High Citadel / Landslide Read Online Free PDF Page A

shots, but I warn you—don’t touch the controls by as much as a finger. You’re not a pilot’s backside—and you know it. There can be only one man flying a plane.’
    ‘Get on with it,’ said Grivas shortly.
    ‘I’ll take my own time,’ said O’Hara. ‘I want a good look before I do a damn thing.’
    He orbited the airstrip four more times, watching it as it spun crazily beneath the Dakota. The passengers should know there was something wrong by this time, he thought. No ordinary airliner stood on its wingtip and twitched about like this. Maybe they’d get alarmed and someone would try to do something about it—that might give him a chance to get at Grivas. But what the passengers could do was problematical.
    The strip was all too short; it was also very narrow and made for a much smaller aircraft. He would have to land on the extreme edge, his wingtip brushing a rock wall. Then there was the question of wind direction. He looked down at the cabins, hoping to detect a wisp of smoke from the chimneys, but there was nothing.
    ‘I’m going to go in closer—over the strip,’ he said. ‘But I’m not landing this time.’
    He pulled out of orbit and circled widely to come in for a landing approach. He lined up the nose of the Dakota on the strip like a gunsight and the plane came in, fast and level. To starboard there was a blur of rock and snow and O’Hara held his breath. If the wingtip touched the rock wall that would be the end. Ahead, the strip wound underneath, as though it was being swallowed by the Dakota. There was nothing as the strip ended—just a deep valley and the blue sky. He hauled on the stick and the plane shot skyward.
    The passengers will know damn well there’s something wrong now, he thought. To Grivas he said, ‘We’re not going to get this aircraft down in one piece.’
    ‘Just get me down safely,’ said Grivas. ‘I’m the only one who matters.’
    O’Hara grinned tightly. ‘You don’t matter a damn to me.’
    ‘Then think of your own neck,’ said Grivas. ‘That will take care of mine, too.’
    But O’Hara was thinking of ten lives in the passenger cabin. He circled widely again to make another approach and debated with himself the best way of doing this. He could come in with the undercarriage up or down. A bellylanding would be rough at that speed, but the plane would slow down faster because of the increased friction. The question was: could he hold her straight? On the other hand if he came in with the undercarriage down he would lose airspeed before he hit the deck—that was an advantage too.
    He smiled grimly and decided to do both. For the first time he blessed Filson and his lousy aeroplanes. He knew to a hair how much stress the undercarriage would take; hitherto his problem had been that of putting the Dakota down gently. This time he would come in with undercarriage down, losing speed, and slam her down hard—hardenough to break off the weakened struts like matchsticks. That would give him his belly-landing, too.
    He sighted the nose of the Dakota on the strip again. ‘Well, here goes nothing,’ he said. ‘Flaps down; undercarriage down.’
    As the plane lost airspeed the controls felt mushy under his hands. He set his teeth and concentrated as never before.
V
    As the plane tipped wing down and started to orbit the airstrip Armstrong was thrown violently against Peabody. Peabody was in the act of taking another mouthful of whisky and the neck of the flask suddenly jammed against his teeth. He spluttered and yelled incoherently and thrust hard against Armstrong.
    Rohde was thrown out of his seat and found himself sitting in the aisle, together with Coughlin and Montes. He struggled to his feet, shaking his head violently, then he bent to help Montes, speaking quick Spanish. Mrs Coughlin helped her husband back to his seat.
    Willis had been making a note in the margin of his book and the point of his pencil snapped as Forester lurched against him. Forester