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

project compromised, the Ministry has agreed to fast-track the remaining phase. We know the system was disconnected at the time of the crash, so there’s no reason not to proceed. There’s still a chance the UK can secure the export order to the United States before any of this becomes public.”

“Why would Millie do something like that?” Red asked.

“Misguided intent, at best. Financial gain, at worst.”

Red leant back in his chair and shook his head.

“Millie’s funeral,” Rob said quietly to himself.

Kilton frowned. “What?”

“Friday. The final flight and the handover. That’s the day of Millie’s funeral.”

Kilton gathered his papers. “That’s why it’s scheduled for the afternoon, May. The funeral’s at 11AM.” He stood up and headed for the door. “One more thing,” he said, turning back to the room, “we don’t believe Millie was acting alone. Be alert. Anything out of the ordinary, any suspicions about anyone, you come straight to me.”

Kilton walked out, closing the door behind him.

Rob didn’t have to check the schedule; he knew he would be down to fly a Guiding Light trial. Possibly two.

“It’s you and me, kid,” said Brunson. “Back in a Vulcan. You ready for this?”

“What choice do I have?”

“Listen, if you don’t want to do it, you need to say something.”

Rob toyed with the tasking paper. “And then what happens? How do you think he would react?”

“I’m not sure, but he can’t force you to fly.”

“I’d be out of TFU by the end of the day.”

“Probably.”

He looked across at the row of oblong windows facing onto the apron. The newly equipped Vulcan sat in the distance, ground crew crawling around it.

“Let’s go flying.”

“Attaboy.”

They moved to a spare desk and planned the route.

After a couple of minutes, Kilton approached with Dave Berringer. Rob recognised the young air electronics officer from a few flights in the Shackleton earlier in the year, but they didn’t know each other well.

“Dave’s been in the Vulcan and instructed on the procedures, so should be up to speed.” He turned to Rob. “Can I have a word?”

Rob put his chinagraph pencil down and followed the boss toward his office. They stopped just outside and stood next to the doorframe.

“I know Millie was a father figure to you, and I’m sorry. But sometimes our parents aren’t right about everything. Sometimes they hide things from us. My advice? It’s time to let him go. There’s more at stake here. Something bigger than both of us.”

“Yes, boss.”

“We get these hours flown, no lower than one thousand feet. Blackton will scrutinise every moment of every flight. On Friday, we sign it off. You sign it off. It will be the biggest moment in TFU’s short history and it won’t be forgotten. You won’t be forgotten.”

The first of the four Olympus engines wound up to deafening roar status.

Dave Berringer interrupted the static whine on the intercom, muttering to himself as he struggled with the magnetic tapes.

Rob isolated the rear bay, so they didn’t have to listen.

He got a good start on all four engines.

The jet was on the edge of the apron, away from TFU. It had been overhauled prior to the Guiding Light installation; it smelled like a new car.

Rob called up ATC and requested taxi.

Brunson, in the left hand seat, exchanged hand signals with the marshallers before shifting the jet from its haunches and swinging her around to head out to the active runway.

Rob spotted Kilton in his day uniform standing on the apron watching them.

They lifted off into the mainly blue sky and banked immediately right. Rob glanced down at the remnants of the peace camp.

Forty minutes later, they let down over Northumberland.

Brunson held the aircraft steady at one thousand feet as they approached the Union Bridge. There was a familiar jolt as Guiding Light took over.

Rob grabbed the control column.

“Easy, buddy.” Rob looked across; Red stared at him.

“I’m OK.”

He stared ahead, watching every rise and fall of the nose.

Poised to hit the cancel button.

The flight continued across to Solway, where they climbed out.

Rob took over the flying and wondered why he wasn’t receiving heading information, before realising he’d left the rear bay off the intercom loop. He opened it up.

“Finally,” Berringer said. “I was about to climb up the ladder.”

“Did you get the tapes done?” Brunson asked.

“No problem at all. Piece of piss.”

It was easy to imagine Millie a few feet behind him. He wanted more than anything to chat over the intercom about whisky, card games and to promise that he and Mary would be over for both tonight.

After shutting down, they walked back into the planning room together.

Rob queued at the equipment hatch along with the other returning crews.

Kilton’s secretary Jean watched from her side office.

When he emerged back into the room and sat down to complete his logbook entry, she made her move.

“You’re to report to Squadron Leader Hoskins in the chart room,” she said.

Rob looked at the office next to Kilton’s which contained shelves of charts covering the UK and the rest of the world. The security force had apparently commandeered it.

He stood up and closed his logbook.

“You’ll need that,” said Jean.

With his stomach in a tight knot, he walked toward the office, leaden-footed.

He knocked on the door and opened it.

Kilton was leaning over the desk, with the security force squadron leader studying documents.

Kilton looked up. “Come back in five minutes.”

Rob’s mouth was too dry to reply. He backed out and shut the door, wondering if this was all a psychological trick.

Five minutes took an eternity. Even then, no-one appeared for him.

He thought and walked back to the office, knocking and entering.

Kilton was still there, but he glanced at his watch and stood up, brushing past Rob on his way out.

“Please take a seat, Robert,” Hoskins began, “this is part of the investigation into a security breach concerning the Guiding Light project.”

Rob didn’t respond.

“You have been a pilot, acting as commander and co-pilot for multiple flights, since the project’s inception?”

“Yes.”

“So you know Guiding Light inside and out?”

“I suppose so.”

Hoskins made a note and