The Final Flight

²⁸ MONDAY 4TH JULY

“Friday? Is that possible?” Red Brunson asked.

Kilton turned over a piece of paper with a series of boxes. Each one represented a flight, concluding on Friday that week.

Rob’s head spun.

“Two flights a day until Thursday morning,” Kilton explained. “The final flight, Friday afternoon, with DF Blackton in attendance, will be ceremonial. Upon landing, we’ll hand over the signed documents to the Ministry and it’s done. Guiding Light can move into production.”

“What about the required project hours?” Rob said.

“You look pale. May. Are you feeling alright?”

“Yes, it’s just I thought we had nearly a hundred hours left?”

“That was before the break-in and before we discovered exactly what Millie was up to.”

The room went quiet.

“What I’m about to tell you stays in this room.” Kilton rose from his seat and closed the office door. “An audit of the blank tapes delivered from DF Blackton revealed more than sixty missing.”

“Missing?” said Brunson.

“Missing. They haven’t been returned to Cambridge. They’re not in our cabinets or safe. Every square inch of West Porton has been searched, but we’ve found only two of them, despite widening the search to Milford’s married quarter.”

“Why would they be there?” Brunson asked. For the first time, there was a hint of confrontation in Red’s question.

“Because the two we did find were hidden in Millie’s locker.” Kilton locked eyes with Brunson, as if challenging him to come back with another question. “The Blackton computer read one tape. It contained records that matched one of the project flights. And yet, the official reels for the flight are safely with the rest, signed in by Millie.”

“I don’t understand,” said Brunson. “So, Millie forgot to log a couple of tapes? So what?”

“Not just the odd tape, Brunson. Sixty reels are missing. That’s twenty hours of secret Guiding Light material that’s now… god knows where. We have to assume the worst. We have to assume it’s in the hands of an illegal third party. And so, with the project compromised, the Ministry has agreed to fast-track the remaining phase. We know the system was disconnected at the time of the crash, so there’s no reason not to proceed. There’s still a chance the UK can secure the export order to the United States before any of this becomes public.”

“Why would Millie do something like that?” Red asked.

“Misguided intent, at best. Financial gain, at worst.”

Red leant back in his chair and shook his head.

“Millie’s funeral,” Rob said quietly to himself.

Kilton frowned. “What?”

“Friday. The final flight and the handover. That’s the day of Millie’s funeral.”

Kilton gathered his papers. “That’s why it’s scheduled for the afternoon, May. The funeral’s at 11AM.” He stood up and headed for the door. “One more thing,” he said, turning back to the room, “we don’t believe Millie was acting alone. Be alert. Anything out of the ordinary, any suspicions about anyone, you come straight to me.”

Kilton walked out, closing the door behind him.

Rob didn’t have to check the schedule; he knew he would be down to fly a Guiding Light trial. Possibly two.

“It’s you and me, kid,” said Brunson. “Back in a Vulcan. You ready for this?”

“What choice do I have?”

“Listen, if you don’t want to do it, you need to say something.”

Rob toyed with the tasking paper. “And then what happens? How do you think he would react?”

“I’m not sure, but he can’t force you to fly.”

“I’d be out of TFU by the end of the day.”

“Probably.”

He looked across at the row of oblong windows facing onto the apron. The newly equipped Vulcan sat in the distance, ground crew crawling around it.

“Let’s go flying.”

“Attaboy.”

They moved to a spare desk and planned the route.

After a couple of minutes, Kilton approached with Dave Berringer. Rob recognised the young air electronics officer from a few flights in the Shackleton earlier in the year, but they didn’t know each other well.

“Dave’s been in the Vulcan and instructed on the procedures, so should be up to speed.” He turned to Rob. “Can I have a word?”

Rob put his chinagraph pencil down and followed the boss toward his office. They stopped just outside and stood next to the doorframe.

“I know Millie was a father figure to you, and I’m sorry. But sometimes our parents aren’t right about everything. Sometimes they hide things from us. My advice? It’s time to let him go. There’s more at stake here. Something bigger than both of us.”

“Yes, boss.”

“We get these hours flown, no lower than one thousand feet. Blackton will scrutinise every moment of every flight. On Friday, we sign it off. You sign it off. It will be the biggest moment in TFU’s short history and it won’t be forgotten. You won’t be forgotten.”

THE FIRST OF the four Olympus engines wound up to deafening roar status.

Dave Berringer interrupted the static whine on the intercom, muttering to himself as he struggled with the magnetic tapes.

Rob isolated the rear bay, so they didn’t have to listen.

He got a good start on all four engines.

The jet was on the edge of the apron, away from TFU. It had been overhauled prior to the Guiding Light installation; it smelled like a new car.

Rob called up ATC and requested taxi.

Brunson, in the left hand seat, exchanged hand signals with the marshallers before shifting the jet from its haunches and swinging her around to head out to the active runway.

Rob spotted Kilton in his day uniform standing on the apron watching them.

They lifted off into the mainly blue sky and banked immediately right. Rob glanced down at the remnants of the peace camp.

Forty minutes later, they let down over Northumberland.

Brunson held the aircraft steady at one thousand feet as they approached the Union Bridge. There was a familiar jolt as Guiding Light took over.

Rob grabbed the control column.

“Easy, buddy.” Rob looked across; Red stared at him.

“I’m OK.”

He stared ahead, watching every rise and fall of the nose.

Poised to hit the cancel button.

The flight continued across to Solway, where they climbed out.

Rob took over the flying and wondered why he wasn’t receiving heading information, before realising he’d left the rear bay off the intercom loop. He opened it up.

“Finally,” Berringer said. “I was about to climb up the ladder.”

“Did you get the tapes done?” Brunson asked.

“No problem at all. Piece of piss.”

It was easy to imagine Millie a few feet behind him. He wanted more than anything to chat over the intercom about whisky, card games and to promise that he and Mary would be over for both tonight.

AFTER SHUTTING DOWN, they walked back into the planning room together.

Rob queued at the equipment hatch along with the other returning crews.

Kilton’s secretary Jean watched from her side office.

When he emerged back into the room and sat down to complete his logbook entry, she made her move.

“You’re to report to Squadron Leader Hoskins in the chart room,” she said.

Rob looked at the office next to Kilton’s which contained shelves of charts covering the UK and the rest of the world. The security force had apparently commandeered it.

He stood up and closed his logbook.

“You’ll need that,” said Jean.

With his stomach in a tight knot, he walked toward the office, leaden-footed.

He knocked on the door and opened it.

Kilton was leaning over the desk, with the security force squadron leader studying documents.

Kilton looked up. “Come back in five minutes.”

Rob’s mouth was too dry to reply. He backed out and shut the door, wondering if this was all a psychological trick.

Five minutes took an eternity. Even then, no-one appeared for him.

He thought and walked back to the office, knocking and entering.

Kilton was still there, but he glanced at his watch and stood up, brushing past Rob on his way out.

“Please take a seat, Robert,” Hoskins began, “this is part of the investigation into a security breach concerning the Guiding Light project.”

Rob didn’t respond.

“You have been a pilot, acting as commander and co-pilot for multiple flights, since the project’s inception?”

“Yes.”

“So you know Guiding Light inside and out?”

“I suppose so.”

Hoskins made a note and looked up. “Tell me about your relationship with Chris Milford.”

“We used to be close.”

“It’s a curious thing. Each tape of data generated by the equipment is meticulously logged. So, we have nearly two hundred and fifty already dispatched to Cambridge. Twenty-three have been logged since that last transfer and stored in the cabinet inside the station HQ. In addition, there are another thirty-nine blank tapes in the same cabinet.”

Rob remained impassive.

“Which leaves sixty-four blank tapes delivered to West Porton, most of which are unaccounted for. They’ve simply vanished. Apart from these two.”

He reached into a bag and placed two tape sleeves on the table. Rob peered down. One was marked ‘Blank F1’, the other ‘Blank F2’. He recognised Millie’s handwriting.

The man continued. “The tapes themselves are at DF Blackton in Cambridge. Their computer is not fully operational, but they’ve been able to read one of them and contrary to the word ‘blank’ on the sleeve here, it contains height readings from a recent flight. And yet it doesn’t exist as a logged tape anywhere in the system.”

“Yes, the boss explained all this.”

Hoskins gave Rob an appraising look.

“I’m told there was simply no scope for a logging error. Would you agree with Wing Commander Kilton about that?”

“I suppose there isn’t. It was a well organised process.”

“You see, the lettering on the sleeves, ‘F1’ and ‘F2’, doesn’t match the way the official tapes were logged. One theory is there was a parallel project going on. A separate set of tapes generated during the Guiding Light trial flights.”

Rob put on a look of surprise. “How would that be possible?”

“Oh, it’s quite possible,” the man said, with a confident look, “with the right help.”

Hoskins stayed quiet for a while, then continued. “And if these are ‘F1’ and ‘F2’, where are the A, B, C, D and E tapes, do you suppose?”

“You think there might be more?”

“I just told you, we’ve found just two of the sixty-four missing reels.” He paused. “So you have no idea where they are?”

Rob shook his head. “Why would I?”

“Well, that brings me onto the flight information we were able to glean from one of the reels.”

He turned some sheets over.

“You may not know, but the information captured by the reels includes the geographic position and time elapsed. So, with the help of Wing Commander Kilton, we have been cross-referencing with your logbook entries.”

The investigator produced a chart of the north of England, with a route marked by a thick red line. Every so often along the legs between waypoints, a black cut had been drawn across, presumably where one tape ended and the next began. Rob recognised the track; it was the route they’d taken home after a low-level run that ended near Carlisle.

“The tapes produce a track that runs from a point in the Irish Sea just off the coast from Cockermouth, running south, coasting in at Rhyl and then a left turn east toward home.” Hoskins placed a pen on the chart just above Shrewsbury. “This is where the tape change happened.” He looked up to Rob. “Do you recognise this route?”

Rob screwed up his face in thought. “Maybe one of the northern low-level runs we did?”

The investigator nodded. “Spot on. Wednesday 22nd June. You and Speedy Johnson at the controls.” He turned over a piece of paper that had all his Guiding Light flights noted.

“Well, yes, that makes sense, but the Guiding Light run ended at Carlisle.” Rob leaned forward and pointed to the chart.

“I’m aware of that. So why do we have two additional tapes of data from that flight? And who decided that a simple exercise in running the Guiding Light equipment involved a long transit north and south when, according to Wing Commander Kilton, you could have flown straight from the airfield and run the trial locally?”

Rob glanced behind Hoskins at the frosted glass that marked Kilton’s office. He could see a dark shadow, occasionally moving, and assumed it was the boss at his desk.

“Anything you know could help me, Robert.”

“I didn’t get involved in the planning. Millie ran the project. Speedy and I just flew the routes.”

The officer made a note.

“Squadron Leader Johnson had a conversation with Lieutenant Brunson later that day. Apparently, you quizzed Milford about exactly how many tapes he would produce. That seems like an odd conversation to have if your only job was to fly where he told you.”

“I recall being a bit frustrated that we had such a long trip, when, as you say, we could have flown it locally. That’s all.”

“Anything else to add?”

“No.”

Hoskins made further notes and Rob shifted in his seat.

“Finally, we have the conundrum of the missing reels. Part of that is discovering exactly how they were smuggled out of West Porton. I don’t suppose you could shed any light on that aspect of this case? Did you for instance ever see Squadron Leader Milford making any unusual adaptations to his car? Perhaps creating a secret compartment that would fool the guards?”

Rob laughed.

“Something amusing about that concept?”

“Millie could barely operate the indicator in his Rover.”

There was another pause. Hoskins closed the paper file and placed the tape sleeves back in his case.

“Right. Well, please continue to give it your thought.”

Hoskins stood up; Rob quickly followed suit. The security officer held out his hand. As Rob shook it, Hoskins gripped it and stared at him again. Rob wondered if this was some ploy the man had seen in the movies.

“This is no time for misplaced loyalty. If anything transpires that reveals you haven’t been completely forthcoming, you will be the man who takes the fall and, believe me, it will be a very, very big fall.”

“I’ve told you everything I know.”

After an uncomfortably long time, Hoskins released Rob’s hand. He turned and made for the door.

“One thing occurs to me,” Hoskins called after him.

Rob reluctantly turned back.

“You haven’t attempted to defend Wing Commander Milford, and you don’t appear particularly surprised about these accusations. Did you suspect this was happening all along?”

“I think I’m still in shock, to be honest. But no, I don’t think there is any way on god’s earth that Christopher Milford was a traitor, if that’s what you’re asking.”

Rob left the room, and loitered for a second, just outside the door.

He needed to talk to Susie, but it wasn’t even 2PM.

Five and a half hours until his next arranged meeting with his new partner. Before that, he needed a drink.

He sat at Millie’s desk and willed time to speed up.

FINALLY, in the bar with the returning crews, Rob recognised JR from the Maintenance Unit with a few of his colleagues. In another corner were the air traffickers. It looked like a special occasion, but then he noticed one woman with puffy eyes.

“Bright’s girl,” Brunson said. “Steve Bright. He was walking out with her. June’s her name. I think.”

The enormity of the crash washed over him again. A young woman, whose name he didn’t know, in tears, her life torn apart.

The smell of the beer and smoke made him nauseous.

He was an interloper. He shouldn’t be there.

“I have to go. Sorry.”

He got up and hurried to the door.

AFTER DINNER, when Rob had left for the mess to plan Millie’s wake, Mary finished the washing up and prepared to go out for a walk.

She needed to clear her head.

As she folded her apron and put it into a drawer, there was a polite tap at the kitchen door. She opened it.

“Hello, Mary.”

It took her a moment to place Janet Laverstock. But the bouffant of blonde hair, without a strand out of place, triggered her memory.

“Hello, Janet. Is it my turn for the flower rota at church?”

Janet smiled. “No. I just wondered if we could have a chat.”

Mary made Janet a glass of squash and they sat in the garden. Janet looked nervously around, as if checking they wouldn’t be overheard.

“How are things?” she asked. “How is Rob coping?”

Mary sighed. “Honestly, I don’t really know. He’s clammed up a bit. I think he’s still in shock and maybe… I think it’s affected him more than he wants to admit. Admit to me, anyway.”

Janet sipped her drink. “Does he have any other confidants who might help him through this?”

“The fellows at work, I suppose. He’s at the mess now, as a matter of fact.”

“Is he?”

“Yes, he is. Janet, what is this all about?”

“Does he have any female friends? I mean, beside Georgina and the other RAF wives? Someone younger, perhaps?”

“Janet, I don’t know what you mean. If you have something to say—”

“Look, I didn’t want to be the person to tell you and Mike and I have wrestled with it, but—”

“But what, Janet?”

“Mary, on Thursdays, Mike and I sometimes go to The Bell at Wyle.”

SUSIE LEFT THE B&B and headed into town. She wandered past red brick terraced houses, some with front doors open. Children played in the scraps of front gardens.

An elderly man sat outside one house, on a faded wooden chair. He had sharp creases in his trousers, a moustache and side-parted wisps of hair. His eyes followed her. She gave him a smile and he nodded in return.

Susie let her mind wander. Where was the man a couple of decades ago? Did he have a good war?

As she got to the busier part of Salisbury, she found a phone box and called the Service.

“It’s our very own Twiggy in the field.”

“Can we dispense with the nicknames, please, Roger? I was never in your rugger team.

Firstly, I’m about to meet May again. Secondly, anything from Blackton’s in Cambridge?”

He rustled around with some papers.

“Your hunch is wrong. Their computer was out of action until the crash. According to our man, they resurrected it from deep maintenance to read one tape. But, as I say, that was after the crash, so it’s unlikely to be your man on account of him being dead.”

Her heart sunk. “Are we sure?”

“Yes, we’re always sure, dear. The place has been on annual shutdown since 8th June, which means your theory doesn’t work.”

“Damn it.”

“Time to come in from the cold. Or the warm.”

“I’m about to meet May. He might have something for me.”

“Well, it had better be good. All things being equal, I expect to see you in the canteen the day after tomorrow.”

ROB ARRIVED EARLY and parked on St Ann Street before walking along the cobbled road toward the cathedral spire.

As he entered the manicured grounds, he looked up. The tallest church in the UK made even him, an experienced pilot, feel dizzy.

Scanning the area, he saw couples holding hands, a group of children kicking a ball. The sporadic benches were only sporadically occupied.

To his right, a demure figure walked casually toward him.

Still with her blonde hair, today in fawn miniskirt and a red blouse, she both stood out and blended in. Susie could have been a department store worker who had just finished for the day.

“Hello, Mr May. Shall we walk?”

She set off, he followed.

“Shall I start?” he asked, but she made a shushing noise without looking at him.

They walked on around the cathedral toward a quieter walled area on the far side. They sat down on the grass. Susie took out a cigarette and offered him one. She lit the cigarettes, using the movement to scan the surrounding space.

“I need to tell you, we were wrong about the tapes going to Cambridge. The computer’s been out of action since the last official batch at the beginning of June.”

“Are you sure?”

“Certain. Sorry. We’re back to square one. So, I’m afraid unless you bring news of a breakthrough, I’m probably heading back to London.”

“I thought we were going to do this together. You can’t leave me on my own.”

“We don’t have anything, Rob. One sheet that hints at something, nothing more.”

“Kilton’s sped up the project. It will be signed off on Friday.”

“As in four days’ time? Shit.”

“Yes. And they think Millie produced sixty of the tapes, not the twenty we thought. Kilton is using that as the reason, actually. They obviously have no idea where they are. They want to rush it out the door before it loses commercial and military value. Get the American contract signed.” He shook his head and looked down. “It was awful. I had to sit there and listen to it all. He more or less accused Millie of being a traitor. And everyone’s just going along with it.”

Susie sighed. “That’s the military way, right? All Kilton’s done is ensure he’s not properly supervised. He’s talking directly to ministers in a government that’s running out of money, desperate for foreign orders. No-one above him really knows anything.” She took a long draw on her cigarette. “So you can see how this happened. You can’t blame your colleagues, Rob. They’ve been brought up to trust and obey. Kilton says Guiding Light wasn’t to blame and somehow has the investigators fooled and… you’re the only one left with any direct experience of it going wrong the first time. No wonder he’s finding it easy.”

“Only Millie was standing up to him. But that’s why we’ve got to continue.”

“Rob—”

“No. I can’t just go home. I can’t just say goodbye to you and let this lie. I couldn’t live with myself.”

Susie put her hand on the back of his. “You might have to. We can’t fix everything.”

He sat up. “But we’ve got four days, right? Let’s at least bloody try.”

Susie stubbed her cigarette out on the grass and shrugged. “What have we got to go on? The trail’s run cold.”

She pulled out a notebook covered in what looked like Arabic letters.

“What is that?”

“A type of shorthand. We had this strange guy in training who taught us a technique to access parts of our subconscious memory. It’s not that strange, really. If I ask you to name as many prime ministers as you can think of, you’ll miss a few.”

“More than a few.”

“Right, but when I tell you the names of the ones you couldn’t remember, you’ll recognise most of them.”

“So?”

“So… they were in your mind all along, otherwise you wouldn’t have recognised the names. You just couldn’t access them when you were trying to. The theory is, if you let your mind wander freely, it sometimes goes off into those areas. It can work, believe me. It’s a way of recalling something you may have thought odd but then forgot. I tried it this afternoon and came up with two things we might have overlooked.”

“What?”

“The tapes, especially now that we know there’s sixty of them. How on earth did Millie get them out? If we crack that, we might find an accomplice.”

“That’s funny, it’s exactly what Hoskins said.”

“Hoskins?”

“The security officer Kilton has investigating Millie. What was the other thing?”

Susie looked down at her notes. “Someone gave Millie our number. Someone who was authorised to do so.”

“What does that mean?”

“There’s a system. The caller’s given a name to ask for, so we know they’ve gone through a handler. He used ‘AW Strutthers’. It’s an older name, been knocking about for years. Could have come from anywhere, which isn’t hugely helpful.”

“Do you think this could be the accomplice?”

“Maybe. But no-one’s contacted us since the crash, which doesn’t make any sense.”

After a moment, she turned to him. “Why don’t you try it?”

“Are you going to hypnotise me?”

She laughed. He noticed her freckles in the setting sun.

“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?”

Although JR’s eyes were sunken well into his head, with bags that looked like rolled up carpets, he still had a twinkle. Just like Millie.

“I wondered when you would come to me.”

Rob stared at him for a moment. “You’re the accomplice?”

“Ha! I’m not sure I’m that. But, just to be clear, this isn’t an official visit on behalf of Wing Commander Kilton, is it?”

Rob shook his head. “No, it absolutely is not.”

“Good. You know what this place is like. What it’s become since your lot moved in, anyway. Careless talk costs lives, and all that.”

“Yes, sorry about that.”

“Not your fault. Anyway, I know you and Millie were close.”

“We were.”

“And yet, it appears he kept something from you?”

“I think so, probably for my own good. But now I need to know.”

JR looked more serious. “Is it true Millie’s name is being dragged through the mud by that oaf Kilton?”

“It’s nonsense, of course, what they’re saying about him.”

“We all know that.” JR picked up his drink and looked around the bar. “But this is not a place to raise doubts about the truth unless you’re well-armed.”

“So, you were helping him?”

JR waggled his head. “Sort of. Just one trip. He’d officially asked to go to Wyton for some meeting, but he asked us to take him to Abingdon instead. He obviously didn’t want the visit on any official log.”

“Abingdon? When?”

JR screwed up his face, which became a sea of wrinkles. “Early last week. Monday, I think.”

“What did he do there? Who did he meet?”

“No idea, I’m afraid. Like with you, Millie didn’t want to involve anyone else unnecessarily. I just waited for him.”

“Abingdon…” Rob said to himself.

“He was there for nearly three hours, from memory. We decided not to make any logbook entries, so I can’t be certain.”

“Did he have anything with him? A large bag, for instance?”

JR thought again. “Yes. Like a holdall.”

Rob sat back.

“I’d look through a list of units at Abingdon if I were you,” said JR. “He must have met with someone there?”

“We will, thank you.”

“We?”

Rob looked around the room and thought for a moment. JR was the picture of a trustworthy man. But he knew he couldn’t take any chances.

“I probably shouldn’t say too much. The same reason Millie didn’t involve you more than he had to. You’ve been very helpful. Can I buy you a drink?”

“No need. The bar’s about to shut. To be honest, Robert, if you’re helping a cause that’s close to Millie’s heart and it pulls the rug from under Kilton, I’m happy. He’s bad news.”

“It’s taken me a long time to see that.”

They stood up. JR shook his hand. “It’s not your fault, it’s the way the system works. But Robert…”

“Yes?”

“Tread carefully.”

SUSIE SAT IN HER CAR, exactly where she said she would be, opposite the church in Amesbury. Rob could see the red glow of her cigarette as he approached.

He opened the back door and climbed in.

She looked around in surprise.

“What are you doing?”

“I thought it would be better?”

“Well, it looks odd. Get in the front.”

They both laughed.

“We’ll make a field agent out of you yet, Flight Lieutenant May. But there’s a way to go.”

Once he was in the passenger seat, she drove off.

“Too suspicious, sitting in a parked car in the middle of the night. So, what did you find out?”

“The Maintenance Unit helped him, but just once. Last Monday. The old boy I mentioned. JR. He took him on an unrecorded trip to RAF Abingdon. And he had a large bag.”

“Well done, Rob. Who did he meet?”

“They don’t know. It was pretty much an air-taxi service. They waited for around three hours and then took him back. JR suggested I look up a list of the units at Abingdon as a starting point.”

“And then what? We call them? That’s fraught with danger.”

“What else can we do?”

“Where’s RAF Abingdon?”

“It’s an old station near Oxford.”

They looked at each other.

“Oxford!” Susie said.

“A coincidence?”

“My organisation doesn’t believe in coincidences, Rob.”

“So, Millie drove there at the beginning of June and then flew in with a large holdall last Monday.”

“The tapes?”

Rob nodded. “Has to be. It was so clever of Millie. He flew the bloody things out. No-one searches us when we fly. Quite brilliant.”

Susie smiled.

“What’s funny?”

“My prodigy’s outstanding work.”

The car briefly mounted a verge and swerved back onto the Tarmac.

“Forget this. I can’t drive and talk.” She pulled over into the entrance to a field and parked the car completely off the road, masked by a break in the hedge.

“Let’s have a walk and work out our next move.”

She opened a five-bar gate and immediately recognised the field.

“Huh?”

“What?” Rob asked.

“Don’t you recognise it?”

Rob looked across toward the airfield double fence. Pieces of discarded tents lay on the ground, along with the odd piece of litter.

They began walking toward a circle of logs in the centre. “What exactly did you do here?” Rob asked.

“What you might imagine. Listening, mainly. The services get an instinct for groups that can threaten national security, and the first thing is knowledge. We need to know what’s going on. But, as you’re finding out, we don’t really intervene very much. It’s more a case of tipping off the local police, which is what happened here.”

The blackened remains of a bonfire sat in the centre of the log circle.

They sat down on the largest log.

“So, it was you who returned the Guiding Light material that was stolen?”

“Well, first I helped steal it, but then… Yes, I made sure it didn’t go very far.”

He laughed.

“It was wild. We cut the fence, scrambled across the airfield, and broke into the toilets. Took us a while to work out they were a dead end. It was a bit of a farce, but it was a pretty good job in the end, and well targeted. So, worth me being there.”

“Like special forces, behind enemy lines,” Rob said.

She lit a cigarette.

An eerie orange glow from the airfield lights softened her features and cast dim, elongated shadows along the ground.

“I’ve enjoyed it more than anything else I’ve done,” she said. “Mind you, this is only my second year.”

“At MI5?” Rob asked, still not sure she’d ever confirmed it.

“Yes, Robert. MI5. We tend to call it Box Five Hundred. Box for short, or the Security Service. They say MI5 in books and films, so we don’t use it.”

“Box Five Hundred?”

She shook her head. “Don’t ask me. I’ve no idea where it comes from. No doubt one of the boys I trained with would be happy to lecture me on it if I ever asked. But I’d rather be here in a field than sitting in a cramped office in Mayfair with them. Even if they do know every second of the Service’s history.”

“Why did they choose you to send out?”

Susie shrugged. “I’m a young girl who looks like she might be a hippie peace campaigner. That’s the sole reason. Still, it’s worked out well. I’m on to my second job now, thanks to you. Thanks to Millie, to be precise.” She looked around before stubbing out her cigarette. “Right, to business. We know Millie has a contact in the Abingdon area. If we find that person, we can learn whatever it was he found out. We may then have the evidence needed to blow the whistle.”

“I can get a list of units from an Air Force directory tomorrow.”

Susie shook her head. “No. We can’t just start calling and using Millie’s name. As soon as that gets back to Kilton, we put him onto the same trail. That would be a world of complication we don’t need.”

“Then what?”

She faced him. “You have to retrace his steps.”

“What?”

“I’m serious. It’s the best way. The most accurate, and the one that involves the fewest other people. Could you land at RAF Abingdon? Would that be a normal thing to do?”

Rob exhaled. “Maybe. If I was in a single seater. Something like a Hunter. I could call it a practice diversion. The trouble is, I’m down to fly the Vulcan this week. Every day.”

“What about JR? Can he fly you in? That would be better. He can take you exactly where Millie went. That’s what you need to do. You need to stand where he stood. You’re bound to find something. Some clue to where he actually went.”

“But how would I do that? I’m expected in work every day, all day.”

“Aren’t you ever sick?”

He put his head in his hands. “Christ, Susie, you’re asking a lot. You’re asking me to call in sick, then sneak onto the station, fly off with a Maintenance Unit pilot, land at another RAF station and then… god knows what.”

“It’s no more than Millie did. Alone. Without your help or anyone else’s at TFU.”

He sat in silence for a while.

Susie touched his hand. “Rob, why are you doing this?”

“For Millie, I guess.”

“And for you, right? You’re also doing this for yourself.”

“What do you mean? I’m being selfish?”

“Not at all. I’m just pointing out that you’re carrying a lot of guilt and I think this is a way out, at least I think you’ve convinced yourself it is. Try to imagine for a moment that you back down now, before we’ve tried everything. You’ll have the rest of your life to reflect on that decision and, believe me, that stuff can eat away at you.” She gestured to the remnants of the peace camp. “There was a woman here who had some sort of regret inside her. Something she didn’t want to think about. I was never sure what it was, but I think she lived with it every day. She was cold and distant most of the time. You could mistake it for confidence, but when that gas bomb hit, she crumbled. Unable to cope. Funnily enough, it was the most human I ever saw her. And let me guess, it’s the same for Mark Kilton? Cold and distant? His generation, from the war, they bury so much that after a while they bury themselves. It’s no way to live, Rob. This choice today, it could affect you for the rest of your life.”

“It’s such a gamble. So much could go wrong,” Rob said quietly.

“It could. True. But living with the consequences of doing nothing and letting Kilton walk all over Millie’s name and reputation might be worse for you. Save yourself from a lifetime of not being able to think about Millie and your role in his death.” He winced in the shadows. “Rob, trying and failing is very different from not trying at all. You can stand up high and tell Millie you did everything in your power to honour his legacy, but giving up… That’s another matter. You would be choosing to comply with an authority you know to be wrong. You’d find it hard to look in the mirror ever again.”

She looked away across the field to the fences that surrounded the airfield. “My father came out of the First World War like that. Part of a generation of British men who don’t look in the mirror. This whole head-down, get-on-with-it, stiff-upper-lip stuff. It has a function because it allows you to carry on in desperate times, but believe me, it’s not without consequences. You’ll pay the price with the rest of your life.” She turned to him. “And so will your children.”

The Moon crept up beyond the trees; the orange glow gave way to a silvery light that played across her face.

She reached across and brushed a tear from his cheek.

“I’ll need to go back and talk to JR as soon as possible,” said Rob. “This is going to take some planning.”

Headlights swept across the airfield to their right, and a vehicle approached the fence. She grabbed Rob’s hand and lowered him to the ground behind the trunk.

They lay still, next to each other. He basked in the warmth of her body, his heart thudding in his chest. Susie wrapped an arm around him.

The vehicle moved away and they stood up.

“You can talk to JR tomorrow. We’re running out of time so don’t dilly-dally.”

“It might actually be easier if I go and see JR now. I’ve got a front door key for the mess at home.”

ROB PULLED up in front of the house; there was a light on downstairs.

He breezed in, picked up his mess keys from a set of hooks just inside the back door.

He looked across to the lounge where the light was on, and hesitated.

On the kitchen table was a half drunk cup of tea. He touched it.

Still warm.

Rob stood and listened carefully, but the house was silent.

He turned and left for West Porton.

AFTER FIDDLING with the mess side door, he made his way along one wing to the central lobby to identify JR’s room number.

First Floor, Room 12.

The place wasn’t completely quiet; he could hear some laughter coming from somewhere. A few of the boys playing cards, no doubt.

Next to a batting room on the first floor was a door with the number ‘12’, and the label SQ LDR JL RICHARDSON DFC.

Rob tapped gently, but got no response and tried again more firmly.

Eventually, he heard some movement. The door opened to reveal a surprised-looking old pilot in a red silk dressing gown.

“Flight Lieutenant May.” JR glanced down the corridor. “Twice in one night. I suppose you want to come in?”

JR’s room was large, with two single beds and a basin.

“Nice,” Rob said, looking round.

“I bagged it when TFU was just a twinkle in Mark Kilton’s eye. They’ll get me out of it in a wooden box. Smoke?” JR offered him a silver case, opened to reveal about twenty filter tipped cigarettes.

“Thank you.” Rob took a cigarette and a box of matches from the engraved case.

He took a seat in an armchair; JR perched on the end of his bed.

“What are the chances that you could replicate the trip to Abingdon with me on board?”

JR thought about it. “I don’t see why not, but it’s risky. A lot could have gone wrong and Millie could have ended up in very deep water. Are you happy to take that risk, even in this febrile atmosphere at West Porton?” JR raised his eyebrows.

“Yes. I am.”

“Well, we’ve still got the Anson; but I fear it’s in a few pieces at the moment. Might have it ready for Friday.”

“That’s too late. Can you do Wednesday?”

JR shook his head. “Not Wednesday. Station Commander’s annual inspection. No flying. We’ll be standing by our beds saluting. I dare say we could encourage the engineers to have it ready for Thursday, though. Best I can do.”

“There are no other options over there?”

“Not really. We have a Beverley destined for the scrap heap, but it’s a team effort to get that airborne and not quite the discretion you’re looking for. The Twin Pioneer’s dead, and I can’t see it being resurrected this month. No, sorry, it’s the Anson or bust, and they’ll need tomorrow at the very least to get it back together. So with the inspection on Wednesday, Thursday’s the best I can do.”

“It’s fine, JR. Incredibly kind of you, actually.”

“So. How will this work?”

Rob puffed out a breath. “I haven’t got that far yet. I’ll have to call in sick. I can’t think of anything else that would excuse me for the day.”

JR nodded. “OK. But you live in the middle of a married quarter patch, surrounded by TFU officers. Won’t they see you?”

“I hadn’t really thought of that.”

“And the main gate? Lots of eyes as the cars crawl through at that time in the morning.”

Rob sagged in his seat. “As I say, I hadn’t really thought it through.”

JR drummed his fingers on his thigh for a moment before sitting up. “We can do this. How about I pick you up? You drive that red Healey don’t you?”

“Yes.”

“Far too conspicuous. Nestle into the passenger seat of my old banger. I’ll come and get you. Let’s choose somewhere you can walk to, away from the patch. How about that shop on Church Street? Do you know it?”

“The newsagents? Yes.”

“I’ll scoop you up, drive you onto the station and around to 206. Your Healey can stay in front of your house. It’s not perfect, but it’s better.”

“Thank you, JR. You really are a different breed across that side of the airfield.”

“Chap, when you’ve delivered thousand pounders to a heavily defended Berlin a dozen times, the odd clandestine trip around here doesn’t seem so bad.”

Rob stood up and held out a hand. “I don’t know what to say.”

“I’m looking forward to it. Nice for an old warhorse to be on operations again.”

AS ROB SWITCHED off the car lights in the driveway, he noticed a vehicle parked across the road with a man sat at the wheel.

He stared in his wing mirror but couldn’t make out any features; just the outline of a figure.

As he locked the Healey, a terrible thought occurred.

He was being watched.

Had they followed him everywhere?

Or was this man with Susie? Protecting her? Monitoring him?

He stood by his car, unsure what to do.

If it was West Porton security, he was done for, surely?

“Bugger this.”

He marched across the road.

As he approached the car, the man turned toward him and looked alarmed.

He wound down the window.

“Can I help you?” Rob said.

The man stared, mouth open, apparently at a loss.

“Who are you?” Rob said.

“I’m Derek Laverstock. We met at church a few times. My wife knows your wife.”

“What are you doing here, Mr Laverstock? Are you watching me?”

Laverstock shifted in his seat.

“I think you need to speak to your wife.”

Rob looked back at the house and then back to Laverstock. “What’s going on?”

“Just speak to Mary, Mr May.”

Rob slowly turned and walked back to their married quarter.

He found Mary exactly where he’d left her, on the sofa.

“What’s going on, Mary? Why is a man called Derek Laverstock outside watching us?”

Mary stared at him for a moment and then said, “What’s her name?”

“Whose name?”

Mary’s face creased up into tears. She dabbed her eyes with a tissue.

Rob took a seat opposite her in the armchair.

“Oh, Mary. No. It’s not what you think—”

“Really? You lied to me, Rob. You lied tonight, didn’t you? I called the mess. There was no meeting to plan the wake.”

“No, there wasn’t. But it’s not what it looks like.”

“You lied on Tuesday night as well, didn’t you? You weren’t at the mess then. You stood in our kitchen and looked me in the eye and you lied. You lied to me.”

Her voice trembled.

He stood up.

“Keep away from me.”

“Mary, you’ve got it wrong—”

“No, Rob, I haven’t.” Her voice settled. Now she sounded steady, defiant. “They saw you. You’ve been caught. Janet and Derek from church saw you last week in a pub with her. Just the two of you. Janet thought it might be innocent, but she saw you kissing.” She began to sob. “For Christ’s sake, Rob. Just down the road from us, for everyone to see? And just when… just when I thought you were back. Back in our relationship. But you’ve betrayed me in the worst possible way.”

“No, Mary, no. That’s not right. It’s not what you think.”

As he stepped back from her, he noticed a suitcase by the front door.

“For Christ’s sake, Mary, you’re not going to leave, are you? You haven’t even heard what I’ve got to say. She isn’t a lover. She’s helping me. The kiss was a cover. It’s how she operates.”

Mary stood up and snorted her contempt.

“Helping you? With what?”

“The box. She stole it.”

“It’s her? The CND woman? Bloody hell Rob, have you lost your mind?”

“She’s not CND. She’s working against them. She’s helping me now. She works for…” He hesitated. If Mary was determined to leave, what if she told the Laverstocks? What if they told someone else and it got back to Kilton?

“I’m waiting, Rob.”

“Look, I can’t say too much and you mustn’t say anything to anyone. But Mary, please trust me. Please.”

Mary glared at him. “How old is she? Twenty? You expect me to believe a bloody twenty-year-old girl is somehow helping you? And by the way, you don’t tell me anything anyway, Rob. Not one thing and now…” She sobbed harder. “And now you’re telling this twenty-year-old everything?”

Rob knelt down in front of her. “I don’t know what to say, Mary. I know it looks bad, and I can see how that’s hurt you. But please believe me. I haven’t told you to protect you—”

She stared at him. “I’m hurt, Rob. You’ve betrayed me. But even before this, I was unhappy. I don’t suppose you noticed, because you were never here, but things haven’t been right for a long time. I thought you’d changed after the crash, but all you’ve done is create another life that doesn’t involve me.”

She walked to the front door and placed a hand on the suitcase.

“It’s time to reap what you’ve sown, Rob. You had your chance to involve me, you chose someone else.”

“Mary, no. You’ve got this wrong. She’s helpful to me and I need help at the moment. It will be done this week, I promise, and then I’ll be back. I’ll never see Susie again, I promise.”

Mary’s face changed. The hand holding the suitcase was shaking.

“‘Susie’. How lovely. I hope you and that little slut will be very happy together. How could you, Rob? How could she? Does she know what she’s done?”

He moved toward her; she flinched and took a step back.

He was crying now. “Please don’t back away. I’m not going to hurt you. Don’t leave me. I love you, Mary.”

She opened the door. This time Rob held back.

“You know what hurts the most, Rob? That’s the first time you’ve told me you loved me in two months. Something happened to you when you joined this place. First you dumped Millie and now you’ve dumped me.”

“That’s not fair. You don’t know what you’re saying.”

“I don’t know anything, remember? Perhaps I should ask Susie what my husband’s thinking.”

Before he could respond, Mary disappeared into the night. He watched through the small window next to the front door as she walked to Laverstock’s car. She pushed her suitcase onto the back seat and climbed into the front passenger side and held her head in her hands.

As he pulled away, Laverstock glanced back towards him.