‘But who’s to fly it?’ Reece asked. ‘Maxwell can’t. Have you got an antidote to the drugs you’ve given Tucek and Lemlin?’
Sansevino shook his head. ‘No. Mr. Farrell will fly us out.’
‘Me?’ I stared at him, sudden panic gripping me.
‘You are a flier,’ he said. ‘Didn’t you land Reece and Shirer behind our lines?’
‘Yes, but—’ I wiped the sweat out of my eyes. ‘It’s a long time ago now. I haven’t flown for—’ God, it was ages since I’d flown a plane. I couldn’t remember the position of the instruments. I’d forgotten the feel of the stick. ‘Damn it,’ I cried, ‘I had two legs then. I haven’t flown since—’
‘Well, you’re going to fly now,’ Reece said.
‘I can’t,’ I said. ‘It isn’t possible. Do you want to crash? I’d never get her off the ground.’
Hilda came over to me. She had hold of my arms, gripping them. ‘You’ve been one of the best pilots in Britain, Dick. When you get into the machine it will all come back to you — you will see.’ She was looking up into my eyes, trying desperately to communicate her sense of confidence.
‘I can’t,’ I said. ‘It’s too risky.’
‘It’s either that or stay here till the lava wipes us out,’ Hacket said.