At the main gate of Marshfield the night security guard greeted Ben with surprise. ‘You’re never going flying in the dark, Captain Norton.’
‘Just need to get in early,’ he replied. ‘We’re all working odd hours at the moment. Did Mr Povey go through earlier?’
‘No, sir. Went ’ome ’is usual time and I’ve not seen ’im since then. Is you expecting ’im?’
Ben shook his head. ‘Thought he might be putting in some overtime on the new Snowbird contract.’ He drove between the opened gates. ‘Thanks, Maurice.’
As soon as he entered the hangar, Ben was temporarily blinded by a beam of light from the cockpit, which caused him to shield his eyes with linked hands until it vanished.
‘Sorry, Ben,’ Roger called out. ‘Saw a figure materialize in the shadows and went into action with my torch.’ He prepared to climb from the Lance. ‘Expected you back before this.’
Ben moved forward and helped the older man jump down. ‘We need to talk seriously, Roger. I know who wants to prevent production of this lovely aeroplane for all time.’
‘You do? How?’
Ben led his friend to a chair beside the table bearing tea mugs, then sat close beside him. Felix was fast asleep in the office, but Ben was taking no chances of being overheard. This was strictly between the creator of the fighter and the man determined to launch it in fitting style.
After relating the details of the sawn-through step causing his fall, Ben told of his certainty that the person in the car that night had been Kershaw, this premise being borne out by the man’s reaction to seeing his victim appearing apparently unharmed to fly as planned.
‘The car was there again tonight, at roughly the same time. The driver struck a match to light his cigarette and I saw his face clearly in the glare. Not Kershaw. It was Povey.’
‘Ray?’ Roger was plainly upset. ‘I might have believed almost anything of him but that.’
‘Before I could go down and confront him he drove off. I checked every one of those steps before I put my weight on them. I also searched the van, but all seemed fine. Unlikely though it seems, the downpour apparently prevented his second attempt to put me out of the picture, maybe permanently.’
‘No! Ray would never contemplate doing that.’
‘Roger, he knew what would happen when I started to descend that flight of steps; fall more than twenty feet to a concrete yard,’ Ben said insistently. ‘He’s trying the easy solution first. Kill or damage me and the proving flight would have to be postponed until Hugo found another test pilot willing to brave the jinx on the Lance. More overblown, speculative press reportage which would be almost as damning as another crash.’
He sighed heavily. ‘We’ve no need to mount a twenty-four hour watch until his attempts on my life have all failed, leaving him with no alternative but to do what he did before.’ Sensing Roger’s reluctance to accept this, Ben resorted to plain language. ‘He destroyed three years of concentrated work on your part, and he murdered Chris Peterson. He’s capable of repeating that double crime, without doubt.’
Into the long silence Ben added, ‘He’s not unstable, like Kershaw, so he must be doing it for money. Why else? His job would be safe due to that gratifying contract for Snowbird, which you say is his baby. Someone’s paying him to sabotage production of an aircraft that would outshine all others in that category.’
After considering all this Roger said, ‘We must inform Hugo and Sir Edwin.’
Ben shook his head. ‘They didn’t believe us last time and, like last time, we can’t prove it. No, Roger, they’re both presently buoyed up and enthusiastic. I don’t want to chuck cold water over their faith in us to pull off a complete reversal of corporate opinion in eleven days’ time, because that’s what I bloody well intend to do. I want that day of recognition and glory. I want my name in the record books along with yours. I want Hugo Lance to shake my hand and present me to VIPs and the media with obvious respect.’
After a moment or two, the man he could barely see in the darkness said quietly, ‘I see.’
Realizing he had exposed too much of himself, Ben tried to sound more rational. ‘We have the advantage of knowing who we’re dealing with; something Povey doesn’t suspect. I intend to turn the tables on him. Lie in wait in the van and catch him at whatever the rain tonight prevented him from trying.’
‘I can’t condone that, Ben.’
‘All right.’ He got to his feet. ‘Time you got back on that camp bed while I do my two-hour watch. We’ve no firm guarantee he won’t attack the Lance next time. I’ll wake you and Felix if he comes, but it’s still pouring out there so I doubt he will. More likely he’ll plan something for tomorrow night.’
Roger stayed where he was. ‘I can’t get back to sleep after hearing that news. You require a twenty-four hour bodyguard, Ben. The devil’s trying to kill or maim you! We have to tell Hugo right away. He might not believe you, but he could send Ray off on some pretext until the proving flight is over; get him out of the area during these vital days. Marshfield’s future relies on the Lance. The Major knows that.’
‘The Snowbird contract has staved off the worst threat of job losses, and he’s on a roller right now. I know his type. He’d translate this information as an attack of nerves by the pilot, an excuse to postpone the flight on which so much depends.’ Seeing his friend’s negative expression he said insistently, ‘He has no real faith in me, no sense of fellowship. And Julia has fed that inborn aloofness in retaliation for my failure to dance to her tune. I’m under no illusions. After the acclaim for your splendid design has died down, I’ll be replaced by a professional test pilot. Someone who fits their narrow requirements and isn’t a shareholder in the company, with a tendency to do as he pleases. No, Roger, I mean to deal with Povey myself.’
Roger got to his feet and confronted Ben. ‘Has it occurred to you that unless everything goes to plan next Wednesday I shall also no longer be required by the Lance family, and with little likelihood of persuading anyone else to take interest in my designs?’
‘Yes, that’s occurred to me on and off during the past weeks, which is why we have to keep any hint of trouble away from any member of the Lance family.’ He put a hand on Roger’s shoulder. ‘You befriended me when I most needed it. Trust me to get us through this successfully. I won’t let you down.’
Still edgy, Roger chose to brew tea rather than return to the camp bed beside the one on which Felix was sleeping with the soundness of the young and healthy, and as dawn had broken to provide enough light to reach every part of the hangar, Ben was not obliged to sit in the cockpit for his watch.
Believing Roger’s creative mind had not totally absorbed the import of a fall down an entire flight of steps, Ben took his painkillers covertly while listening to rain drumming on the roof and soft snores from the man sitting beside him. During those early morning hours he reflected on his own words concerning the aftermath of next Wednesday. He would have reached a pinnacle. What did the climber do after he had fought his way to the summit? Go down again, of course.
Julia was set on helping him on his way with a hefty kick. He had the means of silencing her but Deborah was stirring up suspicion in the presence of Jim Tilbrook. If he began to take too great an interest Ben would have no weapon to use against him. All in all, there were eleven more days in which to live the challenge before John Benjamin Norton sought another identity for the next phase of his chequered life.
They went singly to the canteen for breakfast having discovered the small toilet and changing room in the rear of the hangar would not serve to wash, shave and don fresh clothes. A swift triple agreement brought a change of plan. Once the day shift arrived they would go to their nearby homes for these tasks, leaving one person at a time to watch the Lance.
Within an hour of this decision Ben and Roger were summoned to Hugo’s office. Fearing the low strafe with live ammunition to end the display had been vetoed by Sir Edwin, they walked silently through the corridors to then wait ten minutes before being admitted. Ben’s heart missed a beat when he saw Julia sitting beside her brother who was clearly very angry. She had sworn to keep silent until the display was over. Why had she seen fit to act now?
‘Good morning, gentlemen,’ said Hugo without inviting them to sit. ‘This newspaper—’ he waved it in the air— ‘contains a highly coloured article about “the courageous pilot who is preparing to fly another prototype of the warplane in which his close Royal Flying Corps friend plunged to his death just a few months ago”. It weaves a luridly melodramatic fiction of heroic exploits over enemy lines “while their faithful sweethearts waited as tears dried on their cheeks to learn that their brave menfolk were safely home.”.’
Hugo’s biting tone provided more. ‘You, Captain Norton, are apparently “making this historic flight as a tribute of love and respect to your fallen comrade”.’ Hugo threw the newspaper on his desk. ‘I hope your expression properly shows your disgust at this betrayal of our hospitality, even friendship on the part of my sister. We have, of course, informed Miss Keene that she will no longer be admitted to our homes or business premises, and that we withdraw our permission to use photographs or personal recollections of Captain Peterson in any form of publication, interview or lecture she might embark on in the future. This family will challenge in court any use she attempts to make of information gleaned during her contact with its members and their associates.’
Aware that he was expected to fill a lengthy pause, Ben was lost for words due to the sparkle of enjoyment in Julia’s eyes. She really was a heartless creature. Was Hugo aware of her true nature? No doubt she had read to him what could have been an extract from a cheap romance with the very emphasis Hugo had used, delighting in every nuance.
‘It’s pure invention, sir,’ Ben said at last. ‘I consistently refused her an interview.’
‘Yes, yes, I know that. I’m not suggesting you’re behind this,’ snapped Hugo. ‘I sent for you both because the woman has published the date of the proving flight, and given your name. I have carefully avoided releasing that information for the sole purpose of preventing what is now certain to happen. My secretary has been swamped with telephone calls, and there were already a few sightseers outside the gates when we came through an hour ago. Next Wednesday will bring a horde of brainless people to Marshfield in the hope of some cinematic drama being played out here.’
Another pause waiting to be filled. ‘You can’t stop them seeing what happens in the sky,’ Roger pointed out quietly.
Hugo ignored that. ‘Throughout the run up to the vital day there’ll be determined voyeurs doing their utmost to climb over the wire, burrow under it, cut through it, to take pictures of anything and everything to impress their friends or sell to magazines and newspapers. That damned woman has lit a fire of romantic patriotism which leads normal people to indulge in antisocial behaviour. As they did at the funeral.’
‘As his widow that must have upset you terribly, Julia,’ said Ben, taking pleasure in turning her optical sparkle to one of anger.
Hugo pointed in the direction from which Ben’s comment had reached him. ‘You will be hounded from the moment you exit the gates by reporters and their cameramen. Also by the untutored hoi polloi. The Dancing Bear will be under siege.’
‘I’m no longer lodging there. Roger is the only person who knows my address.’
‘Was,’ came the curt retort. ‘You’ll be followed there like a comet with a tail and the whole of the county will soon know where to find you.’ He slapped the desk with the flat of his hand. ‘By God, that stupid woman should be horse-whipped.’
Julia leaned forward in her chair. ‘You were all in favour of her proposed biography, Hugo.’
He ignored her, concentrating on the matter in hand. ‘I’ve put in place measures to deal with the situation. Security guards from a top agency will patrol the perimeter day and night. Hangar two will have a man outside and another inside to keep the Lance protected from intruders set on getting photographs and souvenirs.’
Ben and Roger exchanged significant glances on hearing that.
‘I’ll leave you to devise your own defence against press scavengers and silly females who chase after men in the public eye, Captain Norton.’
‘Men like Freddie,’ Julia said dryly.
‘But I want you to hold aloof from everyone but those who’re concerned with the proving flight until that day ends. What you do after that is of no concern to me.’
‘Oh, I think it will be, Hugo,’ Julia murmured, staring at Ben.
He put in quickly, ‘Has Sir Edwin approved the mock strafe with live ammo to end the display?’
Hugo relaxed enough to almost smile. ‘He’s very enthusiastic about the manoeuvre. Keen to witness it on Monday.’ He angled his head to address Roger for the first time. ‘My father asked me to tell you he wants you to join him and the VIPs on the balcony to watch the display.’
‘Sorry, Major, I’ll be manning the intercom during Ben’s flight. I’ll join Sir Edwin and you, in company with the triumphant pilot, soon after he lands.’
‘Of course. We didn’t have intercom facilities when I did my flying.’
This subdued response invoked one of Ben’s spasms of sympathy for this blinded pilot. ‘We didn’t have aircraft as spectacular as the Lance, either, sir. Marshfield has produced one men will be thrilled to fly.’
‘Thank you.’ Hugo nodded. ‘That’s all, gentlemen.’
They passed through the outer office and into the long corridor before Roger spoke. ‘What did you make of all that? I know she’s ingenuous and over eager, but I didn’t believe the Keene girl would act so stupidly in spite of what some rag paid her for the information.’
‘She didn’t,’ said Ben thoughtfully. ‘Yes, she’s immature and impossibly dewy-eyed over Chris Peterson, but she’d have shot herself in the foot by selling out on the Lance family. The biography now can’t be written; she needed their cooperation. If she tried to publish an unauthorized version, Sir Edwin would act to prevent her.’
Roger gazed at him as they pushed open the swing doors. ‘You’re suggesting someone at Marshfield’s behind it? All that romantic gush is just what she’d write.’
‘Which he’d know very well and simulate. Roger, it’s obvious to me who’s behind this. Jim Tilbrook.’
‘What? Why would he do something so crass?’
‘Why did he put bromide in my tea?’ Ben stopped and Roger watched him itemize reasons on the fingers of his hand. ‘He doesn’t agree with the production of warplanes. He has a pathological dislike of men who fly them, particularly in conflict. He’s an inveterate womanizer and resents any rivals. He’s set on seducing Deborah Keene. She’s so dazzled by the image of Peterson and, by connection, me, she’ll have no truck with his advances. We now know he’s not the saboteur but he’s well capable of writing that piece in the language she would use. That gives him the satisfaction of hurting her and the family which is planning to turn to manufacturing something he disagrees with strongly. It also puts pressure on me at a time when I need to concentrate on the next eleven days. He’s a vain, vindictive character. Of course he’s behind this.’
Roger shook his head, frowning. ‘I thought I knew Jim well. Never would have believed him capable of something like this.’
‘You’re more in tune with the complexities which produce sensational aircraft. I’ve knocked around the world long enough not to put my trust in people too soon.’
They moved on to pass through the second set of doors. ‘Well, whoever is responsible at least did us one favour. With all those security guards patrolling around the clock, we won’t have to sleep in the hangar each night. Ray will have no chance of getting to the Lance.’
No, my innocent friend, thought Ben. He’ll get at the pilot instead.
The heavy rain persisted; the cloud base stayed too low to allow any flying. Ben was not altogether unhappy. There were still ten more days in which to fine-tune his display and, if the truth be told, he was really not up to it right now. Painkillers had helped him through the first half of the day. His body now needed some kind of embrocation to ease the stiffness resulting from that fall, so he decided to leave soon after the lunch break.
‘The security team has arrived and men are being deployed all-round the premises, Roger. Everyone at Marshfield knows why they’re here, including Povey, so we can safely resume normal routine. I’m going home for a hot bath and a decent night’s sleep. You should do the same.’
Roger looked glum. ‘An entire day lost, the details of your flight splashed across the pages of a scandal-mongering newspaper, and beefy men with shifty eyes at every corner. It’s turning into a circus. I don’t like it.’
‘Nor me, but you have Tilbrook to blame for publicizing facts intended to be kept secret, and Povey for the bruisers on guard wherever you look.’
Roger frowned. ‘You sound so certain about Povey.’
‘You were just as certain someone had cut that cable before Chris took off.’
‘Yes. Well … Look, Chris said the stick was locked. That would have been the obvious cause because I knew there was no design fault. Those three men were the only ones who had had the opportunity to sever the cable.’
‘Yet you hesitate to single one of them out. Face it, Roger, the finger points at Povey. If a man has a wife who spends more than he earns he’ll look for ways to get more. I’ve known men to force their wives or sisters to have sex with their friends for money. The women get none of it. It feeds the man’s gambling craze, or allows him to buy something he wants. Get wise, my dear friend. No man is what you think he is, believe me.’
Those words stayed with Ben as he walked across to his van. The time was coming when Roger would learn they applied to John Benjamin Norton, too. It was a lowering thought. Roger meant a lot to someone who had never before had the kind of friendship with an older, sincere and knowledgeable man that he had forged with this talented designer. It would be hard to see him disillusioned. To break the link with Roger would be almost as painful as losing Stella, although it would be himself doing the betraying this time.
There were a couple of raincoated men at the gates who could be journalists, but the downpour made visibility difficult and Ben didn’t think they would imagine the man of the moment would drive a small delivery van. They’d be looking for the kind of vehicle Freddie would own.
He was right. They took no notice as he drove through the gates, but a hundred yards further on a small drenched figure emerged from an embrasure in the wall and stood in the road forcing him to stop. She dragged open the door and dropped on to the passenger seat, dripping water on the floor. Sorry though he was for the way she had been treated by Tilbrook, he was nevertheless exasperated.
‘Why are you still here? The Lance family intend to stop all attempts by you to produce any kind of prose featuring Chris Peterson, and are even considering taking action against you for the piece you published, giving away facts you were well aware were privileged information.’
‘I didn’t write it,’ she cried. ‘I had to tell you that before I left.’ It came out jerkily because her teeth were chattering. ‘I’ve been waiting since noon because I’m determined to exonerate myself. I knew I’d recognize your van when it came along, even in this rain.’
Her face was pinched, her close-fitting feathery hat sent runnels of water down her cheeks to plop on the large handbag on her lap. Her pale blue coat was oozing water to add to the puddle on the floor. She looked distressed, exhausted and nothing like the earlier precocious girl.
Ben sighed. ‘I know who sent that piece to the editor. It was a vicious thing to do, but the Lances reacted as Tilbrook knew they would. You have to accept that your project is dead and buried. If you were paid a retainer you’ll have to return it, I imagine, unless you offset it with a similar sum for expenses.’
‘How did you know it was Jim who played that dirty trick on me?’
‘I guessed it wouldn’t be long before he would demand more than you were prepared to give. Men like him won’t accept rejection. Your proposed biography gave him the perfect means of hitting back at you, and also upsetting a few other people.’ He looked her over. ‘You’re soaked to the skin. I’ll drive you back to The Dancing Bear.’
‘I paid my bill and left after breakfast. I’m going home.’
‘Where’s home?’
‘Dundee.’
‘A long journey. Where’s your suitcase?’
‘The left luggage office at Lewes station.’
Ben considered that, then asked, ‘When did you decide to wait for me to leave? I could have put in extra time. Would you have stayed until midnight?’
‘I don’t know,’ she said miserably. ‘Everything’s such a mess.’
He put the van in gear. ‘You can’t undertake a long train journey in that condition. Your hat resembles a wet hen sitting on your head and your coat must have a gallon of rainwater lying between the inner and outer layers.’
‘Where are we going?’
‘First to The Green Man where you can dry out a bit and have a hot meal. Then I’ll deliver you to Lewes station to catch a train to London.’
‘You’re being very kind, Ben.’
‘No. I told you I don’t give up easily.’ He grinned at her. ‘I want to make sure you leave the area.’
A few miles along the way Deborah said quietly, ‘Nobody commissioned the biography. I lied.’
‘Mmm, I thought so.’ After another long silence Ben added, ‘Keep your childhood dreams of Chris Peterson intact if you must, but leave it at that. There were hundreds of thousands like him, but their exploits died with them. Let them all rest in peace. As I told Julia, dragging up things better left buried in the past is a mistake.’
Deborah turned to him. ‘She’s really got it in for you.’
‘She’s made that obvious.’
‘D’you know why?’
‘Because she has too much money, too much social influence and too much time on her hands to fill. Playing people off against each other, using her acid tongue to unsettle them, prying into their private lives is her way of making her pointless life bearable. She’s completely heartless.’
Ben pulled in to the parking area outside The Green Man and switched off the engine. ‘We’ll have to make a run for the door, but you can’t get any wetter than you are already.’
‘She’s not completely heartless, Ben. She has a thing about you.’
‘I’ve just said I know.’
Deborah made no attempt to leave the van. ‘I mean she has a thing about you. Hooked on you. Sort of like Jim and me. The more you reject her the more she wants you. When you humiliated her in front of others drinking in The Dancing Bear and walked off to your room, there were tears on her cheeks as she drove away.’
He opened the door and prepared to climb from the van. ‘She’s hooked on herself, my dear girl. If there were tears they were caused by vexation because I bested her among people she regards as village peasants. Tilbrook made you pay for rejecting him in the eyes of workmates whom he’s led to believe that women fall eagerly into his arms. Similarly, Julia means to make me pay for turning the tables on her too often.’ He pulled up his jacket collar ready to brave the deluge. ‘She’s apparently holding back until after I’ve put Marshfield back in the top league by dazzling investors with my proving flight. Does that make her not completely heartless in your book? Come on, let’s make a dash for it.’
The lunchtime customers had dwindled to a couple of elderly men bemoaning the prospect of the inter-village cricket match having to be postponed if the pitch became waterlogged. The landlord said his good lady could still offer lamb hotpot with dumplings, or toad-in-the-hole with bubble and squeak, and suggested they should eat at the table by the log fire he had lit to warm the few souls who had braved the weather.
They stayed to also enjoy the summer pudding, then still lingered for a pot of tea and slices of fruit cake – something she didn’t normally offer but made an exception for a young couple in love. Well, the ‘good lady’ had a very romantic nature.
Ben actually enjoyed those two and a half hours. Deborah was pleasant company when she wasn’t acting the part of a questing journalist probing his past, and she had the good sense to leave the subject alone until they prepared to set out for Lewes. Regarding her feather hat which still resembled a drowned chicken, she laughingly put it on Ben’s head.
‘Wear it for the proving flight. The feathers will be dry by then and help to keep you airborne.’
A swift vision of Icarus plunging to earth with feather wings on the melt, made him snatch it off. His expression sobered her and she headed for the door, ignoring the landlord and his wife. Ben said goodbye and promised to come again, then trotted through lighter rain to where she was already seated in the van.
‘I thanked them on your behalf,’ he told her pointedly, starting the engine with an unnecessary roar.
She swung to face him. ‘I touched a nerve just now, didn’t I?’ Her hand closed over his on the wheel. ‘Something to do with Chris Peterson and why they split you up when you were such a successful duo? Ben, why didn’t you join Hugo’s squadron with him? Surely you can tell me now the biography won’t be written.’
He jabbed at the clutch and yanked the gear lever hard over to swing out on the road. ‘That, Miss Keene, is one of those things better left buried in the past.’
The journey to Lewes rail station was made in silence, Ben castigating himself for forgetting his vow never to trust a woman. All that innocent sweetness she had exuded had been to soften him up and it had nearly worked. He stared ahead as she climbed from the seat beside him, and kept his eyes on the distance as she thanked him for giving her lunch and driving her to the station. That said, she bent to the open door for more intimate words.
‘Dear Ben, unless you talk to someone about it, it’ll haunt you for the rest of your life. Don’t let that happen. Goodbye. Good luck with the proving flight.’
He drove away telling himself he should have swerved around her and left her in the middle of the road outside Marshfield, then gone home to rest, as planned. If she hadn’t been wet through, and if he hadn’t been feeling more benevolent towards her now she could not publish Peterson’s biography he would never have spent time with her. She held no attraction for him, but he had forgotten how enjoyable feminine company could sometimes be and that rediscovery had lulled his usual caution.
The short break in heavy rain ended with thunder and a veritable cloudburst five miles from the coach house. It forced Ben to slow down. He might otherwise not have spotted Ray Povey’s car heading for Fossbeck Camden ahead of a small green bus he was himself following. Knowing Povey lived beyond Clanford in the opposite direction Ben felt a jolt of excitement. What was the bastard up to now?
The adverse weather had kept local residents at home, so the bus trundled onward past stopping places devoid of hopeful passengers which allowed Ben to keep track of his quarry without revealing his own presence on that road. Povey must have left Marshfield at the usual knocking-off time, but surely he would have checked if Ben was still on the premises first. Trying something in daylight, even in this early evening gloom, was risky and Ben wanted to catch the man in the act. He had the revolver with him and wouldn’t hesitate to use it if it became necessary.
Lost in speculation, Ben was caught unawares when Povey’s car turned into a narrow lane at the approach to Fossbeck Camden. Where the hell was he heading? Apparently not to the coach house. Ben cursed this development. Without the bus as a shield the van would be visible to Povey. However, the next bend led to a public park around which the lane circled before returning to join the main road through the village. On the far side of the green a wide gate gave access to the cricket ground where a few hopeful players were clustered on the veranda of the pavilion in the vain hope of the game going ahead.
Povey had drawn up outside a house on the circle, so Ben stopped where the grass began. His quarry quit his vehicle and moved smartly to where a young woman carrying a baby was standing in the doorway. Ray Povey, the man known as knowledgeable but very bossy and short-tempered, took the baby in one arm then pulled the woman close with the other and kissed her with passion.
The door closed on them, leaving Ben puzzled. A man would not kiss a daughter or a sister that way, nor a friend. The woman was unlikely to be Povey’s co-conspirator with a small baby to care for, so who was she? The basic standard of the house surely ruled out any connection with whoever was paying Povey to sabotage the flight.
For half an hour Ben sat watching the house while rain drummed on the roof, but it seemed Povey was there for more than a flying visit. When the dejected cricketers left in a file of cars Ben tagged on behind them knowing what he should do next.
Fossbeck Camden’s post office and shop also acted as the village telephone exchange, so it remained open until late evening. Young Henry Jenks was behind the counter, although Ben saw no customers. The boy grinned widely when he entered and revealed he had almost enough now to buy the pogo stick. Dr King’s car had broken down so Henry had delivered medicines on his bicycle and received payment.
‘I wasn’t half wet by the end,’ he said with a laugh, ‘but ’twas worth it.’
After purchasing some therapeutic ointment to ease his stiffness, Ben asked, with his eye on Mrs Jenks busy in the cubicle containing the basic switchboard, if Henry delivered letters and telegrams to houses at the far end of the village near the cricket ground.
‘Course I do, Captain. Went there this morning six o’clock as usual. Delivered four and a small package.’
‘And got thoroughly wet,’ put in Ben with a smile. ‘You must know the names of everyone in Fossbeck Camden.’
He nodded. ‘And they knows mine.’
‘Can you recall who lives in number twenty-nine Cricket Lane?’
‘That’s Mr and Mrs Povey, sir. Just had a baby, they have. Two months ago. I took round all the baby cards and presents. Enjoyed doing that. Course, Mr Povey don’t see much of his little girl on account he works away a lot. Now, at number twenty-seven there’s old Ma Pearson. When I took her bottle of tonic there this afternoon she asked me in and give me tea and cake. Nice lady she is. Never gets any letters, though. I think that’s sad.’
While Henry rattled on, Ben was busy adding two and two together to make a hell of a lot more than four.
The alarm clock woke Ben in the early hours. He pulled on a pair of trousers and an old shirt, then made some tea which he took to the chair beside the window that overlooked the manor driveway entrance. His instincts told him Povey would pull in there, as before, to reconcile himself to returning home to Rita, his avaricious wife, and to maintaining the pretence of lengthy overtime. The recent welcome contract for Snowbird would have given the man an excellent base for his lie, but how had he got away with it for so long? Henry claimed the baby had arrived two months ago, so the secret liaison had been up and running for at least a year.
During his lengthy deliberations Ben had considered the prospect of Povey sabotaging the Lance because Peterson had discovered the man’s dual life and resorted to blackmail. But that wasn’t Peterson’s style, and Povey was more likely to have planned to kill him on a dark night in a lonely place than to commit murder by a means that would threaten his own future with Marshfield.
Such a conclusion also gave strength to the belief that the chief engineer would have sawn the step apart rather than damage the Lance. There was no love lost between himself and Povey, but Ben had offered no threat to him yet. Now he so easily could, hence the intention to confront the man if and when he stopped for a relaxing smoke at the foot of the flight of steps.
Ben had not long to wait. Sure enough, Povey’s car stopped and was backed into the driveway entrance fifteen minutes later. After a moment or two of apparent deep thought he pulled out a packet of cigarettes and lit one. Ben then descended silently, opened the passenger door and slid on to the seat, bringing a cry of alarmed protest which died away when Ben switched on a torch to identify himself.
‘Bloody ‘ell, what’re you doing here in the middle of the night? Where’d you spring from, you sneaky bastard?’
‘I’ve been waiting for you, you adulterous bastard,’ Ben returned levelly. ‘This is where you stop each night after leaving your mistress and baby daughter. Has Rita any notion of what you’re up to during your long hours of overtime at Marshfield?’
Povey was full of bluster as he first accused Ben of telling filthy lies, then thought better of it and pretended he had suddenly made sense of the accusation.
‘Ah, I see what it is. You saw me with my sister and her kiddie who lives on the far side of this village.’
Ben shook his head. ‘That was no brotherly greeting you gave her on the doorstep for anyone to witness. But as your neighbours know you as Mr and Mrs Povey I suppose it would seem natural enough to them … especially as you work away from home a lot,’ he ended with heavy emphasis.
‘Christ, you’ve been sniffing around like a dog after a bitch on heat. What gives you the right to spy on me?’
‘The fact that you tried to kill me two nights ago by sawing through the top step.’
Povey studied him agape. ‘What? Are you bosky or summat? Kill you? When everyone’s relying on you to sell the Lance next week and set the workforce up for years to come?’ He sounded genuinely puzzled. ‘Sawing through the top step? What step? You hallucinating?’
‘No, it was real enough, believe me.’ Ben released breath on a sigh of frustration. ‘Ray, did Chris Peterson know about your family living by the cricket ground?’
That brought a grunt from Povey. ‘He was too busy playing away himself to take an interest in anyone else. Not that I blamed him. That shrewish wife of his would drive any man to seek it elsewhere.’
‘As you have. Because of your wife’s extravagance. Heard she’s fond of expensive things. So how d’you manage to also support another partner and a baby?’
Another grunt. ‘That’s my business … as is my family by the cricket ground.’
‘I won’t argue with that. I’ve known men with several partners, not all of them women. Warfare changes people, Ray. I’m not interested in anything you do so long as you don’t have evil intent. Tell me, though, why you’ve parked up here for the past three nights.’
After a long silence Povey eventually decided to trust Ben. ‘Every time I leave her and that little girl of mine it gets harder. I’m trying to work out the best thing to do about it.’
‘Divorce not an option?’
A shake of the head. ‘I’ve tried putting Jim Tilbrook in her way but she’s the one woman he don’t seem to fancy.’
‘Hard luck.’
Povey stubbed out his cigarette, took another from the packet, then offered it to Ben.
‘No, thanks. In my time I’ve smoked some really foul fags, until I told myself I didn’t have to; it wasn’t compulsory. So I stopped. Anyway, when a man’s working around aircraft it’s safer to keep anything inflammable well away from it.’
They chatted for a while with more understanding than ever before, then Ben said, ‘I wasn’t hallucinating just now. Someone at Marshfield is trying to abort the proving flight by putting me, or the Lance, out of action. If he succeeds it will almost certainly put paid to hopes of future production of the fighter. That’ll not only damage the company, but it will also rob our country of parity with our former enemies who are rattling sabres again. It’s vitally important to have the Lance approved by the government and the RAF next week, then swiftly on the assembly line.’
‘Who’d be crazy enough to want to stop that going ahead?’
‘Someone who is crazy, or who’s working for someone else. Another aircraft manufacturer. In other words, an industrial saboteur. Any ideas?’
‘No. Christ, no!’ Povey frowned through the smoke he exhaled. ‘What was that again about a sawn-through step?’
Ben pointed through the window at the flight rising beside the car and described what had happened. Knowing journalists would almost certainly discover this address he felt there was no further point in concealing it.
‘When I spotted you apparently lurking here I thought you were the person responsible.’
Still frowning, Povey said, ‘Could’ve been anybody. Someone from this village who’s not right in the head, or a couple with hopes of living here when they married. It’s been empty a long time. What gave you the idea it was connected with the Lance; some kind of sabotage?’
‘Because that’s what caused Chris Peterson’s crash. Roger knows it for certain, and I believe him.’ Ben saw the other man’s scepticism. ‘Jim Tilbrook put dope in my tea just as I was set to do a test flight. Oh yes, my friend, he did exactly that. It was a mild dose; just blurred my vision enough to make me glad to feel the wheels touch down again.
‘He’s also responsible for sending that overblown piece to the editor of a third-rate newspaper, alarming Sir Edwin and Hugo enough to hire security guards to stop trespassers and sightseers. He’s a nasty piece of work but his spitefulness doesn’t go deep enough to send a man to his death in the prototype of an exciting new warplane, leaving the company he works for to face the consequences. As I said before, something like that’s the work of a man who’s mentally disturbed, or who’s being paid to do it. Any suggestions on who that might be?’
Povey shifted uneasily in his seat. ‘There’s one or two I’ll never see eye to eye with but, like Jim, they’re not unbalanced, or criminal in their attitude to the company. Anyway, the Board of Inquiry had it Peterson passed out before the crash. Are you sure about …?’
‘Yes, and it’ll happen again unless we prevent it.’ Leaving a pause, Ben asked, ‘How d’you get on with Kershaw?’
Povey must have been mentally still with his mistress and their baby for he apparently missed the inference of the question. ‘He’s not been in the job long enough for me to know much about him. A man who fills a senior post like that who’s a personal friend of the bosses I treat a bit wary. His wife’s well in with Mrs Peterson, too. You’ve to be careful that what you say won’t be passed around over the dinner table between them.
‘Look, I’d better be off,’ he added, starting the engine. ‘My missus’ll likely be awake listening for me to come home. I’ll keep my eyes open after what you’ve just told me, but I can’t see anyone stopping that proving flight with all them guards keeping their eyes open, can you?’
Ben prepared to climb from the car. ‘Mine are firmly closed concerning a small family living near the cricket ground. I know nothing about them. Goodnight, Ray.’
Once indoors Ben divested himself of the shirt and trousers, applied more embrocation to his body, then got between the sheets again.
The rain had stopped, the night sky was clear and filled with stars, he would be flying within a few hours, and John Kershaw was once more heading the list of suspects.