Джеймс Блатч - The Final Flight

“We’re off to get the second Vulcan,” Rob said to the growing group of men who made up the Guiding Light project. They all stood around a map table in their own secret huddle, away from the crowd. “Red and I will fetch her tomorrow. From the afternoon, the boss wants both birds in the air twice a day. We should be able to knock off the remaining hours in no time, maybe less than a week.”

“What?” said Millie. “No, no. He’s not said anything to me about this.”

Rob looked surprised. “The boss said he briefed you yesterday?”

Millie looked across at Kilton’s office. It must have been part of the half-heard ramblings about the project timetable. Millie hadn’t been paying attention, distracted by the trauma of getting the tapes out of the building.

“A week? How’s that even possible?”

“Well, we have forty-eight tapes left to fill, and with two Vulcans available every day, he thinks we could get through them. He wants to invite Ewan Stafford up next week for the handover. Apparently we’re going to demo it to him and that will be that. A good job all round.”

“Christ,” Millie said, more to himself than anyone else.

They moved into planning mode. Another trip to Wales. A long winding route at one thousand feet from Shrewsbury down to Swansea.

“Plenty of time for recording, Millington,” Speedy said, smiling at him.

Millie stared at him. Unwanted thoughts cascaded into his mind.

Did they know?

AN HOUR before they were due to get airborne, Millie walked over to the squadron HQ building where the door to the station commander’s outer office was open. Two secretaries sat at typewriters, tapping away. He coughed and one of them looked up.

“I need to access some files.” Without replying, the woman picked up a phone and dialled.

“John, you have your first customer.”

Moments later, a corporal arrived and led Millie to the safe. As he opened it, Millie exchanged a nod with Periwinkle, who was behind his desk working.

“Take what you need,” the corporal said.

Millie withdrew six reels from the pile. The corporal made a careful note of each item. Millie checked the dwindling stack of cardboard sleeves. Forty-two left.

Last week he needed to get extra blanks into the aircraft and run the machine as much as possible. Today, it was the opposite.

He needed time.

THEY BROUGHT the Vulcan to life. Millie locked his seat and tested his straps.

The pilots went through the checklists and spoke to air traffic control.

Millie loaded the first tape out of habit. They all contributed to the completion of the project now. Fewer, not more, was the new order of battle.

He waited until they were established at one thousand feet, held on for another minute, then started the recorder.

The run was bumpy.

Around eighteen minutes in, Millie lifted the plastic cover from the two rotating reels.

He studied the tape’s intricate journey through the mechanism. It wound through two rubber rollers which stretched it over two metal heads, which he assumed contained the magnetising process. He pulled a pencil from his coveralls and gently pressed the left side rubber rollers together. Immediately the tape curled up and out of the machine. He stabbed at the stop button, dimly recalling instruction on how to deal with a jam. He began to wind the tape back onto the right-side reel, then stopped the process, leaving the tape loose and hanging out of the recorder.

To his right, Steve Bright looked bored.

Millie unclipped one of the reels and lifted it up, with the magnetic tape trailing back into the recorder.

“Something’s jammed,” he said, and Bright looked across. The navigator leaned closer and squinted.

“Do you know how to un-jam it?”

“I think so. Will take a while, though.”

Millie fiddled with the mechanism for as long as he felt he could get away with it, before eventually appearing to free the tape from the clutches of the machine. He slowly loaded a second reel, just as they turned toward the final waypoint of their low-level run.

AS THEY EMERGED from the Vulcan, Millie reported the tape jam to Rob, to add to the list of aircraft defects.

“What does this mean?” Rob asked him. “Can we still use it?”

Millie removed his helmet and ran his hand over his sweaty head, enjoying the cool air. “No, I’d rather they looked into it. We don’t want to waste precious time in the air. I only got two tapes done this time.”

Rob sighed. “Fine. Can you speak to engineering?”

“I am still the project leader, Rob. It’s my responsibility to ensure we get the hours flown as well.”

“Yes. Of course, Millie. Sorry, old boy. It’s just you know how Kilton is about this. He’s worried.”

“He’s always worried.”

Millie headed off to engineering. He looked at his watch and stopped.

He would report the defect later in the day. That should take the aircraft out of action tomorrow morning.

Millie smiled when he saw the annotation U/S appear next to Vulcan XH441 on the admin board. The jet was unserviceable while they looked at the tape recorder.

It wasn’t much, especially as Rob and Red were headed up north to ferry back the new Vulcan. But it all helped to stall the project’s completion while Belkin ran the comparison figures.

Millie busied himself with unrelated paperwork. Kilton appeared by his side.

“Shouldn’t you be flying?”

“Jet’s on the blink. Engineering are looking at her now.”

Kilton grunted but didn’t pursue the issue.

AFTER LUNCH, a gleaming white Vulcan sat on the apron.

“Are any of these left on the squadrons?” asked a passing pilot. “Or has TFU commandeered them all?”

Millie shrugged. Adding a second Vulcan to the TFU fleet was a sign of the project’s importance. And Kilton’s growing influence.

Rob appeared from Kilton’s office, still in flying coveralls. He marched directly up to Millie.

“What happened with the tape recorder? Why wasn’t it fixed yesterday?”

“I’m not sure, Rob. I guess they’re busy.”

“Didn’t you tell them this is top priority?”

“I’m sorry, Rob, are you running this project now?”

“No, you’re supposed to be.”

“What the hell does that mean?”

Rob didn’t reply but moved off to the tea bar. Millie thought about following him, but Red appeared by his side.

“He’s just had to tell Kilton the new Vulcan needs a hundred-hour service before we can use her. So Kilton kicked him and he kicked you. Sorry, pal.”

“How long will the service take?”

“Tomorrow, apparently. They would do it this afternoon, but they’ve got to reinstall your tape recorder first.”

“Rob’s never spoken to me like that before.”

Red nodded. “He’s moving up the ladder now. Things getting more serious for him. He’ll adapt. Not everyone’s a cool cucumber like you, Millie.”

“I don’t feel cool, I can assure you. This whole thing, it just worries me.”

“What does?” Red asked.

Millie turned back to look at the American, and wondered how far he could go.

“What’s the bloody rush? When did we go from being careful and thorough to moving at such an indecent speed?”

Red patted him on the back. “I guess when anti-nuclear campaigners learn about the existence of our secret new system.”