Swan turned and looked at the splashes of blood that had marred the natural metal finish of the plane. He did not need reminding that this affair was still not over, and staggered to the side exit of the hangar, determined to prevent an impending catastrophe.
Security guard Jack Hollingsworth, while doing his patrol, saw Swan step out of the hangar and rushed over to him. ‘Jesus! Are you okay sir? Mr Swan, can you hear me?’
Swan could barely see the man in the black uniform before him; dried blood had hardened over his eyes, limiting his vision. The early mid-afternoon sun-lit sky dazzled him after the dark hangar.
Swan was almost breathless as he garbled a statement. ‘Got to warn the pilot, Jack. The Silver Angel is going to crash.’
Now completely exhausted, the ex-MI5 man fell to the ground unconscious, his head narrowly missing the polished boot of the security guard, as Hollingsworth had just caught him in time.
Chapter 23
The Society of British Aircraft Companies annual show was now in its thirty third year. Since 1948, it had been held in the Hampshire town of Farnborough. The airfield had a long association with British aviation, and each year the show introduced new aircraft and systems prototypes to officials from other countries, and to the general public. This particular year there was great excitement, as the first public appearance of the Rapier would be the highlight of the two public days of the show. The aircraft was due to appear on both afternoons, giving a series of fly pasts over the display line chaperoned by two chase jet fighter aircraft. Due to its shroud of secrecy, the visitors were made aware that it would not be landing and would fly in from RAF Pembridge, and then return there after each display.
By mid-morning, the public had begun to gather and the static display of international aircraft of all types were parked for viewing. The public also frequented the exhibition halls that displayed the latest systems and equipment that would be future features in later designs.
In Hall 1, the GK display showed a full size mock-up of the Python Hawk tactical reconnaissance system, which stood in front of blown up wall diagrams of both the Rapier and the FB-X, showing the compatibility of how the drone can operate on both airframes. Suited representatives of GK were also on hand to provide information on all their products.
An announcement that GK would be setting up a subsidiary company in Britain to be known as GKUK Ltd, had been revealed in a press conference earlier in the week on the show’s official press day. The location of this establishment was still yet to be finalised, but the news that it would create new jobs for British workers had been very well received.
On the display stand, a young female assistant, immaculately dressed in a white blouse and light brown skirt with black patent crocodile court shoes, handed a paper cup of black coffee to a suited, stocky, shaven-headed man.
Jake Brannigan took the cup from her perfectly manicured hand, took a few sips, and gazed out of the big windows of the exhibition hall to the crowd as they moved along the fins of the aircraft. ‘I also believe that you have a package for me?’
Ava Cordener kneeled down and retrieved a green box with Brannigan’s name on it, handing it to him. ‘There ya go.’
He took it from her, then walked towards the viewing area. Outside, he watched as a family of four stood beside the test aircraft for a new Anglo-French supersonic airliner project. The dark blue delta-shaped machine had caused quite a stir at this year’s show, and would feature later on in the flying display.
Brannigan stared at the family’s father, as he leant down and spoke to his two young sons, pointing to various parts of the aircraft.
Ava re-appeared, pulling him away from his distraction. ‘Excuse me, Mr Brannigan. You have a call. You can take it in the Exhibition Office.’
‘Thanks, Ava. I’ll do that.’ Brannigan smiled at the assistant and walked in the direction of the office, opened the door, and was greeted by a uniformed security guard. He showed his GK staff pass to him. ‘Name’s Brannigan, from GK. You have a call for me?’
The security guard smiled. ‘Yes indeed sir, just over here.’
With the package in his hands, he walked over to the green phone on the desk and picked up the receiver. ‘Brannigan here.’
Four minutes later, he walked dejectedly out of the office. His face was pale, and he felt a lump in his throat as he walked back to the GK stand. Ava noticed him as he approached. His head was down and he seemed to be staring at the floor. ‘Is everything okay, Mr Brannigan sir?’ Ava asked.
Brannigan turned quickly and looked at her. ‘Eh, oh sorry Ava, I just need some fresh air that’s all.’ He forced a friendly smile and walked through the entrance doors out to the display ground. Ava stood watching him until he vanished through the doors, then she picked up a pile of corporation brochures and laid them out neatly on the desk at the front of the stand.
Swan opened his eyes and saw that he was on a bed in a white walled room. He sat up and looked around, noticing some medical charts on the wall next to a large heavy framed painting of a Brinton R-55 Rochester flying boat, taking off from a breakwater.
A man in a white doctor’s jacket called out to him. ‘Good afternoon, Mr Swan.’
Swan acknowledged him. ‘Where am I?’
The man picked up a clipboard and moved over to him. ‘You are in the Medical Room. You collapsed outside and you were brought in here.’
Swan started to recall the previous events. ‘My God, I’ve got to get to a phone. What time is it?’
The medical officer placed a hand on his shoulder. ‘Not so fast, sir, you’re in no fit state to do anything at the moment, you have concussion from your fall, and need to rest a while. The police are outside and they want to ask you some questions.’
Swan swung his legs to the side of the bed. ‘You don’t understand, I have to warn the pilot of the Silver Angel. There’s a bomb on board the plane, hundreds could be killed if it crashes.’
The medical officer stared at him, looking puzzled. ‘A bomb? Are you sure, sir?’
‘Yes, dammit man, where’s the bloody phone?’
The medical officer suddenly sprang into a panic and helped Swan up from the bed and they walked together out of the door.
On seeing the door open, Inspector George Lake stood up and put the Brinton product brochure down on the coffee table. He was about to say something when Swan held up his hand. ‘Not just now, officer,’ he said and moved with the doctor into another office, where a chair was pulled out allowing Swan to sit down to use the phone.
Lake stood bewildered, staring at the closed door. He shrugged his shoulders and sat back down again.
Swan picked up the receiver. ‘Hello Operator, Whitehall 9921 please.’ He listened as the receiving phone started to ring. On the fourth ring it was answered. ‘Whitehall 9921,’ said the familiar voice of Arthur Gable.
‘Arthur, its Alex! I need you to go to the Farnborough Airshow. You need to find Maitland’s deputy, Jake Brannigan, remember him?’
Gable confirmed that he did.
‘All hell’s broken loose up here Arthur, Maitland’s dead. I’ll explain when I see you. I’m going to try to get down there as soon as I can. There’s a bomb on board the Silver Angel and Brannigan will set it off during the Farnborough display.’