Джеймс Блатч - The Final Flight

By Thursday afternoon, both Vulcans were serviceable. Kilton watched from the apron as the men charged with Guiding Light trial flights walked out in two groups.

Millie strapped into the back of the older aircraft. In the rear bay of the new jet was Steve Bright. There was only one rear crew member in each; it was Kilton’s way of recreating the likely crewing situation in the next generation of military aircraft, now that the computer was doing most of the work.

It also allowed him to operate both at the same time.

They got airborne within a few minutes of each other. Millie’s aircraft, flown by Rob and Speedy, headed north to the Peak District. Red Brunson and Jock MacLeish headed west to the Brecon Beacons.

All Millie could think about was the sheer number of blank reels they would get through between them.

He had at least seen off the possibility of the final flight, with Stafford on board, taking place tomorrow.

But it had only been pushed to next week.

If Belkin came back with news of a serious flaw buried deep in the data, Millie would have just hours to make his move.

The Vulcan slammed into a pocket of air as they descended to low-level.

Reluctantly, Millie powered up the system and engaged the laser.

He began the first reel recording the height data.

The aircraft levelled out around one thousand feet and Millie felt a familiar jolt as the autopilot took over.

He scanned the orange numbers, rotating the dial to check all angles before bringing the readout back to the ‘1’ position, below and just ahead of the nose.

1,011 flickered over to 1,023 followed by a stream of numbers all within a few feet of each other.

After fifteen minutes, the ride became rougher. The land rose and dropped below them and the Vulcan fell in unison, causing Millie’s stomach to turn.

“Working perfectly!” Rob called over the intercom.

“Wonderful,” said Millie. “It’s all perfect. That must be why we’re not allowed below one thousand feet.”

Millie concentrated on not throwing up. Air-sickness had crept up on him in recent years, exacerbated by flying at low-level.

After ten more miles over the hills, Rob piped up again.

“How we doing? On to the second tape yet?”

“When reel one’s full, I’ll switch over. Not before, thank you.”

“OK, OK. Keep your hair on. I was just asking.”

“Just concentrate on your job and I’ll do mine.”

Rob didn’t reply.

Millie was well into the third tape before they climbed out of low-level and headed north of Manchester, giving the city a wide berth before turning south.

He poked the reels into the sleeves and marked them up. At least six more would have been consumed in the two flights.

AS THEY SHUT DOWN, Millie heard some low whispers between Speedy and Rob.

The pilots appeared down the ladder and Millie let Rob undo the hatch and lower the ladder down, all in silence.

Speedy and Rob walked off toward TFU, leaving Millie to follow twenty yards behind. Once in the planning room, Millie piled the freshly recorded tapes on his desk, along with the one extra blank he hadn’t used.

Rob appeared by his side.

“What was that about?”

“What?”

“You know very well what.”

Millie fixed him with a gaze. “And you very well know what I think—”

“No, Millie, I don’t know what you think. The system’s working flawlessly. It’s embarrassing in front of Speedy, who’s seen nothing but a brilliant new system working without fault. There’s no reason to keep batting on about it, and most of all no reason to take out your grievances on the rest of us. It’s unprofessional.”

Millie looked over Rob’s shoulder. Speedy and a couple of others watched from afar.

“That’s what you all think? It’s flawless?”

“Yes. I’m afraid you’re alone in thinking otherwise. Don’t make this difficult for me, Millie—”

“Difficult for you?”

“Yes. Everyone knows you and I are friends—”

“Are we, Rob? Still friends?”

Rob looked disappointed. “I thought we were.”

The two men stared at each other for a moment before Rob walked back to the tea bar.

Millie stood by himself, next to the little corner of the planning room he’d made his own.

The pilots and aircrew on the far side were in good cheer, with laughter bouncing off the low ceiling.

He removed his flying coveralls and checked in his equipment before picking up the tapes and walking slowly over to the station commander’s office.

Periwinkle was behind his desk again, ignoring the comings and goings to the safe. Just as Millie was signing in his tapes, Steve Bright appeared.

“How many complete reels?” the corporal asked.

“Four,” Bright replied.

“Four?” Millie said.

“Yep.” Bright handed his tapes to the corporal, complete with annotations on the sleeves.

Bright and the corporal left the room.

Millie gazed at the dwindling pile of blanks as the safe door closed, then checked he’d passed everything from his case.

As he walked to the door, he turned back to Periwinkle and hesitated.

Should he say something now?

TFU was quiet, with most of the men in their respective mess bars.

Millie looked at his watch. He was due to call Belkin in an hour.

SUSIE WATCHED as two Vulcans screamed out of West Porton. So much for their disruption.

“They appear to be expanding.”

“What?” David asked, lying on the ground next to her.

“That’s the first time I’ve seen two Vulcans.”

David didn’t bother looking.

“Are we done here now, David? I mean, what are we doing? It just feels like the energy has gone, along with half the people.”

“Megan’s waiting to hear from Sampson. He’s obviously working on how to get the information out.”

“Right.”

“Meanwhile, she wants to march again. If they’re not going to charge us, we may as well make the most of our freedom.”

“Won’t that provoke them?”

“I think that’s the point.”

Susie sighed. “I see.”

LATER IN THE AFTERNOON, she made her daily call.

“Nothing’s happening or going to happen,” she told Roger. “They’ve done as much as they can, and it did nothing. They’re talking about bloody marching around the airfield now, as if that will suddenly force Britain into giving up her nuclear deterrent.”

“They want you there a little longer. Number Ten got back to us rather late in the day. Apparently that project you stumbled across is rather high value. They’re keen we protect it from any further interruptions.”

“That’s not our job, is it? Don’t they have their special branch for that?”

“Not sure they covered themselves in glory when you and your friends walked under their noses and into the heart of a secret test flying unit. Anyway, won’t be long. The project is due to end next week and move into production.”

“Fine. What is it, by the way?”

“Guiding Light. Some sort of guidance system for the delivery of nukes. Don’t know any more, I’m afraid, and probably won’t find out. But they are all jolly keen on it at the top of the tree. Something about a big export order to our American friends.”

“So we really stumbled across something.”

“Well, it’s done us no harm. The PM is personally grateful for our work—”

“My work.”

“I thought we were a team, my dear?”

“When it suits you, Roger.”

AT 7PM, Millie checked Georgina was safely in the garden with a drink, before he went into the house through the French doors. He closed the living room door behind him and stood over the telephone.