High Citadel / Landslide Read Online Free Page B

years since you were here—and you never saw it from an airplane.’
    ‘Maybe,’ he said, unconvinced. ‘But it sure is funny.’
    ‘Now, Harry, the pilot knows what he’s doing. He looked a nice efficient young man to me.’
    Coughlin continued to look from the window. He said nothing more.
    James Armstrong of London, England, was becoming very bored with Joe Peabody of Chicago, Illinois. The man was a positive menace. Already he had sunk half the contents of his flask, which seemed an extraordinarily large one, and he was getting combatively drunk. ‘Whadya think of the nerve of that goddam fly-boy, chokin’ me off like that?’ he demanded. ‘Actin’ high an’ mighty jus’ like the goddam limey he is.’
    Armstrong smiled gently. ‘I’m a—er—goddam limey too, you know,’ he pointed out.
    ‘Well, jeez, presen’ comp’ny excepted,’ said Peabody. ‘That’s always the rule, ain’t it? I ain’t got anything against you limeys really, excep’ you keep draggin’ us into your wars.’
    ‘I take it you read the Chicago Tribune ,’ said Armstrong solemnly.
    Forester and Willis did not talk much—they had nothing in common. Willis had produced a large book as soon as they exhausted their small talk and to Forester it looked heavy in all senses of the word, being mainly mathematical.
    Forester had nothing to do. In front of him was an aluminium bulkhead on which an axe and a first-aid box were mounted. There was no profit in looking at that and consequently his eyes frequently strayed across the aisle toSeñor Montes. His lips tightened as he noted the bad colour of Montes’s face and he looked at the first-aid box reflectively.
IV
    ‘There it is,’ said Grivas. ‘You land there.’
    O’Hara straightened up and looked over the nose of the Dakota. Dead ahead amid a jumble of rocks and snow was a short airstrip, a mere track cut on a ledge of a mountain. He had time for the merest glimpse before it was gone behind them.
    Grivas waved the gun. ‘Circle it,’ he said.
    O’Hara eased the plane into an orbit round the strip and looked down at it. There were buildings down there, rough cabins in a scattered group, and there was a road leading down the mountain, twisting and turning like a snake. Someone had thoughtfully cleared the airstrip of snow, but there was no sign of life.
    He judged his distance from the ground and glanced at the altimeter. ‘You’re crazy, Grivas,’ he said. ‘We can’t land on that strip.’
    ‘You can, O’Hara,’ said Grivas.
    ‘I’m damned if I’m going to. This plane’s overloaded and that strip’s at an altitude of seventeen thousand feet. It would need to be three times as long for this crate to land safely. The air’s too thin to hold us up at a slow landing speed—we’ll hit the ground at a hell of a lick and we won’t be able to pull up. We’ll shoot off the other end of the strip and crash on the side of the mountain.’
    ‘You can do it.’
    ‘To hell with you,’ said O’Hara.
    Grivas lifted his gun. ‘All right, I’ll do it,’ he said. ‘But I’ll have to kill you first.’
    O’Hara looked at the black hole staring at him like an evil eye. He could see the rifling inside the muzzle and it looked as big as a howitzer. In spite of the cold, he was sweating and could feel rivulets of perspiration running down his back. He turned away from Grivas and studied the strip again. ‘Why are you doing this?’ he asked.
    ‘You would not know if I told you,’ said Grivas. ‘You would not understand—you are English.’
    O’Hara sighed. It was going to be very dicey; he might be able to get the Dakota down in approximately one piece, but Grivas wouldn’t have a chance—he’d pile it up for sure. He said, ‘All right—warn the passengers; get them to the rear of the cabin.’
    ‘Never mind the passengers,’ said Grivas flatly. ‘You do not think that I am going to leave this cockpit?’
    O’Hara said, ‘All right, you’re calling the