James Barrington - Foxbat

‘I’m quite sure the North Koreans well know that if they do launch a conventional invasion, and they haven’t already neutralized America, their country will then cease to exist as an independent state within about a month. So, if we manage to take out the nukes, we could well be stopping this whole operation in its tracks. No missiles could equal no invasion. It’s as simple as that.’

‘I don’t dispute anything you’ve just said, but the reality remains that such an attack would constitute an act of war. That needs government approval and, after the mess in Iraq, your chances of persuading Downing Street to sanction this action are, I suspect, substantially less than zero. I exercise functional and operational control of that ship, but there’s no way I can authorize HMS Illustrious to launch a first strike against North Korea.’

‘No,’ Simpson agreed, ‘but I can.’

‘What?’ The astonishment in the admiral’s voice was obvious, and the expressions on the faces of the other naval officers told the same story.

‘In a manner of speaking, anyway.’

‘You’d better explain that.’

‘I’ve already got one of my men on board the Illustrious .’

The admiral looked keenly at Simpson. ‘Are you telling me one of the ship’s present company works for you ?’

‘No.’ Simpson shook his head. ‘He’s been investigating a number of Foxbats that went missing in Russia, and seem to have since found their way to North Korea. So I sent him down to Seoul first, and then on to the ship to deliver a briefing to the captain and senior officers. He’s still there now. His name’s Paul Richter and he’s a former naval officer and a qualified Harrier pilot, so he can take an aircraft and do the job solo.’

The admiral looked somewhat stunned. ‘I presume you don’t have any kind of a military background, because you clearly have no conception of the logistics involved in such an operation. Your man Richter can’t simply climb into a Harrier, pop over to North Korea and destroy a handful of missiles. It’s not like hiring a Ford Fiesta from Hertz.’

A polite titter passed round the assembled officers.

Simpson nodded patiently. ‘Richter’s very resourceful. I’m sure he’ll find a way.’

His quiet confidence seemed to unsettle the admiral. ‘Very well, let’s assume he did manage to do it. How are you going to overcome the diplomatic problem that a pilot in a Harrier flown from a Royal Navy aircraft carrier has launched an unprovoked attack on North Korea?’

‘Three things to mention. First, it isn’t my intention to launch an unprovoked attack. If North Korea’s actually entirely innocent and just playing war games to keep the population busy and take their minds off the dire state their country is in, fine. We can all go home and forget any of this ever happened. I’ll only instruct Richter to execute this action if and when Pyongyang makes a hostile move, or else issues some kind of ultimatum.

‘Second, if this plan works, the last thing anyone’s going to worry about is which aircraft or pilot did the job. Third, Richter’s now a civilian, and nothing to do with the Royal Navy. If push comes to shove, I’ll concoct a story that he had a sudden brainstorm and pinched the jet.’

‘You’ll throw him to the wolves?’ Ashton asked.

‘No way,’ Simpson shook his head decisively. ‘He’s far too valuable to me to lose. Whatever the outcome, I’ll make sure he’s protected.’

HMS Illustrious , Yellow Sea

The knocking on his cabin door was loud and sudden, and woke Richter immediately. He felt like he’d been asleep for only a matter of minutes, but from looking at his watch he saw that it was early evening.

‘Coming,’ he called, rolled out of the bunk and wrapped a towel around his waist. He slid the cabin door back and peered out. A communications rating stood in the corridor, a clipboard and a buff envelope in his hand.

‘Sorry, Commander. We’ve received Secret Flash traffic for your eyes only.’ He offered the clipboard. After Richter scrawled an approximation of his signature in the correct column, the rating handed him the envelope and walked away.

Richter sat on the edge of the bunk, ripped open the envelope and pulled out three sheets of paper covered in double-spaced printing in capital letters. He glanced at the originator – SIS via CINCFLEEET – and quickly read the text. Then he read it again.

‘Fucking Simpson,’ he muttered, stood up and began to get dressed.

Sunday

HMS Illustrious , Yellow Sea

Richter found Roger Black in Flyco, precisely where he’d expected him to be.

‘Blackie, a word in private, if you can spare the time.’

Black looked down at his flying programme. Two Harriers had taken off ten minutes earlier, and they were now expecting the two aircraft they’d relieved to land-on shortly.

‘Will this take long?’ Black muttered distractedly.

Richter nodded. ‘It might.’

‘Right, just wait till we’ve recovered these two jets, then I’ll be with you.’

At that moment the intercom buzzed from the Ops Room, and Lieutenant Commander (Flying) pressed the key to answer. The intercom was on speaker, and his voice echoed from it: ‘Flyco.’

‘Flyco, Homer. Cresta One and Two are on recovery, estimate minutes three. Request flying course.’

‘Roger, Homer. Clear to the low wait. Call visual.’

Richter leant back against the bulkhead and watched. Numerous things had to happen now at more or less the same time, and the intricate process always fascinated him.

Little F pressed another intercom key. ‘Bridge, Flyco. We have two Harriers on recovery, request DFC.’

The Officer of the Watch didn’t use the intercom to reply, but instead appeared at the opening to the bridge.

‘We’re turning now, sir, and increasing speed. I’ll call steady.’

‘Thank you.’ Little F selected the flight deck broadcast. ‘Flight deck, Flyco. Stand by to recover two Sea Harriers, number three spot.’

On the deck below, the FDO raised one hand in acknowledgement.

‘Flyco, Officer of the Watch. Steady on DFC of two four five.’

‘Roger.’

‘Homer, Flyco. DFC two four five.’

‘Flyco, Homer, roger.’

‘Flyco, Homer. Cresta are visual with the ship, coming to your frequency.’

‘Roger that.’

And then a new voice, clipped and precise, broke in. ‘Cresta Two.’

‘Cresta One, loud and clear. Break, break. Flyco, Cresta One with Two in company, visual. At the slot.’

‘Cresta, Flyco, roger. Wind down the deck at twenty-two, gusting twenty-five. No circuit traffic.’

‘Copied. Landing order will be Two, then One.’

Richter heard the roar overhead as the two Harriers overflew the ship and turned to port to start their left-hand circuit, the distance between them opening sharply. The pilot of the second aircraft had to allow time for the first to come to a hover alongside, then land, and finally move off the spot before making his own final approach.

‘Green deck fixed wing,’ Lieutenant Commander (Flying) ordered.

The rating sitting at the control panel made the appropriate switch and echoed the order: ‘Aye, aye, sir. Green deck fixed wing.’

Richter watched critically as the first aircraft began approaching the ship, speed dropping away as the pilot used vectored thrust to slow the Harrier until it was exactly matching the Illustrious ’s forward speed of eighteen knots. The scream of the Pegasus was very audible even through Flyco’s armoured glass. The pilot visually checked the deck, watched for the FDO’s signals, then began transitioning to starboard.