James Barrington - Pandemic

Just over an hour later he drank the last of the coffee and leaned back. Through a series of cut-outs, Agency sleepers and even some legitimate channels, he had arranged everything he thought the team would need: the hire of a boat, the provision of a quantity of plastic explosive and under-water detonators, a complete set of diving equipment including extra compressed-air tanks, a hire car, hotel accommodation, press credentials – ostensibly the three men were travel reporters – and personal weapons.

His final task was handling Krywald and Stein once they had completed their part of the mission: McCready had already issued instructions to Krywald about Elias.

Nicholson was fighting a rearguard action, protecting the Company, but also his career and everything he had worked for over the last forty or so years. All other considerations, in his opinion, were secondary, and all the assets he employed were ultimately expendable. He had made plans to ensure the permanent silence of the only three surviving former CIA officers who had been deeply involved in Operation CAIP thirty years earlier, and McCready’s usefulness was already over.

What he couldn’t and wouldn’t permit was any hint of his activities leaking out. That meant no loose talk, and that in turn meant that all three of the men even then approaching Crete at around five hundred miles an hour were expendable too.

And even before he’d started arranging the overt and covert support they would need on Crete, he’d made one other, very short, phone call.

Sea Harrier ‘Tiger Two’ and HMS Invincible , Ionian Sea

Twenty minutes after Richter’s initial call, and with his radar selected to a one hundred mile radius, John Moore noticed a contact that could be the returning Sea Harrier, close to the edge of the screen and heading directly towards the ship.

‘Tiger Two, Homer. Transmit for bearing,’ Moore requested.

‘Homer, this is Tiger Two, transmitting for bearing.’

With no flying operations under way, the Ops Room had retained skeleton manning only, but the Air Picture Compiler (APC) on watch had already allocated the label ‘I2’ – Interceptor Two – to this return, based on secondary surveillance radar interrogation, and the RDF bearing confirmed that identification.

Moore depressed the transmit switch again. ‘Tiger Two is identified. Pigeons one six zero at ninety miles. Flying course will probably be due west, and we have no circuit traffic at present.’

At six hundred and thirty knots, it doesn’t take long to cover ninety miles. When the return on his radar set reached twenty-five miles, John Moore made a slight adjustment to Richter’s heading and instructed him to descend to two thousand feet, and advise when visual with the ship.

Moore leaned forward and selected an intercom line. ‘Flyco, Homer.’

‘Flyco.’

‘Tiger Two is on recovery just inside twenty-five miles.’

‘Thank you, Homer.’

Close liaison between Flyco and the Officer of the Watch on the bridge is essential, for both Sea Harriers and helicopters require very specific wind speed and direction for take-off and landing, and the ship has to manoeuvre quickly and accurately to achieve this.

As soon as he’d deselected the intercom to Homer, Roger Black bent forward over his flying course calculator, an analogue device designed to predict the course and speed the ship would need to achieve in order to generate the correct wind over the deck. He checked his calculations twice, then called through to the bridge. ‘Bridge, Flyco. I’ve got one Sea Harrier to recover in around five minutes. Request flying course of two seven five, speed eighteen.’

‘Flyco, Bridge. We’re well ahead of you. Turning to starboard.’

Black grinned. Already he could feel the faint vibration that told him the ship was increasing speed, and the bearing on the compass repeater was moving steadily clockwise. Malcolm Mortensen, the young lieutenant Officer of the Watch, was highly efficient and well attuned to the requirements of the Air Department. Black enjoyed working with him.

‘Flight Deck, Flyco. Stand by to recover one Sea Harrier, number two spot.’ Roger Black’s voice boomed out over the tannoy system, and two seconds later he received an acknowledgement from the FDO. Black glanced down at the deck to ensure it was clear and ready, nodded to Commander (Air) who’d just appeared beside him, and began looking out to the east for the returning aircraft.

In the Operations Room the RDF tube sprang to life again.

‘Homer, Tiger Two is visual and level at two thousand.’

‘Roger, Tiger Two,’ John Moore replied. ‘When ready, descend to six hundred feet and contact Flyco.’

‘Roger, Homer.’

In the descending Sea Harrier, Richter changed his UHF box to Flyco frequency. Invincible was now clearly visible, nine miles ahead and slightly to port, the ship’s wake a slowly straightening white curve against the aquamarine of the sea.

‘Flyco, this is Tiger Two. Visual with Mother, request flying course.’

‘Tiger Two, Flyco, roger. Steady on flying course of two seven five, speed eighteen. Wind straight down the deck at twenty-three knots, gusting twenty-eight.’

In Tiger Two, Richter held two thousand feet and aimed straight for the ship, flying directly overhead. As soon as he’d passed, he throttled back slightly and began his descent, simultaneously pulling his Harrier into a hard port turn. He levelled at six hundred feet above the surface of the sea and continued the turn until he was flying parallel with the ship’s course and just off to the port side of the Invincible ’s track.

Six hundred feet, four hundred knots, past the bow. Then throttle back to idle, airbrake out and bank left, hard, into a 4g turn. The speed bled down to three hundred knots, and he heard and felt the growl as the Pegasus hit idle. Then briefly downwind, looking left to check the Flight Deck before pulling the Harrier round into its final approach.

Richter wound on the power again and pulled back on the silver-coloured lever that controlled the nozzle angle, preparing the Harrier for transition to vertical flight. Astern and to port of the ship, steady on west and down to one hundred and fifty feet, he watched his airspeed carefully.

The most critical period during a carrier landing is when the Harrier’s weight is transferred from the lift generated by the wings to the delicate balancing act required to support the aircraft solely on the twenty-one thousand six hundred pounds’ thrust of the Rolls-Royce Pegasus engine. And the most dangerous phase of this procedure comes when decelerating from about one hundred and twenty knots down to around forty. The pilot must progressively increase engine power as lift from the wings is reduced, but ensure that the nose points into wind and that the angle of attack is within limits. Get this wrong and it bites: the aircraft will flip onto its back and hit the sea in a little under one second. Neither the pilot nor the aircraft will survive.

Richter checked the Flight Deck. As his Harrier approached the stern of the Invincible , slightly to port of the ship and still travelling at over one hundred knots, he pushed the nozzles into the braking stop position – fully forward – and then began using the speed trim on top of the throttle to control his approach. This allowed him to adjust the nozzle angle within ten degrees of the vertical position, and enabled him to position the aircraft with remarkable accuracy.

Richter made his final landing checks, lowering the undercarriage and checking the engine temperature to ensure that he had sufficient thrust margin to transition the Harrier into a full hover. He was already ‘wet-committed’ – to stop the Pegasus overheating, a powerful pump forces water into the engine during a vertical landing. Once started, the pump cannot be switched off, and it runs for only ninety seconds, so Richter had to be on deck in under a minute and a half.