Then Harvey produced two items from his own pocket. The first was a plastic ballpoint pen. Harvey held it up for Pike to see.
‘You know what this is?’ Harvey said.
Ralph Pike said, ‘It’s the poison needle.’
Harvey said, ‘Yes,’ very briefly, and handed it over before giving him the little 6·35-mm. Tula-Korovin automatic that the Russians used to call ‘the nurses’ gun’.
‘Correct and complete?’ Harvey asked.
‘Correct and complete,’ said Ralph Pike, fulfilling some strange ritual.
Signe said, ‘I think I hear it coming.’
We all listened, but it was two full minutes before we heard it. Suddenly its noise was distinct and loud like a tractor coming over the western horizon. The low-flying plane stretched its sound full-length across the hard ice. The navigation lights were switched off but I could see the Cessna Skywagon flying steadily in the cold air. As it got nearer, the white face of the pilot shone in the glow from his instruments and he waggled the wings in greeting. It climbed slightly as it neared us…so that he could see the indicator lights on the roof rack of the car, I suppose…then it dipped a wing and dropped abruptly to the ice. Its long skis struck the ice flat-on and the fuselage rocked on the heavy springs. The pilot cut the motor and the plane slid towards us with a curious hissing sound. Harvey said, ‘I’ve got some sort of virus.’ He wrapped his scarf tighter. ‘I’m running a temperature.’ It was almost the first remark he had addressed to me all evening. He looked at me as though defying argument, wiped his nose, thensmacked Ralph Pike gently on the back as a signal to go.
Almost before the aeroplane had stopped moving the pilot was out through the door waving a hand for Pike to hurry. ‘Is he all ready?’ the pilot said to Harvey, as if Pike couldn’t be trusted to speak for himself.
‘Set to go,’ Harvey confirmed. Ralph Pike threw his last unfinished cigar on to the ice. The pilot said, ‘He could practically walk across tonight. It’s ice all the way.’
‘It’s been done,’ said Harvey. ‘All you need is a rubber boat to cross the channels that boats have carved.’
‘I wouldn’t trust no rubber boat,’ the pilot said. He tucked Pike into the front passenger seat and strapped him in.
‘They’re just thirty feet wide, that’s all,’ said Harvey.
‘But about two wet miles deep,’ said the pilot. Then he smacked the motor cowling and said, ‘Wagons roll; next stop Moscow.’
We stood back and the motor started with a ripple of yellow fire. Harvey picked up the cigar butt with a tut tut of annoyance. ‘Let’s get out of here,’ he said. We got into the car but I was still watching the plane. It hadn’t left the ice: an ugly skinny sort of structure that looked decidedly unsuitable for flying. It was heading away from me and I could see the twin yellow eyes of its exhaust which dilated as the plane changed its inclination andbecame airborne. A gust of wind caught it and it slid towards the ground, but only for a moment or so. Then it lifted a little higher, flattened out and set a course at sub-radar altitude.
Harvey was watching the plane too. ‘Next stop Moscow,’ Harvey repeated sarcastically.
‘He could be right, Harvey,’ I said. ‘The Lubyanka Prison is in Moscow.’
Harvey said, ‘Are you mad at me?’
‘No, why?’
‘When you have second thoughts about the kind of business you’re in, you are inclined to bug the nearest person. Tonight I’m the nearest.’
‘I’m not trying to bug you,’ I said.
‘Good,’ said Harvey. ‘Because even if you are leaving we’ll still be working together.’
‘Leaving?’ I said.
‘Don’t snow me. You know that you’re leaving.’
‘I don’t know what you’re talking about.’
‘Well I’m sorry,’ Harvey said. ‘I thought you knew. The New York office wants you to do a short course.’
‘Really?’ I said. ‘Well I’m not sure about
‘You know what this is?’ Harvey said.
Ralph Pike said, ‘It’s the poison needle.’
Harvey said, ‘Yes,’ very briefly, and handed it over before giving him the little 6·35-mm. Tula-Korovin automatic that the Russians used to call ‘the nurses’ gun’.
‘Correct and complete?’ Harvey asked.
‘Correct and complete,’ said Ralph Pike, fulfilling some strange ritual.
Signe said, ‘I think I hear it coming.’
We all listened, but it was two full minutes before we heard it. Suddenly its noise was distinct and loud like a tractor coming over the western horizon. The low-flying plane stretched its sound full-length across the hard ice. The navigation lights were switched off but I could see the Cessna Skywagon flying steadily in the cold air. As it got nearer, the white face of the pilot shone in the glow from his instruments and he waggled the wings in greeting. It climbed slightly as it neared us…so that he could see the indicator lights on the roof rack of the car, I suppose…then it dipped a wing and dropped abruptly to the ice. Its long skis struck the ice flat-on and the fuselage rocked on the heavy springs. The pilot cut the motor and the plane slid towards us with a curious hissing sound. Harvey said, ‘I’ve got some sort of virus.’ He wrapped his scarf tighter. ‘I’m running a temperature.’ It was almost the first remark he had addressed to me all evening. He looked at me as though defying argument, wiped his nose, thensmacked Ralph Pike gently on the back as a signal to go.
Almost before the aeroplane had stopped moving the pilot was out through the door waving a hand for Pike to hurry. ‘Is he all ready?’ the pilot said to Harvey, as if Pike couldn’t be trusted to speak for himself.
‘Set to go,’ Harvey confirmed. Ralph Pike threw his last unfinished cigar on to the ice. The pilot said, ‘He could practically walk across tonight. It’s ice all the way.’
‘It’s been done,’ said Harvey. ‘All you need is a rubber boat to cross the channels that boats have carved.’
‘I wouldn’t trust no rubber boat,’ the pilot said. He tucked Pike into the front passenger seat and strapped him in.
‘They’re just thirty feet wide, that’s all,’ said Harvey.
‘But about two wet miles deep,’ said the pilot. Then he smacked the motor cowling and said, ‘Wagons roll; next stop Moscow.’
We stood back and the motor started with a ripple of yellow fire. Harvey picked up the cigar butt with a tut tut of annoyance. ‘Let’s get out of here,’ he said. We got into the car but I was still watching the plane. It hadn’t left the ice: an ugly skinny sort of structure that looked decidedly unsuitable for flying. It was heading away from me and I could see the twin yellow eyes of its exhaust which dilated as the plane changed its inclination andbecame airborne. A gust of wind caught it and it slid towards the ground, but only for a moment or so. Then it lifted a little higher, flattened out and set a course at sub-radar altitude.
Harvey was watching the plane too. ‘Next stop Moscow,’ Harvey repeated sarcastically.
‘He could be right, Harvey,’ I said. ‘The Lubyanka Prison is in Moscow.’
Harvey said, ‘Are you mad at me?’
‘No, why?’
‘When you have second thoughts about the kind of business you’re in, you are inclined to bug the nearest person. Tonight I’m the nearest.’
‘I’m not trying to bug you,’ I said.
‘Good,’ said Harvey. ‘Because even if you are leaving we’ll still be working together.’
‘Leaving?’ I said.
‘Don’t snow me. You know that you’re leaving.’
‘I don’t know what you’re talking about.’
‘Well I’m sorry,’ Harvey said. ‘I thought you knew. The New York office wants you to do a short course.’
‘Really?’ I said. ‘Well I’m not sure about
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