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likely to get shot down tiddling about like this as we would be if we hedge-hopped straight there. Apart from the chances of the Swedes or the Ruskies noticing we’re not what we’re supposed to be, we’re bloody likely to get shopped by any civvy pilot who gets a whiff of what’s going on. They don’t take too kindly to having their lives made more dangerous by the military using the civvy routes as cover.’
    ‘Now why don’t you relax.’ Giving every appearance of intending to follow his own advice, Ripper slumped lower in his seat, so that his oversized helmet was tipped forward by the back of the chair, over his eyes. ‘This is like travelling first- class, compared to what it was like in that SAC Galaxy I came over in. Why hell, if we asked real nice maybe the lovely little Andrea would do the stewardess bit. She could give me in-flight or indecent attention anytime.’
    ‘Where is she anyway?’ Standing on a seat, York looked over the rows. ‘She don’t seem the sort to go and have a chat and a coffee.’ ‘I should imagine she’s head of the queue to ask the major for permission to bump off our pet Commie.’ A new packet was extracted from a deep pocket and Burke lit his forty-first cigarette.
    ‘I bet that guy Clarence is crowding close behind her. Why’ve we got our own tame Ruskie anyway?’ Ripper was indignant. ‘What can he do we can’t?’
    Burke watched ash float slowly to the floor now greying about his feet. ‘Talk fluent Russian for a start. What do you think we got all that extra radio gear for? When things get hot the Commies won’t have time for piddling about with coding. If we can monitor what they’re jabbering about it could be bloody useful, especially if they’re nattering about how much shit they’ll be shovelling in our direction.’ The smirk that Burke turned on was aimed at York. ‘He’ll be keeping you busy.’
    ‘I’ll have enough to do, keeping the command links open in the face of the jamming the Reds are bound to try, without having to help out a cruddy amateur. The way I see it, chances are I’ll end up working all the equipment and that beetle- browed shitty sod will be operating nothing more difficult than his notepad and pencil.’
    ‘Well, ain’t we just lucky to have such a brilliant radio operator. You reckon you’ll be able to cope alright then?’
The gentle sarcasm was lost on York, and he took no exception to Ripper’s remark. ‘Of course I will, but that’s not the damned point, I shouldn’t have to. For this job I ought to be a corporal at least, with a couple of guys under me.’ He suddenly noticed the looks the others were exchanging. ‘You know what I mean.’ ‘Course we do.’ Only the top of Ripper’s helmet was now visible, and his voice floated out from between the rows. ‘You want a couple of guys under you, that’s fine, so long as you don’t want me for one. I prefer girls. There ain’t ever been no faggots in my family, we’ve all been dead straight, ‘cepting that fifth cousin I heard tell of, the one who got kinda fond of livestock, if you get my drift.’
    Several of the filter tips began to roll sluggishly in the ash as the aircraft banked to a fresh heading. Pulling out his small compass, Burke checked the new direction. It was south-east. They were beginning the final run. Removing another cigarette from the pack before he had finished the last he took another long look around the cabin. Well it seemed strong enough, and he’d examined the great steel skids below it earlier, but every time he thought of the way they were leaving the aircraft his stomach fluttered and he broke out in a sweat. If there had been even a pretence of a steering mechanism to hold on to, it would have helped.
    When those huge chutes popped and dragged the cabin-sled out, every one of them, strapped helpless in their seats, was going to be at the mercy of blind luck. The aircraft struck turbulence and dipped before recovering. For a