Desmond Bagley - High Citadel / Landslide

Walking with difficulty over the broken ground, they climbed to the wreck and got inside through the hole O’Hara had chopped when he and Rohde had retrieved the oxygen cylinder. It was dim and bleak inside the Dakota and Forester shivered, not from the cold which was becoming intense, but from the odd idea that this was the corpse of a once living and vibrant thing. He shook the idea from him, and said, ‘There were some straps on the luggage rack – complete with buckles. We could use those, and O’Hara says there are gloves in the cockpit.’

‘That is good,’ agreed Rohde. ‘I will look towards the front for what I can find.’

Forester went aft and his breath hissed when he saw the body of old Coughlin, a shattered smear of frozen flesh and broken bones on the rear seat. He averted his eyes and turned to the luggage-rack and began to unbuckle the straps. His fingers were numb with the cold and his movements clumsy, but at last he managed to get them free – four broad canvas straps which could be used on the packs. That gave him an idea and he turned his attention to the seat belts, but they were anchored firmly and it was hopeless to try to remove them without tools.

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