The Final Flight

²⁹ TUESDAY 5TH JULY

“You’re planning what?” Roger asked.

“It’s the best way,” said Susie. “He retraces Milford’s steps. There’s a limited number of places he could have got to from an aeroplane on the Tarmac at Abingdon.”

“This is irregular. You’re supposed to be keeping it low-key. You know they’re jumpy about this. I can’t see them going for it.”

“Well, your job is to persuade them, Roger. There’s something rotten here. Milford got the evidence before he was killed. We just need to identify who he was working with and the whole thing’s blown open.”

“Blowing the whole thing open is precisely what they’re trying to avoid, Susie.”

“Even if there’s corruption at the centre of a UK arms project?”

“Obviously not. If that’s the case, then bring it in, but you’ll need irrefutable, solid evidence. Nothing less will do.”

“We’ll get it, if we retrace Milford’s steps.”

She heard shuffling at the other end of the line and then a muffled conversation. Roger must have his hand over the phone.

Eventually he came back on. “I’ll ask. That’s the best I can do. But don’t expect them to say yes. When exactly are you planning this little jaunt?”

“Tomorrow, hopefully.”

“Bloody hell. You are a firecracker.”

TFU WAS the last place Rob wanted to be.

He pulled over while they searched his car. Guards shuffled around the Austin Healey.

Sleep had come to him eventually, in the early hours. But it was fitful and he ached with exhaustion.

“You can go, sir.”

He sat motionless in the driver’s seat, staring ahead.

“Sir!”

At TFU it was business as usual. Pilots and air crew hunched over charts and flight planning paperwork.

Men in orange vests and light blue coveralls heading out to shiny jets.

“Hey, Buddy. Wales OK?”

Red held a chart in front of him. He’d drawn a familiar line through the central valleys to Aberystwyth.

“Fine.” Rob turned away.

“Don’t be too enthusiastic,” Red called after him. “It might catch on.”

Like a robot, he pulled on his coveralls, dressed for the Vulcan and headed out.

He was co-pilot for the trip, which suited him.

At the aircraft, he waited for a member of the ground crew to open the hatch. While he did so, Rob walked around, pausing at the glass-covered laser mounted under the nose. He peered in at the swivel head, noticing for the first time an intricate series of small mirrors set inside the mechanism. A delicate system that decided their fate.

Arriving back at the hatch, he climbed in. Red strapped into the left hand seat, the mirrored visor on his USAF helmet and oxygen mask giving him the look of an illustration on the front cover of an Isaac Asimov novel.

He pulled the mask away to speak.

“All good?”

“Sorry?”

“The walkaround, Rob. All good?”

“Oh, yes.”

Red’s stare lingered. “You OK?”

Rob pulled on his straps. “Yes. Let’s get going.”

“OK, then.”

Rob busied himself with procedure: checklists, radio calls, liaison with Berringer in the rear bay.

Brunson got them airborne and put the Vulcan into a smooth ascending turn to the west.

By the time they’d let down over the borders, Rob had taken the controls, glad of the distraction.

As they handed the jet over to Guiding Light, he monitored the ground ahead, noting every approaching rise and fall of the green and brown landscape.

Ready to disengage.

If something went wrong now, even at the relative safety of one thousand feet, it would save a lot of trouble. With testimony from Brunson and the others, that would surely prompt a stay of execution for the project.

But the equipment performed flawlessly, and they climbed out over the Rheidol estuary.

Rob banked the jet one hundred and eighty degrees and Brunson took over for the transit home.

Another forty minutes low-level ticked off. Another step toward the United Kingdom presenting the United States with a system to beat the Soviets and maybe even end the Cold War.

ROB FLEW a repeat of the track in the afternoon. This time Red supervised the low-level and he handled the transits.

At 4.45PM he walked the completed reels over to the safe, returned to his car and drove home.

He called the operator, who put him through to the Laverstock’s.

“Hello?” Derek’s voice.

“It’s Flight Lieutenant May. Can I speak to my wife, please.”

There was a pause.

“Mr May?” Janet Laverstock’s voice came on the line.

“Yes. Can I speak to my wife, please?”

“She’s resting.”

“Can you tell her I’m on the line? She’s my wife.”

“I’m sorry, she’s had a very difficult day and I don’t want to wake her. I’ll tell her you called and if she wants to speak, she will call you back.”

“Excuse me, Mrs Laverstock—”

The line went dead.

He kicked the telephone table; it collapsed to the ground, taking the phone with it.

FOR A CHANGE of scenery and because of the outside chance she was being watched, Susie walked all the way across Salisbury and found a different phone box for her afternoon call.

The greeting with Roger was more perfunctory than normal. He wasted no time in passing on the bad news.

“Sorry, my dear. They just can’t have an agent involved in such a flagrant breach of rules and with such flimsy evidence. Well. No evidence, in fact.”

“For Christ’s sake, Roger. Did you even try?”

“Of course I did. You know me, I can be very persuasive.”

“I want to talk to them myself.”

“Why? They’ve given their answer.”

She should have gone back to London to present the case herself.

“Damn it, Roger. This is bloody ridiculous. We’re onto something.”

“You could have gone to Oxford to sniff about. But instead you’ve dragged this poor pilot into it. You weren’t even supposed to contact him and yet, here we are.”

“The answer’s most likely at RAF Abingdon. He can get in. I can’t get in.”

“Well, it’s academic now. They want you here tomorrow to debrief.”

“Tomorrow?”

“It is a Wednesday, my dear. Sorry, did you have plans? Oh, that’s right, you were going to commandeer one of Her Majesty’s aircraft. Maybe you could fly home?”

She slammed the phone down and closed her eyes, struggling not to scream.

Outside the phone box, a waiting young woman gave her a startled look. Susie pushed the door open.

“Men!”

She brushed past and walked along the river toward the meeting place with Rob. She was early. A few ducks swam hopefully toward her as she took a seat on a bench facing the river. “You’re out of luck,” she said to them. “If it helps, you’re not alone.”

For ten minutes, she watched the world walk by, trying her best to calm down.

But she was angry. Undermined.

Worst of all, she knew they were wrong.

She checked her watch and walked along to The Old Mill Hotel.

Inside the low-ceilinged building, she asked for two teas and found a table outside, overlooking the mill pond.

Rob appeared along the river path from Salisbury.

He looked terrible.

“You OK?” she asked.

He shook his head, looking as if he was about to cry.

“Christ.” She stood up and led him away from the hotel.

“What’s happened?”

“Mary left me.”

“What?”

“We were spotted, you and me. Some busybody from the church. Mary waited up for me last night. I think she’d spent the evening stewing, getting herself all worked up about it, and of course I was out with you.”

“God, I’m sorry, Rob.”

“What do I do?” He stopped walking and faced her. “You can fix this. You can tell her.”

“Haven’t you told her?”

“I said you were helping me, but she didn’t believe me.”

“Then what do you want me to say?

“Can’t you fix it?”

“I’m not a marriage counsellor, Rob.”

His face fell.

“Please talk to her for me.” He sounded pitiful, in actual pain. “I don’t think I can go on Thursday unless she’s back.”

“Thursday?”

“We can’t go tomorrow. Has to be Thursday.”

“Shit.”

“Is that a problem? Maybe we should call it off?”

She studied him. “Let’s sit down.” She walked him over to the bench.

“You’ve changed your tune, Rob. Is this because Mary’s left you, or has something else happened?”

Rob looked across the river in the direction of the cathedral. The ducks fidgeted about in the water, diving for scraps. In the distance, the cathedral clock rang for 6PM.

“It just hit home today. At TFU, it’s just me. Everyone else is just carrying on as normal. Maybe I’m wrong. Is it worth it, Susie? Is it worth my marriage?”

“Rob, you’re the only one left because the others are dead. Or sent to the gulags by Kilton.”

He chewed a nail. Susie noted the dark bags under his eyes. It reminded her of those images of Battle of Britain pilots smoking after a flight; drained of energy and ageing by the minute.

“So many things can go wrong on Thursday, Susie. It could ruin everything and achieve nothing. And where would that leave me with Mary? I could be out of the RAF or worse.” He gave her that forlorn look again. “What if Mary never comes back?”

“And what if you don’t go? You stay and sign off the project and it goes into production with the same flaw that killed Millie. Can you live with that? You know Mark Kilton’s done his sums. He’s not an idiot. He knows people will die while this thing enters service. Even now, he’s probably planning how TFU will be involved in the inquiries, quick to rule out the secret technology and blame the crews. We’ve already seen it with Millie. That crash should have been the end of the project, but if anything, it’s emboldened him. It’s shown him he can get away with the worst case scenario. And you’re right. You’re alone now. Millie’s gone. It’s down to you.” She looked up at the sky and sighed. “We all have to make choices in life, Rob. As a matter of fact, I’m in a similar position.”

He gave her a quizzical look.

“I wasn’t going to tell you this, but the Service doesn’t want us to go ahead with the flight. In fact, I’ve been recalled.”

“So we can’t go, anyway?”

“I didn’t say that. I was never going on the flight. So that’s still a matter for you.”

“But you wouldn’t be there to help me.”

“I didn’t say that, either. But I’m not staying around if you’re half-hearted about it.”

She let the statement hang in the air for a minute.

The ducks appeared to have lost hope on being fed and paddled off downstream.

“It’s easy for me to walk away,” said Susie. She tapped his shoulders. “But there’s a lot of weight on there. I’m not sure there’s any other way of shifting it.”

She looked at her watch. “Look, do one more thing for me, before you make your final decision.”

She pulled out her notepad and flicked through the pages of shorthand, before settling on a couple of scribbled lines. Tearing off a fresh sheet, she used a ballpoint pen to translate it.

73 Sunrise Avenue

Totton

“What will I find here?” Rob asked.

“A reminder why we’re doing this.”

THE A36 WAS QUIET. Rob pushed down on the accelerator and opened up the Healey, braking heavily as he came to a series of bends on the outskirts of Totton.

It took him several minutes to find Sunrise Avenue.

He crawled along the road, peering out of the passenger window at the odd numbers. 31, 33…

He gently sped up. 57, 59…

He glanced forward and stared at Millie’s car.

Climbing out, he let his hands brush across the distinctive fins on the burgundy Rover.

He recalled the occasions he’d been in the passenger seat. The thing rolled around corners like a boat. Not great with a belly full of beer.

A door opened to his left. Georgina stood in the entrance of a small bungalow with an overgrown front garden. She wore a red pattern dress. Even among the shabbiness of her new home, she looked wonderful.

Tears welled in his eyes as he made his way up the path, stepping over long discarded children’s toys.

“Hello, stranger,” she said. They embraced.

She pulled back. “It’s lovely to see you, dear Robert. But as I’m on the naughty list, I’m guessing this isn’t a sympathy visit.”

“Can we have a chat?”

She led him through to the garden. The interior of the house was in dire need of repairs. Peeling wallpaper and wonky radiators. He glanced into the kitchen as they passed and saw a small, two-ring cooker.

Charlie sat at the kitchen table nursing a mug of something.

The teenager sprang to his feet and beamed.

“Hello, Mr May.”

“Please call me Rob. How are you?”

“Not great, to be frank with you.”

“And that’s OK, Charlie. It’s OK not to be OK.”

Charlie’s eyes were warm as he looked at Rob. “Thank you.”

“Look, when this is all over, why don’t you and I spend some time together? I can tell you a bit about your father at work. Maybe a few stories he’d hope you didn’t hear.”

Charlie smiled. “I’d love that so much. Thank you.”

Rob followed Georgina out into the garden where he was offered a cheap plastic chair. Georgina sat on a wooden stool.

The fence at the back of the garden leaned forward, having been attacked by unkempt undergrowth on the far side.

“It’s not ours,” Georgina said. “It’s my brother-in-law’s. He rented it out, but the last family left it in rather a state. I think he’s hoping Charlie and I will help do it up in return for a little rent-free stay.”

“They just threw you out of the married quarter?”

“They said it was a crime scene. Can you believe that?”

Rob shook his head.

“They told me while the investigation took place, everything was on hold. Including the pension.”

“How are you for money?” Rob asked. Georgina gave him a look that said it all.

“It’s hard enough for me, but it’s been terrible for Charlie. Can you imagine what he’s thinking? He adored his father. He was his hero. But now? I hate that he thinks Millie could have done anything wrong.” She dabbed her eyes with a hanky.

“He did nothing wrong, Georgina. But it’s… complicated.” He waited for her to recover herself. “Can I ask you some questions? Do you remember that Saturday when Millie went to Oxford to see Charlie and we went shopping?”

“I do. And I know he didn’t go. I suspected as much, but knew better than to ask. It’s funny, after he died I didn’t think so much about the conversations we had. I thought more about the ones we didn’t have. I barely knew anything about his work these last few years. It must be hard to hide so much. Damn Kilton and his vale of absolute secrecy.”

“So, you didn’t ask him anything?”

“No. I let it go, like so much. Charlie told me you asked him, though. I didn’t know what to say. Do you know where he went?”

“Not exactly, no. Was there anything odd about him, leading up to the crash?”

She thought for a bit and looked off in to the distance. “There was something off, I could sense it. In fact, I thought it was about you.”

“Me?”

She smiled. “He loved you, Rob. Loved having you around. You made him feel young. He was so pleased you’d picked him out as a friend, when you had all those glamorous flyers queuing up to rub shoulders with.

“But then, something changed. You drifted away, which was fine of course. Understandable. Ultimately, I think he understood it. He was good like that. A man without ego. But for a few weeks, it was hard.”

Rob tightened his hand around the thin plastic arm of the chair.

Georgina tilted her head. “Oh, darling, he still loved you and you were still friends, weren’t you?”

“I wasn’t a friend when he needed me.”

Georgina handed him a tissue.

“I have plenty of these!”

Rob took a moment to steady himself.

“Was there anything else, Georgina? Just something he may have mentioned in passing that sounded odd?”

Georgina put her hand to her chin and stroked it for a moment before shaking her head. “I can’t think of anything. I mean, he was wrestling with some maths problem at one point, but I can’t see that’s got anything to do with anything.”

“Maths? Tell me exactly what he said.”

“Well, I don’t remember much. He just said he had a maths problem. We laughed a bit about Charlie having all the maths brains in the family.”

Rob stood up and took a few steps around the area of grass that had been cut enough for a couple of chairs and a table. “But he didn’t ask Charlie? Unless Charlie was lying. Maybe he asked Charlie to lie?”

“I’m sure he would have told me by now, but let’s ask him. Charlie!”

He appeared at the back door.

Rob faced him. “Charlie, do you remember our conversation at your mother’s?”

“About me seeing Dad in Oxford?”

“Yes. I want to check that you’re not covering up for him. That he didn’t ask you not to say anything. I promise you I’m on his side. I’m not here for TFU or the police. I’m here to clear his name.”

Charlie shook his head. “I would tell you, Mr May, I promise. But I never saw him. God, I wish I had. But he didn’t visit me.”

“Or call you?”

“No. Nothing. I last saw Daddy at Easter.”

“Thank you, Charlie.”

“Will you clear his name?” Charlie asked, glancing across to his mother.

“I’m doing everything I can, I promise.”

Georgina stood up. “We’re so alone here, Rob. This means everything to us. Thank you.”

She showed him to the front door.

“God, I miss Mary. How is that gorgeous wife of yours?”

“She’s fine.”

“Well, send her my love from Siberia.”

Rob smiled. “We’ll see you on Friday. After that, you won’t be able to get rid of us.”