‘No, but you’re not the only one who’s asking. The civvy police are asking questions about the cargo of a coastal oil tanker – can you imagine what that’s worth? This isn’t anything to do with that, I suppose?’
Trick or treat? Lie or truth?
‘Could be.’
‘OK, but don’t get mixed up with the civil authorities, Charlie. They hate both Collins and your boss with a passion. Nobody will be able to get you out of trouble once you get in – not even me.’
‘Don’t worry, Tony, I consider myself properly warned. What happens next? Will you call me?’
‘Someone will.’
It was one of those days when people are always putting the phone down on you. It pissed me off, but there was nothing I could do about it. I’d already drunk enough beer, so I called for some coffee. A very beautiful girl dressed in something not unlike a silk sari of swirling greeny colours walked into the bar. She travelled in a mist of invisible thin blue perfume; maybe it was an aphrodisiac, because it made my head swim. She smiled and I smiled. I wish I could stop myself doing that. I said, ‘I remember you. You’re Laika, aren’t you?’
‘Yes. Alison’s upstairs changing. We got in an hour ago.’ I’ve told you before, you lose some . . . and you lose some. Story of my life. But for once I knew which girl I really wanted, so I made myself scarce until I had rehearsed my lines.
That night I sat at the same table near the dance floor, but with Alison, Laika and the three men flying with them – a pilot, co-pilot and radio operator. That left them one short by my reckoning.
‘Where’s your engineer?’
‘That’s me, mate,’ the co-pilot told me. ‘Co-pilot and engineer rolled into one – just like a Marine’s a soldier and sailor too. They’re getting rid of the radio ops next year. It won’t be long before the bloody things fly themselves, and we can all go home.’ He held his hand out for the manly shake. He had a grip of iron. A bloody Kiwi. ‘Jonathan Crane.’
‘Charlie Bassett.’
‘Someone said you were a radio man, out here on a government contract. Any jobs going for the likes of me?’ That was the radio operator: Maurice Kacik. They called him Little Mo because he was small, like me. If you don’t understand that one you’ll have to get out your book of sporting heroes and heroines of the 1950s: she’s in there somewhere.
‘I can give you a couple of telephone numbers. The job’s shite, but the money’s not bad.’ I tore the top from his fag packet and scribbled the two numbers I had for Watson on it with my lucky pencil. Watson would be livid at getting a call from an unvetted outsider to his private sanctum. Their skipper had been introduced to me as Brome. I didn’t know if that was his first or last name, but he wanted to keep the conversation. He asked me, ‘I know you’re a sort of sparks out here, but what do you do back home?’
‘I run an airline. They released me for six months to help the Queen.’
I could see that that set him back a peg or two. He leaned closer.
‘Which airline?’
‘Halton. We’re at Panshanger now.’
‘Christ, skipper!’ That was Crane. ‘Aren’t they the bastards who’ve nicked half our War Office work?’ This was how I found out that Old Man Halton had kept himself busy while I was away.
‘Come and see me when I get back, ‘I told them. ‘We’ve always got room for talent.’ I was grandstanding, of course – probably showing off in front of the girls. I had never taken on anyone personally in my life, except Bozey and Randall: the old man did the hiring and firing all himself.
Someone once told me the old man recruited the women who worked with us by touch – that instead of interviewing them for positions, he tied a scarf around his eyes and stretched out his hands. That sounded like company legend to me, but it might explain why most of our female colleagues had busts to die for. I thought suddenly of Elaine back at Panshanger now, and wondered if he’d recruited her that way: I could have watched the sun come up over her tits for the rest of my life, as long as I never had to commit to anything. Which is why I had one of those eureka! moments there and then – with Alison’s crew all around me. I realized that I could commit myself to Steve without feeling trapped. That was interesting.
It became even more diverting halfway through the evening when she came out to dance: for a start Crane and Brome’s eyes came out on stalks. Then every time she came close to our table she shot me, and the girls with us, a mean eyeful of daggers. You’ll agree, that was interesting too. Alison grabbed for my hand under the table; I’m sure that was what she was aiming for, and anyway that was all she got.
Steve finished with a flourish, and stalked off the small dance area with applause ringing in her ears. People stood for her. I didn’t see her again that night, and spent it alone. When I awoke in the morning someone had pushed a small sheet of white paper, with a big black spot inked on it, under my door. Why the hell had I ever told her about Treasure Island?
Chapter Nineteen
Chasing the Dragon
The same kid. I reckoned we were about sixty miles from where I’d last seen him, so he covered the ground. I was taking breakfast in the garden on my own when he marched through
