“Is he in France?” Susie asked.
“No, not France, but he may as well be. The professor takes his summer holiday on Lundy, and he has done every year that I’ve known him.”
“Lundy?”
“An island off the north Devon coast,” Rob said. He looked at Mrs Lazenby. “I didn’t know anyone lived there.”
“I believe there are some holiday cottages. The professor has an arrangement with a gentleman. Mr MacPherson.”
Susie had visibly slumped.
But Rob was already thinking about their next move.
“We can get there today.”
Mrs Lazenby looked doubtful. “I can give you the address, but it takes the professor more than five hours to drive to the port, and then I understand there’s only two crossings a day. You’ll be lucky if you’re there before tomorrow lunchtime. So, unless you brought one of your fancy aeroplanes with you, I’m afraid you’re out of luck.”
Susie looked at Rob with an eyebrow raised.
He was smiling.
THEY STEPPED onto the street into bright sunshine. Rob turned back to Mrs Lazenby at the door.
“You’ve been extremely helpful. I can tell you guard the professor’s privacy closely, but I believe you’ve done the right thing.”
“Mrs Lazenby,” Susie said, “did the professor take any work related items with him on holiday?”
She shook her head. “Not at all. He goes to get away from all that. He tells me he doesn’t even read the newspaper.”
“That explains why he hasn’t contacted us.”
They walked back to Susie’s car. Rob studied the brief address.
Old Light Cottage, Lundy
They pulled over at the first phone box and Rob dialled the Ministry operator, asking to be put through to the operations desk at 47 Squadron.
They quickly found JR.
The old pilot laughed when he heard the plan.
“In for a penny, I guess. I’ll do some planning and see if we can’t beg some paraffin from the good people at RAF Abingdon.” He paused. “I’ll have to look at the strip carefully. Getting in is one thing, but we’ll need to get out again.”
“Thank you, JR.”
Susie steered them onto the main road again, and they headed back toward Abingdon.
“I can’t believe we’re doing this,” Rob said.
“Don’t get ahead of yourself. We need irrefutable evidence, remember. I was hoping we’d be poring over results from the sixty reels by now, preferably with the tapes themselves still intact.” She shrugged. “What are we going to find in Lundy?”
“The truth?”
Susie changed into top gear. “Unfortunately, the truth isn’t usually enough.”
“But we have to try.”
“I agree. But flying across southern England is a lot more than we bargained for. You’re certain you want to do this?”
Rob stared out of the window as the colleges gave way to countryside. “I have to,” he said quietly. “We’ve got hours left on the project before it’s too late. Millie worked with Belkin. I’ve got to talk to him, Susie. I’ve got to give it a chance. It’s the least I owe Millie.”
They drove on in silence for a few minutes.
As RAF Abingdon’s main gate came into view, Rob turned to Susie.
“You don’t have to come if you don’t want to.”
She smiled. “The chance of a flight? I’m not missing that! Plus, they ordered me not to go to Abingdon, but they didn’t say anything about Lundy.”
“WITH RESPECT, sir, I think that’s naive.” Kilton stood in front of Group Captain Periwinkle’s desk.
“Calm down, Mark. I’m sure there’s a logical explanation.”
Kilton shook his head in exasperation. “The evidence is clear. May lied about his illness. I’m certain he flew with the Maintenance Unit. In fact I think I saw him in an Anson.”
“You think? But you’re not sure?”
“I’m sure, sir.”
“Might Rob just be at the doctor’s? Didn’t the police say that the house was empty? Mary must have taken him off.”
“No, sir. He’s up to something, I’m sure of it.”
The phone in the outer office rang. A moment later, the call was put through to Periwinkle.
“Station Commander,” he answered. “I see. And that’s as much as you can tell us, is it?”
He said a polite thank you and hung up. “ATC say the only MU traffic this morning was indeed an Anson. There was no flight plan, but the aircraft departed to the north-east.”
“North-east?” Kilton looked around the office and pulled a southern England chart from a shelf, spreading it open on the conference table. With his finger, he drew a line running north-easterly from West Porton. It led to Cambridge.
He looked up at the station commander. “Get your corporal to call Cambridge Airport and ask them if they’ve had a visitor this morning. Anson TX183.” He wrote the serial number on a scrap of paper and handed it to Periwinkle. The station commander moved from behind his desk.
Kilton stood by the chart and listened as Periwinkle relayed the message in the outer office.
“Oh, and could we have a pot of tea, please?”
“Call Cambridge first!” Kilton shouted.
Periwinkle walked back into the office. He eyed Kilton as he dealt with some correspondence on his desk. Kilton stood in silence, gazing down at the chart. Why Cambridge?
After a few minutes, the corporal appeared at the door.
“Nothing, sir.”
“Nothing?” said Kilton. “Really?”
“No, sir. Cambridge confirms they’ve had no visitors at all this morning.”
“Bollocks!” Kilton stood up and hunched over the chart again. “North-east. Could just have been their initial heading.” His eyes moved either side of an imaginary line to Cambridge. RAE Bedford was a common destination for test crews; the place hosted a lot of aeronautical engineers.
The corporal stood next to him, also looking at the chart.
“RAE Bedford, corporal. That could be it. Call them, will you?”
“Yes, sir. Would you like me to make a list of the other airfields along the route? They could have gone beyond Cambridge, of course?”
“Quickly then,” Kilton snapped. He watched as the corporal scribbled at speed.
Marham
Wyton
Alconbury
RAE Bedford
Bicester
Brize Norton
Abingdon
As he returned to the outer office, Kilton shouted after him. “Start with RAE Bedford.”
He paced the room.
“Cup of tea, Mark?” asked Periwinkle.
RED BRUNSON STOOD by one of the planning desks and drummed his fingers. He’d been watching the comings and goings since their abrupt return to West Porton, including the order of the police to Rob May’s house.
Jock MacLeish appeared beside him.
Red looked over his shoulder to ensure no-one was too close.
“First, they came for Brian, then they came for Millie.”
“And now they’ve come for Rob.” MacLeish finished the thought.
“Did he ever say anything to you?” Red asked.
Jock shook his head. “Nope. I wondered if he would, but he seemed happy with the project.”
Two West Porton security men in uniform marched into the planning room. They tapped on Jean’s office door. Red and MacLeish watched as she led them to the wooden lockers and handed over a set of keys.
It didn’t take them long to tip the contents of Rob’s locker into a bag.
MacLeish shook his head and went back to his planning, but Red loitered for a moment, before heading over to Jean.