Oblivion

1

A fierce wind was blowing over Midnesheidi Moor. It had swept south from the highlands, across the choppy expanse of Faxaflói Bay, before ascending again, bitterly cold, onto the moor where it whistled over gravel beds and ridges, whipping a pale etching of snow over the sad, stunted vegetation. Exposed to open sea and northern blast, only the toughest plants survived here, their stalks barely protruding above the level of the stones. The wind raised a shrill screeching as it penetrated the perimeter fence which loomed out of this bleak landscape, then hurled itself against the mighty walls of the aircraft hangar which stood on the highest ground. It raged with renewed force against this intractable obstacle, before hurtling away into the darkness beyond.

The noise of the wind carried into the vast interior of the steel-frame hangar. One of the largest structures in Iceland, covering 17,000 square metres and as tall as an eight-storey building, it had doors opening to the east and west that could accommodate the wingspan of the world’s biggest aircraft. This was the operational hub of the US Air Force 57th Fighter Interceptor Squadron on Midnesheidi. Here, repairs were carried out to the fleet of AWACS spy planes, F-16 fighter jets and Hercules transports. Huge pulley systems for manoeuvring aeroplane parts hung from girders running the length of the roof.

At present, however, work in the hangar was suspended for the most part due to the installation of a new fire-extinguisher system. A specially reinforced scaffolding tower reached right up to the ceiling at the northern end of the building. Like everything to do with the hangar, the job was a Herculean task, involving the laying of a network of pipes along the steel roof girders, which connected to a series of powerful sprinklers, spaced at intervals several metres apart.

The scaffolding tower stood on its wheels like a mobile island in the hangar. It was assembled from a number of smaller platforms with a ladder in the middle leading up to the main platform at the top, where the plumbers and their mates had been at work. Stacks of pipes, screws and brackets lay heaped around the base of the structure, together with toolboxes and adjustable spanners of all shapes and sizes, the property of the Icelandic contractors who were installing the sprinkler system. Nearly all the construction and maintenance work at Naval Air Station Keflavík was in the hands of local entrepreneurs.

All was quiet apart from the desolate howling of the wind outside when suddenly a low whine came from the direction of the scaffolding. A section of piping fell to the floor and rolled away with a clatter. Shortly afterwards there was another, more substantial rush of air and a man hit the ground with an oddly muffled thud, as if a heavy sack had been dropped from the roof. Then all was quiet again apart from the keening of the wind.