Ritchie turns the plane around ponderously at the edge of the strip, and luckily for them, there is no wind, so it does not matter from which side of the strip they take off. He pulls back the throttle some more. The drone is like a hurricane in their ears. The plane shakes and shudders. Louder and louder, as if the world is coming to an end. Catroux had taken his place next to Ritchie. He sees the masses of Arabs storming them, closer and closer they get. He lifts himself halfway out of his seat and says frightfully. “We have to be off.”
Ritchie does not answer but merely opens up the throttle again, studies the instrument panel, and is satisfied. Everything is perfect.
The Arabs run like the devil to try and stop the plane from taking off.
“Go, Ritchie!” shouts Catroux. “They will sho
