Directly ahead, across the runway, was a helicopter of a gyrodyne design that Bond did not recognize. Proudly emblazoned along the side were the words DRAX AIRLINES and the symbol that adorned Trudi’s uniform.
‘Are you my guide and mentor?’ asked Bond.
‘I’m your pilot.’
Bond made a good job of conquering his surprise. California was no place to be accused of sexism. ‘I don’t recognize the helicopter.’
‘There’s no reason why you should. It’s the prototype of a model that Mr Drax is developing.’
‘I didn’t know he owned an airline.’
‘He’s big in communications,’ said Trudi casually. ‘He owns a couple of railways in South America. Then there’s the steamship company in Japan and his trucking business. I don’t really know the half of it. I should think only Mr Drax and maybe some of his accountants do.’ She nodded to another helicopter that was standing by with a Drax pilot in the cockpit. ‘He’ll be along with your bags in a few minutes.’
‘I feel very well looked after,’ said Bond.
‘That’s the idea.’ She gestured towards the helicopter. ‘I guess you’ve flown in one of these before?’
‘Quite a few times,’ said Bond.
‘Good, then I don’t have to give you the reassurance bit.’
‘You mean, we’re just going to take off?’ asked Bond. ‘What about passport formalities? I’ve just flown in from England.’
‘When you’re a guest of Mr Drax, things become very informal.’ Trudi smiled engagingly. ‘Mr Drax wouldn’t invite anybody if it wasn’t in the best interests of the U.S.A.’
‘He seems a law unto himself,’ said Bond.
Trudi climbed into the cockpit. ‘He’s a very successful man. Americans respect success. Not only that, they trust it.’ She waited until Bond was strapped in beside her and then spoke swiftly into the radio, asking for permission to take off. Seconds later they were climbing steeply and spinning away towards the north. Bond looked about him for signs of the much-trumpeted Los Angeles smog and wondered if it was as difficult to run down as a genuine London pea-souper. Below him was an impression of long straight streets running across each other like latticework, whilst broad freeways curved to the horizon. It was like the layout of a giant snakes and ladders board.
‘How far have we got to go?’ asked Bond.
‘A couple of hours. Is this your first time in California?’
Bond admired the relaxed skill with which Trudi controlled the helicopter. As a man who liked nothing better than to be behind the wheel of a fast car, he had always responded to an attractive woman who knew how to handle a machine.
‘I’ve been here a few times,’ said Bond. ‘I know the East Coast better.’
‘You look kinda Ivy League,’ smiled Trudi.
‘You don’t make it sound like a compliment,’ said Bond.
‘I didn’t mean to make it sound like an insult either.’ Trudi pointed down through the perspex. ‘That’s Hollywood.’
‘So there is the big sign on the hill,’ said Bond. ‘It’s a shame nobody gives it a coat of paint.’
‘I’m certain they’d be real grateful for any volunteers.’ Trudi applied fingertip pressure to the controls and the helicopter shifted direction towards the north-east.
Bond smiled to himself. He liked Trudi. She was self-assured and she had a sense of humour. There was no trace of pretension about her. She was also a damned good pilot. Not for the first time, he considered how beauty can almost be a disadvantage to a woman. Most men believe that women purchase beauty from the gods at the price of intelligence. When he had first seen Trudi he had thought that she must be a cover-girl much sought after by toothpaste advertisers. If she had been plain, round-shouldered and dressed in a calf-length smock he would have been prepared to believe that she was a Nobel prize winner.
‘San Fernando on our left,’ indicated Trudi.
Bond scolded himself. Trudi was absorbing too much of his attention. She was a beautiful girl but she was not the reason he was in California. ‘I expect you know why I’m here?’ he said.
Trudi shook her head. ‘Nope. We get a lot of visitors. I don’t know everything that goes on. I’m just a humble pilot in the service of the Drax Corporation.’
‘You know about the crash in Alaska though?’
Trudi’s face grew serious. ‘Yes, I heard about that. The 747 coming down with the Moonraker. They were on their way to England, weren’t they?’
‘That’s right.’ Bond was interested to hear the official version of the crash repeated back to him. The disappearance of the space shuttle had not been made common knowledge. ‘I’m investigating the crash.’
‘So you’ve been to Alaska?’
‘That’s right.’
‘Gee. You must have moved fast.’
Bond studied the girl out of the corner of his eye. There was nothing in her expression to confirm that she knew he had been lying about visiting Alaska.
Los Angeles and its satellite towns had now been left behind and the gyrodyne was flying with impressive speed and smoothness over a flat desert-like plain with a range of mountains in the.distance. Bond calculated that
