African Sky by Tony Park Read Free Book Online Page A

you,’ Bryant said, scratching his neck. ‘I can ask around and get back to you, if you like.’
    â€˜What are your movements over the next few days?’ Hayes asked.
    â€˜I’ve got to drive up to an area north of Wankie Game Reserve. One of our Canadian trainees, a chap called Cavendish, crashed his Harvard up there last week and I’ve got to conduct an investigation before the wreck is recovered. I’m leaving tomorrow morning. I’ll possibly be away overnight. You can leave messages here for me with the orderly room corporal’ God knows where Smythe’s Harvard would turn up, let alone if the Englishman were still alive.
    â€˜Sarge, we could save time by splitting up. I could stay here and talk to some of the other airwomen, if that’s all right with you, Squadron Leader,’ Pip said.
    â€˜No worries here. You might as well start in the parachute hangar where Felicity worked,’ Bryant said.
    â€˜We’ll have a word outside, WPC Lovejoy. Squadron Leader Bryant, I think we’re finished here for the moment, but we’ll be back in touch in the next day or so, no doubt.’
    â€˜Anything I can do to help, just let me know,’ Bryant said.
    Bryant opened the door to his office and the orderly room NCO was standing just outside. ‘Well, don’t let me keep you, officers. Corporal Richards here can show you back to the gate if you’re both leaving now, or I can take WPC Lovejoy to the parachute hangar, if you like,’ he said to Hayes.
    â€˜Just give us a moment to confer, Squadron Leader.’
    Hayes nodded and walked out of the orderly room.
    The two police officers moved outside and Bryant heard raised voices. ‘What were you doing hovering outside my door, Richards?’ Bryant shot the pimple-faced young Londoner a withering look.
    â€˜I was just about to knock, sir. I just got a message for you, from the guardhouse. It was a phone call late last night, but the dozy buggers only just got around to calling it through.’
    Richards handed him a sheet of message paper. ‘Thanks,’ Bryant said. He read it, then swallowed hard to maintain his composure. ‘Were you listening in on that conversation, Richards?’
    â€˜No, sir, of course not.’
    â€˜If I catch you eavesdropping I’ll have you posted to fucking Greenland. Do I make myself clear?’
    Richards smiled sheepishly and said, ‘Yes, sir. Can I ask, sir, are the coppers here about Felicity Langham’s murder?’
    â€˜Who said anything about that?’ Bryant replied.
    â€˜Word’s getting around camp. A couple of the blacks in the kitchen were talking about it and some of the lads overheard, at breakfast.’
    â€˜Her body was found this morning. I don’t know about murder, though. Do me a favour and let me know what the boys are saying about the news, will you?’
    â€˜If it’s Kaffirs that raped her, sir, there’ll be bleedin’ hell to pay.’
    One thing Bryant did not like about his young assistant was his attitude to Africans. It wasn’t uncommon, of course, to hear people using derogatory terms for Africans, but in Bryant’s book that didn’t make it right. There had been a couple of black West Indian gunners in his old squadron, and a Sikh pilot from India. They’d all been good at their jobs, which was the only thing that mattered to him when he was on operations. A loud-mouthed Scot had made a point of taunting one of the Jamaicans in the mess, calling him a nigger. The man had laughed off the insult, but his crewmates had sorted out the troublemaker and afterwards the Scot had gone absent without leave and never been seen again.
    â€˜Keep your bloody opinions to yourself, Richards. And you know what I think about name-calling, so stow it. What I asked is for you to keep me informed about what people are saying. We don’t want a riot on our hands.’
    â€˜Yes,