- •Chapter one—Monday midnight
- •Chapter two—Monday 1 a.M.—2 a.M.
- •I made to push past him, but he barred my way.
- •I moved up the aisle, followed by Jackstraw. The young man who had been lying on the floor pulled himself on to a seat, and he grinned at me as I passed.
- •Chapter three—Monday 2 a.M.—3 a.M.
- •I was tired, worried and felt like telling him what he could do with his parishioners, but it wasn't his fault.
- •I gave some time to allow this cheering item of information to sink in, then continued.
- •I answered all of their questions as best I could but these answers were all to the same effect, that I didn't really know anything more about it than they did.
- •I looked at her, looked at the washed-out face, the faint blue circles forming under her eyes, and almost felt touched with pity. Almost. She was exhausted, and shivering with cold.
- •In the darkness I could almost feel him staring at me. After a long time he said softly, "You wouldn't say this unless you were sure of it."
- •Chapter four—Monday 6 a.M.—6 p.M.
- •I nodded in Joss's direction. "There's the man to ask."
- •It was magnificent, I had to admit. I could have hit her, but it was magnificent.
- •Chapter five—Monday 6 p.M.—7 p.M.
- •I took her arm without a word and led her through to the radio cabin. I trained the torch beam on to the top of the radio cabinet.
- •I shrugged. "Maybe he had a high resistance to Mickey Finns.
- •Chapter six—Monday 7 p.M.—Tuesday 7 a.M.
- •I motioned him out of the way and had a look. Two seconds later I had thrust my automatic into Joss's hand and was on my way up top.
- •I shook my head and said nothing. The reason for this last theft I couldn't even begin to imagine.
- •It was a touching story, pathetic and deeply moving, and I didn't believe a word of it.
- •Chapter seven—Tuesday 7 a.M.—Tuesday Midnight
- •Chapter eight—Wednesday 4 a.M.—8 p.M.
- •I was answered by mute headshakes from everybody.
- •I fumbled and nearly dropped the mike in my excitement.
- •I acknowledged, then asked without preamble: "What news from Uplavnik?"
- •Chapter nine—Wednesday 8 p.M.—Thursday 4 p.M.
- •I moved back to where the others were grouped round the rear of the tractor cabin and took up a position where I could watch them all—but especially Zagero and Levin.
- •I stared at him for a long long moment, then turned heavily for the door.
- •Chapter ten—Thursday 4 p.M.—Friday 6 p.M.
- •I threw the receiving switch.
- •I brought it and when I returned Corazzini was sitting on the front of the tractor sled with a case before him. But it wasn't the leather-covered portable radio: it was Smallwood's robe case.
- •I never doubted him. I knew he'd do it in an instant. I gave him our position, he asked for another map, asked Jackstraw to mark our position on the second, and compared the two.
- •I stared at him in the darkness.
- •Chapter eleven—Friday 6 p.M.—Saturday 12.15 p.M.
- •I knew he was right. Neither Smallwood nor Corazzini had shown any mechanical ability at all, and I was convinced that it had been no act.
- •I was already on my way, running, slipping, stumbling, Jackstraw by my side, Balto leading the way. Zagero was standing up, waiting—and the young German girl by his side.
- •It was all I could have wished for, indeed it was more than I'd ever hoped for, and Zagero's heavy thump on my back showed how joyfully he shared my feelings.
- •Chapter twelve—Saturday 12.15 p.M.—12.30 p.M.
- •I made no response, but twisted my head as I heard footsteps behind me. It was Joss, hatless and gloveless in his excitement.
- •I saw it right away, a small light, but powerful, winking irregularly. I watched it for a few moments then heard Joss's voice.
- •I knew he meant it absolutely.
In the darkness I could almost feel him staring at me. After a long time he said softly, "You wouldn't say this unless you were sure of it."
"I am sure of it. Their reactions, their dazed fumbling back to reality—and, above all, the pupils of their eyes. Unmistakable. Some kind of sleeping tablet mixtures, of the fast-acting kind. What is known to the trade, I believe, as Mickey Finns."
"But—" Joss broke off. He was still trying to orientate his mind to this new line of thought. "But—they would be bound to know of it, to be aware that they had been doped, when they came to."
"In normal circumstances, yes. But they came to in what was, to say the least, most abnormal circumstances. I'm not saying that they didn't experience any symptoms of weakness, dizziness and lassitude—they must have done—and what more natural than that they should ascribe any such unusual physical or mental symptoms to the effects of the crash. And what more natural, too, than that they should conceal these symptoms as best they could- and refrain from mentioning them? They would be ashamed to admit or discuss weaknesses—it's a very human trait to show to your neighbours the very best face you can put on in times of emergency or danger."
Joss didn't reply at once. The implications of all this, as I'd found out for myself, took no little time for digestion, so I let him take his time and waited, listening to the lost and mournful wailing of the wind, the rustling hiss of millions of ice spicules scudding across the frozen snow of the ice-cap, and my own thoughts were in keeping with the bleak misery of the night.
"It's not possible," Joss muttered at length. I could hear his teeth chattering with the cold. "You can't have some maniac rushing around an aircraft cabin with a hypo needle or dropping fizz-balls into their gin and tonics. You think they were all doped?"
"Just about."
"But how could anyone—"
"A moment, Joss," I interrupted. "What happened to the RCA?"
"What?" The sudden switch caught him momentarily off-balance. "What happened—you mean, how did it go for a burton? I've no idea at all, sir. All I know is that these hinges couldn't have been knocked into the wall accidentally—not with radio and equipment weighing about 180 pounds sitting on top of them. Someone shoved them in. Deliberately."
"And the only person anywhere near it at the time was the stewardess, Margaret Ross. Everyone agreed on that."
"Yes, but why in the name of heaven should anyone want to do a crazy thing like that?"
"I don't know," I said wearily. "There's a hundred things I don't know. But I do know she did it.. . . And who's in the best position to spike the drinks of aircraft passengers?"
"Good God!" I could hear the sharp hissing intake of breath. "Of course. Drinks—or maybe the sweets they hand out at take-off."
"No." I shook my head definitely in the darkness. "Barley sugar is too weak a covering-up agent to disguise the taste of a drug. Coffee, more likely."
"It must have been her," Joss said slowly. "It must have been. But—but she acted as dazed and abnormal as any of the others. More so, if anything."
"Maybe she'd reason to," I said grimly. "Come on, let's get back or we'll freeze to death. Tell Jackstraw when you get him by himself."
Inside the cabin, I propped the hatch open a couple of inches -with fourteen people inside, extra ventilation was essential. Then I glanced at the thermograph: it showed 48° below zero—eighty degrees of frost.
I lay down on the floor, pulled my parka hood tight to keep my ears from freezing, and was asleep in a minute.