Kara’s Game. Gordon Stevens

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      ‘And as of this moment, all other air traffic into and out of Heathrow has been stopped.’

      ‘Yes.’

      ‘So the only plane which will fly over London in the next twenty minutes is Lufthansa 3216?’

      ‘Yes.’

      

      The cloud was around them. ‘Locking on to ILS,’ Maeschler told her. ‘Beginning final approach.’ The Boeing banked gently to the right, the cloud thinned and the ground was suddenly visible beneath them. The green of the fields below them, the silver of the Thames snaking away from them, and the grey of London in front of them.

      …The next time the United Nations lets your people down you must have something the world wants, he had told her … The next time the UN fails you, you must have something which makes the world afraid of you …

      

      CNN, BBC and ITV were all already transmitting pictures from Heathrow, BBC cutting with shots from Parliament Square, and ITV mixing with aerial shots of London from an Aero Spatiale Twin Squirrel jet helicopter.

      So what are you thinking, Finn?

      I’m thinking that I’m at the top of the ladder. The night’s black as hell around me and the aircraft door is in front of me. Steve to my left, Jim and Ken tight behind; Janner and his team at the rear door, the helicopter hovering over the flight deck of Lufthansa 3216, the ops major counting down and the diversion about to go in. I’m in first, that’s what I’m thinking. I go right, start looking for the hijackers. Steve goes left and checks the flight deck and toilet. Jim covers me and Ken covers Steve.

      Although that’s not all I’m thinking.

      What do you mean, Finn? What are you really thinking?

      ‘Lufthansa 3216 is approaching from the east.’ The radio presenter tried to stifle the excitement in his voice. ‘We are receiving reports that Lufthansa 3216 has passed over the Thames flood barrier and is about to fly over the City.’

      ‘We have first pictures of Lufthansa 3216,’ the voice of the ITV presenter was suddenly urgent, suddenly dramatic, the monitor showing the shot from the Twin Squirrel, the Boeing slightly below it.

      Christ she’s low, Finn thought. The television images were almost unreal – the empty runways at Heathrow, the people in Parliament Square, their faces turned up and their eyes searching the sky to the east. The aerial shot from the helicopter of Lufthansa 3216 tracking up the river.

      Docklands was below her, Tower Bridge in front then suddenly below, and Westminster and Big Ben drawing her in as if she was on a piece of string.

      Finn glanced at the BBC pictures from Westminster – the sky empty in the background and the Palace of Westminster in front, Big Ben to the right and the Churchill statue to the left.

      ‘Lufthansa 3216, this is Heathrow Tower.’

      ‘Heathrow Tower, this is Lufthansa 3216.’ Maeschler, the captain, husband of a beautiful wife and father of two pretty children – the papers had found out and published a family photograph. Maeschler the hero who’d landed 3216 at Schipol even though the authorities had tried to stop him.

      ‘3216, you are cleared to land.’

      There was a slight delay.

      ‘Thank you, Heathrow Tower.’ Not the captain this time.

      It’s not the critic who counts … she remembered the words he had quoted at her, remembered again the corridor of the hospital. The doctors white with exhaustion, the nurses dropping with fatigue, and the United Nations still doing nothing to stop the shells falling on them. It’s not the one who points out how the strong man stumbled or how the doer of deeds might have done them better …

      ‘I can see Lufthansa 3216 …’ The radio reporter had slipped through the police cordon and was standing on Westminster Bridge. ‘Lufthansa 3216 is coming up the Thames towards me …’ The Boeing was suddenly in shot on the pictures from Parliament Square, suddenly approaching Westminster. Passing over Parliament and framed for one incredible moment between Big Ben and the Churchill statue.

      The credit belongs to the man who is actually in the arena, he had told her … Who strives valiantly and spends himself in a worthy cause … Who, if he wins, knows the triumph of high achievement and who, if he fails, at least fails while daring greatly …

      What had he said the motto was?

      Who Dares Wins.

      

      Finn left the building and stood on the tarmac looking east. Heathrow was like a ghost around him, the skies and runways empty.

      So what are you really thinking, Finn?

      You know what I’m thinking.

      Tell me anyway.

      I’m thinking about a winter night behind the lines in Bosnia. I’m thinking about how the United Nations blew Kev and Geordie John to Kingdom Come that night. How Janner and Max only survived because someone who didn’t know them risked everything to save them, even though she didn’t have to. I’m thinking about how I told her that I owed, that the regiment owed, and that none of us would ever forget. Because if you can’t help those who help you and yours, then who can you help? If you can’t be loyal to those who are loyal to you and yours, then who or what the hell can you be loyal to?

      In the sky to the east he saw the first flash from the wing lights of the Boeing.

      But that’s not all you’re thinking, is it, Finn?

      No, it’s not all I’m thinking.

      So what else, Finn?

      I’m thinking about the other thing I said to her that night. About how I told her that the West would never help her people unless her people had something the West wanted. I’m thinking about what I said her people should do next time the United Nations let them down.

      But there’s something else, isn’t there, Finn?

      Okay, there’s something else.

      So what is it, Finn?

      You want to know? You really want to know?

      Yeah, Finn. I really want to know.

      I’m thinking that it’s her on Lufthansa 3216. Except it can’t be her, because she’s dead. But the hijacker on Lufthansa 3216 is doing exactly what I told her to do.

      

      The Boeing was over the outer marker, over the approach lights. Next time the UN lets your people down, he’d told her …

      The Boeing was over the lead-in lights, over the runway threshold. The credit belongs to the man who is actually in the arena, he’d said …

      The tyres thumped on the tarmac. As long as the cause was a worthy cause, and the journey was just and right …

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