The Final Flight

by James Blatch

  “Is this about the new fence?” Mary asked.

  “Looks like it,” said Rob. “Security chaps have upped their game.”

  He turned to the women on the back seat.

  “This gives me time to debrief you on your dress selection procedure.”

  They laughed.

  “It’s a very inefficient process, if I may observe.”

  “Oh, is it, Mr Dress Expert?” said Mary.

  “Yes. You see, I watched you put on that dress, Mary. I made a note of the time. 11.02AM. I think it was the second dress you tried on. Do you know what you said when you tried it?”

  The car crawled further forward. Millie could see more clearly now; the officers were opening boots and back doors. One man had a torch.

  He could grab the cardboard sleeves containing the tapes and throw them into the bushes. But how could he? How would he explain it?

  “I didn’t know you paid that much attention, husband,” said Mary.

  Millie glanced at his rear-view mirror: smiles and laughing faces on the back seat.

  “I was paying very close attention,” said Rob, “mainly because I didn’t have my partner in crime here to distract me.”

  Millie tried to smile, but his heart was pounding.

  They crept forward again. The security men were now three cars ahead.

  Millie’s eyes urgently scanned the scene. How hard were they looking?

  If they found the reels, they would arrest him.

  In front of everyone.

  He cursed his stupidity at leaving them under the seat. He’d simply forgotten.

  “You said…” Rob waved his finger at the two women, who seemed to be enjoying the inquisition. “You said, ‘this is perfect’.” He shouted the word again. “Perfect.”

  A gap appeared as the car in front moved forward.

  He could pull out and drive home.

  He could claim he’d forgotten something.

  “And yet… you then tried on five more dresses. Five. Before, guess what? You bought the one you had tried on at 11.02. Two hours earlier. Because, and I quote, it was ‘perfect’.”

  The car in front stopped; the gap wasn’t big enough to get out cleanly. Millie willed it to move on, to give him space.

  “Of course,” said Georgina. “She tried on five more dresses. It’s an essential part of the process.”

  “Is it?” said Rob, with more than a hint of doubt in his voice.

  The vehicle in front was on the move again, but just as Millie prepared to pull out, a security man appeared and walked directly toward them.

  He felt his hands become slippery with sweat on the steering wheel.

  Rob settled down from his goading of the woman and put on a more serious expression.

  “Here comes the plod. I do hope you two paid for those dresses.”

  The officer leaned down and motioned for Millie to open the window.

  “Good evening. We need to search the car, please. Can you open the boot?”

  The women stifled giggles in the back.

  Millie could barely breathe. He nodded, afraid to talk in case it came out as a croak.

  He opened the door and stepped out, glancing back at the bottom of the passenger seat, where Rob sat inches away from stolen Top Secret information.

  As Millie got to the boot, he realised he didn’t have the keys and went back to the driver’s door.

  His hand shook as he reached in to the ignition.

  “You OK, Millie?” asked Rob.

  “Yes,” he replied, his voice just about holding.

  He opened the boot and the security man looked in at the spare tyre, jack and rusty foot-pump, before walking around to the far side of the Rover.

  The man arrived at Millie’s open driver’s door, glancing back at the long queue of traffic caused by the delays. He leant in to the car, where the women were still giggling.

  Millie took a step closer as the officer reached in and retrieved something from between the two seats.

  Millie froze as the officer backed out and turned the object over in his hands.

  It was Millie’s tatty AA road atlas.

  “There you are, sir. Sorry for the delay.” He handed the map book to Millie and moved quickly on to the car behind.

  After he’d climbed back in, Millie made deliberately slow movements to start the engine again, put it into gear and drive off.

  He could feel Rob watching him.

  “You look like you’ve seen a ghost.”

  “No. Just annoyed at all this palaver.”

  Rob nodded and turned back to face the road. “Yes, it’s silly. They’re getting their knickers in a twist about this peace camp. Paranoid that one of the hippies is going to get smuggled in, I suppose.”

  “Well, they’re just doing their jobs,” said Millie.

  “I think the peace bunnies add a touch of glamour to the place,” announced Mary in the back.

  “For god’s sake, don’t let Kilton hear you say that,” said Rob.

  Millie turned into the main gate and wound down the window; he had his identification form ready and handed it over for inspection.

  His hand was still shaking.

  The corporal glanced at the paper and lifted the barrier.

  They joined the throng in the large mess ante room. The furniture was pushed back against the walls with suited men and gowned women filling the space.

  A waiter arrived with a tray of glasses containing room temperature white wine.

  Millie enjoyed a long glug; he needed some fortification for the moment later when he would have to exit the RAF station.

  The women headed over to an open window; Millie and Rob followed.

  Red Brunson and his wife joined them.

  “Howdy folks! Anyone else enjoying the warm wine?” Brunson said.

  The group laughed. Georgina straightened her back; Millie realised she’d never been introduced.

  “Red, can I introduce my wife, Georgina? Georgina, this is Red and Sarah Brunson. Red’s on an exchange with us from Edwards Air Force base in California.”

  “California? Gosh, how glamorous,” she said while shaking both their hands.

  “Don’t get carried away,” Sarah Brunson said, “this ain’t the California The Beach Boys sing about. We’re a hundred miles from the coast in Nowhere USA. Salt flats and shacks. That’s Edwards.”

  “Well, it still sounds more glamorous than Salisbury.”

  “Honey, I could not wait to get out.” She looped her arm through Red’s. “Just had to buy the right ticket.”

  Millie wanted to enjoy himself, but he had a task to carry out first.

  As the group got into conversation, he removed his wristwatch and dropped it into his jacket pocket.

  Noticing the glasses were getting low, he tapped Rob on the shoulder.

  “Sortie to the bar?”

  Rob nodded and followed Millie through the crowd to replenish the drinks. Once at the bar, Millie pulled his sleeve up, revealing his bare wrist.

  “Feel naked without it.”

  “Your watch?”

  “Silly thing. I left it in the office. Would you mind if I fetched it?”

  Rob shrugged. “Fine. I’ll see you back with the girls.”

  Millie marched out of the mess, climbed into his car and drove toward the main guardroom. He parked a short distance away—not so close that it would attract any further attention from the police—and got out, locking it behind him.

  In the guardroom, he signed out the keys to TFU.

  The sergeant asked to see his identification, which Millie couldn’t remember happening before, but then he was in his civilian suit.

  With the keys secured, he got back into the Rover and drove through the centre of the station to the airfield fence.

  A security officer stood outside the open gate to the TFU car park.

  Christ, they’re everywhere.

  He drove in, with the security man watching him but making no attempt
to stop the vehicle.

  For the second time that evening, Millie found himself sweating. He quickly retrieved the five cardboard sleeves containing the reels and climbed out of the car.

  He didn’t look back, carrying the tapes in front of him as he marched up to the TFU front door.

  Inside, he went straight to his locker and placed the tapes under his day jumper. Moments later, he drove back down to the mess and rejoined the group, feeling significantly more relaxed.

  Georgina shot him a quizzical look.

  “Rob says you’ve been off to fetch your watch.”

  “Yes, dear. Left it in the office.”

  “Do be careful. It was your father’s.” She pulled up his left sleeve; it was bare.

  “Where is it, then?”

  He retrieved it from his pocket. “Here.”

  “Really. You are odd sometimes, Millington.”

  He found his wine and topped up the alcohol buzz.

  The Mays smiled and laughed with the Brunsons. Millie felt Georgina watching him.

  “What?”

  “Will you miss it?” she asked.

  “I don’t think so.”

  “Just think, we’ve stood in the corner at these events in Hong Kong, Nairobi, Singapore—”

  “Church Fenton.”

  “Ah, yes. Yorkshire. Not quite as exciting, but we’ve had some fun, haven’t we?”

  “Yes, we have. I’ll not forget the cannon battle in Tengah.”

  Georgina laughed out loud. “Oh, god. That was something. Didn’t one of them explode and hurt someone?”

  Millie laughed at the memory. “Rusty Brown. Set fire to his hair, as I recall. Quite exciting.”

  “Dear old Rusty. Where’s he now?”

  “Dead. Meteor ploughed in. Cyprus, I think.”

  They stood quietly for a moment.

  The Brunsons and Mays burst out laughing.

  “Getting on great guns,” Georgina said. “It’s their turn to have all that fun now.”

  “Lucky things.”

  Across the room, Mark Kilton stood next to Gilbert Periwinkle the station commander, chatting to a man with a gold chain around his neck and a small, plump wife. He supposed it was the mayor and mayoress, invited to keep the peace with the locals.

  Periwinkle looked uncomfortable, as he usually did. The man lacked charisma and authority. Probably the qualities Kilton looked for in his own commanding officer.

  The evening wore on. The Brunsons, Milfords and Mays stayed together, getting progressively more tipsy.

  “Now here’s a conspiratorial little group, if ever I saw one.”

  Kilton.

  “Hello, Mark. How are you?” Georgina leant over to kiss him on the cheek.

  “Now, Georgina, I need your help. Who do you think we should appoint as the new mess secretary?”

  “Well, someone you trust, as I assume you’re still president of the mess committee?”

  “Indeed I am. But I need a number two to do all the work.”

  “Well, don’t look at Millie, for goodness sake. He falls asleep in the evenings as it is.”

  “Yes, well, I believe this is beneath his dignity. How about you, May?”

  Rob straightened his back.

  “You think my husband’s undignified enough to do the job?” Mary asked, and the group laughed.

  “Yes,” Kilton replied and drained his wine.

  “I’d be honoured,” Rob said.

  “Well, I haven’t made my mind up yet, May. Just keep your powder dry and you might just make it.”

  Kilton moved off. Georgina raised her eyebrows at Millie and leaned over.

  “That man doesn’t do anything by accident. Looks like young Rob has caught his eye.”

  6

  Sunday 12th June

  The phone rang three times before Millie was properly awake.

  Georgina groaned.

  “What time is it?”

  Millie clambered out of bed.

  “Eight-thirty.”

  “Ugh.” Georgina rolled over and pulled a pillow over her head.

  Millie hurried downstairs and took the call.

  “Mr Milford, Leonard Belkin. I hope I haven’t called too early for you?”

  “No, no, that’s fine. I was getting up, anyway.”

  “Right, well I thought I might not catch you tomorrow. Would now be a good time to report?”

  “You’ve looked at the tape already?”

  “You’ll be pleased to know the tape has been read successfully.”

  “That’s marvellous, thank you.”

  “They had to transcribe it from binary, which took a while, but it’s something we can create a routine for in the future. However, we will need your help to identify what we found.”

  “Just height readings, I assumed?”

  “Not quite. Do you have a pen and paper? It’s rather a long list, I’m afraid.”

  Millie hurried upstairs and retrieved a large jotter pad from the spare bedroom. He paused before heading back down and looked at the open door to the main bedroom. He eased it shut.

  Back on the phone, he took down a long stream of numbers, none of which made any sense to him at first glance.

  Belkin passed on his notes from the computer technician. “We see twenty-nine separate groups of digits. They call them fields, for reasons I’m not clear about. The first field is made up of ten digits, the second field is fourteen digits, and the following twenty-seven are all smaller, just five digits.”

  “The’ll be the twenty-seven height readings.”

  “I thought as much. What about the first two sets of numbers? Young Strangways, the technician, insists we’ll need to understand their role if we are to find what you are looking for.”

  Millie looked at the numbers he’d scrawled across the pad. He’d only taken down one line of data so far. The ten-digit number was 0000127344, the fourteen-digit one was 15105550114922.

  He asked Belkin for more rows and wrote down nine more lines of the first two mysterious fields.

  The first field increased with each line, but the second number changed in what appeared to be a random order.

  “I’m afraid I just don’t know what the first two sets represent.”

  “Well, there’s no immediate rush, as we don’t have the rest of your tapes yet, but if you could have a think… I believe the routine we will create for you will take a day or two, so try to let us know what these mean a week before you deliver the remaining tapes. How does that sound?”

  “It sounds very good indeed. I’ll do my best, and thank you, Professor. Honestly, this is more than I could have hoped for.”

  “Very good, Mr Milford. I will await your next communication.”

  The professor hung up. It would look odd if he went into work on a Sunday, but he was desperate to get to the Guiding Light files and make a start on identifying the fields.

  He sat on the small bench by the phone, in his striped pyjamas.

  It would have to wait; he’d displayed enough unusual behaviour for one weekend.

  Millie and Georgina meandered through the married quarter patch into the village.

  Sunday church was more a habit than a rite, although Millie enjoyed the quiet moments of reflection the service offered.

  As they sang their way through hymn 233, Oh thou who camest from above, Millie cast his eyes around the busy congregation. Mary stood a few rows in front, in a blue cloche hat, with Rob presumably just beyond her, although a pillar obscured his view.

  He smiled at his women’s hat identification skills.

  Outside in the bright sunshine, Mille and Georgina waited for the Mays to appear. Eventually, the younger couple emerged, surrounded by a group of RAF colleagues. All smiles and handshakes.

  “They look like minor royalty,” Georgina said.

  At that moment, Mary caught his eye, and she and Rob walked toward them.

  “Who would like some lunch?” Millie asked.

  Rob grinned. �
��We were hoping you’d say that. We have dresses and hats in the house, but no food, apparently.”

  “Just the essentials then,” Georgina said.

  Back at the Milfords’ quarter, the women got busy in the kitchen while Millie took Rob through the firs to spy on the peace camp.

  “What do you think of the new fence?” asked Rob.

  The new structure was unmissable: four or five feet higher than the existing fence and topped with angry looking razor wire.

  “Appropriately nasty,” said Millie. “Do you think it’s there to keep them out or has Kilton installed it to keep us in?”

  “He’s not that bad, Millie. Just doing his job in the face of a serious threat to us all.”

  “Well, maybe the fence is there to keep you in and me out,” Millie said, and watched for a reaction.

  Rob didn’t respond.

  They walked back into the garden and Millie enlisted Rob’s help in carrying the dining room table and chairs out onto the patio.

  The more sherry Millie drank, the more he convinced himself that Rob was now a lost cause, sucked into Mark Kilton’s gravity well.

  During dinner, the sound of singing drifted over from the camp, accompanied by guitar and tambourine.

  Rob tilted his head and tutted.

  “I’m afraid Rob is becoming grumpy about our new neighbours,” Mary said.

  Georgina smiled at her. “I think it sounds rather gay. Brightens the place up. They don’t do any harm, do they?”

  “Ah! I’m afraid my husband thinks quite the opposite.”

  Rob looked grave. “It’s what’s underneath the gaiety that we should be concerned about, Georgina. They may look like a ragtag group of misfits who’ve failed to get a decent job, but believe me, they’re dangerous.”

  “Dangerous?” Georgina raised her eyebrows.

  “Yes, dangerous. And frankly, it’s a little disrespectful to the work we do to think otherwise.”

  A short silence fell, broken only by cutlery scraping on plates.

  Millie piped up. “It’s odd though, isn’t it? I watch them from a distance sometimes and wonder. I saw a pretty young thing—”

  Georgina gasped. “Millie!”

  “Don’t worry. It wasn’t in that way. I’m old enough to be her grandfather. But I can’t help thinking that people like her just want to rid the world of weapons that can destroy entire cities. I find it hard to see her as a secret Soviet agent.”