by James Blatch
The three of them drank from old mugs that looked like they’d seen service in the war. Belkin told them he’d stayed on Lundy with his wife Winifred the year after they were married in 1931. She was hit by a bus and died, crossing the road in Edinburgh in 1942.
“I thought she was safe up there.”
“Where were you during the war?” Rob asked.
“I suppose I can tell you now. I worked at Bletchley Park. Have you heard of it?”
Rob shook his head.
“I have,” Susie said. “Ultra.”
“That’s right. Your friends across the river.”
“We had a couple of lessons on it during training,” said Susie. “It was amazing. They captured the German code machines and cracked them. For most of the war, we were one step ahead. They never did find out.”
“So this was child’s play in comparison,” said Rob.
“Yes, it was a tough assignment. Much pressure on our shoulders and frequent setbacks. Rationing the information was the biggest challenge. If we used too much of it, it would be obvious we’d cracked the Enigma machines and the precious supply would suddenly end.” He poured himself another cup of tea as he spoke. “I never did get used to the idea that we would let a ship sink and all those men die, just to keep our secret safe.”
“But it was the right thing to do,” Susie said.
“Yes, it was. It shortened the war considerably and saved many more lives in the long run.” Belkin stirred in another sugar.
“You think this is how Kilton sees Guiding Light?” Rob asked Susie.
“Undoubtedly. He’s done these figures. With more data, his numbers will be more accurate, no doubt. Maybe higher than 8.75 men a year, maybe lower. But either way, he clearly considers it a price worth paying for the advantage gained.”
“But Mr Milford did not think it a price worth paying,” Belkin said. “And neither do you, Mr May, do you?”
“No.”
They finished their tea quietly.
Just after 5PM Belkin saw them to the door. “I’m sorry I could not provide you with the firm evidence you require. But I think you must ask yourself this. If this is, as your superior must think, a price worth paying to win the Cold War or whatever, why has he felt the need to cover it up? Is that not something you can use to change the minds of those who need persuading? Surely there is enough you have uncovered to at least raise a question mark over the project?”
“Maybe,” Rob said, without conviction.
As they stepped out, Susie turned back to the professor.
“How did you know the number and code name, to contact us?”
“I’ve been at Oxford since 1945. I have my fair share of geniuses passing through my study. It’s always been in the interests of certain organisations to remain in touch.”
Susie smiled. “The Oxford recruiter. You’re a legend at Leconfield House.”
“I doubt that.”
Mary thought herself a confident driver, but encouraging the Laverstocks’ Armstrong Siddeley Sapphire to stay in one place in the road was a challenge. The old car leant around corners and seemed to sway even on the straight.
On the passenger seat was an address near Southampton. Mary was glad of Janet’s officious nature, and she had done well in prising Georgina’s whereabouts out of the vicar.
The sun was still high in the afternoon sky as she reached the outskirts of the city. She turned toward the village of Totton.
It took her a frustrating ten minutes before she found the small close containing the Milfords’ rented bungalow. The old car overheated, and Mary left the vehicle to cool as she approached Charlie and Georgina’s temporary home.
She tapped on the door and waited, looking around at Millie’s car and the small, unkempt front garden.
There was movement inside; she heard a familiar voice call out.
“Charlie! Can you get that?”
He opened the door.
“Hello, Mrs May.”
“Hello, Charlie.” For a moment they just stared at each other. He looked uncertain.
“May I come in?”
Charlie appeared to relax. “Of course. Sorry.”
Georgina appeared behind Charlie. Composed, made up, wearing a red chiffon dress. Positively glowing.
“Mar! Darling!” She raced to the door, brushing past her son. The two women embraced and Mary clung tightly to her friend.
In the garden, Georgina poured two glasses of sweet German white wine. Mary wasn’t a connoisseur, but it tasted cheap.
“How are you?” Mary asked.
“I can’t pretend it’s easy, Mar. I try to stay strong for Charlie, but once the bedroom door shuts, I’m a mess. I miss you all so desperately.”
“What did they say to you, Georgina? Why did they ask you to leave?”
“Oh, they considered our house a crime scene, or some such nonsense. I think Rob’s doing his best for us, but Millie obviously got himself in a muddle about something… I just can’t believe they’re taking it so seriously.”
“When you say Rob’s doing his best, you mean that box of papers?”
“I suppose so. He got them away, so the police never actually found anything, but they know something’s missing. What I don’t understand is why Mark can’t put a stop to it all.”
“Kilton?”
“Yes! He’s in charge, isn’t he?”
“Georgina, do you have any idea what’s actually going on?”
“I don’t have the foggiest, Mar. People keep asking me, but as always, the wives are the last to know anything.”
“What ‘people’, Georgina? Who keeps asking you?”
“Rob, of course. Yesterday—”
“You spoke to Rob?”
“Well, yes. He was here yesterday. Didn’t he tell you?”
“No. He didn’t. I’m sorry I had no idea he’d already spoken to you.”
“Well, I couldn’t tell him much, but he asked a lot about what Millie was up to, running up to the crash. I’m afraid I wasn’t much help.” She shrugged. “I said the same thing to Red.”
“Red was here, too?”
“Not here, but he telephoned a couple of hours ago, asking all the same questions.” She took another drink of wine. “I’m surprised Rob didn’t mention it to you, Mary!”
“Georgina, did Rob say anything about us?”
“You and me?”
“No, I mean about me and Rob?”
Georgina looked at her, puzzled. “No. What are you talking about?”
Mary shook her head and looked away. “I can’t believe he didn’t say anything.” She looked back at Georgina. “I left him on Monday.”
“What? Why?”
Mary hesitated for a moment, before deciding on her answer. “I was told he was having an affair…”
Georgina stared at her, open-mouthed for a moment. “Are you being serious?”
“I just don’t know, Georgina. Yes, I was told categorically. He was with a young woman. The Laverstocks saw them at a pub, kissing.”
“Janet Laverstock? That busybody… She must have been mistaken. What did he say?”
“He said it wasn’t what it looked like.”
“Well, there you go, then.”
Mary toyed with her wine glass and tried to recall precisely what Rob had said as she left, but the memory was clouded with rage.
“To be honest, I think it fitted my mood to believe it. He’s drifted off in the last few months, and I’ve been feeling cut out. So it made sense to me, I think, that he had someone else he was sharing his life with.”
“Yes, darling. It’s called the RAF. We have to share our men with the flying club. Now what exactly did he say about this supposed other woman? What was his explanation?”
Mary looked around the garden, noting the poor state of everything.
“I was so angry. I didn’t really let him get that far. Her name’s Susie, and she’s helping him. That’s all I can remember. Of course I dismissed it all.
But now… I’m not so sure. Something’s going on, Georgina, and I think Rob’s rather desperate about it all, trying to fix whatever went wrong for Millie. Maybe he’s trying to fix it for you and Charlie?”
“That’s exactly what he said to us. Mar, you need to talk to Rob.”
“But there’s so much bloody secrecy all the time. No-one talks to anyone.”
Mary took a long drink of the wine.
“What did you say to Red Brunson? And why’s he involved?”
“I told him about the box.” Georgina spoke quietly. “I wasn’t going to. Rob asked us to never mention it. But there was something about his manner. He was whispering on the phone. I got the feeling he’s looking out for Rob.”
Mary bit her bottom lip.
“I think I need to go home.”
“Good. Mary, darling. You have no idea what it would do to me to see you two fall apart.”
JR was apparently asleep in the shade of the wing.
Rob and Susie climbed the bank onto the plateau. With the aircraft still a hundred yards away, Rob stopped.
“I’m frightened. How do we do this? They’ll be waiting for me.”
“You’ll have to face that music, I’m afraid. But remember, it will help you if it involves the police. Even this strange branch of the RAF police Kilton seems to have occupying West Porton will have a degree of independence from TFU. They are the people you need to convince. You know everything you need to know. Just hedge your bets about the evidence. It’s our weak point. Tell them the evidence is out there somewhere.”
It sounded easy, coming from Susie. He would reveal Guiding Light was fatally flawed and that Kilton was ignoring the evidence.
“Will you help me?”
“My job is to get my lot to intervene at a much higher level. We report to the Ministry or even Number Ten and tell them we believe the project has been compromised by Kilton, and that will tip the balance for us. As soon as they ask questions, Kilton will be in trouble. As long as I can persuade them to ask questions.”
“Will they?” Rob could see from her expression that she was unsure.
“Mark Kilton has played a good game here, Rob. From the moment he set up TFU, the odds were stacked heavily in his favour.”
Rob closed his eyes.
“Look, you’ve done brilliantly. How 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.
&nbs
p; “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 Kilton return inside as the faces at the window withdrew.
Susie walked through the empty passenger terminal building at Southampton. She called her desk officer from a public telephone just inside the main doors.
“We have what I believe is grounds to intervene in the Milford case.”
“I see,” Roger replied. Two words that dripped with scepticism. “Just to be clear, you did not intervene as discussed?”
“May carried out the task of his own volition. As I said, he was going whether we liked it or not.”
“You better talk to them upstairs.” The line went quiet.
Susie pulled her notepad from her purse.
The line stayed quiet.
At her level, tasks involved staying unseen and making reports, yet here she was, running an entire operation.
And now what? What happens next?
“Miss Attenborough?”
“Yes.”
“I’m putting you through to Mr Collingwood.”
The department head. A man she’d been introduced to on her first day and had not seen since.
“Miss Attenborough. How was your day trip?”
“Hello, sir. I’m sorry I ended up doing a little more than we planned, but I really had no choice. Rob May was determined.”
“I see.”
“But we have made a significant discovery. We have the knowledge required to challenge the conventional wisdom that seems to surround Guiding Light.”
There was a pause. “Go on.”
“The system is flawed. It’s a small, often inconsequential error from the laser rangefinder to the autopilot. But with the number of flights planned both here and in the United States, it will claim aircrew lives.”
