‘Morning Miss Thomas, replied Stratton gruffly. What time is my appointment with Air Commodore Higgins this morning?’ he asked. She opened up the diary to today’s page. ‘11.15, at the Ministry.’
Stratton thanked her and returned to his newspaper.
‘Will there be anything else at the moment, sir?’
‘Not at the moment, if you could just prepare my papers for my meeting that would be useful. If you can also shut the door, thank you so much.’
Thomas acknowledged, turned on the heel of one black calf boot and walked out of the office, the pony tail of her auburn coloured hair swishing from side to side. Outside the door, she rolled her eyes in irritation to the abrupt manner of her boss. Having served him since he was appointed, she was used to it, but could still find some situations with him uncomfortable.
Swan reached for the telephone after it had rang twice and was confronted with the loud, excitable voice of Air Commodore Higgins on the phone. ‘Good morning Alex, my boy.’
‘Good morning, Hammer. How are you, old boy?’
‘Oh mustn’t grumble, I take it you have seen the news then?’
‘Yes, I’m quite stunned by it all actually. He’s such a nice chap as well, very friendly, and we learned a great deal about the goings on at Brinton’s.’
‘Ah, so you think there may be some skulduggery then?’ Higgins enquired.
‘I think so, I need to do some background research on the stuff we have and maybe come up with a plan. I don’t want to make any known moves, as ‘Five’ will be up at Brinton’s later today.’
Higgins interrupted. ‘Yes, I know, meeting with Stratton later on. I know you two have a chequered history so best let him snoop around and see what he can come up with about this bloody sabotage theory.’
Swan sighed. ‘Sounds good. Our swords have crossed too many times when I was with A Section, and also on some of my more recent cases. So if he finds out I’m on his patch again, he may not be a very cheerful chappie.’
When is that obnoxious man ever cheerful?’ Higgins replied with humour.
‘I agree old chap, eternally miserable I think we can safely say.’
Higgins agreed with Swan’s sentiment. ‘We can indeed. Anyway, I must dash, have a damned White Paper meeting before seeing our mutual friend. Rumours from the House say that things don’t look good for the Rapier at the moment, and two other projects maybe for the axe as well. Anyway my boy, do keep in touch and if anything crops up, I’ll give you the full SP on it.’
Before Swan put down the receiver, he wished Higgins luck with John Stratton.
Just before midday, the blue and white Brinton Aviation Bristol Sycamore helicopter touched down in a large field behind Carlisle City General Hospital. The pilot then turned off the engine, bringing the rotors to a slow stop, and a Brinton Aviation member of staff exited the side door, and stood on the ground waiting for his fellow passenger.
David Barnett climbed down holding his satchel. Ttogether, they walked to the east wing of the hospital building where along the corridor, they were greeted by David’s mother Heidi, who ran towards her son, scooping him up in her arms. David noticed that she had recently been crying and kissed her on her lips. Heidi thanked the man who brought her son from the helicopter, and he who acknowledged with a reassuring smile. Seeing the state of his mother, David was now close to tears himself. ‘How’s father?’
Heidi gave her son a reassuring pat on his shoulder. ‘He’s okay, David. He is still sleeping, but you can see him if you wish.’
They entered the room where the Chief Designer lay in bed. His eyes were closed, but gently flickered at intervals. The bleeps of the monitors were the only sound that could be heard in the room as David approached his father and took his hand. ‘Father it is me,’ he said to him comfortingly.
On hearing his son, his father slightly opened his eyes, and behind the oxygen mask covering his lower face, David detected a smile, telling him that his father knew of his presence. Then, as quick as his father had opened his eyes to greet his son, he closed them again.
Heidi placed an arm around her son. ‘Don’t worry David. This has been happening all morning. He knows you are here and that is the best thing for him to think about right now, awake or asleep.’
David shook his head in agreement and took his mother’s hand. ‘He is going to be alright,’ he said this as a statement, rather than a question.
John Stratton walked into the white building of the Air Ministry. At the reception desk he signed the visitor register book, and was then greeted by a young Pilot Officer. He silently walked with his guide towards a row of offices, and came to a halt at a glossy brown painted oak door. A brass name plate with the name Air Commodore Sir H Higgins DFC was secured at eye level by the two brass screws. The Pilot Officer knocked on the door and upon hearing the jovial voice of his section commander, opened it. ‘Mr Stratton from Leconfield House, to see you sir.’
Stratton walked past the young suited man and walked over to the big oak desk in the office.
Higgins rose to greet him ‘John, nice to see you again,’ he shook the MI5 officer’s hand and Stratton sat down opposite him, placing his briefcase on his lap.
‘Likewise, Sir Alistair,’ he replied in a sullen tone.
Higgins started the conversation rolling. ‘Bad show with the Brinton’s Designer chap.’
Stratton gave an agreeing nod. ‘Yes, quite a fiasco all round, with what seems another coincidental event. So tell me Sir Alistair, what do you personally make of this sabotage theory?’
‘All I know is what was in the report from the chaps at Hemingford, the part of what they think could be a detonation device.’
‘Yes, quite so. I think we best keep a lid on it for now. Don’t want the bloody press getting their clammy mitts into this one, especially with the plane being a hot news topic at the moment. By the way, how’s the development with that drone thing that the Yanks are working on up at Brinton’s?’
Higgins checked some papers on his desk. ‘Seems on schedule to be flight tested next week. It was to go on P-Two, but now I guess it will be P-One that is fitted for the trials. Bit tight though, especially with her low level flypast scheduled at the SBAC show on Saturday.’
Stratton looked at Higgins. ‘I am at Brinton’s for tomorrow morning, meeting with the transport driver. I may also have a chance to talk to the Yank in charge of the Python Hawk project, a Mr Maitland. Strange that this being a USAF project, he has no military rank, don’t you think?’
‘Another bloody spook if you ask me John. No offence of course.’
Stratton shifted in his seat. ‘None taken, old boy. This FB-X? How does it compare to the Rapier?’
Higgins shuffled. ‘The thing is very much of the same stable. It has supersonic low level attack capability. Has the latest avionic systems, and is certainly a rival for our kite.’
Stratton nodded. ‘I see, but it isn’t ready to test systems like the Python Hawk yet then?’
‘No John, apparently not. That’s why it is being tested on the Rapier instead.’
Stratton then changed to a more serious tone. ‘Can you throw any light into who would try and sabotage our plane?’
Higgins shook his head. ‘Well, where do we start with that, John? I mean, I very much doubt the Yanks would do it to their own allies, just because their machine isn’t ready. So my finger is pointing to some sort of KGB espionage plot.’