The Final Flight by James Blatch (fastest ebook reader .TXT) 📕

Millie held up his hands. “Well, we’re all on the same side. Let’s remember that.”

“I hope we are. West Porton’s now a large station. A lot of people work there. Can we be sure about everyone?” Rob looked up at Millie.

Millie stared back at him, their eyes unflinching until Rob eventually looked back down at his plate.

Millie picked up his glass and sipped his wine.

After lunch, the girls disappeared into the house with the crockery.

“You OK, Rob?” Millie asked. “You seem a little pent up.”

Rob lit a cigarette.

“There’s so much at stake for us, Millie. Don’t you feel that pressure?”

“The pressure to stop communism in its tracks? No, not really. Of course it’s a terrible tyranny, it really is, where life is not valued and no-one is free. But we, you and I, can only do our bit. We can’t walk around with that sort of weight on our shoulders.”

“But these people…” He waved his cigarette vaguely in the direction of the singing. “It’s the way they hang their banners on the fence and tell the world they are the ones fighting for peace, when they’re doing quite the opposite. They put us in danger.”

“Give some allowance, Rob. They’re young, idealistic. Naive, if you like. But the world needs a little naive optimism, doesn’t it?”

Rob didn’t respond.

“Come on, where’s the old Rob? My carefree friend. Is he in there somewhere?”

He got the merest hint of a smile, but nothing more.

7

Monday 13th June

Even at 6.45AM, the new gate security measures made it a slow plod into the station.

Logic told Millie he had nothing to be concerned about, but he still felt his heart thumping as the guard peered into his car.

Inside, the TFU planning room was quiet, and he headed straight for the admin office.

Standing in front of a large board with magnetic strips, he scanned the list of unit aircraft, checking the allocations for the various trial flights.

He and Rob were due to fly to Warton to inspect the next Guiding Light Vulcan. They were down for an old De Havilland Devon; a 1940s propeller driven workhorse.

But there was no experimental Guiding Light on the Devon, and he didn’t want to waste a flight opportunity.

Of the two aircraft fitted with Guiding Light, the Vulcan was a non-starter for such a menial trip. But the Canberra wouldn’t be out of place.

He scanned the board. The Canberra was allocated to a different crew in the afternoon.

“Damn.”

He was about to leave when he spotted one of the unit’s other Canberras listed under ‘spare’, at the bottom of the board.

He looked around and found the young flight lieutenant who ran the admin office.

“Morning, Pete.”

“Good morning, Squadron Leader Milford,” the young man replied, while sorting a pile of papers.

Millie pointed at the board. “I wanted to check something about the aircraft allocations.”

“Oh, yes?” Pete put down the papers and looked at the wall.

“This PR.3 is serviceable?”

“Should be.”

Millie nodded, as if he was having a thought for the first time. “I’d prefer if Rob May and I had a Canberra rather than the slow boat to China we’ve been given.” He pointed up to the Devon with Flt Lt May (Warton) written next to it. “Any chance we could swap for the PR.3? In fact, ideally, we’d like that PR.3.” He placed his finger on the Guiding Light Canberra, allocated to a different trial.

The flight lieutenant scratched his chin for a moment. “So, you want me to swap the spare Canberra for the ADF trial, release their jet for you, and move the Devon to spare?” He said it slowly, as if testing the viability of the suggestion.

“If it’s not too much trouble?”

Pete looked at his papers, which Millie now realised were the tasking sheets for the day. No doubt he would have some unwanted new paperwork.

After a moment, he shrugged and said brightly, “I don’t see why not.”

“Marvellous. Thank you, Pete. Very kind.”

Millie left the room, avoiding any further questions.

He walked to his locker. Having the tapes hidden within was dangerous. He’d openly raised concerns about the project; if the material was discovered, out of place in his possession, Kilton would probably jump to the correct conclusion.

A fast-track to retirement would the very best he could hope for.

Millie pulled his car keys out of his pocket and opened the wooden door. He felt inside, checking the reels remained in place.

“Millie?”

He slammed the locker shut, spinning around to see a surprised-looking Pete.

“Sorry to startle you. Just wanted to know how late you can depart.”

“We need to be in a meeting at Warton for 14.30 local, so sometime after 13.00? Rob will come up with a more precise time.”

Pete nodded and looked pleased. “OK, good. We need both Canberras this morning, but it should be no problem to get one refuelled for you in time for 13.00.”

“Thank you, Pete. And make sure it’s Oscar Mike, please.” The whole exercise would be futile if Pete gave him the wrong aircraft.

Back in the main planning room, Millie sat down at one of the side desks. The room was filling up fast. Loud complaints about the gate security filled the air.

The pilots and navs disappeared off to the met brief.

Millie pulled a sheet of paper from his pocket. He placed it on his desk and stared at the ten lines of numbers he’d taken down from Belkin.

He had the secure cabinet unlocked, and retrieved the Guiding Light manuals. A normal enough exercise for the project leader.

The manual contained schematics of the equipment itself, detailed descriptions of the inner workings.

It was one of the most valuable documents in the world.

But after ten minutes of leafing through, he was no closer to explaining what the first two fields were.

Before handing the file back, Millie had a thought. He wondered if he would need the basic schematics to submit as part of his evidence? The file was rarely looked at now. They used it in the early days, but it was likely he was the first to pull it out in