She lifted a sharp nose and said, I declare this is all wrong, Captain. You must turn back at once.
The fixed smile on OHaras face nearly slipped. I fly this route regularly, Miss Ponsky, he said. There is nothing to fear.
But there was naked fear on her face air fear. Sealed in the air-conditioned quietness of a modern jet-liner she could subdue it, but the primitiveness of the Dakota brought it to the surface. There was no clever decor to deceive her into thinking that she was in a drawing-room, just the stark functionalism of unpainted aluminium, battered and scratched, and with the plumbing showing like a dissected body.
OHara said quietly, What is your profession, Miss Ponsky?
Im a school teacher back in South Bridge, she said. Ive been teaching there for thirty years.
He judged she was naturally garrulous and perhaps this could be a way of conquering her fear. He glanced at the man, who said, Miguel Rohde.
He was a racial anomaly a Spanish-German name and Spanish-German features straw-coloured hair and beady black eyes. There had been German immigration into South America for many years and this was one of the results.
OHara said, Do you know the Andes, Señor Rohde?
Very well, he replied in a grating voice. He nodded ahead. I lived up there for many years now I am going back.
OHara switched back to Miss Ponsky. Do you teach geography, Miss Ponsky?
She nodded. Yes, I do. Thats one of the reasons I came to South America on my vacation. It makes such a difference if you can describe things first-hand.
Then here you have a marvellous opportunity, said OHara with enthusiasm. Youll see the Andes as you never would if youd flown Samair. And Im sure that Señor Rohde will point out the interesting sights.
Rohde nodded understandingly. Si, very interesting; I know it well, the mountain country.
OHara smiled reassuringly at Miss Ponsky, who offered him a glimmering, tremulous smile in return. He caught a twinkle in Rohdes black eyes as he turned to the port side again.
The man sitting next to Peabody was undoubtedly British, so OHara said, Glad to have you with us, Dr Armstrong Mr Peabody.
Armstrong said, Nice to hear an English accent, Captain, after all this Spa
Peabody broke in. Im damned if Im glad to be here, Skipper. What in hell kind of an airline is this, for god-sake?
One run by an American, Mr Peabody, said OHara calmly. As you were saying, Dr Armstrong?
Never expected to see an English captain out here, said Armstrong.
Well, Im Irish, and we tend to get about, said OHara. Id put on some warm clothing if I were you. You, too, Mr Peabody.
Peabody laughed and suddenly burst into song. Ive got my love to keep me warm. He produced a hip flask and waved it. This is as good as any top-coat.
For a moment OHara saw himself in Peabody and was shocked and afraid. As you wish, he said bleakly, and passed on to the last pair of seats opposite the luggage racks.
The Coughlins were an elderly couple, very Darby and Joanish. He must have been pushing seventy and she was not far behind, but there was a suggestion of youth about their eyes, good-humoured and with a zest for life. OHara said, Are you all right, Mrs Coughlin?
Fine, she said. Arent we, Harry?
Sure, said Coughlin, and looked up at OHara. Will we be flying through the Puerto de las Aguilas?
Thats right, said OHara. Do you know these parts?
Coughlin laughed. Last time I was round here was in 1912. Ive just come down to show my wife where I spent my misspent youth. He turned to her. That means Eagle Pass, you know; it took me two weeks to get across back in 1910, and here we are doing it in an hour or two. Isnt it wonderful?
It sure is, Mrs Coughlin replied comfortably.
There was nothing wrong with the Coughlins, decided OHara, so after a few more words he went back to the cockpit. Grivas still had the plane on automatic pilot and was sitting relaxed, gazing forward at the mountains. OHara sat down and looked intently at the oncoming mountain wall. He checked the course and said, Keep taking a bearing on Chimitaxl and let me know when its two hundred and ten degrees true bearing. You know the drill.
He stared down at the ground looking for landmarks and nodded with satisfaction as he saw the sinuous, twisting course of the Rio Sangre and the railway bridge that crossed it. Flying this route by day and for so long he knew the ground by heart and knew immediately whether he was on time. He judged that the north-west wind predicted by the meteorologists was a little stronger than they had prophesied and altered course accordingly, then he jacked in the auto pilot again and relaxed. All would be quiet until Grivas came up with the required bearing on Chimitaxl. He sat in repose and watched the ground slide away behind the dun and olive foothills, craggy bare rock, and then the shining snow-covered peaks. Presently he munched on the sandwiches he took from his briefcase. He thought of washing them down with a drink from his flask but then he thought of Peabodys whisky-sodden face. Something inside him seemed to burst and he found that he didnt need a drink after all.
Grivas suddenly put down the bearing compass. Thirty seconds, he said.
OHara looked at the wilderness of high peaks before him, a familiar wilderness. Some of these mountains were his friends, like Chimitaxl; they pointed out his route. Others were his deadly enemies devils and demons lurked among them compounded of down draughts, driving snow and mists. But he was not afraid because it was all familiar and he knew and understood the dangers and how to escape them.
Grivas said, Now, and OHara swung the control column gently, experience telling him the correct turn. His feet automatically moved in conjunction with his hands and the Dakota swept to port in a wide, easy curve, heading for a gap in the towering wall ahead.
Grivas said softly, Señor OHara.
Dont bother me now.
But I must, said Grivas, and there was a tiny metallic click.
OHara glanced at him out of the corner of his eye and stiffened as he saw that Grivas was pointing a gun at him a compact automatic pistol.
He jerked his head, his eyes widening in disbelief. Have you gone crazy?
Grivass smiled widened. Does it matter? he said indifferently. We do not go through the Puerto de las Aguilas this trip, Señor OHara, that is all that matters. His voice hardened. Now steer course one-eight-four on a true bearing.
OHara took a deep breath and held his course. You must have gone out of your mind, he said. Put down that gun, Grivas, and maybe well forget this. I suppose I have been bearing down on you a bit too much, but thats no reason to pull a gun. Put it away and well straighten things out when we get to Santillana.
Grivass teeth flashed. Youre a stupid man, OHara; do you think I do this for personal reasons? But since you mention it, you said not long ago that sitting in the captains seat gave you authority. He lifted the gun slightly. You were wrong this gives authority; all the authority there is. Now change course or Ill blow your head off. I can fly this aircraft too, remember.
Theyd hear you inside, said OHara.
Ive locked the door, and what could they do? They wouldnt take the controls from the only pilot. But that would be of no consequence to you, OHara youd be dead.
OHara saw his finger tighten on the trigger and bit his lip before swinging the control column. The Dakota turned to fly south, parallel to the main backbone of the Andes. Grivas was right, damn him; there was no point in getting himself killed. But what the hell was he up to?
He settled on the bearing given by Grivas and reached forward to the auto pilot control. Grivas jerked the gun. No, Señor OHara; you fly this aircraft it will give you something to do.
OHara drew back his hand slowly and grasped the wheel. He looked out to starboard past Grivas at the high peaks drifting by. Where are we going? he asked grimly.
That is of no consequence, said Grivas. But it is not very far. We land at an airstrip in five minutes.
OHara thought about that. There was no airstrip that he knew of on this course. There were no airstrips at all this high in the mountains except for the military strips, and those were on the Pacific side of the Andes chain. He would have to wait and see.
His eyes flickered to the microphone set on its hook close to his left hand. He looked at Grivas and saw he was not wearing his earphones. If the microphone was switched on then any loud conversation would go on the air and Grivas would be unaware of it. It was definitely worth trying.
He said to Grivas, There are no airstrips on this course. His left hand strayed from the wheel.
You dont know everything, OHara.
His fingers touched the microphone and he leaned over to obstruct Grivass vision as much as possible, pretending to study the instruments. His fingers found the switch and he snapped it over and then he leaned back and relaxed. In a loud voice he said, Youll never get away with this, Grivas; you cant steal a whole aeroplane so easily. When this Dakota is overdue at Santillana theyll lay on a search you know that as well as I do.
Grivas laughed. Oh, youre clever, OHara but I was cleverer. The radio is not working, you know. I took out the tubes when you were talking to the passengers.
OHara felt a sudden emptiness in the pit of his stomach. He looked at the jumble of peaks ahead and felt frightened. This was country he did not know and there would be dangers he could not recognize. He felt frightened for himself and for his passengers.
III
It was cold in the passenger cabin, and the air was thin. Señor Montes had blue lips and his face had turned grey. He sucked on the oxygen tube and his niece fumbled in her bag and produced a small bottle of pills. He smiled painfully and put a pill in his mouth, letting it dissolve on his tongue. Slowly some colour came back into his face; not a lot, but he looked better than he had before taking the pill.
In the seat behind, Miss Ponskys teeth were chattering, not with cold but with conversation. Already Miguel Rohde had learned much of her life history, in which he had not the slightest interest although he did not show it. He let her talk, prompting her occasionally, and all the time he regarded the back of Montess head with lively black eyes. At a question from Miss Ponsky he looked out of the window and suddenly frowned.
The Coughlins were also looking out of the window. Mr Coughlin said, Id have sworn we were going to head that way through that pass. But we suddenly changed course south.
It all looks the same to me, said Mrs Coughlin. Just a lot of mountains and snow.
Coughlin said, From what I remember, El Puerto de las Aguilas is back there.
Oh, Harry, Im sure you dont really remember. Its nearly fifty years since you were here and you never saw it from an airplane.
Maybe, he said, unconvinced. But it sure is funny.
Now, Harry, the pilot knows what hes doing. He looked a nice efficient young man to me.
Coughlin continued to look from the window. He said nothing more.
James Armstrong of London, England, was becoming very bored with Joe Peabody of Chicago, Illinois. The man was a positive menace. Already he had sunk half the contents of his flask, which seemed an extraordinarily large one, and he was getting combatively drunk. Whadya think of the nerve of that goddam fly-boy, chokin me off like that? he demanded. Actin high an mighty jus like the goddam limey he is.
Armstrong smiled gently. Im a er goddam limey too, you know, he pointed out.
Well, jeez, presen compny excepted, said Peabody. Thats always the rule, aint it? I aint got anything against you limeys really, excep you keep draggin us into your wars.
I take it you read the Chicago Tribune, said Armstrong solemnly.
Forester and Willis did not talk much they had nothing in common. Willis had produced a large book as soon as they exhausted their small talk and to Forester it looked heavy in all senses of the word, being mainly mathematical.
Forester had nothing to do. In front of him was an aluminium bulkhead on which an axe and a first-aid box were mounted. There was no profit in looking at that and consequently his eyes frequently strayed across the aisle to Señor Montes. His lips tightened as he noted the bad colour of Montess face and he looked at the first-aid box reflectively.
IV
There it is, said Grivas. You land there.
OHara straightened up and looked over the nose of the Dakota. Dead ahead amid a jumble of rocks and snow was a short airstrip, a mere track cut on a ledge of a mountain. He had time for the merest glimpse before it was gone behind them.
Grivas waved the gun. Circle it, he said.
OHara eased the plane into an orbit round the strip and looked down at it. There were buildings down there, rough cabins in a scattered group, and there was a road leading down the mountain, twisting and turning like a snake. Someone had thoughtfully cleared the airstrip of snow, but there was no sign of life.
He judged his distance from the ground and glanced at the altimeter. Youre crazy, Grivas, he said. We cant land on that strip.
You can, OHara, said Grivas.
Im damned if Im going to. This planes overloaded and that strips at an altitude of seventeen thousand feet. It would need to be three times as long for this crate to land safely. The airs too thin to hold us up at a slow landing speed well hit the ground at a hell of a lick and we wont be able to pull up. Well shoot off the other end of the strip and crash on the side of the mountain.
You can do it.
To hell with you, said OHara.
Grivas lifted his gun. All right, Ill do it, he said. But Ill have to kill you first.
OHara looked at the black hole staring at him like an evil eye. He could see the rifling inside the muzzle and it looked as big as a howitzer. In spite of the cold, he was sweating and could feel rivulets of perspiration running down his back. He turned away from Grivas and studied the strip again. Why are you doing this? he asked.
You would not know if I told you, said Grivas. You would not understand you are English.