The Final Flight James Blatch (e book reading free .TXT) 📖

far have we come in just a few days? All we can do is give this last push. You do your bit, I do mine.”

JR was up, carrying out the pre-flight walkaround.

“I can’t fly back with you,” she announced.

“What?”

“If I get arrested at West Porton, things will get messy very quickly and the boys back in Mayfair won’t be happy, not least because they don’t know I’m here. And right now, I need them on my side.”

They walked toward the aircraft.

Susie looked around the island. “There’s a ferry somewhere, Mrs Lazenby said.”

“We can drop you,” Rob said. “But I’d be reluctant to divert to another RAF station. How about Eastleigh at Southampton? It’s a civil aerodrome.”

“Really? That would be amazing.” She gave Rob’s arm a little rub.

They climbed on board. JR joined them, and took the diversion to Eastleigh in his stride.

Rob planned the route.

A few minutes later, with Susie in the front row of tatty seats, Rob as co-pilot, JR as captain, they fired up the Anson’s two engines. Once they warmed up, JR taxied beyond the official end of the runway to give them a little extra in the roll.

“I walked it while you were gone. It looks firm and dry enough for us to steal a little extra.”

JR stood on the brakes and brought the engines up to take-off power. As he released them, he worked to keep the Anson in the centre of the grass strip. The breeze was a little across, but also, helpfully, it was mainly over the wings, giving them some extra airspeed.

The needle crept up slowly; at one point, the right wing dipped as a wheel hit a rut, but JR kept her steady, and with the flattened area of grass just about to come to an end, he eased the yoke back and the silver aircraft swept over the craggy cliffs of Lundy and banked toward the mainland.

Once they were established on the first leg, Rob considered unstrapping and talking to Susie. But was there anything left to say? She had made clear what his role was. She had her own task.

It was the end of their time together. It felt as if he’d known her for months, not days.

As they got closer to Southampton, JR called ATC and explained they had no flight plan or booking, but could they carry out a practice diversion with full stop.

The tower agreed.

On the ground, they were marshalled into an area close to the new passenger terminal. Susie disembarked and Rob stood in the doorway, ready to pull the steps back in.

“You’ll be fine on your own,” said Susie. She paused for a moment and took his hand. “I have great faith in you, Robert May. Millie would have been proud of what you’ve achieved in the last forty-eight hours. You’ve picked up his torch, Rob.”

“God, it’s his funeral tomorrow,” Rob said.

“A lot’s going to happen between now and then. Good luck, Flight Lieutenant May.”

“Thank you. I’ll be listening for the sound of the cavalry charge from MI5.”

She smiled at him. “I told you, it’s passé to use that name.”

Susie stepped off the aircraft. Rob watched her walk toward the terminal. Would he ever see this enigmatic and beautiful woman again?

He withdrew back into the aircraft, feeling vulnerable and alone.

Minutes later, they had the wide, long Eastleigh runway in front of them. Rob asked JR if he could fly, believing it might be the distraction he needed.

He advanced the throttles, and at seventy-five knots, he eased the old aircraft into the air.

West Porton was mere minutes away and soon after they reached five thousand feet, JR called them up.

“Shorthand one-three, you are cleared to land. Please taxi immediately to TFU apron.”

JR acknowledged and gave Rob a sympathetic look.

“JR, tell them you know nothing. I asked for the flights, telling you it was official TFU business, and you simply flew us where I requested.”

JR laughed. “They’ll never believe me, but I like your optimism.”

Rob could only admire JR and his laid-back approach to impending doom. He saw the same twinkle in his eyes that he’d seen so often with Millie.

Rob descended and joined downwind, trying to minimise the time between now and whatever would greet them on the ground. He just wanted it over with.

The Anson flew over the West Porton double perimeter fence; he glanced out of his window. A collection of police vehicles were parked on the apron, with men standing beside them.

He looked ahead and brought the aircraft down onto the runway, knowing that whatever happened, this would be his final flight as an RAF pilot.

I’m not even thirty years old.

He turned onto the taxiway and brought the aircraft parallel to TFU before turning in. The official reception would happen in clear view of the planning room.

JR helped him shut the aircraft down. They unstrapped and looked at each other.

“Let’s do this together,” JR said. They both left the cockpit. Rob opened the door and JR folded the stairs out.

Standing in front of them were four uniformed security force officers, one of whom Rob recognised as the man who interviewed him, Hoskins. He stepped forward.

“Flight Lieutenant Robert May, I am placing you under arrest on suspicion of disobeying direct orders, the unauthorised use of RAF equipment, and breaching the Official Secrets Act. Do you understand?”

He looked beyond the men in front of him and saw Kilton, lurking in the gloom of the doorway to TFU. Squinting, he could just about make out some faces staring from the planning room.

He looked back at the squadron leader who had announced his arrest.

“I have urgent information about a TFU project—”

“There’ll be time for that later.” Hoskins turned to one of the other uniformed men. “Sergeant, please take the flight lieutenant to the station.”

As the sergeant stepped forward, the senior officer turned to JR. “We’re arresting you on suspicion of aiding and abetting.”

JR shrugged.

They ushered Rob into the back of a car by himself and drove from the apron. He looked across at TFU to see