Sunrise the following morning found Worrals and Frecks on the aerodrome, in uniform, examining the Heron that had been allocated to them, with Nimrud an interested spectator. He had never been in the air, and made no secret of his disinclination to enter a zone which, in his opinion, had been designed by God for the exclusive use of birds. However, he had consented—without enthusiasm—to fly, a decision which suited Worrals, who foresaw that without him, in the event of a forced landing, they might find themselves in difficulties.
Having satisfied herself that the tanks were full, and the controls in order, Worrals turned to Frecks. “I’m going along to the map-room for a minute or two,” she said. “I want you to get an oblique camera and a Tommy g*n. I don’t suppose we shall need the g*n, b
