These unexpected flights really louse up your laundry, and the Castle hadn't been doing any delousing since the crunch. Now I had two dirty khaki shirts, one dirty white one and two others that hadn't quite drip-dried. In the end I put on the dirty white and my blue uniform trousers, bundled everything else into the bag and was at the airport by half past one.

Sunday's a quiet day at that season. A couple of parked airliners with nobody working on them, a Piper Navajo- the one where the props spin in opposite directions – buzzing down the approach. I watched it on to the runway, smoothly. No turbulence.

Ken's flight wasn't due till a quarter to three and he'd be bringing the girls out with him. I ordered seventy gallons of fuel, cash waggled in advance, then studied the met chart and ate a sticky bun to wipe the beer off my breath. Weather was no problem, and Airway Blue 17 went straight from here to Tel Aviv, so I flight-planned myself on it, counting on a three o'clock takeoff. I still had an hour and more.

I paid for the petrol, got cleared out airside and walked down to the Queen Air. It was some distance away, on the Number 8 stand they use for visiting private aircraft, just past the customs bonded store. The Piper Navajowas parked not far away.

I climbed into the Beech and sat staring at those bloody boxes. By now I was convinced they'd be happiest at the bottom of the sea, and me too, if you see what I mean. Stage an engine failure and have to lighten the load? It sounded pretty unconvincing, particularly to an insurance company. But maybe the cover had lapsed by now.

That didn't solve my immediate problem. Maybe the customs would let me store it in bond, make it realentrepôtcargo, for a few days. I'd got time to try… then I remembered Jehan-gir's automatic: if the Israelis gave the aeroplane a real frisking… I untangled it from the seat springs and dropped it in among the maps in my flight briefcase. I could sling it out of the window into the grass at the runway end.

As I climbed down, Jehangir, Janni and a third man came round the tail.

'How very convenient,' Jehangir smiled. Today he was the respectable banker again: dark green silk suit, old school tie and white shirt. Even Janni looked moderately neat in a striped shirt and dark trousers.

Their hands were empty.

I said: 'How's the leg today?'

'Expensive, thank you. I'm having to use an old-style one that I keep as reserve, and I'd forgotten how uncomfortable these belts and shoulder straps are. However, we came to talk about champagne, not legs.'

'If you get rough I'll scream for my mummy.'

He shook his head firmly. 'There is absolutely no need for any violence. All we have to do is go and inform the customs that the champagne you arranged to sell us, and we have come to collect, has – you now tell us – turned out to be small arms. Naturally, we felt it our duty to report this.'

Janni grinned. He probably didn't understand a word: he was just working from my expression.

At least I tried. 'The manifest says it's for Beirut. That implicates you."

'No, no, no. My name isn't involved. And will Cyprus care, anyway? Their records show you already took one box through customs here.'

That'll land Kapotas in it, as well.' '

'Frankly, old boy, that doesn't concern me in the least.'

It was blackmail, but very good blackmail. I shrugged. 'Okay. What do we do?'

'We simply trans-ship the cargo to our plane. My pilot says this is quite normal procedure.' He nodded at the third man, who was wearing a cotton khaki uniform with knifeedge creases, big sunglasses and a dark moustache. I couldn't see much more.

"That Piper?' and the pilot nodded.

I went on: 'You need two matching manifests, and the customs have to supervise the transfer.'

Jehangir nodded. 'So my pilot says. We have the papers here, ready to make out. Perhaps we might do it sitting in your plane. Will you lead the way?'

Half an hour later it was all finished. Jehangir wasn't too bothered that I'd dumped the two open ones – and I think he believed I really had – since any honest customs officer couldn't resist having a snoop into an opened box. As it was, this one only wanted to make sure nine boxes labelled champagne went from aircraft A to aircraft B as per manifest and not eight or ten. Inside could be atom secrets or human meat pies for all he cared.

Then he walked away across the tarmac and I'd lost my chance.

Jehangir half-turned to me with a revolver peeking out from his folded arms. 'Now, of course, you are quite innocent. So we must take precautions to ensure that no anonymous phone call reaches Beirut before our plane does.'

I stared at him, trying to look puzzled. Janni nudged my shoulder and started us walking round the far side of the Queen Air, away from the terminus. The field was very quiet and Sunday afternoon.

I said: 'You forgot about the money angle.'

'Ah, that was when we were talking about a more voluntary exchange.'

'I wasn't thinking of personal profit. Just how I explain to Castle Hotels that I gave away their champagne for free.'

'It is a problem, I agree.' But not for him, apparently.

The Piper's right engine grunted and spun into a crackling roar. Janni kept me walking towards it. Jehangir slowed and fell back a bit.

I raised my voice above the engine noise. 'I've asked for a three o'clock takeoff.'

'Just a slight technical delay,' Jehangir called over my shoulder. There was a faint click-snap and I looked back. His revolver now had a long fat tube on the barrel. A silencer. Janni grabbed my left arm but instinctively I was already looking front again, shocked as if I'd seen Jehangir unzipping his trousers.

They were going to kill me. And my mind didn't want to know.

But they were going tokill me.

Well, of course, they were. Even if I couldn't get Beirut to intercept the guns, I still knew who'd got them. It was too much of a risk to let me stay alive.

So they were going to kill me. Me.

Like hell they were. My mind was catching up. The briefcase was still in my right hand.

I must have tensed, because Janni's grip on my arm tightened. I tried to relax. 'Never flown one of those Navajos.' What would they do with my body? 'Flew an Aztec for a while.' You don't actually need a body to start a murder hunt, but you certainly start one if you've got one. 'I suppose left- and right-handed engines make sense for private pilots, but not for professionals.' Of course: they'd take me with them. I'd just vanish.

When would it come? It could be any time now, with that engine running; that's why the pilot had started it. A silencer doesn't really work, but on a small-calibre gun close to the racket of a 300-horse engine – it works.

We came up to the left side of the Piper, away from the live engine and out of sight of the terminus. I gently swung my briefcase across and dropped it at Janni's feet.

He checked, loosened his grip on my arm. I stepped in front of him and stabbed my fingers at his eyes.

I never got near nor expected to. His boxer's instinct got his hands up, but it was still a boxer's instinct. He was wide open for the old stamp-kick that rips down your shin and crunches your instep. He screamed and swiped at me, but his foot was just about welded to the concrete.

I snatched the briefcase open. Jehangir took a clumsy sidestep to get a clear shot past Janni; I jumped the other way. My hand touched the butt of the hidden Mauser. lehangir took another step, hesitated – perhaps because the Piper was right behind me – then fired. I didn't hear a thing, but didn't feel anything, either. The Mauser was coming clear, my thumb crunching down the safety-catch…