The Final Flight by James Blatch (books to read in your 30s .TXT) 📗

Millie sipped his gin & tonic, venturing away from his usual tipples on this special occasion.

It had been a strange day. Seeing Kilton go from a state of fury to light-hearted banter was quite something.

But there was a look on his face Millie didn’t much like. A new determination seemed to fuel him.

He looked around the room. Catching JR’s eye, he raised his glass across the sea of heads.

As usual for West Porton, very few people knew the truth of what was happening. The break-in was public knowledge, but that was about it.

The gong sounded; people cheered. Millie couldn’t see him, but he imagined Rob with the hammer in his hand.

He found Georgina, and they walked arm in arm through to the dining room.

After the meal, they stood for the loyal toast, and the cigarettes and cigars came out.

Mark Kilton rose to his feet.

The TFU commanding officer launched into a lecture on national security and loyalty.

He began with the debt they owed their grandfathers, who fought in the trenches, moving on to their duty to protect their loved ones.

“But foul play of the worst kind will undermine all our efforts. Make no mistake, gentleman, we are under attack.”

Georgina whispered in Millie’s ear. “This doesn’t apply to the ladies present, then.”

Everyone listened politely, but this was not the time or place for a Churchillian rant.

Kilton, though, was oblivious to mood. “I will meet treachery with swift and vicious justice. Changes are already in place to ensure our work continues uninterrupted.”

People shifted in their seats.

He came to a loud conclusion. “We will not allow our freedom to be lost in the name of naivety or deliberate treachery. We will do what is required, however unpleasant that may seem to the outsiders, such that those same people can sleep peacefully at night.”

A few men greeted the speech with rapturous applause, while others put their hands together politely.

Millie glanced over to see Speedy Johnson start a standing ovation; others joined in, including Rob.

“Is he feeling alright?” Georgina asked.

Millie shook his head.

“No. He’s getting worse. The man has too much power.”

“He’s a bit manic, that’s for sure.”

“And that’s a dangerous combination, my dear.”

Kilton sat down, having had the last word. There were no more speeches. It was a ball, not a dining-in night.

Millie drained his glass. He and Georgina walked out to the anteroom while they cleared the tables for the dancing.

They found their place by a window. Millie looked out at the darkening skies.

He recalled the moment that morning when it looked like the project had been brought to a premature end. Then later being told the items had been recovered.

He assumed it was some kids maybe, looking for cash or something valuable, and imagined them cursing the drab papers and reels.

So there was no need to cancel his trip to RAF Abingdon and onto Oxford on Monday.

Three more drinks and one hour later, he was dancing with Georgina, followed by Sarah Brunson, then with Diana Johnson.

And then with Mary May.

Anxiety ebbed away with the alcohol.

Mary was tipsy and fun. The band played ‘In the Mood’. They laughed together as Millie struggled to bring any kind of coordination to his movements.

When the tune finished, he thanked Mary for her charity and they fell down into nearby seats. Rob and Georgina joined them and they ordered a fresh bottle of wine.

They danced more and drank on until the first grey notes of dawn filtered through the mess windows.

A rumour went around: an expedition to Stonehenge was planned.

“It’s your last RAF ball,” said Georgina to Millie. “Let’s make it memorable.”

Millie and Rob followed as the women linked arms and skipped out to the cars.

A few minutes later, Millie pulled on the handbrake, on the side of the A303, and they stepped out into the orange dawn light.

The four of them walked across the grass toward the giant Neolithic slabs.

They weren’t alone. A crowd of youngsters occupied the place: the early twenties set. Despite the warning notices, they climbed over the stones, laughing and hooting.

The four of them stood in the cool air, the men in black tie and the women in ball gowns and furs. They looked like they’d just walked off the set of a David Niven film.

Georgina nodded to the youngsters. “Do you think these are the traitors Mark was warning us about?”

“Treachery will be met by swift and vicious justice!” Mary said in a mock deep voice. More laughter.

Millie stole a glimpse of Rob, pleased to see him joining in with the smiles.

He hugged himself and watched the youngsters on the stones. They didn’t seem to have a care in the world.

“I wonder what they think of us?” Mary asked.

“We’re the squares, no doubt,” Georgina said.

The sun climbed above the eastern horizon. A perfect disc diffused by a thin layer of clouds.

Millie smiled to himself at the glorious vision of a star, ninety-three million miles away, rising to give life to their planet.

He felt the first radiated warmth on his face and linked arms with Georgina.

He smiled at her.

“What are you grinning at, Milford?” she said, with a smile of her own.

“Just noticing how absolutely beautiful you are.”

“Oh, Millie, don’t. You’ll make me cry.”

He leant forward and kissed her.

“Come on,” Rob said from over Millie’s shoulder, “let’s get these lovebirds home.”

As they drove slowly along the country road, Millie pondered his plans to expose the Guiding Light flaws. He had become more resolute during the day, but time was no longer on his side. The logistics were going to be more difficult than ever.

Had Kilton’s angry, panicked speech been inspired by genuine fear for the security of the country? Or out of fear that his own secret might still be insecure?

The bluster was bearable for one reason.

He had a plan.

On Monday it would take a giant step forward.

13

Sunday 19th June

Just after 7AM. Susie heard a noise in the corridor outside. Doors clanged, and she heard the familiar voices of her campmates.

Finally, her own door swung open.