Thunder Point Read Free Page B

know something of your background.”
    “Do you now?” Dillon said. “Well, as the good doctor said, I find it hard to resist a challenge.”
    “And for this you would risk your life?”
    “Ah, sure and I was forgetting.” Dillon looked up and smiled and an astonishing change came to his face, nothing but warmth and great charm there. “I should also mention that I’m the last of the world’s great adventurers. Now leave me be like a good lad and let me see where I’m going.”
    He leaned over the charts and started to examine them intently.
     
     
    Just before five the rain was as relentless as ever, the darkness as impenetrable, as Dillon stood in the entrance of the hangar and peered out. Wegner and Schmidt approached him.
    The older man said, “Can you really take off in weather like this?”
    “The problem is landing, not taking off.” Dillon called to Tomic, “How are things?”
    Tomic emerged from the cabin, jumped to the ground and came toward them wiping his hands on a rag. “Everything in perfect working order.”
    Dillon offered him a cigarette and glanced out. “And this?”
    Tomic peered up into the darkness. “It’ll get worse before it gets better, and you’ll find ground mist over there, especially over the forest, mark my words.”
    “Ah, well, better get on with it as the thief said to the hangman.” Dillon crossed to the Conquest.
    He went up the steps and examined the interior. All the seats had been removed and it was stacked with long, olive-green boxes. Each one was stenciled in English: Royal Army Medical Corps.
    Schmidt, who had joined him, said, “As you can see, we get our supplies from unusual sources.”
    “You can say that again. What’s in these?”
    “See for yourself.” Schmidt unclipped the nearest one, removed a sheet of oiled paper to reveal box after box of morphine ampoules. “Over there, Mr. Dillon, they sometimes have to hold children down when they operate on them because of the lack of any kind of anesthetic. These prove a highly satisfactory substitute.”
    “Point taken,” Dillon said. “Now close it up and I’ll get moving.”
    Schmidt did as he was told, then jumped to the ground. As Dillon pulled up the steps Wegner said, “God go with you, Mr. Dillon.”
    “There’s always that chance,” Dillon said. “It’s probably the first time I’ve done anything he’d approve of,” and he closed the door and clamped it in place.
     
     
    He settled into the left-hand pilot’s seat, fired the port engine and after that the starboard. The chart was next to him on the other seat, but he had already pretty well committed it to memory. He paused on the apron outside the hangar, rain streaming from his windscreen, did a thorough cockpit check, then strapped in and taxied to the end of the runway, turning into the wind. He glanced across to the three men standing in the hangar entrance, raised a thumb, then started forward, his engine roar deepening as he boosted power. Within a second or two he had disappeared, the sound of the engines already fading.
    Wegner ran a hand over his face. “God, but I’m tired.” He turned to Tomic. “Has he a chance?”
    Tomic shrugged. “Quite a man, that one. Who knows?”
    Schmidt said, “Let’s get some coffee. We’re going to have a long wait.”
    Tomic said, “I’ll join you in a minute. I just want to clear my tools away.”
    They crossed toward the end hut. He watched them go, waited until they’d gone inside before turning and swiftly crossing to the office. He picked up the telephone and dialed a lengthy series of numbers. As the good doctor had said, the telephone system still worked surprisingly well over there.
    When a voice answered he spoke in Serbo-Croatian. “This is Tomic, get me Major Branko.”
    There was an instant response. “Branko here.”
    “Tomic. I’m at the airfield at Fehring and I’ve got traffic for you. Cessna Conquest just left, destination Sabac. Here is his radio