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

no idea where they are. They want to rush it out the door before it loses commercial and military value. Get the American contract signed.” He shook his head and looked down. “It was awful. I had to sit there and listen to it all. He more or less accused Millie of being a traitor. And everyone’s just going along with it.”

Susie sighed. “That’s the military way, right? All Kilton’s done is ensure he’s not properly supervised. He’s talking directly to ministers in a government that’s running out of money, desperate for foreign orders. No-one above him really knows anything.” She took a long draw on her cigarette. “So you can see how this happened. You can’t blame your colleagues, Rob. They’ve been brought up to trust and obey. Kilton says Guiding Light wasn’t to blame and somehow has the investigators fooled and… you’re the only one left with any direct experience of it going wrong the first time. No wonder he’s finding it easy.”

“Only Millie was standing up to him. But that’s why we’ve got to continue.”

“Rob—”

“No. I can’t just go home. I can’t just say goodbye to you and let this lie. I couldn’t live with myself.”

Susie put her hand on the back of his. “You might have to. We can’t fix everything.”

He sat up. “But we’ve got four days, right? Let’s at least bloody try.”

Susie stubbed her cigarette out on the grass and shrugged. “What have we got to go on? The trail’s run cold.”

She pulled out a notebook covered in what looked like Arabic letters.

“What is that?”

“A type of shorthand. We had this strange guy in training who taught us a technique to access parts of our subconscious memory. It’s not that strange, really. If I ask you to name as many prime ministers as you can think of, you’ll miss a few.”

“More than a few.”

“Right, but when I tell you the names of the ones you couldn’t remember, you’ll recognise most of them.”

“So?”

“So… they were in your mind all along, otherwise you wouldn’t have recognised the names. You just couldn’t access them when you were trying to. The theory is, if you let your mind wander freely, it sometimes goes off into those areas. It can work, believe me. It’s a way of recalling something you may have thought odd but then forgot. I tried it this afternoon and came up with two things we might have overlooked.”

“What?”

“The tapes, especially now that we know there’s sixty of them. How on earth did Millie get them out? If we crack that, we might find an accomplice.”

“That’s funny, it’s exactly what Hoskins said.”

“Hoskins?”

“The security officer Kilton has investigating Millie. What was the other thing?”

Susie looked down at her notes. “Someone gave Millie our number. Someone who was authorised to do so.”

“What does that mean?”

“There’s a system. The caller’s given a name to ask for, so we know they’ve gone through a handler. He used ‘AW Strutthers’. It’s an older name, been knocking about for years. Could have come from anywhere, which isn’t hugely helpful.”

“Do you think this could be the accomplice?”

“Maybe. But no-one’s contacted us since the crash, which doesn’t make any sense.”

After a moment, she turned to him. “Why don’t you try it?”

“Are you going to hypnotise me?”

She laughed. He noticed her freckles in the setting sun.

“It’s closer to meditation, but yes, it’s a little like self-hypnosis. Most of my colleagues are sceptical about it, but like I say, it works for me. There’s a lot of interest in eastern transcendental meditation and, frankly, we should try everything.”

“So what do I do?”

“First, you have to be silent and completely relax. Allow your mind to wander. Allow it to go wherever it wants. Don’t think of anything specific to start with.”

Rob sat stiffly, with his knees up.

“Lie down, for goodness’ sake.”

He shuffled forward and lay back.

“Just let your mind wander. Tell me what you see in the sky.”

“Cumulus. Scattered, maybe two eighths. Could coalesce into an overcast.”

“That’s not exactly what I meant. Let’s try with your eyes closed.”

The air was warm. Rob was aware of heat reflecting off a wall behind them. Susie remained silent. Minutes went by. He noticed distant sounds. Boys playing football. A woman talking. The birds. One bird in particular with a beautiful sing-song call. He saw Mary in the kitchen, pinny on, washing up. She looked unhappy. He was neglecting her. Red Brunson in the bar. He should have talked to him.

“Now let’s take you somewhere specific,” Susie said, in a soft voice. “Let’s start with the flight.”

His mind filled with the sound of tearing metal, of chaos and blood. Of Millie, forlorn and dying.

He sat up, panting.

She put a hand on his back.

“It’s OK, it’s OK. Calm down. I’m sorry, that wasn’t very clever of me. It’s too raw. Let’s leave it. Lie back down. Let’s try after the flight. When you first realised something was up. Go back then, put yourself in the room and let your mind explore.”

He lay down. For a while he didn’t think about the moments after the flight. Instead, he listened to the birdsong again. The talking woman was gone, but the boys were still kicking a ball about.

He found himself back in TFU after the crash.

Red’s squeeze of his arm.

Buddy, tough situation…

Other men avoiding eye contact.

Kilton.

Officious. Efficient. Barking orders.

We drink tonight for the men. You need to be there. So, come back. Understood?

He drove to Georgina’s.

Georgina’s.

The house.

The shaft of sunlight. The dust. Georgina being brave, but with sore, red eyes.

Mary, kind and tactile. Her hand on his shoulder the whole time.

And someone else. A man in a sports jacket.

Charlie.

In his father’s hand-me-down.

The dining room.

A word floated into his mind.

Oxford.

Charlie said something about…

He sat up suddenly.

“Charlie.”

“Who’s Charlie?” Susie said, raising herself up.

“Oxford.”

“What about Oxford?”

“At the Milfords’ after the crash, I said to Charlie, their son, ‘I am so pleased you got to see your father a couple of weeks ago’, because I knew Millie had visited him. But Charlie said he hadn’t seen him since