The Final Flight James Blatch (e book reading free .TXT) đ
- Author: James Blatch
Book online «The Final Flight James Blatch (e book reading free .TXT) đ». Author James Blatch
âIâm waiting, Rob.â
âLook, I canât say too much and you mustnât say anything to anyone. But Mary, please trust me. Please.â
Mary glared at him. âHow old is she? Twenty? You expect me to believe a bloody twenty-year-old girl is somehow helping you? And by the way, you donât tell me anything anyway, Rob. Not one thing and nowâŠâ She sobbed harder. âAnd now youâre telling this twenty-year-old everything?â
Rob knelt down in front of her. âI donât know what to say, Mary. I know it looks bad, and I can see how thatâs hurt you. But please believe me. I havenât told you to protect youââ
She stared at him. âIâm hurt, Rob. Youâve betrayed me. But even before this, I was unhappy. I donât suppose you noticed, because you were never here, but things havenât been right for a long time. I thought youâd changed after the crash, but all youâve done is create another life that doesnât involve me.â
She walked to the front door and placed a hand on the suitcase.
âItâs time to reap what youâve sown, Rob. You had your chance to involve me, you chose someone else.â
âMary, no. Youâve got this wrong. Sheâs helpful to me and I need help at the moment. It will be done this week, I promise, and then Iâll be back. Iâll never see Susie again, I promise.â
Maryâs face changed. The hand holding the suitcase was shaking.
ââSusieâ. 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 sheâs done?â
He moved toward her; she flinched and took a step back.
He was crying now. âPlease donât back away. Iâm not going to hurt you. Donât leave me. I love you, Mary.â
She opened the door. This time Rob held back.
âYou know what hurts the most, Rob? Thatâs the first time youâve told me you loved me in two months. Something happened to you when you joined this place. First you dumped Millie and now youâve dumped me.â
âThatâs not fair. You donât know what youâre saying.â
âI donât know anything, remember? Perhaps I should ask Susie what my husbandâs thinking.â
Before he could respond, Mary disappeared into the night. He watched through the small window next to the front door as she walked to Laverstockâs 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.
29
Tuesday 5th July
âYouâre planning what?â Roger asked.
âItâs the best way,â said Susie. âHe retraces Milfordâs steps. Thereâs a limited number of places he could have got to from an aeroplane on the Tarmac at Abingdon.â
âThis is irregular. Youâre supposed to be keeping it low-key. You know theyâre jumpy about this. I canât see them going for it.â
âWell, your job is to persuade them, Roger. Thereâs something rotten here. Milford got the evidence before he was killed. We just need to identify who he was working with and the whole thingâs blown open.â
âBlowing the whole thing open is precisely what theyâre trying to avoid, Susie.â
âEven if thereâs corruption at the centre of a UK arms project?â
âObviously not. If thatâs the case, then bring it in, but youâll need irrefutable, solid evidence. Nothing less will do.â
âWeâll get it, if we retrace Milfordâs steps.â
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. âIâll ask. Thatâs the best I can do. But donât expect them to say yes. When exactly are you planning this little jaunt?â
âTomorrow, hopefully.â
âBloody hell. You are a firecracker.â
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.
âYou can go, sir.â
He sat motionless in the driverâs seat, staring ahead.
âSir!â
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.
âHey, Buddy. Wales OK?â
Red held a chart in front of him. Heâd drawn a familiar line through the central valleys to Aberystwyth.
âFine.â Rob turned away.
âDonât be too enthusiastic,â Red called after him. âIt might catch on.â
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.
âAll good?â
âSorry?â
âThe walkaround, Rob. All good?â
âOh, yes.â
Redâs stare lingered. âYou OK?â
Rob pulled on his straps. âYes. Letâs get going.â
âOK, then.â
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 theyâd 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
Comments (0)