by David Holman
‘Okay, sir. She cheered up a bit by the time we reached her sister’s place. I was invited in for a quick cuppa, then left them. I bought the evening paper, thought you may like a read of it later.’ Gable placed the folded newspaper down on the desk.
‘Well, looks like we have something already strange to go on, Arthur.’
‘What’s that, sir?’ Gable enquired suspiciously.
Swan turned a full one hundred and eighty degrees on his heel to face him. ‘I phoned the School’s Headmaster, and he informed me that the children did not finish early that day.’
Gable pulled a chair and sat down. ‘Well, either Kate Townsley has got her times confused, or the time of death recorded on the inquest is completely wrong.’
Swan sat down and leant back on his chair. ‘I think I need to see if I can lay my hands on that report. At least then I can decide for myself. I wonder if my old friend Hammer Higgins is up for a clay shoot at The Furrows this weekend. I could let him bag a few deliberately slow birds, then move conversation to the case, and see if he can help in some way.’
Gable smiled. ‘It’s starting to remind me of the scene in that new James Bond film Annie and I saw last week. Bond has a round of golf with the villain Goldfinger and lets him win, even though he’s cheating. This relaxes him, then as Goldfinger is about to play his shot, Bond throws down a gold bar and he makes him miss his putt.’
Swan glanced over at his assistant and nodded. ‘Yes, I am familiar with that scene, as it also appears in Fleming’s book. I must get round to seeing that film. I haven’t seen any of them yet. I’m one of those chaps who like to compare the literary original with the cinematic version. Did the same thing with Gone with the Wind. I will most probably sit there, and then start mumbling to myself on how different things are which will end up with getting me and a lady friend thrown out of the picture palace.’
Gable laughed. ‘Well, I’ll be off home now if it is alright with you, sir?’ He got up and reached for his black raincoat and grey trilby hat, then stopped at the door. ‘What are we doing tomorrow then, sir?’
‘I would like to talk to Miss Townsley again, but I think we can leave that until the end of the week, although I think that she needs a few more days to settle down. What do you think, Arthur?’
Gable sighed. ‘She seemed rather keen to me to give as much of her time to us as she could. I think it best if we could see her tomorrow.’
Swan nodded. ‘In that case, that’s what we will do. Goodnight, Arthur, and my love to Annie.’
Swan smiled as the door shut. He reached for the evening paper and placing it out before him, read the headlines.
*
At 7am the next day on the English and Welsh border near Leominster, Brinton Aviation’s chief test pilot, Eddie Eagle Eyes Kershaw, closed down the canopy of the sleek silver BR-101 prototype and checked his harness was secure.
This was the top secret jet’s sixteenth flight, and today it was going back home to Cumbria to be prepared for flight system tests. Kershaw had joined Brinton after his successful period as an RAF fighter pilot during World War Two. Renowned for his clear, long range vision when sighting the enemy, he was given the name Eagle Eyes by his squadron colleagues.
Kershaw checked his radio transmitter and spoke to his co-pilot and Brinton’s number two test pilot, Sandy Ludlow, who sat four feet behind him in the navigator’s cockpit. Ludlow was also an experienced combat pilot, leaving the Fleet Air Arm late after a stint in the Korean War, where he found himself up against MIG jets in his piston engine Sea Fury fighter.
Kershaw spoke into his microphone. ‘Pilot to Navigator? You awake back there, Sandy?’
Ludlow finished entering the co-ordinates into the on-board navigation computer and responded to his pilot.
‘Just about, Skip. Are we all set for another tumble in the washing machine, then?’
Kershaw chuckled. ‘Roger. If that oscillation dial starts to move towards the red, just let me know so we can shut it down in time or she’ll break apart and we’ll end up riding the engines into the Welsh hills.’ Ludlow laughed into his oxygen mask at his pilot’s humorous comment.
Checking his watch, Kershaw addressed the control tower. ‘Pembridge Control. This is Angel-One. Clear to taxi - Over.’
There was a few seconds of static, then a reply. ‘Angel-One, this is Pembridge Control. All ground traffic clear. You have priority taxi to Runway Zero-Six. Chaser-Three is holding on Runway Two-Three, and will follow in five - Over.’
‘Roger Control, Angel-One preparing to taxi to Runway Zero Six.’
As the long, silver, delta-winged shape began to move along the tarmac, the long drooped nose bobbed on its tandem-wheeled undercarriage. Kershaw made a turn to the right to head out towards the taxiway, and then stared ahead as the projected compass in his Head-Up Display informed him of his direction.
He gazed down at his flight map, visual through his right knee pocket of his flying suit, and familiarised himself with the headings that he would have to take once airborne.
The aircraft moved onto the taxiway, its elongated nose wheel taking full weight with ease. As the big aircraft glided along, the tilted nose section made the slender machine resemble a swan looking down at the water for a quick morsel. The noise of the two engines suddenly increased as the hot gasses protruding from the exhaust nozzles created a haze behind the aircraft.
Handling the control column, Kershaw made one final turn, swinging the machine into line with the runway. In front of him, the perspective path of white lights disappeared into a distorted mist as he gazed down the 9000 foot grey tarmac strip. He glanced over to his right to give a quick wave to the pilot of the chase aircraft, standing on station and ready to follow.
The pilot acknowledged. Returning the wave, he spoke into his radio. ‘She’s looking good, Eddie.’
With the big silver machine now pointing slightly upward, Kershaw spoke into his oxygen mask again. ‘Angel-One to Pembridge Tower- holding for take-off over.’
The controller responded. ‘Roger, Angel-One. You are clear for take-off. Wind speed is eighty knots, south, south westerly. Cloud Cumulus, ten thousand. Angel-One, you are clear to go.’
Kershaw responded to this request by placing his left hand on the throttle lever and pushing it forward. The purring engines suddenly developed into an increasing roar as the hot gasses suddenly transformed to plumes of fire. ‘Angel-One rolling.’
Kershaw clicked off his mike and placed his white gloved hand on the control column grip. Simultaneously, his left hand moved on to a lever that released the brakes. The white runway lights began to increase in speed, moving past either side of the cockpit, and the centreline markings rapidly disappeared under the nose, as Kershaw switched on the afterburners of the engines. In ten seconds the aircraft lifted off the ground, its elongated undercarriage hanging down below like the talons of a bird of prey swooping in on a kill.
Kershaw pulled a leaver to his left and watched for the green light to indicate that the undercarriage had safely retracted into the fuselage in a state of temporary redundancy, until the machine would touch down at Brinton Aviation’s service runway in approximately forty minutes time.
Kershaw spoke into his mike again. ‘Angel-One to Pembridge Tower. Heading to course zero-one eight five, Speed is five hundred knots. Now climbing to thirty thousand feet. Thanks for everything. See you again soon with Angel-Two. Angel-One, signing out.’
In the chaser aircraft, Brinton’s Number 3 Test Pilot, Timmy Bell, called into the tower. ‘Chaser Three rolling.’
Kershaw listened as he heard his colleague announce his departure, as he, too, would soon be airborne in the two-seater fighter jet assigned as escort to Cumbria. He turned the huge silver metallic bird directly into the mid-morning sunshine, causing the highly polished wings to glint like mirrors. Pulling back the control, he took the plane into a gradual climb. Now with full afterburner power, it accelerated into the slightly cloudy late April sky, clos
ely followed by the much smaller shape of Chaser-3. For several minutes they both cruised in formation at level flight at thirty thousand feet.
Suddenly, Ludlow had to communicate to his pilot. ‘Navigator to pilot. Oscillation dial is showing slight vibration on Number Two engine and increasing.’
Kershaw swore to himself. ‘Damn! Roger Sandy, I’m shutting down on the burner. We’ll continue on minimum power and keep Number One on full reheat.’
Bell had also been listening into Kershaw’s transmission and maintaining altitude in his escort aircraft, held station a safe distance in strict formation to the left of the bigger BR-101 prototype. He chuckled to himself as he realised that even though the aircraft that he viewed before him had now only one engine on full reheat, he was still finding it difficult to keep up in the 10 year old transonic fighter.
He spoke into his radio. ‘Chaser-Three to Angel-One. Slow down a bit Eddie, I’m having a bit of trouble keeping station with you chaps in this old thing.’ Viewing the rear of the BR-101 through the gun camera sight, he decided this was one for the album. Bell moved his control column to bring his aircraft behind the big silver dart, checked his distance, then pushing down the green button on the control column to operate the camera, captured the single flaming output from one of the two engines for prosperity.
Chapter 4
At the same time that the BR-101 was flying over Snowdonia, Arthur Gable stepped inside 7 Wellesley Mews, then bending down to pick up the morning post, shut the big black front door behind him. Taking off his black raincoat, he placed it onto the mahogany coat stand at the bottom of the stairs. He climbed the stairs, walked into the office, and looked across the room at his associate. ‘Morning, sir.’
Swan was leaning back on his burgundy cushioned oak chair; the day’s newspaper was held with a firm grip in his hands. ‘Good morning, Arthur. I see that the BR-101 is returning to Brinton today. Look at this.’
Gable walked over to the desk and glanced at the headline upside down: Silver Angel is Homewood Bound. He walked around and, over Swan’s right shoulder, read the article to himself.
After a series of initial test flights at RAF Pembridge, Britain’s latest top secret combat aircraft prototype, the BR- 101 XR439, which has become publically known as The Silver Angel, will return home to Brinton Aviation, east of the Lake District today for system production trials and ground running tests. It will be greeted by the partially assembled second prototype which is due to be transported by road to RAF Pembridge later on in the week for flight trials. Following a successful flight programme, the BR- 101 is due to enter service with the RAF and also the Australian and Canadian air forces in two years’ time, with further overseas orders to be announced soon, including from Sweden and the West German Luftwaffe. The sophisticated avionics and weapons systems of the aircraft are still very much classified and due to be evaluated by the Ministry of Supply next week. The two prototypes will precede four pre- production aircraft already nearing completion on the assembly line at the Brinton plant, the first two of which are to be flight tested by RAF, Australian and Canadian flight crews. The third production aircraft will remain permanently with the A& AEE at RAF Pembridge as a test aircraft. West German and Swedish crews will be part of an international flight team for the fourth production aircraft. In a ceremony planned for the return of the first prototype, the aircraft is to be officially christened the ‘Rapier’. This follows the Brinton tradition to name its aircraft with the letter ‘R’ after their founder, the late Sir Ronald Brinton, who sadly died of a fatal brain haemorrhage last year. It is hoped that the second prototype XR440 will make an appearance at this year’s SBAC show, although due to its secrecy status, it is only expected to make a few flypasts along the crowd line. A strong rival contender to the British project is the American FB-X attack aircraft. Although the prototype is a few months behind the BR-101, it is expected to equip the US Air Force by the end of next year. Some of the airborne systems will be made compatible to both aircraft and an agreement has been made to test some of the FB-X equipment in the British aircraft.
He then gazed at the publicity illustration of the aircraft next to the text. ‘She sure has got some class, hasn’t she, sir?’
Swan looked up at his companion, smiling in admiration. ‘She certainly has, Arthur.’
He left the page open in the paper and rose from his desk, walked over to a grey filing cabinet in the corner of the room and opened the top drawer. Rifling through the dividers, he pulled out a green file. He took up the newspaper from the desk and handed it to Gable. ‘Arthur. We’re going to take a trip to Brinton’s next week. Hopefully during our shoot on Saturday, I can persuade Higgins to get us a couple of passes. Maybe we can pose as a couple of Ministry officials or something.’
Gable sat down and stared at the newspaper. ‘Do you think something’s going on up there then, sir?’
‘Not sure yet, old chap. But being closer to it all may prove to be a good move. What time are you collecting Miss Townsley this morning?’
Gable looked at his watch. ‘I told her I will be there for eleven thirty’
Swan rose from his chair. ‘Righto. Good, that gives us two hours. So, I’ll take a walk around to the Ministry and have a quick chat with Air Commodore Higgins and arrange our shoot. Be a good chap and bring the Sapphire around and pick me up, and then we will both visit Miss Townsley. I think that instead of bringing her back here, we will have a spot of lunch in a pub that I know on Hampstead Heath.’
*
On the only region of flat plains just west of the Lake District National Park lies the village of Ellenborough. To the south, the A594 winds its way from Maryport towards the great lakes. Five miles from Ellenborough sandwiched on a vast site between the villages of Dearham and Tallentire, it is hard not to notice an establishment through the bordering high fence adorned with barbed wire and the yellow painted Crash Gate No 2.
A row of four green structures with hard standings before them state their presence with taxiways leading out to a six-thousand foot service runway. This is the site of Brinton Aviation.
Founded by Sir Ronald Brinton just after the First World War, Brinton saw an opportunity to build passenger aircraft which would put Britain in the forefront of civil aviation. The R-21 Rangoon, a four-engine tri-plane, was the first of its kind anywhere in the world and broke several speed and endurance records.
This was followed by the even bigger R-31 Rutland, a huge, six engine monster. When war broke out in 1939, Brinton began to produce military transport aircraft and, following the tradition of thinking big, the R-51 Ramesses four engine monoplane was built and pushed into service. Impressed with this design and the next model on the drawing board, the R-55 Rochester flying boat transport, the Air Ministry approached Brinton to design a new bomber aircraft using the new concept in propulsion, the jet engine.
Towards the end of the war, the massive four jet engine R-71 Raven flew on its first flight and the Air Ministry soon commissioned it into mass production, to not only serve in the European theatre, but also in the Far East. Tragically, shortly after the order was signed, the Raven prototype crashed during a test flight at RAF Pembridge, killing the crew of four who were evaluating the machine in a simulated Toss- Bombing demonstration. Almost immediately, production was halted as the investigation into the crash went ahead. The conclusion was that the aircraft was simply too powerful at low level altitudes and handling in dives was difficult at attack speeds. With no need for a high level bomber, the Raven was cancelled; the second prototype had been scrapped while only half complete.
However, Brinton was not defeated by this unfortunate mishap and already had a future design on the drawing board. This would lead to a later re-design for a proposal to meet the Air Ministry requirement ORR-531 for a multi-role supersonic combat aircraft, which eventually became the BR-101.
Howard Barnett sat in his office, holding a large white mug of tea in one hand, while in the other was a gold plated penci
l scribbling some equations on a writing pad. The specially commissioned gold pencil was part of a set of six set in a highly polished oak case. He had been presented these as a gift by Sir Ronald himself, for his services leading up to and during the last war. The six pencils represented the six designs that Barnett had created into successful production aircraft. ‘HB’ as he was known at Brinton’s, due to his characteristic gold pencil tucked behind his ear, had joined the company as an apprentice to the man himself, and had in a short time learned a lot from his senior mentor. At the age of forty-two, he had become Brinton’s Chief Designer and now was at the helm of the combined BR-101 production team. The founder’s first son, Henry, had since taken over following his father’s fatal stroke to continue as the head of the company, and with all the confidence in his father’s former apprentice, allowed HB a virtual free reign.
HB looked out of the windows that spread from wall to wall at the front of his office. From here, he had a clear view of the hangars and beyond in the distance were the lights forming the runway in front of a currently overcast backdrop. The opposite wall of the office was also glass. It looked out over the assembly plant, and the neatly set out jigs with four partially assembled production samples of his new warplane perched upon them.
He checked his watch and realising the time, moved over to a microphone and switched on a button on the stem. ‘Attention all Brinton personnel. Please make your way to the dispersal area. The BR-101 naming ceremony will commence at twelve noon. Thank you.’ He raised his head from the microphone and stood listening to the radio transmissions from the control tower.
In the cramped pilot’s cockpit of the BR-101 prototype, Kershaw checked the frequency on his transmitter, then spoke into his mask. ‘Brinton Tower, Brinton Tower. Angel One receiving – Over.’
There was a second of static, then a voice was heard in his headphones. ‘This is Brinton Tower. Receiving you loud and clear Angel One - Over.’
