why not this time?’ Dillon asked, slipping the Walther back in his waistband.
‘Because that part of Croatia is disputed territory now,’ Schmidt said. ‘There’s heavy fighting between Serbs and Moslems and Croats.’
‘I see,’ Dillon said. ‘So I’m to manage by air what you can’t by road?’
‘Mr Dillon, it’s a hundred and twenty miles to Sabac from here and the airstrip is still open. Believe it or not, but the phone system still works quite well over there. I’m given to understand that this plane is capable of more than three hundred miles an hour. That means you could be there in twenty minutes or so.’
Dillon laughed out loud. ‘Would you listen to the man? It’s plain to see you don’t know the first thing about flying a plane.’ He saw that the mechanic high on his ladder was smiling. ‘Ah, so you speak English, old son.’
‘A little.’
‘Tomic is a Croatian,’ Dr Wegner said.
Dillon looked up. ‘What do you think?’
Tomic said, ‘I was in the air force for seven years. I know Sabac. It’s an emergency strip, but a sound asphalt runway.’
‘And the flight?’
‘Well, if you’re just some private pilot out here to do a bit of good in this wicked world you won’t last twenty miles.’
Dillon said softly, ‘Let’s just say I’ve seldom done a good thing in my life and I’m not that kind of pilot. What’s the terrain like?’
‘Mountainous in parts, heavily forested and the weather forecast stinks, I checked it myself earlier, but it’s not only that, it’s the air force, they still patrol the area regularly.’
‘Mig fighters?’ Dillon asked.
‘That’s right.’ Tomic slapped the wing of the Conquest with one hand. ‘A nice aeroplane, but no match for a Mig.’ He shook his head. ‘But maybe you’ve got a death-wish.’
‘That’s enough, Tomic,’ Wegner said angrily.
‘Oh, it’s been said before.’ Dillon laughed. ‘But let’s get on. I’d better look at the charts.’
As they moved towards the office Wegner said, ‘Our people in Vienna did make it plain. Your services are purely voluntary. We need all the money we can raise for the drugs and medical supplies.’
‘Understood,’ Dillon said.
They went into the office where a number of charts were spread across the desk. Dillon started to examine them.
‘When would you leave?’ Wegner asked.
‘Just before dawn,’ Dillon told him. ‘Best time of all and least active. I hope the rain keeps up.’
Schmidt, genuinely curious, said, ‘Why would you do this? I don’t understand. A man like you.’ He seemed suddenly awkward. ‘I mean, we know something of your background.’
‘Do you now?’ Dillon said. ‘Well, as the good doctor said, I find it hard to resist a challenge.’
‘And for this you would risk your life?’
‘Ah, sure and I was forgetting.’ Dillon looked up and smiled and an astonishing change came to his face, nothing but warmth and great charm there. ‘I should also mention that I’m the last of the world’s great adventurers. Now leave me be like a good lad and let me see where I’m going.’
He leaned over the charts and started to examine them intently.
Just before five the rain was as relentless as ever, the darkness as impenetrable as Dillon stood in the entrance of the hangar and peered out. Wegner and Schmidt approached him.
The older man said, ‘Can you really take off in weather like this?’
‘The problem is landing, not taking off.’ Dillon called to Tomic, ‘How are things?’
Tomic emerged from the cabin, jumped to the ground and came towards them wiping his hands on a rag. ‘Everything in perfect working order.’
Dillon offered him a cigarette and glanced out. ‘And this?’
Tomic peered up into the darkness. ‘It’ll get worse before it gets better and you’ll find ground mist over there, especially over the forest, mark my words.’
‘Ah, well, better get on with it as the thief said to the hangman.’ Dillon crossed to the Conquest.
He went up the steps and examined the interior. All the seats had been removed and it was stacked with long olive-green boxes. Each one was stencilled in English: Royal Army Medical Corps.
Schmidt, who had joined him, said, ‘As you can see we get our supplies from unusual sources.’
‘You can say that again. What’s in these?’
‘See for yourself.’ Schmidt unclipped the nearest one, removed a sheet of oiled paper to reveal box after box of morphine ampoules. ‘Over there, Mr Dillon, they sometimes have to hold children down when they operate on them because of the lack of any kind of anaesthetic. These prove a highly satisfactory substitute.’
‘Point taken,’ Dillon said. ‘Now close it up and I’ll get moving.’
Schmidt did as he was told, then jumped to the ground. As Dillon pulled up the steps Wegner said, ‘God go with you, Mr Dillon.’
‘There’s always that chance,’ Dillon said. ‘It’s probably the first time I’ve done anything he’d approve of,’ and he closed the door and clamped it in place.
He settled into the left-hand pilot’s seat, fired the port engine and after that the starboard. The chart was next to him on the other seat, but he had already pretty well committed it to memory. He paused on the apron outside the hangar, rain streaming from his windscreen, did a thorough cockpit check then strapped in and taxied to the end of the runway, turning into the wind. He glanced across to the three men standing in the hangar entrance, raised a thumb then started forward, his engine roar deepening as he boosted power. Within a second or two he had disappeared, the sound of the engines already fading.
Wegner ran a hand over his face. ‘God, but I’m tired.’ He turned to Tomic. ‘Has he a chance?’
Tomic shrugged. ‘Quite a man, that one. Who knows?’
Schmidt said, ‘Let’s get some coffee. We’re going to have a long wait.’
Tomic said, ‘I’ll join you in a minute. I just want to clear my tools away.’
They crossed towards the end hut. He watched them go, waited until they’d gone inside before turning and swiftly crossing to the office. He picked up the telephone and dialled a lengthy series of numbers. As the good doctor had said, the telephone system still worked surprisingly well over there.
When a voice answered he spoke in Serbo-Croat. ‘This is
