Hammond Innes: Air Bridge

‘Yes,’ I said. ‘We were tight. The whole place collapsed with us in it. We were lucky to get out alive.’

‘So I guessed. It was the ruins that interested me. Your old home was a maintenance hangar, wasn’t it?’

‘Yes. Kenley Aerodrome. A low-flying daylight raid — it pretty well blew the place to bits. Why?’

‘I figured that if you could describe a maintenance hangar as your home in 1940 you probably knew something about aero-engines and engineering?’

I didn’t say anything and after staring at me for a moment he said impatiently, ‘Well, do you know anything about aero-engines or don’t you?’

‘Yes,’ I said.

‘Practical — or just theory? Given specifications and tools can you build an engine?’

‘What are you getting at?’ I asked. ‘What do you-’

‘Just answer my questions. Can you operate a lathe, do milling, grinding and boring, screw cutting and drilling?’

‘Yes.’ And then I added, ‘I don’t know very much about jets. But I’m pretty sound on all types of piston engines.’

‘I see. And you’re a pilot?’

‘Yes.’

‘When did you become a pilot?’

‘In 1945, after I escaped from Germany.’

‘Why?’

‘I don’t know. I wanted a change. In 1944 I was posted to bombers as flight engineer. I started learning to fly. Then we were shot down. I escaped early in 1945 and remembered enough about flying to pinch a Jerry plane and crash-land at an airfield back home. Shortly after that I got my wings.’

He nodded vaguely as though he hadn’t been listening. He had turned slightly on his stool and was staring sombrely at the gleaming fuselage of the Tudor. His eyes caught a shaft of sunlight from the high windows and seemed to gleam with some inner fire. Then he turned back to me. ‘You’re in a spot, aren’t you?’ It wasn’t said unpleasantly — more a statement of fact. ‘But I’ll make you a proposition. See that engine over there?’ I turned. It stood against the wall and was chocked up on wooden blocks. ‘That’s finished — complete. It’s hand-built, mostly right here in this hangar. Well, that’s one of them. But there’s got to be another before I can get this crate into the air.’ He nodded towards the Tudor. ‘It’s due to fly on the Berlin Airlift on 25th January — fuel freighting. We’ve got the tanks installed. Everything’s ready. All we need is a second engine. We’ve started on it already. But I’m pressed for time. That first one took us six months. And now Carter, who’s been working on it with me, is getting impatient. I’m a pilot, not an engineer. If he walks out on me, which is what he threatens to do, I’ll have to pack up — unless I’ve got somebody else to carry on.’ He looked at me, eyes narrowed slightly. ‘Well, what about it? Can you build another engine like that, if necessary on your own?’

‘I don’t know,’ I said. ‘I haven’t examined it and I don’t know what equipment you’ve got.’ My eyes roved quickly along the bench, noting the lathes, the racks of taps, boxes of dies, the turning tools, the jigs and the welding equipment. ‘I should think I could,’ I added.

‘Good.’ He got up as though it were settled and went over to the completed engine. He stood there staring at it, and then he turned away from it with a quick, impatient movement of his shoulders as though throwing off something that was constantly at the back of his mind. ‘You won’t get any pay. Free board and lodging, beer, cigarettes, anything that is absolutely necessary. You’ll work up here until the thing’s complete. After that… well, we’ll see. If things work out the way they should, then you won’t lack a permanent job if you want it.’

‘You seem to be taking my acceptance rather for granted,’ I said.

‘Of course I am,’ he said, swinging round on me. ‘You’ve no alternative.’

‘Look — just what’s your racket?’ I demanded. ‘I’m in enough trouble without getting deeper-’

‘There’s no racket,’ he cut in angrily. ‘I run a company called Saeton Aircraft Ltd, and I rent these premises from the Air Ministry. It’s all perfectly legal.’

‘Then why pick on a lonely spot like this? And last night — you were scared of something. And you shouted at me in German. Why in German? And who was the girl?’

He came towards me then, his head thrust forward, his thick neck hard with the tautness of the muscles. ‘Take my advice, Fraser — accept my offer and don’t ask questions.’ His jaw was so tight that the words came through his teeth.

I had got to my feet now. ‘Are you sure you haven’t pinched this plane?’ I asked. Damn it! He wasn’t going to get me in a worse mess.

For a moment I thought he was going to strike me. But instead he turned away with a little laugh. ‘No. No, I didn’t pinch it.’ He rounded on me and added violently, ‘Nor this engine, nor these tools, all this equipment. There’s three years of my life in this hangar — three years of sweating my guts out, improvising, struggling, trying to make fools see that if only…’ He stopped suddenly. Then in a voice into which he had forced mildness he said, ‘You’ve nothing to worry about, Fraser. It’s all perfectly legal. And once this plane is in the air and-’ He was interrupted by someone banging on the hangar door. He hesitated and then glanced at me. ‘That could be the police. Which is it to be — complete the second engine for me or do I hand you over? You’ll be quite safe up here in a day or so,’ he added.

The banging on the door seemed to merge with the hammering of my heart. The possibility of arrest, which had gradually receded, now became real and instant. But I had already succumbed to a flicker of hope that had grown up inside me. ‘I’ll stay,’ I said.

He nodded as though there had never been any doubt of it. ‘Better nip into the fuselage. You can hide in the toilet at the rear. They won’t think of looking for you there.’

I did as he suggested and climbed into the fuselage. In the dark belly of the plane I could just make out the shape of three large elliptical tanks up for’ard. I heard the click of the door being opened and the sound of voices. The door slammed to and for a moment I thought they’d left the hangar. But then their footsteps were echoing on the concrete as they came down towards the bench. There was the drone of a man’s voice, low and urgent. Then Saeton cut him short: ‘Ah1 right. Throw in your hand if you want to. But we’ll talk about it back at the quarters, not here.’ His voice was hard and angry.

‘For God’s sake, Bill, be reasonable. I’m not throwing in my hand. But we can’t go on. You know that as well as I do.’ They had stopped close beside the fuselage. The man was breathing heavily as though he were out of breath. He had a slight cockney accent and his voice was almost pleading. ‘Can’t you understand — I’m broke. I haven’t a bean.’

‘Well, nor have I,’ Saeton said harshly. ‘But I don’t whine about it. In three months from now-’

‘It’s been two years already,’ the other put in mildly.

‘Do you think I don’t know how long it’s been?’ Saeton’s voice softened. ‘Listen, Tubby, in three months we’ll be on top of the world. Think of it, man — only three months. Surely to God you can pull in your belt and stick it as long as that after all we’ve been through together?’

The other grunted. ‘But you’re not married, are you chum?’

‘So your wife’s been getting at you. That’s it, is it? I ought to have known it. Well, if you think your wife’s going to stop me from getting that plane into the air…’ Saeton had been lashing himself into a fury, but he stopped suddenly. ‘Let’s go back to the quarters. We can’t talk here.’