had accepted the attack that must surely have destroyed David.
He watched with fascinated horror as Joe pulled out Of his dive, and
used his speed to climb into the sun.
The missile followed him smoothly, angling upwards, overhauling Joe's
Mirage with effortless ease. Joe was watching the missile in his
mirror, and at the last instant he flipped out of the climb, but this
time the Serpent was not deceived; as Joe dropped so it swivelled also,
and as earlier David had wallowed helplessly now Joe was in the same
predicament. He had taken his chance and it had not worked for him. The
missile found him, and in a brusque burst of flame, Joe and his Mirage
died together.
David flew on alone, his Mirage once more at manoeuvring speed and his
throat dry with horror and fear and grief. He found himself talking
aloud.
Joe, no, Joe. Oh God no! You shouldn't have done it. Ahead of him
through the gaps in the massive cloud bases he saw the Jordan.
It should be you that's going home, Joe, he said. It should be you,
Joe, and felt the hard ball of sorrow in his throat.
But the instinct of survival was still strong and David yawned and
glanced back to clear his blind spot, and he saw the last missile coming
in on him. It was just a small black speck far behind, with a little
frill of dark smoke around it, but it was watching him hungrily with its
wicked little eye.
As he saw it, he knew beyond doubt that this one was his, the one that
the fates had reserved for him. The attacks he had evaded so far had
worn his nerves and strained his judgement, he felt a sense of
fatalistic dismay as he watched the attacking missile gaining on him,
nevertheless he gathered his scattered reserves for one more supreme
effort.
His eyes narrowed to slits, the sweat sliding down his face and
drenching his mask, his left hand holding the throttle fully open and
his right gripping the control column with the strength of despair, he
judged his moment.
The missile was almost upon him and he screamed with all his might and
hurled the Mirage into the turn, but he had misjudged it by the smallest
part of a second.
As he turned away the missile slid past him and it was close enough to
pick up the shadow of the Mirage in the photo-electric eye of its fusing
device. The eye winked at him and the missile exploded.
The Mirage was in the critical attitude of its turn, and the cockpit
canopy was exposed entirely to the centre of the blast. It hit the
plane with a blow that sent it tumbling; like a running man tripping it
went over, and it lost life and flying capability.
The canopy was penetrated by flying steel. A piece struck David's
armoured seat with a clang and then it glanced off and struck his arm
above the elbow, snapping the bone cleanly so that the arm dropped
uselessly and hung into his lap.
An icy wind raged through the torn canopy as the Mirage hurled itself
through space with suicidal force, whipping its nose through the vicious
