Iceline

by Martyn Taylor

The chain link perimeter fence was new but as he pulled in through the gate and saw the guardhouse Baker realised the buildings were showing their age; unoccupied and crumbling except the guardhouse and adjacent buildings; and the hangars. From the outside they looked as they had done since the fifties, the paint was cracked and peeling in places, but inside the massive doors the scene changed dramatically. A three storey office block was tucked inside the hanger and its glass wall looked down on the workshop area below.

  Three Unmanned Aerial Vehicles in various states of assembly rested on supports and trestles under the blank stare of the glass walled offices. Michael Spear had his office on the top floor with a balcony overlooking the hangar space and he leaned on the rail and watched Baker come through the doors. The modular offices were linked by external stairs zigzagging up the front and he climbed the stairs under the watchful eye of Hoplite’s driving force and major shareholder.

  Spear acknowledged Baker’s arrival on the top floor with a turn of his head. “Morning Malcolm, are you well?”

  “Fine thank you Michael and yourself?”

  “As good as I can be; any better and I think it would be unbearable.” Spear watched him closely and noticed a tension that hadn’t been there before. “Something bothering you?”

  “No,” Baker lied; badly, “office tensions, the usual crap you know what I mean.” That was true at least.

  “I’m sure I do,” Spear turned his head back to watch the activity below. A fuselage section had been wheeled into the middle of the floor beneath an overhead gantry and was about to have its main wing assembly attached.

  “Is that Oystercatcher or Sandpiper?”

  “Oystercatcher, Sandpiper should be ready next week.”

  “That’s the smaller one isn’t it?”

  “Yes, eight metre span, Sandpiper is fourteen.”

  “I know they’re unmanned, but they look big enough to carry a pilot.”

  “Oystercatcher is a shade too small, but Sandpiper theoretically, well she can, the payload package weighs as much as two grown men so she could do it easily.”

  “Why amphibian?” Baker looked down at the boat shaped hull waiting for its wings, the long slender tail and the tail plane high on the rudder, “I must have asked you this before?”

  “At least three times since you first arrived to work with us, and talking of working with us, have you seen anything of Granville and his grey suited cohorts this morning?”

  “No, you make it sound like there are hundreds of them? There is only a handful.”

  “Even a handful feels like an army when they’re constantly under your feet, if it wasn’t for the rigorous security they demand and the Steve Arkwright, the technician they brought with them I’d have kicked them off site long ago.” Spear straightened up and looked around deciding on his next move, "and the answer to your amphibian question remains the same, flexibility, in some places there are more lakes than airfields."

  They were joined on the balcony by a young woman carrying a clipboard. Long black hair tumbled to the collar of her bright red polo shirt and close fitting jeans hugged her legs. "Michael, your wife rang and asked me to remind you about Saturday, she's says the domestic details are taken care of but make sure that you are there."

  "Thank you Sally I had remembered," The smile on his face made Sally Winterton wonder if he really had; "at the moment I'm not the stray that needs to be rounded up. By the way do you have any idea where Jessica might be at the moment?"

  Sally Winterton shook her head. "Vivienne asked me the same question; she disappeared through the door in the early hours of the morning."

  "Right, I'll deal with that," he checked his watch, "Sally clear my diary for this afternoon if you can, I have to see someone and can you get me the latest sit-rep on Sandpiper from Giddings he should have the numbers crunched by now."

  "The numbers are on your desk; that was one of the things I came to tell you. The simulation says it should work, without crashing the vehicle."

  "Thanks, but you know I don't really trust the models, they never expect the unexpected."

  "Useful nevertheless," Baker suggested and Spear agreed.

  "Certainly, but they're part of the process, I still like to see how a pilot handles the situation."

  "Will there be anything else," Sally was turning the pages on her clipboard, "or can I run along?" Her smile was sweetly devastating.

  "No, you can run along as you put it, just sort out the diary, I need the space clear this afternoon."

  "Will you be reachable?"

  "Yes, tell Vivienne I'm mobile, and everyone else that they can leave a message."

  "OK." She smiled again and went back to the office.

  "Sally in smart casual, what gives?"

  "She's going down to the workshop, her idea, she enjoys the change and the hands on even if it is limited to lugging bits around she finds stimulating. The chance to talk to the lads and have a bit of banter, chasing diaries for me every day can be...limiting."

  "...and she can keep you in touch with the troops without intruding."

  "Malcolm, be quiet, someone might hear you. How could you think that I would spy on my own people; Granville and the Grey suits are here for that?"

  Baker laughed out loud. "You make them sound like a dull 50's band."

  Spear smiled. "Come on in," he stepped back and opened a door leading Baker into his office. The modules were stacked against the wall of the hangar so the window behind the desk stared at the hangar wall. Spear pointed at a spare seat by the desk and sat down behind the desk. Baker closed the door and the sound level dropped to dead quiet.

  "You must have noticed it, the atmosphere and the tension around here."

  "Michael that's not peculiar to here. There are always tensions where secrecy is concerned. Who can talk to whom, should you know the thing you overheard in the canteen. Be honest, it is unavoidable."

  Michael Spear fidgeted with a pencil on his desk, turning the slender wooden shaft end over end on the blotter. "You're right, I'm getting paranoid."

  "Not a problem, paranoia is helpful, to keep you awake."

  "Not at night it isn't." Spear laid the pencil flat and began turning it slowly, stirring the wood on the leather.

  “Relax Michael; you have a healthy level of paranoia.”

  Spear laughed. “I suppose so, but it can be difficult. Frankly Granville gives me the creeps, and his minions, I don’t know, they seem reasonable blokes, so it must be slime by association.”

  “Where are they at the moment?”

  “No idea, Granville disappeared yesterday morning and I haven’t seen anything of him since, and the Grey suits are just lurking somewhere on the premises.”

  “…and Arkwright?”

  “Still asleep As far as I know, He was working late and drifted across the runway to his camper van well after midnight, according to my security team and no sign of him since...” Spear rummaged around his desk and looked up as Sally stuck her head around the door.

  “It’s sorted Michael, your diary is clear until after the weekend, so Vivienne won’t have to worry about you being held up on Saturday.”

  “Thanks Sally, I’ll be on my way in about half an hour, any idea where my daughter may have gone?”

  “None at the moment, but maybe the country, have you thought of that?”

  “Frequently, and that can keep me awake at night. She may think she’s all grown up, but her experience is slim.”

  “Lighten up Michael, stop being stuffy; I’m sure she’s in safe hands.” Sally disappeared and closed the door behind her. Spear listened to the sound of footsteps as she dropped down the stairs to the hangar floor. The hollow ring always reverberated through the modules and it irritated, especially when he felt out of sorts. The Sandpiper Project was rapidly approaching the trials stage and too much hung on one project. It wasn’t the only iron in the fire but seemed bigger than all the others put together and that niggled. He checked his watch, nodding
his head as he measured the sweep of the hands around the dial with a mental calculation of time and distance. Baker watched him, letting him work through what was in his head, finally he looked up. “Malcolm, look after things while I’m out will you, just let me know if anything weird happens. I want to speak with Arkwright before I go.” Spear got up and walked out on to the balcony and called down to the hangar floor. “Has anybody seen Arkwright this morning?”

  “Canteen, grabbing something to eat.” A voice called back at him.

  “Thank you.” Spear went to the canteen.

  Arkwright was halfway through a bacon sandwich and a pint of black coffee. He looked up at Spear as he came in. “Morning Boss.”

  “It is, just, you look terrible.”

  “Thanks.” Arkwright chewed a mouthful of food and crumbs tumbled from his mouth. “What can I do you for?”

  “I’ll do you for something if this mucks up. I want to know, the programming. Is it done and will it work?”

  Arkwright swallowed. “Yes and yes. Final proof will come with the flight test in the morning but according to the modelling the Faraday cage around Sandpiper’s vitals will protect them enough for her to function after the discharge.”

  “You’re sure?”

  “No, I’m not sure; I will only be that certain after the field test.”

  “Alright, you’re not certain, but you are confident.” Spear had sat down at the table and Arkwright continued eating and drinking.

  “Yes, I am confident.”

  Spear slapped his palms on the melamine table top. “Right, I want a full report within two hours of the flight, if I’m not back in time.”

  “Aren’t you going to be here?” Arkwright had his mouth full.

  “Possibly not, I think I can trust you not to fuck up, don’t you?” Spear stood up.

  Arkwright nodded vigorously. “Of course.”

  “Good after all, that’s what I pay you for.” Spear turned and walked out of the canteen leaving Arkwright staring open mouthed at his back. Malcolm Baker had followed him from the office and overheard much of the conversation. He fell into step alongside Spear as he left the hangar and walked to the car park.

  “You’re serious about not being here?” he asked.

  “Yes, and as I said, that’s what I pay them for, to work for me. If they needed me to watch over their shoulders I wouldn’t have them. I need to trust the people who work for me and the only way to get it is to trust them.”

  He unlocked his car and got in, winding the window down as he buckled his seatbelt. “If they need me they can talk to me, but I’m nobody’s shepherd.”

  He started the engine and reversed out of the parking bay and Baker stepped back as the car swung around and headed for the gate.

  *****