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tomorrow morning.’
    â€˜Okay. But remember I don’t need you to flip it, Millie. I need Marshall upside down, but we can flip it with wires. Between the crash and flipped plane we can cut away to the crash team running from the hangar.’
    â€˜You might get lucky. I might flip it anyway,’ Millie said.
    â€˜Try not to,’ said Crow. Then he said, ‘Have I got everyone’s attention?’
    Everyone made noises of affirmation and encouragement, the whole group moving closer together as if to protect and warm the director. Xas found himself shuffling in, pressed by bodies, feeling their eagerness and loyalty.
    Crow said, ‘Jimmy has it in his head to get some shots from the control cabin of that airborne luxury liner. I know it doesn’t sail till eight this evening.’
    â€˜The newspapers say “aloft for the sunset”,’ said Gil.
    â€˜So our plan is to go over there now and make friendly overtures to the captain about him watching some of the shoot.’
    â€˜As if he’ll see anything when we’re out by Redondo Beach,’ said Gil.
    â€˜Well, he’s not to know that,’ said his brother. ‘And ten to one he’s sentimental about fighter pilots.’
    â€˜And you’re not, of course,’ said Gil, teasing.
    â€˜I’m not sentimental about anything.’
    Gil said, ‘Jimmy and I will go make overtures. We have some German.’
    â€˜Take Carol.’ Crow put his hand on the silky crown of the woman who had been standing beside him. She was very pretty. ‘Carol will butter them up.’
    Gil, Jimmy, and the director’s secretary walked off. The rest of the team surrounded the plan table. For the next forty minutes Crow talked the pilots through their stunts. For some of it—Crow said—they were just to get up in the sky and dogfight, chase about keeping one another in sight. ‘The fighters will be filmed by both chase planes, from above and below together. Then alone from behind and in front for later back-projection—especially shots of the Fokker on Marshall’s tail.’
    The chase planes were closed-cabin six-seaters. They were going up with four men in each, and equipment. The stunt flyers sat in to hear what the director had to say to the cameramen. Xas picked up new words. He wondered what it would all look like when it was put together, the dogfight, the cockpit shots of ‘Marshall’ before the swinging shape of a hunting enemy plane, black blood blowing from his mouth. He wondered if they meant to film only against the towering cloud and clear sky, for how could straight Californian roads and right angle intersections double for the landscape of France? Xas wondered—but didn’t interrupt to ask questions. He watched, all the while feeling his attention dilate. He was enchanted by the accord in the group; how, though Crow was in charge, everyone contributed. He got the feeling that this group wasn’t just full of old hands, but was, as a group, itself an old hand.
    Someone passed around sandwiches and coffee.
    Then, ‘Oh, goody,’ said Crow. He put his coffee cup down, drew himself up to his full imposing height, and strode out to meet Gil, Jimmy, Carol, and a group of men indark blue uniforms. The last of these was just stepping off the zigzag stair of the mast. A square, bearded figure, his uniform bright with silver braid and buttons—the captain of Lake Werner . For a moment the captain stood, rocking from foot to foot, testing the lack of give in the ground. When he did this, Xas recognised him. It was his captain. Hintersee.
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    At around four the slight breeze that had been blowing all day began to fall. The thunderhead still hung over the bay, its shape now degraded by the hot rising afternoon air. Xas’s stunts were done. Millie was up again in her Spad, with smoke pots, playing at being wounded. The big chase planes had joined her.
    Crow