“What I’m about to tell you is preliminary, but as I say, I will be very surprised if the conclusions change. Because of the sensitive nature of the project, we were required to retrieve the Guiding Light panels and equipment from the wreckage first. All of that has been thoroughly examined by technical experts at Farnborough with assistance from Blackton technicians. We are now certain of one fact. Guiding Light was not operational at the moment of ground strike.”
“I’m sorry, what?”
“Well, I’m not sure how familiar you are with the panel in the rear bay, but you might know there is a master switch. It was in the off position. So you see, you had a chart in front of you, not unreasonably planning ahead. Speedy took his eyes off the terrain, and at that moment, Guiding Light was disengaged. As you know, there’s no audible alarm and so neither of you noticed. But the aircraft was already at three hundred feet and descending, gently, so you suffered a glancing blow off the ground, enough to severely damage the elevons on the port side and fill the engines with dirt.”
Rob’s mouth hung open.
“Wing Commander Kilton suggested the conclusion might surprise you, but I was hoping it would reassure you. You could not have predicted it, and you were certainly acting appropriately, carrying out in-flight planning. It’s just a shame of course that Speedy Johnson chose that moment to become distracted from his task.”
Rob shook his head. “I’m sorry, sir. I’m having difficulty with this. You say the master switch in the rear panel was off?”
“It was most definitely in the off position. There are several possible explanations and they’ll be listed in the final report.”
“Such as?”
“Well, Squadron Leader Milford may have become disorientated. He was, after all, quite old to be flying about at low-level in the back of a Vulcan.” Rob shook his head, but McClair pressed on. “He may have inadvertently knocked it with something like the sleeve of a magnetic tape. Or, and I hesitate to suggest this is likely, but we have to consider the possibility that Milford did it deliberately.”
Rob stared, stunned to silence.
“As I say,” McClair continued, “I’m not a fan of that last possibility, but as I understand it, Milford had taken against the project and there’s a school of thought that he may have benefitted from a repeat of an earlier incident in which he believed Guiding Light had briefly suffered an aberration. The theory goes that he aimed to momentarily disengage, long enough for you two to notice and claim back control of the Vulcan. Unfortunately, neither of you was looking out at that very moment. But as I say, it’s far-fetched in my opinion and it may not even make it into the final report.”
Rob leant forward. “But Guiding Light was flying us. It can’t have been off. And Millie was right. There was something wrong. Something buried inside it that didn’t work.”
McClair shot him a look of sympathy. “I’m told you were close to Christopher Milford?”
“With respect, sir, why is that relevant?”
“Well, Wing Commander Kilton suggested you may find any blame put on Milford hard to digest. But I have to tell you what we found. The master switch, as you may know, is caged. I’ve inspected the other TFU Vulcan and seen it for myself. The investigators at Farnborough, who have a wide experience of such matters, are determined the crash forces could not have moved the switch. The metal cage guards are not damaged and like all such switches, it requires a specific force. No, it’s an immutable fact of our investigation that the master switch was in the off position and therefore Guiding Light was not operational at the time of the ground strike. The good news for you is that the project continues. I believe you are to resume as early as next week. That is, as long as you wish to? No-one will blame you, Robert, if you ask to transfer to something different.”
Rob’s head swam. The room was unbearably hot and stuffy.
“Are you feeling alright, Flight Lieutenant?”
“I don’t understand… It can’t be…”
“I can see this has been a bit of a shock for you. If it’s any consolation, I am strongly minded to leave the last possibility out of the final report. I doubt anyone will object and it just seems unlikely to me.”
“But you find it likely that Millie, with decades of flying experience, accidentally switched off a critical piece of equipment? Endangering his and everyone else’s life?”
“Accidentally? Yes. I’m afraid we’ve seen it all too often in the past. This is my third Board of Inquiry and I can tell you in all three cases the aircraft were perfectly serviceable but put into a configuration by the crew that led to a crash. It’s far too common unfortunately. Of course, we will never know for sure, but as it stands we have no other conclusions we can draw.” McClair stood up. “Look, I understand this has been upsetting for you. I should probably go now, but please do use this room for as long as you want. It’s booked for the afternoon. It might be a nice place to recover yourself before heading back out.”
Rob should have stood for a senior officer, but he stayed slumped in his seat.
McClair loitered for a second.
“Well, I’ll be off then. Very best of luck, Flight Lieutenant May.” He picked up his briefcase and pushed his chair under the table. “No need to salute.” He headed out.
His heels clicked on the wooden floor as he departed.
An image filled Rob’s mind.
A box of secret conclusions; pages of Millie’s precious, scrawled handwriting.
Evidence that Guiding Light was fatally flawed, burning on a bonfire.
He leapt from his seat and walked as quickly as he could without running down the corridor and back to TFU.
IN THE PLANNING room he headed straight for his locker, picked out his car keys and turned to find Mark Kilton blocking his way.
“How did it go?”
“Fine.”
“Just fine? Did he explain the BOI’s theory to you?”
“Yes.”
“Good. So you know the project resumes flying next week? I’d like to hit the ground running.”
Rob winced at the clumsy metaphor.
“We’ll carry out the remaining hours back at one thousand feet just as a precaution,” Kilton continued. “It’s good news for the unit and for you, May. I’d like you to take the lead. We’ll need a signature on the project recommendation and I know I can rely on you.”
“You want me to take Millie’s place?”
“I can’t think of a better man for the job. You’ve come a long way in a short time. Don’t let this unfortunate incident put the brakes on a career that has so much promise.”
“Can I think about it?”
Kilton looked surprised, then suspicious. “If you must.”
“Thank you. Now, if you don’t mind, boss. I’d like to go home to Mary. I found the interview rather upsetting.”
Kilton moved aside.
In the car park, he started up the Healey and sped out, thankfully avoiding a car search.
On the way into the village he pulled over into a long lay-by with a phone box.
He dialled the operator. “Yes, I need a bed and breakfast called Prickwillow.”
“In which area?”
“Try Amesbury.”
A few seconds of pages turning.
“Nothing listed, I’m afraid. Would you like me to look further afield? How about Andover?”
“Yes, please. It’s urgent.”
Seconds ticked by. More pages turning. Other operators in the background.
“Sorry, sir. There’s a Willows Surgery in Andover, but nothing like Prickwillow.”