At the bottom, he came to a green painted door with a glass window panel. The same temporary stencil had been added to it.
He tried the door and, relieved that it was not locked, entered and closed it behind him. At the far end, he saw six black objects, about twenty feet in length. They were perched on metallic supports. He approached them to get a better view, then noticing that some stenciling was printed on the side of the casing, knelt down to read it.
GK Serial No — 78421-A1 — ALCM
Property of US Government
Swan examined the rest of the casing. There was even more stenciling, mainly numbers printed in red, and instructions on how to open the contents, but then something caught his eye and he stepped back in surprise after reading the words.
Warning — Radiation
Swan stood for a few minutes, staring at the objects, trying to comprehend what he had just discovered. Then he felt something being pushed into his back.
‘Hold it right there, mister. Let’s see those hands.’
At the command of the voice, Swan raised his hands.
‘You guys know this place is off limits, so what are ya doing he…..’
Swan heard the sound of someone falling onto the floor behind him. Slowly, he turned around and saw Jim Lewis holding a jacking handle behind his head. He then looked down to the body in green camouflaged fatigues at his feet. Lewis also looked down. ‘Jesus, ‘ave I killed ‘im?’
Swan bent down and checked the neck of US Ranger Will Hart for a pulse. ‘No, but when he wakes up, he’s going to have one hell of a headache.’
A relieved Lewis picked up Hart’s M-14 assault rifle from the floor.
Swan sighed. ‘That was bloody close.’
Lewis then looked at the black cylinders. ‘What the ‘ell are those things?’
‘These, Jim, are cases for nuclear missiles,’ said Swan casually.
Lewis suddenly went pale. ‘Good God Almighty,’ is all he could manage to say, as he stared in awe at the objects in front of him.
Swan looked around the room. He saw a blue covered file on a table and picked it up. On the front was a label in black print.
ALCM Type 78421-A1 Spectre
Maintenance Manual
GK Systems Inc.
Another label was positioned in the top left hand corner.
CLASSIFIED
Lewis was staring at the black cases. ‘So have those things got nuclear missiles in then?’
Swan walked back to him and knocked one of the casings with a clenched fist. The sound that emitted indicated that the case was empty. ‘Doesn’t much look like it.’ Swan was intrigued. Why would empty Spectre cases be brought here?
He mumbled to himself and Lewis asked him to repeat what said.
‘I was just wondering why these would be brought here, to a civilian establishment.’
He looked at the missile cases and tried to put the pieces of the puzzle together. Staring at the light reflected on the polished black exterior, he could clearly see in his mind how it all fitted. Piece by piece he formed the arrows, mirroring those on the blackboard back in his office. He followed the earlier connections that he and Gable had plotted, then joined the last line to solve the mystery. The arrows were forming a pattern, and that pattern was now complete. Suddenly like a thunderbolt, the solution hit him.
‘My word, Frank Maitland, you clever bastard,’ he exclaimed admiringly. He glanced at the Spectre cases, then at Lewis, and then gave an appreciative smile.
Lewis was nervous. ‘I am gonna go back up now sir, check it’s still clear,’ he suggested, looking at his watch. ‘We got about five minutes before everyone is dismissed from the fire drill,’ he added, then turned and walked towards the stairs, quickly picking up a pace in his steps.
Swan had seen enough now to realize that the Spectres were a double bluff. This had been some ingenious scheme to thwart the American crew at Brinton to thinking that they were doing their country a great service. Swan parted his lips to form a smile of realization, and then nodded in appreciation of the scam. He touched the black empty shell casing, admiring the detail that had gone into making these pods look authentic. He knew that he would not have much time. The diversion would not last long, and the American personnel would be back on station soon.
Suddenly, as he moved slightly for a closer look, he noticed a thin cylinder shining in the reflection of the strip lights. Something was lodged between two of the missile casings. Swan placed his hand down and stretched out his fingers. Finally, he managed to roll whatever it was up the side of the casing and gripped a hold of it. He held it up to his face and turned it around in his fingers, and his eyes lit up in instant recognition of the object. He read the scribed inscription along the side, nodding in approval. He examined it closely, noticing the red splatters at the top of it. Then reaching into the inside pocket of his overall, he pulled out a folded polythene bag. He placed the item carefully in the bag, rolled it up and placed it back into the overall pocket.
Taking out the small camera from the other pocket, he took the photographs of the black casings and the pages of the manual. The photos and his find were all he needed to confront Maitland. After he was finished, he placed the camera back in his pocket, then walked up the stairs and back into the hangar.
In the main office building he approached the security guard on reception and showed the guard his credentials. ‘I’ve taken some photographs, and I was wondering if there is anywhere on site that I can get them developed.
Jack Hollingsworth took the film roll and held it to his face.
‘As a matter of fact there is, sir. I will phone the studio and arrange it for you.’
As Swan waited by the reception desk, Howard Barnett came through the double green doors.
‘There you are, Alex. Fire Drill’s just finishing. Did you find what you’re looking for?’
‘Yes, and more HB, much more.’
Barnett turned to Hollingsworth. ‘This is Jack Hollingsworth, he found James under the Rapier that night. Mr Swan is on government business, investigating the death of James and looking into the Shobdon incident.’
Hollingsworth turned to Swan. ‘Pleased to meet you, Mr Swan. If I can be of any help to your inquiry, please let me know.’
‘How about a coffee, Alex?’ Barnett suggested.
‘Lead the way, HB,’ he replied.
He was about to step off and follow Barnett when he suddenly stopped in his tracks. He turned to Hollingsworth.
‘Actually Jack, you may be able to help me on something. In your report, you mentioned that McGregor’s clipboard was lying next to him.’
Hollingsworth easily recalled the event. ‘Yes, that’s right, it was.’
‘So was there also a pen with this clipboard?’
Hollingsworth went into deep thought for a moment. ‘Do you know, I don’t remember seeing one to be honest,’ he replied.
Swan nodded. ‘McGregor’s fiancé mentioned he was given a special pen by his colleagues, with a personalized inscription,’ Barnett smiled.
‘Aye, that would be his Move over HB pen, you are talking about.’
Swan reached into his inside pocket and placed the item wrapped in the polythene bag on the reception counter.
‘Would it by any chance, be this one?’
A few cups of coffee later, while sitting in the canteen with Barnett, Swan was handed an envelope from a studio technician. He opened it and looked at the photographs. ‘That’s perfect. Thank you for these.’ He passed them to the Chief Designer, and Barnett’s eyes widened in surprise. He pointed to the black cylinders in the photograph. ‘So what the hell are those things?’