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

Number Ten’s, on the project.”

“So what am I supposed to do?”

“Operate in the shadows, of course. If you feel you need to approach him, you’ll need authorisation from above. And you’ll need very good cause if the director’s to agree.”

“The director’s taking a personal interest in this?”

“Don’t flatter yourself, darling. Maybe he thinks you need babysitting?”

Susie sighed. “Fine, but it won’t be easy if I can’t talk to anyone.”

“If you wanted easy, you should have signed up for MI6. You’d be sipping a G&T in Raffles by now. Of course if you need help, I can always recommend we dispatch a more experienced officer—”

“No.” She relaxed her tone. “No, that won’t be necessary. Thank you.”

“Well, don’t get your hopes up, my dear. There’s no actual evidence of wrongdoing and you yourself have said the CND thing has lost its threat. I suspect they’ll pull you out any moment.”

Susie left the phone box and walked past the church, cursing her luck at Milford dying the day before they were due to meet.

She could divert past Lancaster Way and Trenchard Close, but it was still light.

An image of May formed in her mind: hurrying down the path, cardboard box under his arm. Had it said VEGETABLES on the side of the box?

The road split into two: left to the West Porton main gate, right to the peace camp.

Susie looked up.

The sky was alight with fiery red colours as the sun set.

Operate in the shadows.

“Kilton wants us to remain ‘distant’ from her,” said Rob. Mary stood in the living room doorway, having just returned from Georgina’s.

“This is all too much to take in, Rob.”

He shrugged.

“Well, surely I’m not subject to your silly orders? I can still see her?”

Rob stood up and walked over to her. He placed his hands on her shoulders and gazed at her face, glowing in the soft, warm light. “Yes. And to hell with Kilton if he thinks otherwise.” He kissed her forehead.

“I don’t think I’ve ever heard you speak about anyone like that before.”

“It’s not right, is it? And I think it’s all part of something else.”

Mary’s head turned to look at the understairs cupboard.

“Tread carefully, husband.”

“I’m minded to go to the dinner party tonight and hope Georgina comes.”

“The Brunsons’? It’s still on?”

“Apparently.”

“Yes, let’s do that.”

As they entered the Brunsons’ lounge, Sarah walked up to Rob, put a hand on his chest and kissed him on the cheek. “You OK, honey?”

Rob nodded, but avoided her eyes.

She squeezed his shoulder. “I’m sorry, hun. I didn’t mean to upset you. Come on, let’s get a drink in you.”

She found him a beer, Mary had a lemon and port.

They took their seats at dinner and talked about the warm weather, the protest camp, the new department store in Salisbury, and the evening’s glorious sunset.

Rob finished his beer quickly, and moved on to red wine.

Sarah cleared the main course away, and there was a gap in the conversation.

“Aren’t we going to talk about Millie?” Rob said. “And Steve and Speedy?”

Test pilot Rory Davies looked down at his lap. His wife smiled at him.

“Rob,” Mary said, with a hint of admonishment in her voice.

“No, it’s OK,” said Red. “Of course we can. What do you want to say, Rob?”

“I don’t know, but we can’t just chit-chat like nothing happened.” His words were slurred.

“Honey, it’s just our way of coping,” Sarah said. “God knows we’ve been here before, right? At Edwards we had some pretty bad days. It’s awful. And hard. But, y’know, I’m not sure dwelling on it is the answer either.”

“I don’t want to dwell on it, but it’s like it didn’t happen.” He drained another glass of wine. “I mean, where’s Georgina?”

No-one answered; Rob sensed he was missing something.

Sarah Brunson was the first to answer. “It’s not like it would have been appropriate, anyway. She lost her husband yesterday and she’s got family over.”

Rob looked at Red. “Don’t tell me you uninvited her?”

Red put his hands up. “We had no choice, buddy. Orders from the top.”

“What the hell? Why? Because Kilton’s trying to pin something on Millie even after he’s dead?” Rob raised his voice.

“Rob, we mustn’t discuss it,” said Red. “You know that.”

“Of course we mustn’t. We mustn’t discuss anything, right? We can talk and talk and bloody talk, but for god’s sake DON’T SAY ANYTHING!”

The guests shifted in their seats as Mary’s hand reached across the table toward him. Rob glared at the guests, one by one.

“Will none of you stand up for Millie?”

“It’s not a case of standing up for him, Rob,” said Jock MacLeish. “We simply have to let officialdom take its course.”

Rob continued to stare at Red.

“Do you agree with that? We sit back and do nothing?”

“We have no choice, Rob. We have to trust the system.”

Rob stood up.

Sarah Brunson got to her feet and walked around the table. “Honey, you’re still in shock. It must be so hard.”

Hands appeared on his shoulders; he turned his head and was surprised to find they belonged to Red Brunson, not Mary.

He whispered, “Buddy, now’s not the time, OK?”

“Then when will it be the time?”

“Why don’t you sleep it off tonight, huh? Let’s talk tomorrow, just the two of us.”

He lowered his head. “I just want to talk to Millie.”

Sarah produced a hanky and Rob dabbed his eyes.

Red patted his shoulders. “Come on, buddy. This is not good for you. Why don’t you get some rest?”

Mary appeared by his side.

“I think we both need to rest.”

“You know where we are, buddy.” Red stood in the doorway as Rob and Mary made their way out.

Outside, it was dusky, with the first stars appearing overhead.

They walked along Trenchard Close, arms locked together.

Mary stopped. “What was that?”

“What was what?”

“Did you see a light in the house?”

Rob looked up at their semi-detached quarter. In was in darkness.

“No.”

They carried on and up to the front door. As they did so, a distinct torch light flashed across the window and they heard a noise inside.

“Someone’s in the house, Rob,” Mary whispered.

He