*
Take off got easier and easier. Which was lucky because Rhyllann had landed on the only dry patch for miles and had just the one chance to get airborne. He worried about the uneven ground, connecting with an unseen boulder, then decided that after today, he was never going to worry about anything again.
“Make the first time the last time laddie.” He heard inside his head, and nodded silent agreement. With a hop and a jump the plane soared, flying north west this time. Already from their vantage point the ocean shimmered on the horizon. Rhyllann checked the fuel gauge, and calculated it was about ten minutes before they were flying on fumes. He didn’t feel too concerned. This little baby could glide for miles. Anyway a sea landing would be a new experience. Air tight meant water tight and they’d probably float long enough for someone to spot their emergency flares. Rhyllann decided to keep that to himself. Somehow he didn’t think Crombie would be so easy to convince that landing was the simple bit. Rhyllann adjusted the controls slightly, feeling the craft respond immediately. He was in love.
Beside him, Crombie hummed happily as his eyes flickered over the dashboard instruments, and then gazed through the window like any ordinary person. Rhyllann had to say something though. Staring straight ahead, he blurted.
‘What you did back there was pretty special.’ Crombie started. With a self conscious laugh he said.
‘Special all right. I must want my brains tested.’
They lapsed into an embarrassed silence.
After a moment or two Crombie added. ‘Anyhow, what else could I have done?’ Adding. ‘If you hadn’t thought of that winch; I’d be dog’s meat by now.’ Rhyllann acknowledged this with a modest smile.
‘I’ll put in a good word for you at your trial son.’ Crombie turned to gaze out the side window, trying to hide a grin.
‘If you were dog’s meat, I wouldn’t miss your lame arse jokes.’ Rhyllann retorted. ‘Anyhow I ain’t done nothing.’ Crombie laughed out loud at that, sending Rhyllann into a sulk.
But Crombie was in a really good mood now and wanted to chat. Rhyllann ignored him until he received a sharp dig in the ribs.
‘What?’
‘I said at least your cousin is a master manipulator.’
‘Wren?’
Crombie nodded, looking embarrassed. ‘I went on a profiling course. He ticks all the boxes. What they call Machiavellian.’ Rhyllann considered this.
‘You mean he always gets his own way? Well duh. Those baby blues and blond hair.’
Crombie shook his head. ‘It's more than that. Wren managed to persuade those filth that he wasn’t going to co-operate unless they gave him something first. And got you to understand what was going down too. He pressed a few of my buttons too if you remember.’ Rhyllann gave it some thought then decided to let Crombie think what he liked. If he wanted to class the little geek as some kind of mastermind, that was his affair.
‘What about me then? Did you profile me?’ Rhyllann asked casually.
Crombie folded his arms, smug as a life sized Buddha. Rhyllann wished he’d kept his mouth shut.
‘I’ve been round your house son. Typical sports mad teenager with an unusual passion – gift – for flying.’
Rhyllann’s eyebrows shot up. Praise from Crombie! But he hadn’t finished. ‘That first time – when I met you at the station. You kept touching that chain round your neck. Made me wonder. The average teenager’s careless. My girls for example. Always losing things – mobiles – I-pods – keys. Careless. But not you. You wear your front door key round your neck. Because you can’t afford to lose it. If you lost it – there’d be no one to let you in. I watched you coming out the station. Most people stop at the vending machine – grab a coke or a snack. Not you. Counting the pennies.’
Rhyllann glanced sideways at him. Crombie wore the crocodile smile.
‘You’re the anomaly. A careful teenager. But your cousin’s kept you on the back foot from the start.’ A Crombie grunt. ‘Kept us all on the back foot.’ He raised his eyebrows, inviting comment.
‘You’d better start looking for a field to land in before we crash.’ Rhyllann said, wiping the smile off Crombie's face. Adding ‘How old are your girls then?’
Two could play the psychobabble game.