‘So what’s all that about then?’
‘The Admiral wanted the RAF to have a land — based version of the BK- 98. Rumour was that he went around with models of the thing in his briefcase, and at meetings with all the potential Rapier customers. He would get them out along with one of the promotional Rapier models, and say for one of those, they could have five BK-98s. The South Africans seemed to have fallen for it. They’ve just ordered sixteen of them.’
‘Indeed,’ said Swan in surprise.
‘What’s happened about the Yank?’ Higgins asked.
‘Brannigan has been handed over to the embassy; we couldn’t do anything because of his diplomatic immunity. Stratton’s got a meeting with his opposite number. Hopefully, they will realise that Brannigan was just a pawn in the bigger game, played by The Eagle’s Lance. Somehow, I do not feel we have heard the last of this strange outfit.’
Higgins agreed ‘At least the McGregor case has been solved. His fiancé will be pleased.’
Swan shook his head. ‘I am afraid not, Sir Alistair.’
Higgins looked puzzled. ‘How so?’
‘Let’s just say that the whole affair has had an official lid put on it’
Higgins gasped. ‘Good lord. So what will you do now, Alex my boy?’
‘Carry on, I suppose. I have a new case to get my teeth into at the moment, so will be busy for a while. I may even need your help on this one. My client is an old Luftwaffe test pilot.’
Higgins beamed a smile ‘A Hun eh? Anytime, Alex my boy. You know where to find me.’
Swan rose from the chair, leaned across the desk and shook the Air Commodore’s hand.
A few weeks later, at the recently renamed Airframe & Airborne Weapons Testing & Evaluation Establishment (A&AWTEE) at former RAF Pembridge, Corporal Kenneth Connolly checked the straps on the blue tarpaulin of the secure load on his Queen Mary trailer outside Hangar 1.
He turned to the approaching technician in a blue overall who handed Connolly a clipboard and pen. ‘You’re all clear to go now, sir.’
Connolly signed the document and climbed into his cab and the other man watched as the lead escort Land Rover moved forward. He placed his foot on the accelerator and the lorry moved off to follow it across the concrete apron and out to the main road. The guard at the main gate checked the documents handed to him by the driver, and then returned them. He then lifted the red and white barrier and waited for the convoy to pass. At the end of the approach road, the vehicle turned left, shortly followed by the Queen Mary trailer with the rear escort Land Rover completing the ensemble.
On the trailer, wrapped tightly in the tarpaulin, was the second prototype of the BR-101 Strike and reconnaissance aircraft known as Rapier P-Two. This airframe had remained in Hangar 1 to await repairs that were never undertaken. The BR-101 project had been officially cancelled in favour of the American GK FB-X, and an anglicized version of this new revolutionary aircraft was due to arrive at the A&AWTEE for trials at the end of the year.
Connolly drove the Queen Mary at a steady pace for its long journey to the storage facility at RAF Wenslow. There it was to be eventually broken up by G Harris & Sons, the local scrap merchant.
Back at Pembridge, the technician who had signed away the load sat in the canteen, looking deeply into his tea. He had been accustomed to projects coming and going at the top secret base, but of all the aircraft he had been involved with, the Rapier had been the most close to his heart.
Like previous cancellations, there was always hope that a last minute reprieve would come from somewhere, saving an airframe from the scrap man’s torch, and suddenly in his mind’s eye, he thought to himself how nice it would be to one day take his future grandchildren to see a surviving Silver Angel, as it stood proudly in a museum.
On the same day, some 240 miles south east of RAF Wenslow, MP Harry Dobson lifted the barrier to allow another transporter through the entrance onto Gunnery Site 5 on the Shellbury Weapons Range, situated on the Essex coast. He knew that today would be a sad day. The transporter driver climbed out of the cab and walked over to the control hut.
Harry acknowledged him. ‘Morning mate,’ he said solemnly.
The driver nodded his head to return the gesture. ‘I have a delivery of one beautiful aircraft for you.’
Harry replied in a similar, somber mood. ‘What a bloody shame.’
He shook his head as he passed a clipboard to Harry. ‘Airframe no XR439 confirmed and received, and yes it is a bloody shame, the only one to fly as well.’
‘What will happen to her?’ enquired the driver.
‘She’ll be reassembled, and then towed out to ‘Tin City’ over there,’ Harry pointed to the area that was littered in intervals with airframes of ex-service aircraft. ‘They’re due to start AP live round firing tomorrow. I reckon that she’ll last until the end of the month and what’s left will go to scrap.’
The driver shook his head again. ‘Why?. I mean, she could have gone to a museum or something.’
Harry nodded. ‘You know how it is with this new government of ours. They tell us and then we just do it. We’re not allowed to ask why, even though some of those things, (he pointed to the trailer) seem bloody ludicrous!’
Harry forced a displeasing smile, watching as the driver then worked in silence to detach the trailer from the cab. When finished, he shook Harry’s hand and climbed into his cab. Harry walked over to the barrier while the driver reversed to turn the vehicle around, and then moved it slowly forward towards the exit to the site. As he passed he gave a quick wave to Harry who returned the compliment and then closed the barrier.
The driver looked in his rear view mirror and filling the panoramic view, was the solitary shape shrouded in a blue tarpaulin on the trailer. As he stared, a tear began to well in his left eye and trickle down his cheek.
The next day out at Tin City, large explosions ripped across the waste ground, as shells penetrated the upturned complete wing of Airframe no XR439, sending chunks of silver metal flying up into the air. Later, over a series of live firing tests from an array of ordinance, the fuselage of the Silver Angel would experience a slow and destructive transformation, from a sleek looking and state of the art war machine, to a mangled metallic resemblance of Swiss cheese.