Джеймс Блатч - The Final Flight

There was a pause. “Go on.”

“The system is flawed. It’s a small, often inconsequential error from the laser rangefinder to the autopilot. But with the number of flights planned both here and in the United States, it will claim aircrew lives.”

“Quite a bold statement. May I ask how you know this?”

“Before he died, Christopher Milford managed to smuggle a good number of tapes from West Porton to the maths department at Oxford University. That’s how they found and quantified the flaw.”

“And that’s where Professor Leonard Belkin comes in?”

“Yes, he allowed use of the mainframe computer. But he wasn’t aware of the details. He was able to extrapolate the numbers, though. He carried out important work, albeit unknowingly.”

“That’s as may be, but even before we present it, this theory has been thoroughly dismissed by those with access to the actual project recordings. TFU are content to continue with Guiding Light and that’s been backed at the highest level in government.”

“I know, but I believe a cover-up is in place, led by Mark Kilton. It possibly involves DF Blackton as well.”

“It sounds elaborate.”

“Sir, I’ve seen the results in black-and-white.” She pulled a piece of paper from her pocket. “8.75 crew members a year would die. That’s just from a 0.014% rate of error from the laser beam.”

“Fine. So we ask West Porton to examine these tapes that Milford, as you say, smuggled away. I think that’s the best we can hope for. With the extra scrutiny they won’t be able to disguise the results.”

Susie sighed.

“We don’t have the tapes, sir.”

“Where are they?”

“Incinerated.”

“I see. So you have no evidence for these rather extreme allegations which have already been batted away by TFU?”

“You have to understand the position Milford was in, sir. Mark Kilton’s all powerful. Milford was scared of him. That’s why the evidence was destroyed. But even without the tapes, we know enough. We need to take action.”

“I’m not sure I see that, Miss Attenborough. Not without evidence. What action do you suppose we should take? Give me your precise recommendations.”

She took a deep breath.

“Kilton operates with an autonomy that does not fit with the armed forces hierarchy. I believe he has lines of authority to government which allow him to bypass the usual checks and balances. Ultimately, he’s used this to press into service a potentially dangerous aircraft system.”

“I understand the case you have made, Miss Attenborough, but I asked you for your recommended actions.”

“Guiding Light needs to be halted and independently investigated.”

“And who do you suggest does that?”

“I’m not sure. The existing trials units at Boscombe Down?”

Collingwood spoke calmly, with a sing-song, matter-of-fact voice. “That would undermine TFU and the point of its existence. It would also expose a Top Secret project to an intolerable number of witnesses, which would be in breach of the United Kingdom’s undertaking to the United States. And I don’t need to remind you that a great deal of investment is at stake.”

“Then we concentrate on Kilton—”

“Have him arrested?”

“Yes.”

“On what charge?”

Susie had a sinking feeling. She could imagine Roger laughing in the background.

“Falsifying aircraft trial results. And I believe that would just be the start. We should also look carefully at the crash that killed Milford.”

“An inquiry is already taking place into that. Its conclusion is likely to rule out Guiding Light as a culprit.”

“That’s a cover.”

He sighed. “You understand the problem I have, Miss Attenborough. Your word against an independent Board of Inquiry and a decorated senior officer in Mark Kilton. What we need is hard evidence. Irrefutable. Something the director would have no choice about. I’m afraid we are a long way from that point.”

“What about the statistics I gave you? Derived from actual flying data, straight from the aircraft.”

“I am trying to help, Miss Attenborough, but your evidence is the word of a septuagenarian who tells us the tapes and papers were burned. Remind me again why the only hard evidence was destroyed?”

“This was just the first sample. Milford intended to continue gathering data, but he was killed.”

There was a silence at the other end of the line and Susie realised she had just undermined her already weak case.

“Just a first sample, from which conclusions were extrapolated, and on that basis you would like Her Majesty’s government to halt a billion dollar export deal?”

She should have had this conversation a week ago.

“Miss Attenborough, you have worked hard and with diligence, but not for the first time in the career that lays ahead of you, I am sure, you have come up against the rather cruel realities of our service. We can act only when the evidence is overwhelmingly criminal, or there is evidence the national security is in immediate danger. I’m afraid, that contrary to your expectations, neither of those tests have been met. We have no direct evidence of cover-up, no reliable evidence of project mismanagement. In fact, the only evidence we actually have of wrongdoing are the actions of Flight Lieutenant May and Squadron Leader Milford, both of whom are already under investigation, one posthumously—”

“Of course they are, sir. Kilton has an iron grip on the unit. Milford and May risked everything.”

“I wonder, would May have risked all without your prompting?”

She saw an image of Rob stuck inside some dank police station, his career over.

“You see, Miss Attenborough, if we attempt to intervene on such feeble evidence, we open ourselves up to the type of criticism the Service very much wishes to avoid.”

He continued to speak with a gentle manner, but the message was clear.

You’ve screwed up, Susie.

“I think it’s time to come home. We’ll find something better suited to your particular talents.”

She shuddered as she imagined Roger asking her to make his tea.

“But what about Rob May? His wife left him, he’s at the mercy of Kilton—”

“And you believe it’s all your fault?”

“I believe it’s the result of us doing what needed to be done, sir. And I believe we have a duty toward him.”

“We do not, Miss Attenborough. You may feel that, but I would advise you to disengage your emotions. They let you down and cloud your judgement. The Service has a duty to the country, not an individual junior officer in the RAF. If it’s any consolation, we believe, due to the nature of the project, any kind of public hearing such as a court martial is out of the question. Of course that won’t spare May from the wrath of his superior. A man who can effectively end his career, no doubt.

“Try to see this as an opportunity for personal and professional growth, Miss Attenborough. Don’t get too close to your marks in the future. I’m sure we briefed you on that point in training. Now, we’ve come to the end of the line and that’s that. I expect to see you back here on Monday morning. You can take tomorrow off.”

Susie stood upright in the phone box and took a deep breath.

Rob had shown so much courage to take that Anson back to West Porton, knowing he would be arrested.

Now it was her turn to be brave.

“I’m sorry, sir, but this is not the end of the line. We would be derelict in our duty to allow this project to proceed and leave a good man hanging out to dry. You may find yourself content to write off lives, but I am not.”

“Miss Attenborough…”

She raised her voice. “Christopher Milford died for this cause. And I’m buggered if I’m going to abandon him. I’m sorry I didn’t work out to be the agent you wanted. Let’s face it, I’m the wrong sex for that. No, I won’t take tomorrow off. And no, I won’t be in the office on Monday. I have work to do.”