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

the flight from the co-pilot’s seat, not the rear bay. They’ve gone for it. Kilton will be at the navigator radar station. The second element is this.”

He picked up Brunson’s helmet.

“The mirrored visor,” Rob said.

“Correct. With the oxygen mask, it could be anyone under there. Brunson thinks Stafford would be unlikely to spot the difference.”

“But what about everything else? What about before the flight? Walking out together, the brief?”

“Red will use the fact that Kilton wants him to fly the Vulcan alone as an excuse to get in the cockpit early.” Durrant looked across at his colleagues. “Now, there is some choreography to carry out on the apron. Basically, swapping you and Red over. But we managed to smuggle you from the mess, so who knows? It might even work.”

“And if it doesn’t work? When I get back they’ll arrest Red. And you lot.”

“Then it’d better work,” Durrant said, with a flash of a smile.

Rob looked uncertain.

“Look, on the ground, every officer at TFU will back you up. The idea is to give Kilton a chance to personally reverse his decision about Guiding Light. He’s not a man to be overruled, but he should see the way out of the mess.” The man shrugged. “It’s all they could come up with. Red doesn’t know enough to persuade him.”

Rob stared at the chart, the brief for the trip, and Red’s flying equipment.

“Will I see Red beforehand?”

“Not for long. He’s created an additional checklist for you.” Durrant shuffled through some papers and handed Rob a handwritten list.

It included four circuit breakers with instructions to open them before he took his seat and a small power switch to locate on the rear Guiding Light panel. The function of the breakers and switch wasn’t clear, but it was obvious that the whole operation had been thought through.

He finished studying the list and looked up; the room was silent.

Durrant looked at him. “You don’t have to do this if you don’t want to, Rob. No-one will judge you here.”

“Thank you, Ted. But it would be out of character for me this week not to do something very stupid indeed.”

Durrant nodded with a smile. “Well, just make sure you come back. Either you’ll get your point across or you won’t. There’s no point in taking unnecessary risks.”

“What about my voice? Won’t that be a giveaway?”

“Only speak via the intercom and make it monosyllabic. The intercom makes everyone sound the same. Hopefully. I’d get airborne quickly. Once you’re up, you can reveal yourself, I guess. Not much they can do about it then.”

Rob looked at the sheet and notes; it was not a complex flight. The lines on the chart were mainly for show, as Red had written VFR—Visual Flight Rules—next to the flight description. Basically, go out west, drop to one thousand feet, briefly hand over control to Guiding Light, let the passengers see it working, then return.

Not a thorough test; just a pleasure flight for Stafford before he gets his sign-off.

“We have forty minutes. Rob, you need to get into Red’s coveralls.”

In the Maintenance Unit Land Rover, Rob was starting to overheat; Brunson’s flight suit was thick. As a precaution they’d decided he should have the helmet on with the visor down at all times.

He sat on a tin shelf under the canvas as the vehicle sped along the peritrack. Two MU pilots came along with him, including Durrant in the passenger seat up front. They both looked about Millie’s age.

After he’d first signed up, it was easy to get bored with the war stories from the veterans in the crew room, but now, in an old military vehicle, driving around a former World War Two dispersal airfield, about to climb into an aircraft with an unknown outcome, he felt he had a small glimpse of their once daily routine.

Eventually, they came to a stop.

The canvas at the back parted and Durrant’s face appeared.

“OK, we’re in position.” He looked at Rob. “When Red gets around this side of the jet, he jumps in and you jump out. Got it?”

Rob tried to nod, but the helmet moved slightly over the leather inner. Would it give him problems in flight?

They waited. After a few minutes, Durrant spoke again. “He’s on his way.”

Rob shuffled to the back of the wagon, waiting for his cue.

His heart was beating fast, but time slowed down.

“Come on,” he urged Red Brunson under his breath.

The canvas parted, and there he was. The tall American climbed in.

“Are you ready for this, buddy?”

Rob raised the visor and met Red’s intense gaze.

“Yes.”

“Make your case, convince them, scare them even. But don’t do anything stupid, OK? We need you back here in one piece. We’ll back you up, every one of us.”

“Really?”

“Everyone, buddy. Now listen, in case Kilton tries to override, I’ve added some steps to the checklist—”

“The circuit breakers?” Rob interrupted.

Brunson smiled. “Yep. Flip those breakers and only the captain’s side panel will work. No-one else will be able to engage or cancel.”

“They’re coming.” Ted Durrant spoke with urgency from the front seat.

Brunson looked back at Rob, eyes wide. “He still might try something. Your number one responsibility to me, Mary and everyone else is to stay safe. You understand, Rob?”

Rob dropped the visor and jumped out of the back, clutching his checklist and air chart.

He looked across. The short and stout Ewan Stafford waddled around in oversized flying coveralls, looking like a sack of potatoes. He and Kilton posed for a photograph by the TFU door. They were a couple of hundred yards away, which gave him just a minute or so.

The Vulcan stood proud on its landing gear; Rob ducked and walked underneath to the yellow crew ladder.

Once in the rear crew bay, he searched his paperwork for the additional checklist steps from Red, and located a small fuse block on the left side of the panels. He tried to open the fuse marked ‘7a’.

It wouldn’t budge. He lifted his visor to get a clear view.

The fuse case was flush with the