Page 12 of Savage Reckoning

“How loosely?” Jack has turned in his seat to regard me.

“If I’m captured, and they know about it, they’ll do what they can to extricate me. But if shit hits the fan, they don’t know me.” I don’t mention that I still officially hold the rank of Lieutenant Colonel and if I manage to live that long there’s a fair chance I’ll qualify for an army pension.

“What about Megan? She obviously knows you. Is that going to be a problem?”

Jack means, will she blow my cover. “I don’t think so. I need to explain things to her. We have… history and we parted badly.”

“So badly she put a bullet in you. I assume that’s how you got the limp.” This from Casey.

“You know the story, then.”

“We’ve talked. She thinks you’re a shit. From what I heard, she’s right.”

“Not my finest hour, I admit. But the circumstances were complicated.”

Jack chips in again. “I don’t like complicated. Sort it out. And soon.”

“I’m on it.”

CHAPTER 3

Megan

“The police are outside. Do you feel up to talking to them yet?”

Magda looks to me, then back at the nursing sister in bright-blue scrubs. “I suppose I’d best get it over with.”

“I’ll tell them.” The nurse leaves.

“You’ll be able to stay, won’t you?”

“Of course.” I take her hand. “Just tell them what you told Rome.”

We’re joined by two men of middling years who both appear to have indulged in more than their share of staff canteen bacon butties over the years. They puff and pant their way into the room and settle themselves down, notebooks in hand.

“And you are?” One of them, who introduces himself as Detective Inspector Frank Fairclough, eyes me through thick-rimmed spectacles.

“Doctor Megan Alexander,” I reply, offering no further explanation for my presence.

Magda is more forthcoming. “Megan is my friend and colleague. I want her to stay.”

The Detective Inspector makes a tutting sound in his throat which I’d interpret as disapproving but says nothing.

He gestures at his colleague. “This is Sergeant James Connor. We’re here to ask you for your account of the incident earlier today.”

Christ, was it only this morning? It seems as though half a lifetime has passed since the alarm call sounded.

Magda inclines her head. “I was expecting you. Have you found the black box?”

“We have located the cockpit voice recorder, and crash investigation experts are analysing that now. In the meantime, in your own words…?”

Magda recites much the same account as the one she gave Rome, adding in details of the flight path and some technical jargon describing the mechanical aspects of the incident. The two detectives scribble furiously, occasionally asking a question or seeking clarification. It all goes smoothly until Fairclough asks the reason for the flight.

“My boss had been at a business meeting in Brussels,” Magda lies smoothly. “We were on our way home, to the Outer Hebrides.”

“Brussels?” One bushy eyebrow arches. “What was the nature of the business, Miss Botnari?”

“I am a pilot, not Mr Savage’s private secretary. How would I know? It is not my place to ask such things.”

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