The Persian Price by Evelyn Anthony Page B

watching her. For a second she was tempted to tear herself free of Peters and scream for help. As if he read her thoughts, he hurried her to the steps. The mechanic had moved away. The few seconds’ hesitation had cost her the chance. She climbed up ahead of Peters and went inside the plane. He pushed her into a seat and sat beside her.
    â€˜Fasten your belt,’ he said. She didn’t move; it was too late now. Too late to save herself. He leaned over and pulled the webbing safety belt round her, buckling it tightly. The Frenchman sat behind them. Eileen held tightly to the seat arms as the engines revved and caught and the plane began to taxi to the runway. As they took off she hid her face in her hands. Peters watched her, anticipating hysteria or collapse. He had seen that look exchanged with the mechanic and guessed that she was a hair-line away from calling for help. But shock had slowed her reactions, paralysing the will to resist. It wouldn’t have lasted at their original destination, the airport at Nice, with Customs and Immigration and people surrounding them. She would never have gone through without raising the alarm, whatever he threatened. His organization had been geared to carrying a child of three who had been added to Madeleine’s false passport. Now the details had been changed. Ostensibly the plane was bound for York, where it would stay overnight and return the following day. There was no radio at Apsley Field, so that once airborne the plane’s movements would be unnoticed. Twenty-five miles behind Nice, in a small valley at Orval, there was a field where the British had landed agents and supplies in the latter stages of the war. Peters had simply changed instructions to the pilot and Madeleine would have phoned through to alter the arrangements for meeting them on landing. The car which should have taken him, Madeleine, Resnais and Lucy Field away from Nice airport would now be diverted to the secret landing field and a supply of petrol brought to fuel the plane for its return journey. He turned to Resnais.
    â€˜Come and sit here for a minute.’
    They exchanged places. Resnais eased himself into the seat beside Eileen. He buckled the safety belt and turning round deliberately looked at her. She seemed sick and frightened, but she was attractive in spite of it. It amused him to frighten her still more. Eileen saw the appraising look and the slight smile on his mouth. She edged against the wall of the plane to avoid touching him.
    â€˜I am Resnais,’ he said. ‘I shall be looking after you.’
    Peters came back; for a moment Eileen thought he would leave the Frenchman where he was and take the seat behind them. She didn’t realize it, but she gave the American a look of agonized appeal.
    â€˜Thanks,’ he said. He stood over Resnais and the Frenchman got up and resumed his former seat. Peters didn’t look at Eileen Field. Resnais had been upsetting her and he was irritated. It wouldn’t help to have an hysterical outburst during the flight. He spoke over his shoulder to Resnais.
    â€˜Did you bring that flask with you?’
    â€˜Yes. It’s here.’
    â€˜Give it to me.’
    He unscrewed the top and passed it to Eileen.
    â€˜It’s brandy; drink some.’
    â€˜I don’t want it.’ She shook her head and turned away.
    â€˜It isn’t drugged,’ Peters said. ‘It’ll steady you. Do as you’re told. Drink it.’
    She sipped and then swallowed. He took the flask and put it to his mouth.
    â€˜Where are we going?’ she asked him.
    â€˜France,’ Peters said. ‘That’s all you’re going to know, so don’t ask any more questions. And the pilot’s working for us, so you needn’t try anything there. You can just relax, Mrs Field. Make the best of it. So long as you’re sensible, nobody will hurt you.’
    He spoke with calmness. The brandy had helped her; she