Read Barbara Cleverly for Free Online Page B

in the rear position raising an arm in salute.
    ‘Who the hell’s that?’ Joe shouted, startled.
    ‘Best pilot in India or America or anywhere,’ said Madeleine with pride. ‘That’s Captain Stuart Mercer, ex-Escadrille Américaine. My brother.’
    ‘Your brother? What’s he doing in Ranipur?’
    Madeleine’s eyes never left the small Curtiss Jenny as it began a series of stunts. ‘Well, I’ll never know for sure whether it was me or Stuart that Prithvi fell for!’ she said with a smile. ‘He met us on an airfield
    well, it was more of a cow pasture
    in the States where we were performing. Came backstage at the end of the performance, you might say. We have - we had - a family business. We’re barnstormers. Ever heard of the “Airdevils”?’
    Joe nodded. So that was what she was - a wing dancer in an aerial circus! Had Sir George got it wrong deliberately? He’d heard of many flying circus acts, even seen some of those that made the trip to Europe. Their suicidally daring exploits left him breathless. The young pilots, many of whom had survived service in the war, had been turned adrift in a dull and unrewarding world which had no appreciation of their talent. What they craved was some way of earning a living using their flying skills and they soon caught on to the entertainment value of those skills. People would pay to see them perform, even pay to go up for a flight themselves. Joe shuddered at the idea. But, inevitably, as the public grew used to the spectacle, they became jaded and pilots had to devise ever more daring stunts to keep their attention. Death drops, flights into the heart of Niagara Falls, leaps from racing car to low flying-plane, even leaps from one plane to another in mid-air, they were all attempted with the aim of making money from their audience. Some of the daredevils got rich but most had trouble raising meal money and some died.
    ‘Planes were going for six hundred dollars when Stuart got back home. No shortage. They were stockpiled all over the States. The military were glad to get rid of them. Spares were no problem either. So he bought a couple and cannibalized one of them to get the plane he wanted and we set up in business. Dad helped with the mechanical side and I soon learned that too - I can fly and maintain an aircraft as well as dance on the wings.’ Madeleine spoke with pride and a touch of challenge.
    Joe guessed she had probably run into much male criticism for involving herself in such unladylike pursuits. She would hear none from him; he was fascinated. Madeleine Mercer was a very unusual and attractive girl, he acknowledged, and it was no wonder to him that she should have caught and kept the undivided attention of a maharaja’s son. He tore his own attention from the smiling, chattering girl at his side and looked up again at the pilot, who was performing a manoeuvre which Joe had never seen before. ‘I thought being a policeman was dangerous,’ said Joe, ‘but it’s nothing compared with this!’
    ‘It’s dangerous but it’s safer than flying the mail routes,’ said Madeleine laconically. ‘And it beats liquor smuggling over the Mexican border which is what we were doing as a sideline before we left the States.’
    Joe smiled. ‘Do I gather you and your brother were one step ahead of the law when you skipped off to India?’
    ‘Something like that
    Some would say, “Captain Mercer, dashing young air-ace with twenty kills chalked up on his fuselage, accepted the job of personal flying coach to his brother-in-law and accompanied him home to Ranipur. The maharaja’s second son, international socialite Prithvi Singh, is said to have in his stable a collection of no fewer than ten aeroplanes all of which he is able to fly.” ’ Madeleine was obviously quoting from a society magazine. ‘See what he’s doing now!’
    Joe hardly dared look. The plane was flying over their heads, upside down, the pilot waving a cheery hand. No - two hands.
    ‘Oh, my God!’ breathed Joe.
    ‘Now that is