Hornet Flight by Ken Follett Page A

damaged and one tire was flat.
    He felt the fuselage and was surprised to find it was made of some kind of fabric, stretched taut over a frame, with small rips and wrinkles in places. It was painted light blue with a black coachline edged in white, but the paintwork that might once have been cheerful was now dull, dusty, and streaked with oil. It did have wings, he now saw—biplane wings, painted silver—but they were hinged, and had been swung around to point backward.
    He looked through the side window into the cabin. It was much like the front of a car. There were two seats side by side and a varnished wooden instrument panel with an assortment of dials. The upholstery of one seat had burst, and the stuffing was coming out. It looked as if mice had nested there.
    He found the door handle and clambered inside, ignoring the soft scuttling sounds he heard. He sat on the one intact seat. The controls appeared simple. In the middle was a Y-shaped joystick that could be operated from either seat. He put his hand on the stick and his feet on the pedals. He thought flying would be even more thrilling than driving a motorcycle. He imagined himself soaring over the castle like a giant bird, with the roar of the engine in his ears.
    â€œDid you ever fly it yourself?” he asked Tik.
    â€œNo. Karen took lessons, though.”
    â€œDid she?”
    â€œShe wasn’t old enough to qualify, but she was very good.”
    Harald experimented with the controls. He saw a pair of “On/Off” switches and flicked them both, but nothing happened. The stick and the pedals seemed loose, as if they were not connected to anything. Seeing what he was doing, Tik said, “Some of the cables were taken out last year—they were needed to repair one of the farm machines. Let’s go.”
    Harald could have spent another hour fiddling with the aircraft, but Tik was impatient, so he climbed out.
    They left from the back of the monastery and followed a cart track through a wood. Attached to Kirstenslot was a large farm. “It’s been rentedto the Nielsen family since before I was born,” Tik said. “They raise pigs for bacon, they keep a dairy herd that wins prizes, and they have several hundred acres under cereal crops.”
    They tramped around a broad wheat field, crossed a pasture full of black-and-white cows, and smelled the pigs from a distance. On the dirt road leading to the farmhouse, they came across a tractor and trailer. A young man in overalls was peering at the engine. Tik shook hands with the man and said, “Hello, Frederik, what’s wrong?”
    â€œEngine died on me in the middle of the road. I was taking Mr. Nielsen and the family to church in the trailer.” Harald looked again at the trailer and saw that it contained two benches. “Now the grown-ups are walking to church and the kiddies have been took home.”
    â€œMy friend Harald here is a wizard with all kinds of engines.”
    â€œI wouldn’t mind if he’d take a look.”
    The tractor was an up-to-date model, with a diesel engine, and rubber tires rather than steel wheels. Harald bent down to study the innards. “What happens when you turn her over?”
    â€œI’ll show you.” Frederik pulled a handle. The started motor whined, but the engine would not catch. “She needs a new fuel pump, I think.” Frederik shook his head despairingly. “We can’t get spare parts for none of our machines.”
    Harald frowned skeptically. He could smell fuel, which suggested to him that the pump was working, but the diesel was not reaching the cylinders. “Would you try the starter once more?”
    Frederik pulled the handle. Harald thought he saw the fuel filter outlet pipe move. Looking more closely, he saw that diesel was leaking from the release valve. He reached in and wiggled the nut. The entire valve assembly came away from the filter. “There’s the