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«
Okay
,
»
Fache
said
,
»
I
am
placing
you
under
arrest
for
permitting
a
private
plane
to
take
off
without
registering
a
flight
plan
.
»
Fache
motioned
to
another
officer
,
who
approached
with
handcuffs
,
and
the
traffic
controller
felt
a
surge
of
terror
.
He
thought
of
the
newspaper
articles
debating
whether
the
nation
’
s
police
captain
was
a
hero
or
a
menace
.
That
question
had
just
been
answered
.
«
Wait
!
»
the
controller
heard
himself
whimper
at
the
sight
of
the
handcuffs
.
«
I
can
tell
you
this
much
.
Sir
Leigh
Teabing
makes
frequent
trips
to
London
for
medical
treatments
.
He
has
a
hangar
at
Biggin
Hill
Executive
Airport
in
Kent
.
On
the
outskirts
of
London
.
»
Fache
waved
off
the
man
with
the
cuffs
.
«
Is
Biggin
Hill
his
destination
tonight
?
»
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«
I
don
’
t
know
,
»
the
controller
said
honestly
.
«
The
plane
left
on
its
usual
tack
,
and
his
last
radar
contact
suggested
the
United
Kingdom
.
Biggin
Hill
is
an
extremely
likely
guess
.
»
«
Did
he
have
others
onboard
?
»
«
I
swear
,
sir
,
there
is
no
way
for
me
to
know
that
.
Our
clients
can
drive
directly
to
their
hangars
,
and
load
as
they
please
.
Who
is
onboard
is
the
responsibility
of
the
customs
officials
at
the
receiving
airport
»
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Fache
checked
his
watch
and
gazed
out
at
the
scattering
of
jets
parked
in
front
of
the
terminal
.
«
If
they
’
re
going
to
Biggin
Hill
,
how
long
until
they
land
?
»
The
controller
fumbled
through
his
records
.
«
It
’
s
a
short
flight
.
His
plane
could
be
on
the
ground
by
…
around
six
-
thirty
.
Fifteen
minutes
from
now
.
»
Fache
frowned
and
turned
to
one
of
his
men
.
«
Get
a
transport
up
here
.
I
’
m
going
to
London
.
And
get
me
the
Kent
local
police
.
Not
British
MI5
.
I
want
this
quiet
.
Kent
local
.
Tell
them
I
want
Teabing
’
s
plane
to
be
permitted
to
land
.
Then
I
want
it
surrounded
on
the
tarmac
.
Nobody
deplanes
until
I
get
there
.
»