Kingfisher

We will not go back, not together, not singly. They will not take us.'

'That was why David went?' She could not use the word that came to her tongue, a betrayal of David as great as if she'd gone to the window and stared down at his broken body. 'That was why David went. Because he knew. That was why you called him a coward

'

'Because he could not do it by his own hand. He needed others. We will ask no help.

Ourselves, together, we will do it.'

He felt her stiffen against him, driving her body closer to his, pressing with a ferocity as if to mould their two persons into one. ' I will be frightened, Isaac. I will need you.' He kissed her sofdy, full on the pale and greyed hps, stifling her words.

'We must hear what the man from Tel Aviv has to say to us. First we must hear that.'

He went to the doorway, for a moment was visible to the outside watchers before instinctive caution won through and he backed again to the side and shelter.

'Charlie,' he shouted. 'You can come now. Bring the man from Israel.'

Strong and clear and strident, his voice across the emptiness of the concrete. The burden thrown off, discarded. There were many rifles aimed at the general direction of his body till the hands that held them relaxed and the barrels were dropped. Charlie Webster and Arie Benitz started to walk towards the Ilyushin, a slow and careful step, and all the time the Englishman talking into the microphone close to his chin.

It seemed a great distance they had to go, a chasm to be bridged.

Summoned again from his exile on the lower floor the Home Secretary read the transcript of Charlie Webster's radio message.

'There has been a substantial change of mood on the part of both Isaac and Rebecca. After threatening that executions would recommence at thirteen hundred local, if they were denied fuel for the onward flight to Israel, they have now invited me to bring to the aircraft Col Arie Benitz of the IDF. They want to hear what message he brings them from the Israeli government.

The message will be that they should surrender. My assessment is that this represents a considerable weakening of Isaac's position. For personal guidance, is it likely that on surrender they will be returned to face Soviet courts? Over. Webster.'

The Home Secretary edged his glasses further down his nose. 'Has someone answered Mr Webster's query?'

'Yes,' the Assistant Chief Constable spoke with caution.

'What was the answer?'

'He was given guidance, not specific information.'

'Which way did you guide him?'

'We said that the position was not clear, but…'

'In heaven's name, man, what did you tell him?'

'He seemed to need some sort of answer, something that would help during the difficult negotiation stage he is embarking on.'

'Don't fool with me.'

'We told Mr Webster that there had been a change of approach by the Foreign Office-we told him they were unlikely to be returned to the Soviet Union.'

'Who told him that?'

' I did.' The Assistant Chief Constable stood his ground, aware the worst was over, that now he had only to confront the puzzlement and confusion of the politician. 'On my own authority. I judged his believing that this was the case would only help Mr Webster at this moment.'

' It's not true, simply not true.'

'Behind them they have a man shot in Kiev. The pilot of the aircraft is dead in the cockpit, a passenger is dead on the tarmac. More stand to die as the afternoon goes on. The truth of what Webster tells these people is frankly unimportant. They've forfeited the right to truth.' He saw the retreat, the change of tack, the Home Secretary backing away from confrontation. Stupid, bloody man, and what did he know of the scene anyway? Better off downstairs and out of the way.

' I hadn't thought it would cave in quite like this.' He had to assert himself in some way, had to say something Well, let bloody Clitheroe answer him.

'They end with a whimper, these things, that's my experience' – the psychiatrist had joined the group. 'On other occasions we've noted there's an intensification of demands in the final hours before surrender. These two people are undergoing severe nervous strain, loss of sleep, absence of food. They are in a hostile environment, isolated from communication. When they raised their demands it was because they acknowledged their earlier threats had failed. Mr Webster has now confronted them with the Israeli. They are bewildered at the moment and they will want to know what he has to say. The combination of persuasion by Mr Webster and Benitz should be too much for them. I would predict it will be all over today. Shorten that in fact to this afternoon.'

'Extraordinary behaviour of this fellow Webster.' The politician was still perturbed, recognizing his hand was far from the helm. Must going off, no instructions, no authorization, taking the Israeli…'

' It's quite simple. The last time Mr Webster was present we were engaged in the debrief of the Russian. We were preparing for an attack. Mr Webster was anxious to avoid such an assault.'

'So are we all,' the Home Secretary bridled. 'It's the last thing any of us want.'

' 'If the military assault the plane Mr Webster believes there would be an inherent risk to the children who are among the passengers, harm a large proportion of them. If I may be indiscreet I think he also believes that it is not necessary to kill the two young people. He would like them to survive. If he is to save them he will be all the better equipped to do so in the knowledge that they will serve a few years in a British gaol before release. He's a complex fellow, Mr Webster, his experiences are outside our own, and I think he's bored with ushering young people to their maker. The only relief I feel at the moment is that it will not be myself who disabuses him of the destination of the two Russians should he prove successful.'

Both in their shirt sleeves, Charlie encumbered only by his radio set, Benitz with the lightweight aluminium ladder that would reach to the bottom of the doorway. Around them a terrible, deafening stillness. Benitz steadied the ladder against the fuselage of the aircraft, noticed its age, the dents of unknown mechanics, the flashes of rust from the vents in the bodywork, the peeling of the weatherworn paint work of its livery. He put his foot on the bottom step to calm its vibrations.

Charlie began to climb towards the doorway.

CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

Isaac was back again in his lair, hugging the drinks trolley, ignoring the sights that he had lived with, the coats and possessions stuffed into the racks, the printed flower patterns on the walls, the terse material covering of the seats, the bobbing heads. Rebecca sat huddled in the cockpit doorway, shunning the sight of the body of the captain, unmoving and whitened by the pallor of death. Both from their different positions could see the top of the ladder, saw it buckle and shake before there was Charlie's shoulder for them to fasten on, and his growing height as he climbed into view. He seemed to pause for a moment, to hesitate and look about him, nostrils dilating to the smell of the interior. His eyes roamed about him, and there was a smile of recognition on his face, hasty but still evident, when he saw the girl, followed by a slight inclination of his head and then at his mouth the faint twist of protest, unspoken, at the pistol levelled at his chest. He turned his head, back towards the world beyond the hatch and called in English so that only Rebecca understood him. 'It's fine, Arie. Come on up, the party's ready.'

Isaac, squinting down the length of the aisle, trying to penetrate the face, assess the man: the enemy or the ally? Isaac needing an answer. Didn't fit the image of the enemy. Too old, too care-worn, too gross about the waist. An ordinary man such as he would have seen in Kiev, who might work at the railway station or occupy an office in the Bureau of State Pensions. He moved with neither the suspicion nor the aggression of a man who would do them harm. But this was the one who had broken them, who was the spokesman for the great force on the outside, who had not conceded to their demand for fuel. And his weapon had been placid, unyielding reasonableness, the tap that