A Sentimental Traitor Read Free Page A

Better the river than a crowded city
centre, the scars on the landscape that had been left on Lockerbie. So, close the remaining thrust lever, shut down the final engine, trim the aircraft, try to glide her down. Damn it, that pilot
had done it a couple of years back, the one who’d ditched in the Hudson, got everyone off alive when his engines had failed. But he’d still had hydraulics.
    ‘Shall I get Abi?’ Bryan asked.
    ‘Don’t see the point. No need to terrify the kids.’
    ‘Just us, then.’
    ‘Yes, just the two of us.’
    Ahead of them, the Thames wound its way between the flare path of the riverbanks, twisting so sharply at points that on the ground it often deceived the eye, but from the cockpit they could see
it all, laid out in spectacular and terrifying detail. They would have to get down before the bridges came into play. Hit one of those and . . . But the stretch leading up to Tower Bridge seemed
about right. The captain lined her up, one last touch on the sidestick, and then all control was gone. They were gliding, their path set, for better or much worse. In the cockpit, without the
engines, it seemed unnaturally quiet, except for a persistent banging that was coming from somewhere behind. He pushed home the ditching button that sealed off the cabin, gave them a chance of
floating.
    ‘Should I go through the emergency ditching procedures?’ the first officer asked, holding the manual open, struggling to read in the dim emergency lighting.
    ‘I seem to remember it talks about making sure the galleys are turned off, useful stuff like that.’
    Slowly, the first officer’s shoulders sagged, like an abandoned tent. He closed the book and put it aside.
    ‘London, this is Speedbird Mayday. I’ve lost all hydraulics and I’m trying to get into the river by Tower Bridge.’
    Only the slightest hesitation before: ‘Er, Speedbird Mayday. Say again?’
    ‘Repeat, ditching near Tower Bridge. No hydraulics. We have one-one-five – repeat one-one-five – souls on board. That includes a whole playschool of kids.’
    ‘Speedbird Mayday, your message acknowledged. Emergency services will be informed.’ The controller’s voice had begun strong and matter of fact, but suddenly it ran out of
breath. He had to clear his throat before he added: ‘Good luck.’
    The captain found nothing to say in reply. He leaned down, cancelled the radio. The cockpit fell silent.
    In the passenger compartment there was a surprising lack of panic. They’d been told they were only a few minutes from the airport and the change in the noise of the remaining engine
wasn’t unusual as a plane prepared to land. Abi had done her job well. Yet she was too good to fool herself. Now she was strapped in her own seat, by the forward bulkhead beside another
member of the cabin crew. She bowed her head in silent prayer and was struggling not to show her fear when through her tear-blurred eyes she saw a small girl appear in front of her. It was
Cartagena. She was holding a glass-eyed teddy bear with a drooping, much-sucked ear.
    ‘We told them we’re all going to be OK, didn’t we, Edward?’ she lisped, interrogating the bear. She gazed up at Abi, her grey eyes filled with earnest. ‘My daddy
told me he would never let anything happen to me.’
    ‘And who is your daddy, darling?’ Abi stammered, struggling desperately to hold back the tears.
    ‘He’s the ambassador.’
    ‘Would you and Edward Bear like to come and sit here on my lap?’ Abi asked. It defied every regulation, but there was no time to get the child back in her own seat. Anyway, there was
no point.
    Gratefully, Cartagena climbed into her arms as the other hostie looked on in horror, understanding all too well what this must mean.
    ‘You want to tell me about Edward Bear?’ Abi asked. ‘Does he have brothers and sisters?’
    So Cartagena began to spell out Edward’s complicated family history while Abi, her arms wrapped protectively around the little