by SL Beaumont
“And what would he have been looking for?” Kat asked.
Adam was silent for a long moment.
“This is where my job at the Met merges with my work for the British Army,” Adam said, looking sideways at her.
“Your work for… hang on. I thought you were retired?”
“Yes and no. I’m retired from active duty, but I have retained certain duties which dovetail nicely with my role as a police officer.”
“Ah,” Kat said, not fully understanding.
When Adam didn’t elaborate, she asked him outright. “And you can’t tell me any more than that?”
“No, sorry.”
“What if I guessed?” she said, giving him a sly grin.
“Well, I can’t stop you from guessing.”
“Alright, then. Why would the British Army be interested in small airfields outside London?” Kat frowned as she pondered her question. “Supplies, no, something covert, perhaps, people?” She looked across at him. “Transporting senior officers somewhere off the books.”
Adam shook his head.
“Way off?” Kat asked.
“Yup.”
“Maybe the army is trying to catch criminals who are smuggling? But that would be customs or border police, wouldn’t it?”
Adam shrugged.
“Okay then, if it’s not the British Army per se, then perhaps it’s someone rogue within the ranks?” She saw a muscle flex in Adam’s jaw, and his expression become serious. “People smuggling or weapons or drugs?”
Adam didn’t respond.
“Ha, I’m right, aren’t I?” Kat slapped her thigh, but her smile slipped when she registered Adam’s grim expression.
“The thing is, Kat, I really hope you’re wrong.”
Chapter 27
Adam turned the Ford Capri down a long access road towards the airfield. On one side of the driveway, sheep grazed, and on the other, half a dozen small aircraft were parked on the grass.
They left the car in a small parking area outside a single level wooden building with the words ‘Surrey Flats Aerodrome’ painted in black lettering on the side. They got out of the car as a small single-engine aircraft swooped over them to land in a smooth motion on the runway. It taxied to the end, turned and bumped across the grass before coming to a stop beside the building. The whir of the engine cut off, and the propellers slowed their rotations. The aircraft’s right-hand door opened, and a middle-aged woman wearing jeans and a brown bomber jacket stepped out onto the wing. She jumped to the ground, pushing her sunglasses from her eyes into her hair.
A man emerged from the building and greeted her. She hugged him and smiled, looking elated. Together they pushed chocks in front of the wheels of the plane.
Adam and Kat walked around to where the couple was standing.
“Good morning,” Adam called.
They turned at his voice, and the woman smiled. “Hello, can we help you?”
“I hope so,” Adam said. “I’ve inherited a small aircraft from my father and I’m trying to work out where I could keep it.”
“Well, that depends on several things; how big it is, how often you’ll use it, where you live. Where’s the plane now?”
“It’s at a small airfield in Yorkshire,” Adam said. He looked behind the woman to the ten aircraft lined up on the grass. “It’s no bigger than any of those.”
“You don’t know much about aircraft, do you?” the man said.
Adam gave a self-deprecating laugh. “Is it that obvious? Dad was the fly-boy, not me. I’ve been up a few times with him, but…” He trailed off.
“Well, I’m sure we can help,” the woman said. “Follow me. Would you like a coffee?”
“That would be great,” Kat spoke up.
The woman glanced at her and did a double-take when she noticed the bruising on Kat’s face. “What happened to you?”
“I came off a motorbike. There’s nothing broken thankfully.” Kat smiled and touched her cheek. “I’m just a bit sore.”
“I can imagine,” the woman said. “I’m Annabelle, and this is Harold.”
“Mark and Abbie,” Adam replied before Kat could respond, giving false names as he stepped forward and shook their hands.
Kat and Adam followed them into the aerodrome building with Kat mouthing “Abbie?” at him.
The building itself was simple. There was an area at the front of the large open plan room containing square wooden tables and chairs. On the side wall, a small kitchenette with a coffee machine, microwave, and vending machine completed the café area. There were two offices along the back wall, and a small shop opposite the café sold what looked like aviation supplies, small parts, and clothing. The walls displayed framed photos of various types of light aircraft. Two of the tables were occupied by middle-aged men in overalls, sipping from mugs and talking. They all looked up and nodded their greetings to Annabelle, their eyes passing over the newcomers with fleeting interest, before returning to their conversations.
“Have a seat,” Annabelle said, walking over to the kitchen area. “Coffee with milk?”
“Yes, thanks,” Adam said. He and Kat sat at a table near the door. Kat noticed he turned his chair to have a view of the whole room, as well as through the windows.
“So what brings you to Cobham?” Harold asked.
“Abbie has always loved the area, and we’re thinking of getting a weekend place around here,” Adam replied.
“And you’ll fly your father’s plane down.”
“Well, I won’t,” Adam said with a laugh.
“What sort of aircraft is it?”
“It’s a Cirrus SR22,” Adam replied, stumbling a little over the name. Harold nodded at the mention of the aircraft.
“Here we go.” Annabelle returned, balancing a tray with four frothy coffees.
“Thank you,” Kat said, accepting a cup and getting into her role. “Do you offer flying lessons?”
“We certainly do,” Annabelle said. “I’ll get you some information on that before you leave.”
Adam smiled across at Kat. “That would be useful. No point having a plane and not knowing how to fly it. Although an acquaintance of mine who can’t fly has a small aircraft, she suggested that we come here. She hires a pilot whenever she wants to go across to her place in Normandy.”
“Oh, who’s that?” Annabelle asked.
“Mary,” Adam replied. “McFarlane, I think her surname is.”
Kat hid her surprise and watched a fleeting shadow pass across Harold’s face, but it was gone before she could identify the emotion.
“Oh yes, Mary.” Annabelle spun around in her chair and looked outside. “Her plane is not here now, so she must be away for the weekend again.”
“Al picked it up on Thursday,” Harold said.
Adam turned his attention to Harold. “Can I get the number of the pilot she uses? Did you say his name is Al? I’m going to need someone to fly Dad’s plane down from Yorkshire.”
“Of course, he’s always looking for a little extra work,” Harold said, pushing his chair back and standing. “Now, if you’ll excuse me, there is some paperwork with my name on it that needs my attention.”
“And we should be going too,” Adam said, draining his coffee.
“Let me just get you Al’s number and the details of our flying lessons,” Annabelle said, following Harold across the room to an office.
“So, Mark,” Kat grinned at him.
“So, Abbie.”
They stood and made a point of looking interested in the photos hanging on the walls. A framed certificate for membership to The Goldfish Club caught their attention.
“Hey, I’ve heard about this. You only become a member if you successfully ditch your plane in the sea,” Adam said.
“Really?”
“Yeah, some guy started it during World War II. It was originally just Defence Force, but nowadays it’s any pilot.”
“Yes, it says here that Annabelle…”
“Ah
, you’ve found my claim to fame,” Annabelle said, laughing as she joined them.
“That must have been frightening,” Kat said.
“It all happened so quickly that I didn’t have time to be frightened, and then when I was recuperating this arrived,” Annabelle said, waving a hand toward the plaque. She handed Adam a flying lesson brochure and a piece of paper with the name Al Burton and a telephone number written on it. “It’s a unique club to be a member of.”
“I’ll say,” Kat said.
“Thanks for this,” Adam said, taking the papers from Annabelle. “I take it Al lives nearby.”
“Oh yes,” Annabelle said. “He has a place over on Boundary Road.”
“Well, thanks for the coffee,” Kat said.
“My pleasure. I hope we’ll be seeing you again soon.”
They returned to the car, drove out onto the main road, and pulled over. Adam picked up his phone and searched for Burton’s address.
“Was that useful?” Kat asked.
“Perhaps,” Adam said. “I think we’ll pay Al Burton a visit.”
“But won’t he be away if he’s flown Mary McFarlane’s plane to Normandy?” Kat said.
“Even more reason to visit.”
Adam spun the car around and following the GPS on his phone, located Boundary Road. They drove along the country lane until they came to the property indicated on the map. Adam pulled into the driveway leading to a small cottage in desperate need of painting. The letterbox had the name ‘Burton’ stencilled on the side. A garage at the side of the house was open, and a small farm truck parked in front. They climbed from the car and walked towards the front door.
Children’s high pitched voices sounded from behind the house. Adam was about to knock on the door when a football came bouncing around the corner, followed by a boy of around ten years old wearing a Liverpool football shirt. He stopped running and gathered the ball. He looked from Adam to Kat and back again.
“Hello.”
“Hi, mate, is your dad about?”
“Nah, he’s over at the airfield.”
“Surrey Flats?”
“Nah, the other one.”
“The old one over on Turner’s Lane?” The boy nodded. “Okay, thanks.”
Adam and Kat returned to the car.
“I take it you know where this other airfield is?” Kat asked.
Adam nodded. “It’s a bit of a stretch to call it an airfield; it’s more of a disused airstrip.”
“How did you know that Mary McFarlane has an aircraft?”
“It was on the asset listing that your team put together,” Adam said.
“Amazing that you remembered that,” Kat said. “There were a lot of items on that list.”
“It jumped out at me when I reviewed the file, and combined with the fact that I had just learned that Jake had been checking out airfields when he disappeared, I thought it was worth pursuing.”
Kat nodded. “Makes sense. How far to this airstrip?”
“About ten minutes. It’s no longer operational, although it appears to be used by agricultural aircraft, you know, crop dusting and that sort of thing. It’s hidden away on a back road. I only found it because I was specifically looking.”
Kat watched the fields and streams pass by as they drove, and found that she was enjoying herself. She glanced across at Adam. He too looked relaxed apart from the slight frown on his face, and she remembered that this just wasn’t a drive in the country. But neither was it just work; it was personal. He was trying to find out what had happened to his friend.
Chapter 28
They approached the farmer’s airstrip from the south. Adam pulled over to the edge of the country lane, parking beside a tall hedgerow. They climbed from the car and walked along to a break in the foliage.
“There,” Adam said, pointing across a field of grazing sheep to where a small plane was parked in front of a tall corrugated iron shed. Two men were unloading boxes from inside the aircraft onto the flat deck of a farm truck. Their voices and occasional laughter carried on the breeze, but it was impossible to hear what they were saying. One man wore maintenance-type overalls, and the shorter of the two had trousers and a white button-down shirt. Next to the small hangar stood a single fuel pump attached to a cylindrical tank.
Adam pulled out his phone and snapped several photos before making a call.
“I’ve just sent you a couple of photos of two men unloading a small plane at the abandoned airfield on Turner’s Lane.”
He listened for a moment to the person on the other end of the call.
“Will do, sir,” he said, ending the call.
Kat looked at him with a raised eyebrow. “Not Greenwood?”
“Not Greenwood,” he said, turning his attention back to the men.
“I wonder which one is Al?” Kat said.
“I would guess that he’s the one in the shirt, dressed like a commercial pilot.”
They continued watching the men transfer the crates to the truck for several more minutes until they heard another vehicle approaching.
“Come on,” Adam said, jogging back to his car. He opened the boot as though looking for something. Kat joined him, and they peered over the raised lid as a black SUV approached from the north. It slowed further along the lane and turned into a gateway leading into the field. A man jumped from the front passenger seat and unhooked the gate latch and pushed it open. The SUV pulled through and stopped. The man closed and secured the gate, glancing in their direction before climbing back into the vehicle.
Adam and Kat watched as it drove across the field toward the plane, scattering the grazing sheep, who protested loudly at the disturbance. Adam closed the boot as the vehicle moved out of sight, and they hurried back to their earlier surveillance position. Adam took more photos. Al Burton climbed aboard the aircraft and passed the remaining cargo stowed in the hold, down to the other man. He crouched in the doorway, watching the vehicle approach. The SUV pulled alongside the plane, and a man and a woman alighted. They exchanged greetings before doing a circuit of the aircraft, and the woman checked the door of the hangar, which appeared to be locked. They seemed watchful and alert. Al jumped down from the plane, closed its doors, and exchanged a few words with the new arrivals before climbing into the passenger side of the truck.
“Come on, they’re leaving,” Adam said, turning back towards his car.
The truck bumped across the field towards the gate with the SUV following close behind.
Kat jogged after Adam and slipped into the passenger seat, sinking low. At the same time, Adam once again pretended to retrieve something in the boot. She watched as a man opened the farm gate and the truck passed through the open gateway, followed by the SUV, which paused long enough to pick up the gateman. Both vehicles turned onto the lane heading away from Kat and Adam.
Adam slammed the boot shut, climbed into the car, fired the engine and pulled out a short distance behind them.
“Okay,” he said. “Let’s see where they’re going.”
Adam kept his speed down and followed along the country lane until they came to a T-junction with a more significant road. Both vehicles turned right. Adam again hung back, letting a couple of cars pass before he too turned right.
They drove for a kilometre keeping the SUV in view. There was more traffic in both directions than on the quieter country lane.
“This road leads into Cobham,” Adam said.
“I know.” Kat’s sharp tone made him glance at her. Her posture was tense, and she was frowning.
“Kat, I’m sorry. But we need to see where they’re going.”
“I know, keep driving.”
Adam mentally kicked himself. It had seemed like a good idea to bring her along, given the events of the previous evening. Now he was second-guessing himself. He didn’t want to traumatise her further, given what had happened to her in this area.
“Gabe’s father has a place along this road,” she said. “It’s around the next bend
.”
“Kat,” he began.
“Look,” she said, pointing.
Both the truck and the SUV pulled off the road into the gateway of South Hill Manor. As Adam and Kat passed, they saw the gates swinging shut, and the two vehicles disappearing onto the property.
“I wonder what William Huntly-Tait had delivered by an airplane that required an escort?” Kat said.
Adam shook his head. “I’m not entirely sure, but we need to take a look at that plane.” He pulled over in a farm gateway a little further on and waited for two cars to pass before executing a U-turn and heading back to the airfield.
Adam pulled his car over to the side of the lane, tucking it beside the tall hedge.
“I’m going to take a look. Do you want to come or wait here?” Adam asked.
Kat had already undone her seatbelt before he finished speaking. “I’m coming, of course.” She slid across into the driver’s seat and got out of Adam’s door.
They hurried to the gate, climbed over, and jogged through the field to where the plane, a Cessna 172, stood. The white, fixed-wing aircraft balanced on its three wheels. A double red stripe decal cut along each side. They moved around behind the plane, partially obscured from the road, and Adam pulled two pairs of thin disposable gloves from his pocket and handed one set to Kat.
“Let’s check the hangar first, then the plane,” he said as he pulled on his gloves. He walked to one end of the tall corrugated iron shed, past the fuel tank and around behind the building. He returned from the other side a few seconds later, having completed a full circuit. Adam peered in the only window before pulling a small pouch from his back pocket. Kat joined him at the shed’s sliding doors, which were closed and secured with a chrome padlock. Adam removed two thin wires from the pouch and began working the lock.
“You just happened to have a lock-picking kit on you?” she asked.
“I keep it in the boot of the car, you never know when it could be useful,” he said, looking up and giving her a reassuring smile.
