High Road to China. Jon Cleary

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      Yes, thought O’Malley; but said no. But told himself it was the last time he was going to swap bravado with the arrogant Baron. ‘Shall we start then? Vienna is our first stop, to refuel.’

      They took off into a cloudless sky, with O’Malley once more leading the way. He looked behind him and saw Kern lift his Bristol off the ground too soon: the Baron hadn’t allowed for the extra weight. The plane flew flat for several hundred feet, the nose threatening to point down; but Kern, as he had claimed, was a flier, a pilot who was part of his machine. O’Malley saw the plane wobble and he waited for it to stall; then the nose lifted and he knew Kern had it under control. It climbed steadily, swung round in a steady bank and fell in behind O’Malley. They headed east and soon were skirting the northern flanks of the Bavarian Alps. The flying was easy and O’Malley lay back in his wicker seat, occasionally turning his face up to the sun, listening to the music of his engine, marvelling at his good fortune. He felt sorry for Bradley Tozer, was apprehensive for him, but the American millionaire, involuntarily and through his daughter, had bought him a few weeks of escape. He looked across to his left and wondered if Kern had the same thoughts.

      They landed at Vienna after three-and-a-half hours’ uneventful flying. Kern was first out of his plane and moved across at once to help Eve down from hers. Sun Nan, plump and awkward, was left to feel his own way down to earth. O’Malley, finding an English-speaking official, was left to superintend the refuelling of the planes and Kern, taking a small picnic box that his servant had packed, led Eve to the shade of some near-by rees.

      Eve called to Sun Nan, gave him some food and asked him to take some across to O’Malley. The Chinese didn’t rebel at being asked to act as servant; he knew he was as much a partner in this foursome as the others, uneasy though the partnership might be. He gave O’Malley his lunch, then sat down under the wing of Eve’s plane and began munching his bread and sausage. The food was awkward in his mouth, dislodging his dental plate, and he longed for some nice smooth noodles.

      ‘I was here in Vienna before the war.’ Kern lay back on the grass. He had brought a wartime flying suit with him, but was not wearing it; like the others on this hot summer day he wore just street clothes. He was dressed in grey flannel trousers, a wide-collared silk shirt open at the neck and black-and-white shoes; again Eve had the mental picture of him as a gigolo. He looked at her appraisingly and she waited for him to pat the grass beside him and invite her to lie down. ‘My father was at the court of the old Emperor for six months. He was there on loan as a military adviser.’

      ‘Where is he now?’

      ‘He was killed at Verdun. My two brothers also.’

      She changed the subject. ‘I came here when I was a girl, with my mother and father. We did the Grand Tour.’

      They were both silent for a while, lost in the contemplation of something that now had the fragile structure of a half-remembered dream. A bee buzzed above the picnic box and Eve lazily brushed it away. In the distance the end of the aerodrome shimmered in the heat like quivering green water. Eve lay back, somnolent, but wide awake enough not to lie too close to Kern. China, and her father, all at once were as remote as the lost empire of the Hapsburgs.

      She heard Kern say, ‘I fell in love with the women of Vienna. They were beautiful, always flirting, in love with love. But I was too young for them then, only eighteen. I vowed to come back and enjoy them when I was old enough. But it’s too late now.’

      ‘Why?’ she asked dreamily.

      ‘Because romance blossoms best on a full stomach. One does not flirt when one is hungry – I learned that in Berlin last year. The women of Vienna, I’m sure, are thinner now than they used to be.’

      Eve sat up, no longer dreamy. ‘I fear you are a ladies’ man, Baron. Don’t expect any opportunities on this flight of ours.’

      Kern, still lying back on the grass, hands behind his head, smiled up at her. He is handsome, Eve thought; and chided herself for the admission. But it was a pity she had not met him in other circumstances, when she could have pitted her wits against him in the flirting game that seemed to be his favourite sport. Then was conscience stricken as she thought of her father. She stood up quickly, brushing the grass from her skirt. Pulling on her flying helmet, she walked across to O’Malley, who stood leaning against the wing of his plane, finishing his lunch.

      ‘The Baron offend you?’

      ‘What makes you think that?’

      ‘Just the way you got up and left him. I’ve had girls walk away from me the same way.’

      God, she thought, are both of them going to give me trouble? ‘How do I pay for the gasoline?’

      ‘What did you bring?’

      ‘Pounds and dollars. It was all I could get at such short notice.’

      ‘They’ll take either. Our money is more welcome than we are. They’re a sour lot, these Austrians.’

      ‘That’s not what the Baron has been telling me.’

      But she didn’t elaborate, just turned her back on him and went across to pay the two men who had brought down the drums of petrol in their ramshackle ex-army truck. Then she moved to her plane, pulling up short as Sun Nan suddenly rose up in front of her from beneath the wing. Preoccupied, thoughts building up in her mind like a honeycomb, she hadn’t noticed him seated in the shadow of the wing.

      ‘Miss Tozer, if either Mr O’Malley or the Baron makes trouble for you, let me know. I shall take care of you.’

      ‘Make trouble?’ Then she understood what he meant, marvelled that he should have been so observant. She laughed at the irony that he should be her protector, the defender of her honour. ‘I’m sure I have nothing to fear from them, Mr Sun. But thank you.’

      ‘We have to stick together. Your father is depending on us, not them.’

      ‘You don’t have to remind me, Mr Sun. But Mr O’Malley and the Baron may still be necessary to us.’

      They took off five minutes later. They flew south-east this time, soon crossed into Hungary. The countries lay below them, one merged into another; treaties had broken up the Empire, but the boundaries were only on maps; at 5000 feet nothing appeared to have changed. Harvest-yellow, dotted with green lakes of forest, the lost empire was unmarked: not here the scars of trenches. Then they were over Lake Balaton, sparkling under the afternoon sun like a vast spill of Tokay wine; the sails of fishermen’s boats drifted like tiny moths caught in the web of sunshine. Then Eve, looking up from the bright glare of the lake, saw the clouds ahead.

      They hung in the sky like great baskets of evil purple blooms, a hot-house of storm stretching away to the south-west. Lightning flickered, blue-silver against the purple, and she imagined she could hear the crash of thunder above the roar of the engine. She looked back over her shoulder at Sun Nan, saw the fear on his face below the opaque mask of his goggles, wondered what her own face showed. She hated storms, was afraid of thunder and lightning even in the shelter of the safe, weather-impregnable houses she had called home. In America she had never dared fly in the face of a storm, had always looked for a place to land even when she ran into squalls of rain.

      Then up ahead she saw O’Malley wiggle his wings, point to his left and then bank away to the east. He was going to try and take them round the storm.

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