a bomb on board at White Waltham.’
‘Newbury?’
‘They all stayed in their seats except me. Colin Ross came… We put his overnight bag in the front baggage locker…’
The tall man shook his head. ‘The explosion was further back. Behind the captain’s seat, at the very least. The blast evidence makes it certain. Some of the metal parts of the captain’s seat were embedded in the instrument panel.’
‘One minute,’ I said reflectively. ‘Very nasty.’
‘Yes… Who had an opportunity at Haydock?’
I sighed inwardly. ‘I suppose anyone, from the time I gave the keys to Major Tyderman until I went back to the aircraft.’
‘How long was that?’
I’d worked it out. ‘Getting on for three hours. But…’
‘But what?’
‘No one could have counted on the aircraft being left unlocked.’
‘Trying to wriggle out?’
‘Do you think so?’
He dodged an answer: said: ‘I’ll give it to you that no one could have known whether it would be locked or unlocked. You just made it easy.’
‘All right,’ I said. ‘If you’ll also bear in mind that pickers and stealers unlock cars every day of the week, and that aircraft keys are the same type. Anyone who could manufacture and plant a bomb could open a little old lock.’
‘Possibly,’ he said, and repeated, ‘But you made it easy.’
Damn Major Tyderman, I thought bleakly. Stupid, careless old fool. I stifled the thought that I probably would have gone across with him, or insisted on fetching his newspaper for him, if I hadn’t been unwilling to walk away and leave Nancy.
‘Who could have had access… leaving the matter of locks?’
I shrugged one shoulder. ‘All the world. They had only to walk across the track.’
‘The aircraft was parked opposite the stands, I believe, in full view of the crowds.’
‘Yes. About a hundred yards, in fact, from the stands. Not close enough for anyone to see exactly what someone was doing, if he seemed to be walking round peering in through the windows. People do that, you know, pretty often.’
‘You didn’t notice anyone, yourself?’
I shook my head. ‘I looked across several times during the afternoon. Just a casual glance, though. I wasn’t thinking about trouble.’
‘Hm.’ He reflected for a few seconds. Then he said ‘Two of the Polyplanes were there as well, I believe.’
‘Yes.’
‘I think I’d better talk to the pilots, to see if they noticed anything.’
I didn’t comment. His eyes suddenly focused on mine, sharp and black.
‘Were they friendly?’
‘The pilots? Not particularly.’
‘How’s the feud?’
‘What feud?’
He stared at me assessingly. ‘You’re not that dumb. No one could work for Derrydown and not know that they and Polyplanes are permanently engaged in scratching each other’s eyes out.’
I sighed. ‘I don’t give a damn.’
‘You will, when they start reporting you.’
‘Reporting me? For what? What do you mean?’
He smiled thinly. ‘If you infringe the rules by as much as one foot, Polyplanes will be on to us before your wheels have stopped rolling. They’re doing their best to put Derrydown out of business. Most of it we shrug off as simply spite. But if they catch you breaking the regulations, and can produce witnesses, we’d have to take action.’
‘Charming.’
He nodded. ‘Aviation will never need a special police force to detect crime. Everyone is so busy informing on everyone else. Makes us laugh, sometimes.’
‘Or cry,’ I said.
‘That too.’ He nodded wryly. ‘There are no permanent friendships in aviation. The people you think are your friends are the first to deny they associate with you at the faintest hint of trouble. The cock crows until it’s hoarse, in aviation.’ The bitterness in his voice was unmistakable. But impersonal, also.
‘You don’t approve.’
‘No. It makes our job easier, of course. But I like less and less the sight of people scrambling to save themselves at any cost to others. It diminishes them. They are small.’
‘You can’t always blame them for not always wanting to be involved. Aviation law cases are so fierce, so unforgiving…’
‘Did your friends at Interport rally round and cheer you up?’
I thought back to those weeks of loneliness. ‘They waited to see.’
He nodded. ‘Didn’t want to be contaminated.’
‘It’s a long time ago,’ I said.
‘You never forget rejection,’ he said. ‘It’s a trauma.’
‘Interport didn’t reject me. They kept me on for another year, until they went bust. And,’ I added, ‘I didn’t have anything to do with that.’
He gently laughed. ‘Oh I know. My masters in that Government put on one of its great big squeezes and by one means or another forced them out of business.’
I didn’t pursue it. The history of aviation was littered with the bodies of