Джеймс Блатч - The Final Flight

“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 Easter. It was odd. I double-checked with him and he looked at me like I was mad, questioning when he last saw his father. But Millie had been very clear. He went to Oxford to see Charlie. He missed a day out with us for it.”

“And that was unusual?”

“It was. I think Georgina was taken by surprise that he suddenly went off to visit their son. Then Charlie tells me he never even saw him.”

“This could be it, Rob. It sounds like a cover story. So, where did he actually go?”

“I don’t know.”

Susie patted him on the knee. “See, I told you this works. Let’s do some more.”

Rob felt exhausted. “I’m worn out.”

“We don’t have time to schedule a session for next week.”

“Fine.” He lay back down and closed his eyes, allowing his mind to wander a second time. But the adrenaline rush from his first discovery made everything cloudy.

He sat up. “It’s no good. My mind’s too busy now.”

“OK, well, let’s think this through. Millie fibs to his wife and disappears for a day using a cover story about visiting Charlie. Is this the day he delivered the tapes? When was it?”

“Quite a while ago. I remember it being not long after the first incident. I think that makes it far too early to have delivered the tapes. He wouldn’t have had time to record sixty of them.”

“It must be connected, though. We need to know where he went. You have literally no idea?”

Rob cast his mind back. He couldn’t remember much about the morning. He thought maybe Georgina had told them Millie wasn’t coming…

But then there was the evening…

“We went to a cocktail party that night. Millie drove. He acted odd.”

“What do you mean exactly?”

Rob shook his head when he remembered. “The guards stopped us. He was nervous. Really nervous.” His eyes widened. “ Christ . He must have had the tapes in the car.”

“Why on earth would he have the tapes, going into West Porton for a cocktail party? Wasn’t he trying to get them out of there?”

“Don’t know.”

Rob thought through the evening. The crowded room, the heat. The mayor’s wife.

“He went off at one point. Said he left his watch in TFU.”

“Right, so he was returning something. Tapes, maybe. This is good, Rob.”

“But that’s it. I didn’t question him.”

“Did he ever talk to you about it? Did he ask for your help?”

Rob studied the grass. “Yes, but I closed down the conversation pretty quickly.”

“Was there anyone else at TFU he would confide in?”

Rob shook his head. “No. Everyone liked Millie, but I think I was the closest. Funnily enough, Kilton was probably the next nearest. They served together in the war. At Tangmere, I think.”

Susie offered Rob another cigarette and held out a lighter. He leaned forward and spoke with the cigarette in his mouth.

“He served everywhere, actually. All the old boys knew him. Even the graveyard—”

Rob stopped lighting his cigarette and looked up.

“What is it?” Susie asked.

“There’s a man, an ancient fossil from the Maintenance Unit. We call it the Graveyard. JR. Nice bloke. Friendly, just Millie’s sort. He said something odd to me. Something about Millie, but I can’t for the life of me remember what.”

“When, Rob? When did he say something?”

“The night of the crash in the bar. I was drunk. And upset. I remember being confused. Damn it, what did he say?”

Susie let him rack his brains in silence for a minute before speaking again.

“Well, why don’t you ask him?”

“Is that safe? I’ve avoided saying anything to anyone at TFU.”

“He’s not at TFU, is he? And anyway, all you’re doing is asking what it was he said to you.”

Rob looked at his watch. “He lives in the mess. I could even catch him tonight.”

“Then let’s fly, flight lieutenant.”

THE MESS BAR was busy for a Monday night.

Rob surveyed the room.

At the bar; a white-coated steward regarded him expectantly.

“Is Squadron Leader Richardson in?”

Without answering, the steward pointed to the far wall where JR sat with two others Rob recognised from his few dealings with the Graveyard.

As he approached, the three men stood up, as if he was a senior officer or a woman.

“Hello, Rob.” JR reached out his hand, followed by the two other pilots who gave him a warm greeting.

“JR. Do you mind if I borrow you for a moment?”

JR gave the others a look, and they headed off to the bar.

“When we spoke on the night of the crash, you said something to me about Millie. Do you remember?”