The Land God Gave to Cain by Hammond; Innes Read Free Book Online Page A

You’re the only man who’s going to be really convinced about that message—unless they find somebody else picked it up. If you’ve the courage of your convictions …” And then he added, “I just thought you’d better be clear in your mind about what you’re up against.”
    It was odd, but now that he’d put it to me so bluntly, I no longer felt out of my depth. I was suddenly sure of myself and what I should do, and without any hesitation I heard myself say, “If you can fix it, I’d like to come with you tomorrow.”
    â€œOkay, boy. If that’s what you’d like.” He hesitated. “You really are sure about this?”
    In a sudden mental flash I saw my father as he had been last Christmas when I had been home, sitting up there in his room with the headphones on and his long, thin fingers with the burn marks playing so sensitively over the tuning dials. “Yes,” I said. “I’m quite sure about it.”
    He nodded his head slowly. “Queer business,” he murmured. A perplexed look had come over his face and I wondered whether, now that I had agreed to go—wanted to go—he was going to back down on his offer. But all he said was, “Meet me down at our freight office—that’s the end of the block, next to Number One hangar—say, about a quarter before six to-morrow morning. Have your passport with you and an overnight bag. Better pack some warm clothes. You may be cold back in the fuselage. Okay?”
    I nodded. “But what about the other end?” I murmured. “Surely it isn’t as easy as that to fly somebody into another country?” It was an automatic reaction. Now that I’d said I’d go the difficulties seemed insuperable.
    He laughed and patted my shoulder. “Canada isn’t the States, you know. It’s still a Dominion—no fingerprints, no visa. I’ll just have to clear you with Immigration and Customs, that’s all.” He stared at me a moment as though weighing me up and then he said, “Don’t forget about the warm clothes.” He turned then with a quick nod and walked slowly back to join his group at the other end of the bar.
    I stood there, the drink I hadn’t even started clutched in my hand, and a feeling of intense loneliness crept over me.

III
    I didn’t sleep much that night and I was down at the Charter Company’s freight office by five-thirty. Farrow wasn’t there, of course, and I walked up and down in the grey morning light, feeling cold and empty inside. The office was locked, the tarmac deserted. I lit a cigarette and wondered, as I had done all night, whether I was making a fool of myself. A plane took off with a thunderous roar and I watched it disappear into the low overcast, thinking that in little more than an hour, if Farrow kept his word, I should be up there, headed west out into the Atlantic. I was shivering slightly. Nerves!
    It was almost six when Farrow drove up in a battered sports car. “Jump in,” he shouted. “Got to get you vaccinated. Otherwise it’s all fixed.”
    We woke up a doctor friend of his and half an hour later I had got my certificate of vaccination, had cleared Customs and Immigration and was back at the freight office. I signed the “blood-chit” that absolved the Company of responsibility for my death in the event of a crash, and then Farrow left me there and I hung about for another twenty minutes, waiting for take-off. There was no turning back now. I was committed to the flight and because of that I no longer felt nervous.
    Shortly before seven the crew assembled and I walked with them across the tarmac to a big four-engined plane parked on the apron opposite the office. Inside, it was a dim-lit steel shell with, the freight piled down the centre, strapped down to ring bolts in the floor. “Not very comfortable, I’m afraid,” Farrow said,