Castle Macnab by Robert J. Harris

Author:Robert J. Harris
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Polygon

12

PRINCE OF THE SKIES

________

Once Lamancha had parked the Hispana outside the fence surrounding the airfield, he and Palliser-Yeates entered through a wicket gate. They passed a pair of wooden sheds that had been erected to store fuel and other supplies and saw the plane at the far end of the runway, its engine slowly cooling.

Closer to hand stood a luxurious Rolls-Royce beside which a folding table had been set up by a uniformed chauffeur. He was pouring champagne for the three men who had disembarked from the aircraft, all of whom were evidently in high spirits after their flight. They had just finished a toast when they spotted Lamancha and Palliser-Yeates approaching. Their manner altered immediately from careless celebration to an obvious wariness.

At the centre of the group stood a slight figure who regarded them from beneath his thatch of yellow hair with the wistful face of a choirboy. His innocently youthful aspect contrasted oddly with his garishly patterned tweed suit and his brown and white brogues. Many people regarded the latter as the distinctive footwear of a cad.

Edward Prince of Wales, eldest son of King George V, served in the Grenadier Guards in the war and his frequent visits to the front had made him popular with veterans. Since then, however, his distaste for the normal protocols of royal behaviour – which were particularly expected of the heir to the throne – was proving a matter of grave concern to his father and to the Prime Minister.

The young man’s expression was solemn as he assessed the newcomers, then, as though a brilliant light had been switched on, his features were illuminated from within by a glowing smile.

‘Lamancha, Charles Lamancha!’ he exclaimed jauntily. ‘Why, I haven’t seen you since the South Oxfordshire Hunt.’

Lamancha shook the offered hand and smiled in return. ‘I see, Your Highness, that you’re quite recovered from the fall you took.’

The prince laughed lightly. ‘Oh, that was nothing. I’ve taken worse hurt from a broken heart.’

‘This is my good friend John Palliser-Yeates.’

The prince acknowledged the introduction with a nod and drained the last of his champagne. As the glass was promptly refilled he indicated the mustachioed figure to his right.

‘This is my pilot Flight Lieutenant Eddie Fielden – “Mouse”, we call him. The blessed fellow’s so timid he wouldn’t let me take the wheel of this beauty in case I dented her on her first flight.’

‘She takes a bit of handling,’ explained the pilot, ‘but we’ll soon get the kinks out of her.’

On Prince Edward’s left stood a very different figure, whose dark probing eyes and assertively outthrust jaw gave a forceful impression of animal vitality combined with an exceptional intelligence.

‘This is my friend and financial adviser Warren Creevey,’ said the prince. ‘Perhaps you’ve heard of him.’

‘Pleased to meet you, Lamancha,’ said the noted English financier as they shook hands. ‘I hear you’re very highly regarded in America, and those people do not impress easily.’ His voice was deep and genial and his smile came easily.

‘And I believe you’re rather a big noise in the City, Mr Creevey,’ Lamancha returned.

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