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

looked into it. We don’t want to waste precious time in the air. I only got two tapes done this time.”

Rob sighed. “Fine. Can you speak to engineering?”

“I am still the project leader, Rob. It’s my responsibility to ensure we get the hours flown as well.”

“Yes. Of course, Millie. Sorry, old boy. It’s just you know how Kilton is about this. He’s worried.”

“He’s always worried.”

Millie headed off to engineering. He looked at his watch and stopped.

He would report the defect later in the day. That should take the aircraft out of action tomorrow morning.

16

Wednesday 22nd June

Millie smiled when he saw the annotation U/S appear next to Vulcan XH441 on the admin board. The jet was unserviceable while they looked at the tape recorder.

It wasn’t much, especially as Rob and Red were headed up north to ferry back the new Vulcan. But it all helped to stall the project’s completion while Belkin ran the comparison figures.

Millie busied himself with unrelated paperwork. Kilton appeared by his side.

“Shouldn’t you be flying?”

“Jet’s on the blink. Engineering are looking at her now.”

Kilton grunted but didn’t pursue the issue.

After lunch, a gleaming white Vulcan sat on the apron.

“Are any of these left on the squadrons?” asked a passing pilot. “Or has TFU commandeered them all?”

Millie shrugged. Adding a second Vulcan to the TFU fleet was a sign of the project’s importance. And Kilton’s growing influence.

Rob appeared from Kilton’s office, still in flying coveralls. He marched directly up to Millie.

“What happened with the tape recorder? Why wasn’t it fixed yesterday?”

“I’m not sure, Rob. I guess they’re busy.”

“Didn’t you tell them this is top priority?”

“I’m sorry, Rob, are you running this project now?”

“No, you’re supposed to be.”

“What the hell does that mean?”

Rob didn’t reply but moved off to the tea bar. Millie thought about following him, but Red appeared by his side.

“He’s just had to tell Kilton the new Vulcan needs a hundred-hour service before we can use her. So Kilton kicked him and he kicked you. Sorry, pal.”

“How long will the service take?”

“Tomorrow, apparently. They would do it this afternoon, but they’ve got to reinstall your tape recorder first.”

“Rob’s never spoken to me like that before.”

Red nodded. “He’s moving up the ladder now. Things getting more serious for him. He’ll adapt. Not everyone’s a cool cucumber like you, Millie.”

“I don’t feel cool, I can assure you. This whole thing, it just worries me.”

“What does?” Red asked.

Millie turned back to look at the American, and wondered how far he could go.

“What’s the bloody rush? When did we go from being careful and thorough to moving at such an indecent speed?”

Red patted him on the back. “I guess when anti-nuclear campaigners learn about the existence of our secret new system.”

17

Thursday 23rd June

By Thursday afternoon, both Vulcans were serviceable. Kilton watched from the apron as the men charged with Guiding Light trial flights walked out in two groups.

Millie strapped into the back of the older aircraft. In the rear bay of the new jet was Steve Bright. There was only one rear crew member in each; it was Kilton’s way of recreating the likely crewing situation in the next generation of military aircraft, now that the computer was doing most of the work.

It also allowed him to operate both at the same time.

They got airborne within a few minutes of each other. Millie’s aircraft, flown by Rob and Speedy, headed north to the Peak District. Red Brunson and Jock MacLeish headed west to the Brecon Beacons.

All Millie could think about was the sheer number of blank reels they would get through between them.

He had at least seen off the possibility of the final flight, with Stafford on board, taking place tomorrow.

But it had only been pushed to next week.

If Belkin came back with news of a serious flaw buried deep in the data, Millie would have just hours to make his move.

The Vulcan slammed into a pocket of air as they descended to low-level.

Reluctantly, Millie powered up the system and engaged the laser.

He began the first reel recording the height data.

The aircraft levelled out around one thousand feet and Millie felt a familiar jolt as the autopilot took over.

He scanned the orange numbers, rotating the dial to check all angles before bringing the readout back to the ‘1’ position, below and just ahead of the nose.

1,011 flickered over to 1,023 followed by a stream of numbers all within a few feet of each other.

After fifteen minutes, the ride became rougher. The land rose and dropped below them and the Vulcan fell in unison, causing Millie’s stomach to turn.

“Working perfectly!” Rob called over the intercom.

“Wonderful,” said Millie. “It’s all perfect. That must be why we’re not allowed below one thousand feet.”

Millie concentrated on not throwing up. Air-sickness had crept up on him in recent years, exacerbated by flying at low-level.

After ten more miles over the hills, Rob piped up again.

“How we doing? On to the second tape yet?”

“When reel one’s full, I’ll switch over. Not before, thank you.”

“OK, OK. Keep your hair on. I was just asking.”

“Just concentrate on your job and I’ll do mine.”

Rob didn’t reply.

Millie was well into the third tape before they climbed out of low-level and headed north of Manchester, giving the city a wide berth before turning south.

He poked the reels into the sleeves and marked them up. At least six more would have been consumed in the two flights.

As they shut down, Millie heard some low whispers between Speedy and Rob.

The pilots appeared down the ladder and Millie let Rob undo the hatch and lower the ladder down, all in silence.

Speedy and Rob walked off toward TFU, leaving Millie to follow twenty yards behind. Once in the planning room, Millie piled the freshly recorded tapes on his desk, along with the one extra blank he hadn’t used.

Rob appeared by his side.

“What was that about?”

“What?”

“You know very well what.”

Millie fixed him with a gaze. “And you very well know what I think—”

“No, Millie, I don’t know what you