you go. Damned sorry you've got yourselves mixed up in all thisbut now that you are, a thousand thanks for all you've done. See you at halfpast six." "Half-past six," Louki echoed. "The olive grove on the bank of the stream, south of the village. We will be waiting there." Two minutes later they were lost to sight and sound and all was still inside the cave again, except for the faint crackling of the embers of the dying fire. Brown had moved out on guard, and Stevens had already fallen into a restless, pain-filled sleep. Miller bent over him for a moment or two, then moved softly across the cave to Mallory. His right hand held a crumpled heap of blood-stained bandages. He held them out towards Mallory. "Take a sniff at that, boss," he asked quietly. "Easy does it." Mallory bent forward, drew away sharply, his nose wrinkled in immediate disgust. "Good lord, Dusty! That's vile!" He paused, paused in sure, sick certainty. He knew the answer before he spoke. "What on earth is it?" "Gangrene." Miller sat down heavily by his side, threw the bandages into the fire. All at once he sounded tired, defeated. "Gas gangrene. Spreadin' like a forest fireand he would have died anyway. I'm just wastin' my time." CHAPTER 10 04000600 The Germans took them just after four o'clock in the morning, while they were still asleep. Bone-tired and deep-drugged with this sleep as they were, they had no chance, not the slightest hope of offering any resistance. The conception, timing and execution of the coup were immaculate. Surprise was complete. Andrea was the first awake. Some alien whisper of sound had reached deep down to that part of him that never slept, and he twisted round and elbowed himself off the ground with the same noiseless speed as his hand reached out for his ready-cocked and loaded Mauser. But the white beam of the powerful torch lancing through the blackness of the cave bad blinded him, frozen his stretching hand even before the clipped bite of command from the man who held the torch. "Still!

To wear the bags of bread.

that's all we can guess at. It does seem likely that Colonel Harrison was in possession of it." I looked at Jackstraw, and he at me. The man who had so recently knocked me out had been desperate all right. I knew then what I had subconsciously known all along, that I was dealing blindfolded against a manor menfar cleverer than myself. They knew that Joss couldn't possibly have hoped to repair the RCA. They knew, therefore, that I must have been talking direct to Hillcrest. They knew, because I had told them, that the eight-watt radio we had with us had a range of not more than 150 miles under normal conditions, so that the chances were high that Hillcrest was actually speaking from the IGY cabinor a point even nearer. I had also told them that Hillcrest and his four companions wouldn't be returning from their field trip for another two or three weeks, so that this premature return could only be accounted for by some unforeseen and extraordinary event. It wasn't hard to guess what that event must have been. That I should ask Hillcrest to find out the reason for the crash followed inevitably, but what was not inevitable, what pointed most clearly of all to the shrewdness of the killers, was their guess that whoever knew the reason for the crash would be most reluctant to go into specific detail: and they had robbed me of the only clue that might have helped me discover what that detail was and so also, I felt sure, the identity of the killers. But the time was far past now for crying over spilt milk. I pressed the switch to Transmit'. "Thank you. But please radio Uplavnik again, emphasise desperate urgency of finding out crash reasons. . . . How far behind do you estimate you are now? We have made only twenty miles since noon. Cold extreme, bad radiator trouble. Over." "We have made only eight miles since noon. It seems" I threw the switch over. "Eight miles?" I demanded harshly. "Did I hear you say eight miles?" "You heard." Hillcrest's voice was savage. "Remember the missing sugar? Well, it's turned up. Your fine friends dumped the whole bloody lot into the petrol. We're completely immobilised." CHAPTER NINEWednesday 8 P.M.Thursday 4 P.M. We were on our way again just after nine o'clock that night. It had been my original intention, by dreaming up a variety of excuses and even, if sony dsc h5 digital camera necessary, by sabotaging the engine, to stay there for several hours or at least what I reckoned to be the longest possible time before the killers became restive, suspected that I was deliberately stalling, and took over. Or tried to take over. For it had been my further intention that, after an hour or two, Jackstraw should produce his rifleit was strapped to his shoulders night and dayand I my automatic, and hold them all at the point of the gun until Hillcrest came up. If all had gone well, he should have been with us by midnight. Our troubles would have been over. But it had not gone well, our troubles were as bad as ever, the Sno-Cat was bogged down and with Mahler now seriously ill and Marie LeGarde frighteningly weak and exhausted, I couldn't remain any longer. Had I been made of tougher stuff, or even had I not been a doctor, I might have brought myself to recognise that both Marie LeGarde and Theodore Mahler were expendable pawns in a game where the stakes, I was now certain, were far greater than just the lives of one or two people. I might have held everybodyor the major suspects, at leastat gunpoint until such time, twenty-four hours if need be, as Hillcrest did come up. But I could not bring myself to regard our sick passengers as expendable pawns. A weakness, no doubt, but one that I was almost proud to share with Jackstraw, who felt exactly as I did. That Hillcrest would come up eventually I felt pretty sure. The dumping of the sugar in the petrolI bit my lips in chagrin whenever I remembered that it had been I who had told them all that Hillcrest was running short of fuelhad been a brilliant move, but nothing more, now, than I had come to expect of men who thought of everything, made every possible provision against future eventualities. Still, even though furiously angry at the delay, Hillcrest had thought he could cope with the situation. The big cabin of the Sno-Cat was equipped with a regular workshop with tools fit to deal with just about every mechanical breakdown, and already his driver-mechanic-1 didn't envy him his murderous task even though he was reportedly working behind heated canvas apronshad stripped down the engine and was cleaning pistons, cylinder walls and valves of the unburnt carbon deposits that had finally ground the big tractor to a halt. A couple of others had rigged up a makeshift distillation unita petrol drum, almost full, with a thin metal tube packed in

You've passed your youth not so unpleasantly,

so that they could have disposed of him neatly and without trace in the deep and hungry waters that boomed around the foot of the cliff. . . . Mallory clenched his hands in the darkness and swore to himself that the boy would live, come home again, and to hell with total war and all its inhuman demands. . . . Just a kid, that was all, a scared and broken kid and the bravest of them all. The young sergeant was issuing a string of orders to his men, his voice quick, crisp and confident. A doctor, splints, rescue stretcher, anchored sheer-legs, ropes, spikesthe trained, well-ordered mind missing nothing. Mallory waited tensely, wondering how many men, if any, would be left on guard, for the guards would have to go and that would inevitably betray them. The question of their quick and silent disposal never entered his minda whisper in Andrea's ear and the guards would have no more chance than penned lambs against a marauding wolf. Less chance even than thatthe lambs could always run and cry out before the darkness closed over them. The sergeant solved the problem for them. The assured competence, the tough, unsentimental ruthlessness that made the German N.C.O. the best in the world gave Mallory the chance he never expected to have. He bad just finished giving his orders when the young soldier touched him on the arm, then pointed over the edge. "How about poor Ehrich, Sergeant?" he asked uncertainly. "Shouldn'tdon't you think one of us ought to stay with him?" "And what could you do if you did stayhold his hand?" the sergeant asked acidly. "If he stirs and falls, then he falls, that's all, and it doesn't matter then if a hundred of us are standing up here watching him. Off you go, and don't forget the mallets and pegs to stay the sheer-legs." The three men turned and went off quickly to the east without another word. The sergeant walked over to the phone, reported briefly to someone, then set off in the opposite directionto check the next guard post, Mallory guessed. He was stifi in sight, a dwindling blur in the darkness, when Mallory whispered to Brown and Miller to post themselves on guard again: and they could still hear the measured crunch of his firm footfalls on a patch of distant gravel as their belayed rope went snaking over the edge of the cliff, Andrea and Mallory sliding swiftly down even before it had stopped quivering. Stevens, a huddled, twisted heap with a gashed and bleeding cheek lying cruelly along a razor-sharp spur of rock, was still unconscious, breathing stertorously through his open samsung 10.2 megapixel digital camera wal-mart mouth. Below the knee his right leg twisted upwards and outwards against the rock at an hapossible angle. As gently as he could, braced against either side of the chimney and supported by Andrea, Mallory lifted and straightened the twisted limb. Twice, from the depths of the dark stupor of his unconsciousness, Stevens moaned in agony, but Mallory had no option but to carry on, his teeth clenched tight until his jaws ached. Then slowly, with infinite care, he rolled up the trouser leg, winced and screwed his eyes shut in momentary horror and nausea as he saw the dim whiteness of the shattered tibia sticking out through the torn and purply swollen flesh. "Compound fracture, Andrea." Gently his exploring fingers slid down the mangled leg, beneath the lip of the jack-boot, stopped suddenly as something gave way beneath his feather touch. "Oh, my God!" he murmured. "Another break, just above the ankle. This boy is in a bad way, Andrea." "He is indeed," Andrea said gravely. "We can do nothing for him here?" "Nothing. Just nothing. We'll have to get him up first." Mallory straightened, gazed up bleakly at the perpendicular face of the chimney. "Although how in the name of heaven" "I will take him up." There was no suggestion in Andrea's voice either of desperate resolve or consciousness of the almost incredible effort involved. It was simply a statement of. intention, the voice of a man who never questioned his abifity to do what he said he would. "If you will help me to raise him, to tie him to my back. . . ." "With his broken leg loose, dangling from a piece of skin and torn muscle?" Mallory protested. "Stevens can't take much more. He'll die if we do this." "He'll die if we don't," Andrea murmured. Mallory stared down at Stevens for a long moment, then nodded heavily in the darkness. "He'll die if we don't," he echoed tiredly. "Yes, we have to do this." He pushed outwards from the rock, slid half a dozen feet down the rope and jammed a foot in the crutch of the chimney just below Stevens's body. He took a couple of turns of rope round his waist and looked up. "Ready, Andrea?" he called softly. "Ready." Andrea stooped, hooked his great hands under Stevens's armpits and lifted slowly, powerfully, as Mallory pushed from below. Twice, three times before they had him up, the boy moaned

Instead whereof our curious years can find

instant, from the thrall of superstition and panic to the world of reality and reason, and I dropped swiftly to my knees behind the high padded back of the seat in front of me, for what little shelter it offered. My heart was still pounding, the hairs still stiff on the back of my neck, but I was a going concern again, my mind beginning to race under the impetus invariably provided by the need for self-preservation. And that self-preservation entered very acutely into it I did not for a moment doubt. A person who had killed three times to achieve her ends -1 had no doubt at all as to the identity of the person in the control cabin, only the stewardess had seen me leave for the planeand protect her secret wouldn't hesitate to kill a fourth. And she knew her secret was no longer a secret, not while I lived, I had stupidly made my suspicions plain to her. And not only was she ready to kill, but she had the means to killof the fact that she carried a gun and was murderously ready to use it I'd had grisly evidence in the past few minutes. Nor need she hesitate to use it: apart from the fact that falling snow had a peculiarly blanketing effect on all sound, the south wind would carry the crack of a pistol-shot away from the cabin. Then something snapped inside my mind and I was all of a sudden fighting mad. Perhaps it was the thought of the four dead menfive, including the co-pilotperhaps it was the inevitable reaction from my panic-stricken fear of a moment ago, and perhaps, too, it had no little to do with the realisation that I, too, had a gun. I brought it out from my pocket, transferred the torch to my left hand, jumped up, pressed the torch button and started running down the aisle. It was proof enough of my utter inexperience in this murderous game of hide-and-seek that it was not until I was almost at the door at the forward end of the cabin that I remembered how easy it would have been for anyone to crouch down behind the backs of one of the rearward facing front seats and shoot me at point-blank range as I passed. But there was no one there and as I plunged through the door I caught a fleeting glimpse of a dark muffled figure, no more than a featureless silhouette in the none too powerful beam of my torch, wriggling out through the smashed windscreen of the control cabin. I brought up my automaticthe thought that I could be indicted on a murder charge for killing a fleeing person, no matter how criminal a person, never entered my mindand squeezed the trigger. Nothing happened. I squeezed the trigger again, and before kodak easyshare m893 is digital camera I remembered the existence of such a thing as a safety-catch the windscreen was no more than an empty frame for the thickening snow that swirled greyly in the darkness beyond, and I plainly heard the thud of feet hitting the ground.Cursing my stupidity, and again oblivious of the perfect target I was presenting, I leaned far out of the window. Again I was lucky, again I had another brief sight of the figure, this time scurrying round the tip of the left wing before vanishing into the snow and the dark. Three seconds later I was on the ground myself. I landed awkwardly but picked myself up at once and skirted round the wing, pounding after the fleeing figure with all the speed I could muster in the hampering bulkiness of my furs. She was running straight back to the cabin, following the line of bamboo sticks, and I could both hear the thudding of feet in the frozen snow and see the wildly erratic swinging of a torch, the beam one moment pooling whitely on the ground beside the flying feet, the next reaching ahead to light up the bamboo line. She was moving swiftly, much more so than I would have thought her capable of doing, but nevertheless I was steadily overhauling her when suddenly the torch beam ahead curved away in a new direction, as the runner angled off into the darkness, about forty-five degrees to the left. I turned after her, still following both my sight of the torch and sound of the feet. Thirty yards, forty, fiftythen I stopped and stood very still indeed. The torch ahead had gone out and I could hear nothing at all. For the second time that night I cursed my unthinking folly. What I should have done, of course, was to carry straight on back to the cabin and await the moment she turned up there, as she inevitably must: no person could hope to survive for any great length of time, without shelter of some kind, in the deadly cold of that arctic night. But it wasn't too late yet. The wind had been blowing almost directly in my face as I had been running: all I had to do was walk back, keeping it on my left cheek, and I would be bound to hit the line of bamboos at right angles, and the chances of my passing unwittingly between two of them, with the light of my torch to help me, did not exist. I turned, took one step, then two, then halted in my tracks. Why had I been lured out here away from the bamboo line? Not so that she could thereby escape meshe couldn't do it that way. As long as we both lived, we were both utterly

"His haukes they flie so eagerly,

been in Alexandria almost a fortnight earlier. Mallory's opinion of Jensen, already high, rose another notch. A far-seeing man who planned accordingly, Jensen must have had all his preparations for this made even before the first of the two abortive parachute landings on Navarone. It was eight o'clock and almost totally dark inside the plane when Mallory rose and made his way for'ard to the control cabin. The captain, face wreathed in tobacco smoke; was drinking coffee: the co-pilot waved a languid hand at his approach and resumed a bored scanning of the scene ahead. "Good evening." Mallory smiled. "Mind if I come in?" "Welcome in my office any time," the pilot assured him. "No need to ask." "I only thought you might be busy. . . ." Mallory stopped and looked again at the scene of masterly inactivity. "Just who is flying this plane?" he asked. "George. The automatic pilot." He waved a coffeecup in the direction of a black, squat box, its blurred outlines just visible in the near darkness. "An industrious character, and makes a damn' sight fewer mistakes than that idle hound who's supposed to be on watch. . . . Anything on your mind, Captain?" "Yes. What were your instructions for to-night?" "Just to set you blokes down in Castelrosso when it was good and dark." The pilot paused, then said frankly, "I don't get it. A ship this size for only five men and a couple of hundred odd pounds of equipment. Especially to Castelrosso. Especially after dark. Last plane that came down here after dark just kept on going down. Underwater obstructiondunno what it was. Two survivors." "I know. I heard. I'm sorry, but I'm under orders too. As for the rest, forget itand I mean forget. Impress on your crew that they mustn't talk. They've never seen us." The pilot nodded glumly. "We've all been threatened with court-martial already. You'd think there was a ruddy war on." "There is. . . . We'll be leaving a couple of cases behind. We're going ashore in different clothes. Somebody will be waiting for our old stuff when you get back." "Roger. And the best of luck, Captain. Official secrets, or no official secrets, I've got a hunch you're going to need it." "If we are, you can give us a good send-off." Mallory grinned; "Just set us down in one piece, will you?" "Reassure yourself, brother," said the pilot firmly. "Just set your mind at ease. Don't forgetI'm in this ruddy plane too." The review small digital camera clamour of the Sunderland's great engines was still echoing in their ears when the stubby little motorboat chugged softly out of the darkness and nosed alongside the gleaming hull of the flying-boat. There was no time lost, there were no words spoken; within a minute the five men and all their gear had been embarked; within another the little boat was rubbing to a stop against the rough stone Navy jetty of Castelrosso. Two ropes went spinning up into the darkness, were caught and quickly secured by practised hands. Amidships, the rust-scaled iron ladder, recessed deep into the stone, stretched up into the star-dusted darkness above: as Mallory reached the top, a figure stepped forward out of the gloom. "Captain Mallory?" "Yes." "Captain Briggs, Army. Have your men wait here, will you? The Colonel would like to see you." The nasal voice, peremptory in its clipped affectation, was far from cordial. Mallory stirred in slow anger, but said nothing. Briggs sounded like a man who might like his bed or his gin, and maybe their late visitation was keeping him from either or both. War was hell. They were back in ten minutes, a third figure followIng behind them. Mallory peered at the three men standing on the edge of the jetty, identified them, then peered around again. "Where's Miller got to?" he asked. "Here, boss, here." Miller groaned, eased his back off a big, wooden bollard, climbed wearily to his feet. "Just restin', boss. Recuperatin', as you might say, from the nerve-rackin' rigours of the trip." "When you're all quite ready," Briggs said acidly, "Matthews here will take you to your quarters. You are to remain on call for the Captain, Matthews. Colonel's orders." Briggs's tone left no doubt that he thought the Colonel's orders a piece of arrant nonsense. "And don't forget, Captaintwo hours, the Colonel said." "I know, I know," Mallory said wearily. "I was there when he said it. It was to me he was talking. Remember? All right, boys, if you're ready." "Our gear, sir?" Stevens ventured. "Just leave it there. Right, Matthews, lead the way, will you?" Matthews led the way along the jetty and up interminable flights of steep, worn steps, the others following in Indian file, rubber soles noiseless on the

No meadow of asfodel our feet shal tread,

from the hatch and was staring at the smashed radio. "I know, Jackstraw, I know. I'll explain later- not that I know anything about it. Bring seme empty cases for seats out of the food tunnel, will you. And a bottle of brandy. We all need it." I'd just started to wash the cut foreheada nasty gash, as I had said, but surprisingly little signs of bruisingwhen the big amiable young man who had helped us lower the second officer from the wrecked plane came to us. I looked across up at him, and saw that I could be wrong about the amiability: his face wasn't exactly hostile, but his eyes had the cool measuring look of one who knew from experience that he could cope with most of the situations, pleasant and unpleasant, that he was ever likely to come up against. "Look," he began without preamble, "I don't know who you are or what your name is, but I'm sure we are all most grateful to you for what you have done for us. It's more than probable that we owe our lives to you. We acknowledge that. Also, we know you're a field scientist, and we realise that your equipment is of paramount importance to you. Agreed?" "Agreed." I dabbed iodine fairly liberally on the injured man's headhe was tough, all right, he didn't even winceand looked at the speaker. Not at all a man to ignore, I thought. Behind the strong intelligent face lay a hardness, a tenacity of purpose that hadn't been acquired along with the cultured relaxed voice at the Ivy League college I was pretty certain he had attended. "You'd something else to say?" "Yes. We thinkcorrection, I thinkthat you were unnecessarily rough on our air hostess. You can see the state the poor kid's in. OK, so your radio's bust, so you're hoppin' mad about itbut there's no need for all this song and dance." His voice was calm, conversational all the time. "Radios aren't irreplaceable. This one will be replaced, I promise you. You'll have a new one inside a week, ten days at the most." "Kind," I said dryly. I finished tying the head bandage and straightened up. "The offer is appreciated, but there's one thing you haven't taken into account. You may be dead inside that ten days. You may all be dead in ten days." "We may all" He broke off and stared at me, his expression perceptibly hardening. "What are you talking about?" "What I'm talking about is that without this radio you dismiss so lightly your chancesour chancesof survival aren't all that good. In fact, they're not good at all. I don't give a tuppenny damn about the radio, as such." I eyed him curiously, and a preposterous disposable digital camera hack thought struck me: at least, it was preposterous for all of a couple of seconds, before the truth hit me. "Have youhave any of you any idea just where you are, right here, at the present moment?" "Sure we have." The young man lifted his shoulders fractionally. "Just can't say how far to the nearest drugstore or pub" "I told them," the stewardess interrupted. "They were asking me, just before you came in. I thought Captain Johnson had overshot the landing field at Reykjavik in a snowstorm. This is Langjokull, isn't it?" She saw the expression on my face and went on hastily. "Or Hofsjokull? I mean, we were flying more or less north-east from Gander, and these are the only two snowfields or glaciers or whatever you call them in Iceland in that direction from" "Iceland?" I suppose there is a bit of the ham actor in all of us, and I really couldn't pass it up. "Did you say Iceland?" She nodded, dumbly. Everybody was looking at her, and when she didn't answer they all transferred their gazes to me, as at the touch of a switch. "Iceland," I repeated. "My dear -girl, at the present moment you're at an altitude of 8500 feet, right slam bang in the middle of the Greenland ice-cap." The effect was all that anybody could ever have wished for. I doubt whether even Marie LeGarde had ever had a better reaction from an audience. "Stunned' is an inadequate word to describe their mental state immediately after this announcement: paralysis was nearer it, especially where the power of speech was concerned. And when the power of thought and speech did return, it expressed itself, as I might have expected, in the most violent disbelief. Everybody seemed to start talking at once, but it was the stewardess who took my attention, by coming forward and catching me by the lapels. I noticed the glitter of a diamond ring on her hand, and remember having some vague idea that this was against airline regulations. "What kind of joke is this? It can't be, it can't be! Greenlandit just can't be." She saw by the expression on my face that I wasn't joking, and her grip tightened even more. I had just time to be conscious of two conflicting thoughtsthat, wide with fear and dismay though they might be, she had the most extraordinarily beautiful brown eyes and, secondly, that the BOAC were slipping in their selection of stewardesses whose calmness in emergency was supposed to match the trimness of their appearancethen she rushed on wildly. "Howhow can it be?

And his broad arrows he let flye,

what I could see, the chances were high that it still would be. The entire centre of the glacier was a devil's playground of crevasses ranging from hairlines to chasms twenty and more feet in width, transverse, longitudinal and diagonal, and as far as I could see they extended clear to the other wall. But here, on the left side, close in to the lining wall of moraine, was a relatively clear path, fissured only at long intervals, and not more than thirty yards broad. Thirty yards! Jackstraw could never miss at this point-blank range, even with a moving target. I stole a glance at him, but his face might have been carved from the glacier itself, it was immobile and utterly devoid of expression. Hillcrest, on the other hand, was restless, forever shifting his cramped position: he was unhappy, I knew; he didn't tike this one little bit. He didn't like murder. Neither did I. But this wasn't murder, it was a long overdue execution: it wasn't life-taking, it was life-saving, the lives of Margaret and Solly Levin. . . . There came the sudden click, abnormally loud even above the closing roar of the tractor, and Jackstraw, stretched his length on the snow, had the rifle raised to his shoulder. And then, suddenly, the Citroen had come clearly into sight and Jackstraw was gently lowering his rifle to the ground. I had gambled, and I had lost. The tractor was on the far side of the glacier, hugging the right bank as closely as possible: even at its nearest point of approach it would still be three hundred yards away. CHAPTER TWELVESaturday 12.15 P.M.12.30 P.M. The Citroen was travelling in a most erratic fashionone moment slowing down almost to a stop, the next jerking forward and covering perhaps twenty to thirty yards at a rush. Although we couldn't see the glacier surface at that distance, it was obvious that the driver was picking his way round ice-mounds and threading along between fissures at the best speed he could manage. But his average speed was very low: it would probably take him almost five minutes to reach that point opposite us where the glacier fell away sharply to the left towards the outer angle of the dog-leg half-way down towards the fjord. All these things I noted mechanically, without in any way consciously thinking of them. All I could think of was that Smallwood and Corazzmi had outwitted us right up to the last -almost certainly, I could understand now, they had seen and been warned by the rockets Hillcrest had fired to give the Scimitar our digital camera rugged construction position, and decided to give that side of the glacier the widest possible berth. But the reasons no longer mattered a damn. All that mattered was the accomplished fact, and the fact was that Corazzini and Smallwood could no longer be stopped, not in the way we had intended. Even yet, of course, they could be stoppedbut I had no illusions but that that would be at the cost of the lives of the two hostages in the tractor. Frantically I tried to work out what to do for the best. There was no chance in the world that we might approach them openly over the glacierwe would be spotted before we had covered ten yards, and a pistol at the heads of Margaret and Levin would halt us before we got half-way. If we did nothing, let them get away, I knew the hostages' chances of survival were still pretty slimthat trawler would almost certainly have a name or number or both and I couldn't see Smallwood letting them make an identification of the trawler and then come back to report to usand to all the waiting ships and planes in the Davis StraitBaffin Sea area. Why should he take the slightest risk when it would be so easy to shoot them, so much easier still to throw them down a crevasse or shove them over the edge of the glacier into the freezing waters of the fjord a hundred and fifty feet below.. . . Already the Citroen was no more than three minutes away from the nearest point of approach they would make to us. "Looks like they're going to get away with it," Hillcrest whispered. It seemed as if he feared he might be overheard, though Smallwood and Corazzini couldn't have heard him had he shouted at the top of his voice. "Well, that was what you wanted, wasn't it?" I asked bitterly. "What I wanted! My God, man, that missile mechanism" "I don't give a single solitary damn about the missile mechanism." I ground the words out between clenched teeth. "Six months from now other scientists will have invented something twice as good and ten times as secret. They're welcome to it, and with pleasure." Hillcrest was shocked, but said nothing. But someone was in agreement with me. "Hear, hear!" Zagero had just come up, his hands swathed to the size of boxing gloves in white bandages. The words were light enough, but his face was grim and his eyes bleak as he stared out across the glacier. "My sentiments exactly, Doc. To hell with their murderous

Yet nevertheless, the truth to express,

It was Jackstraw who heard it firstit was always Jackstraw, whose hearing was an even match for his phenomenal eyesight, who heard things first. Tired of having my exposed hands alternately frozen, I had dropped my book, zipped my sleeping-bag up to the chin and was drowsily watching him carving figurines from a length of inferior narwhal tusk when his hands suddenly fell still and he sat quite motionless. Then, unhurriedly as always, he dropped the piece of bone into the coffee-pan that simmered gently by the side of our oil-burner stovecurio collectors paid fancy prices for what they Still Little John they did him call. imagined to be the dark ivory of fossilised elephant tusksrose and put his ear to the ventilation shaft, his eyes remote in the unseeing gaze of a man lost in listening. A couple of seconds were enough. "Aeroplane," he announced casually. "Aeroplane!" I propped myself up on an elbow and stared at him. "Jackstraw, you've been hitting the methylated spirits again." "Indeed, no, Dr Mason." The blue eyes, so incongruously at