The Final Flight by James Blatch (books to read in your 30s .TXT) 📗
- Author: James Blatch
Book online «The Final Flight by James Blatch (books to read in your 30s .TXT) 📗». Author James Blatch
She poured the lager, while the man half-turned to take him in, before reaching down to pat his dog.
“Just you, is it?” the landlady asked.
“I’m expecting a friend.”
“I can run a tab, if you like?”
“Thanks.” He nodded, and she noted the drink on a pad next to the till.
Rob picked up the pint and made his way to a small, round table furthest from the bar. He tucked himself into a corner by the fireplace.
The place smelled of old wood. Brass horseshoes were tacked to the beams and ugly Toby jugs stared out at the empty chairs.
The door opened and the young woman walked in.
She’d undergone a transformation. The black bob of hair was now shoulder-length blonde. She looked smarter, too.
He stood up. She smiled at him, waved and called out.
“Hi!”
The landlady picked up a wine glass, in anticipation of a fresh order. “The gentleman has a bill running, so what would you like?”
“Half a Guinness,” the woman said brightly. The landlady replaced the wine glass and poured the stout into a straight half-pint glass. There was a pause while she let the beer settle before topping it up. Rob remained standing, feeling awkward.
The young woman came over to the table. She looked friendly and confident, as if they met here every Thursday evening. Following years of behaviour training, he let her take her seat before resuming his.
She leant over and kissed him on the cheek.
“How are you?” she said, loud enough for the pub’s other two occupants to hear.
“Fine, thank you.”
Her new hair made a difference, but her clothes changed everything. Gone were the loose fitting tops and scruffy jeans. She now wore a smart, cream blouse and black slacks, and had a shiny new handbag. She looked as if she’d just come from an office job, not the peace camp.
She studied him with clear, green eyes. She had a turned down mouth, dimples in both cheeks.
She hung her handbag on the chair, before crossing her hands on the table.
“How was your day?”
“Fine, thank you.”
She leant in close. “Let’s wait for the background noise to rise a bit.”
His eyes scanned the empty pub.
The door swung open again and three men bustled in wearing boots, wax jackets and ruddy complexions.
They laughed about something, and the landlady greeted them by name. The woman leant forward again.
“Why did you steal Top Secret documents from the military?”
“I don’t know what you mean.”
“You had them in your house.”
“I didn’t steal them.”
“Then why did you have them?”
She kept her serene smile. At a glance, anyone would think they were having a cosy chat about holiday plans.
The three newcomers stood at the bar and tucked into their hard-earned pints, chatting loudly about some adventure with a bailer.
She spoke again. “Georgina Milford gave them to you to hide?”
“No.”
“Then what was the arrangement, Robert?”
He shook his head. “Who are you?”
“Don’t look so worried, it will attract attention.”
“I can’t look like anything else at the moment.”
“Well, being caught with Guiding Light material means jail time. Why risk it?” She spoke with such casualness, but Rob winced at the project name.
“I wanted to return them, but… it’s complicated.”
She leant back and folded her arms, those green eyes constantly assessing him.
“Tell me. I can cope with complicated.”
“Are you with CND?”
She reached to her handbag, unclipped the strap and pulled out a sheet of paper, placing it on the table between them. Rob looked down as she turned it around to face him. He didn’t recognise the handwriting, but the pattern of numbers and equations was familiar.
“These are Millie’s notes?”
“Millie?”
“Milford. Christopher Milford. Everyone called him Millie.”
She nodded. “I copied them out.”
“Where is the original?”
“Safe. Look, Robert—”
“Rob. And everyone calls me Rob.”
She gave a little laugh. “Rob and Millie. You boys. Just like boarding school.”
“I didn’t go to boarding school.”
“I know you didn’t.”
He stared at her. She laughed again. “You can call me Susie.”
“Is that your real name?”
She raised an eyebrow. “What sort of person makes up names?” She tapped the sheet again. “What does it mean?”
Rob studied the notes.
262 ll/d
TFR 100
5 dys
250/y
= 25,000
0.014% = 3.5
2.5 Cr/ = 8.75
“You don’t know, do you?” she asked, sounding disappointed.
He put a hand on the piece of paper. “I might work something out, but I’ll need to keep it.”
She shook her head. “I don’t know, Rob. You’re a bit of a loose cannon. Pitching up at a peace camp, shouting off to anyone and everyone. I don’t know if I can trust you.”
“You can’t trust me? I have no idea who you are.” He spoke louder than he’d meant to; a few heads turned at the bar.
Susie looked around and turned back to him, laughing. “You’re so funny.” She leaned forward and kissed him on the lips before slouching back in her seat and taking a sip of her drink.
His heart pounded. She was young and beautiful. He hadn’t kissed another woman since meeting Mary.
She sat up again.
“You see, Rob, I can’t even trust you to keep your voice down. Let’s try to look like a normal, run-of-the-mill couple, so no-one remembers us.”
“Sorry.”
“What’s your next move?” she asked, again with that same smile, as if enquiring about his plans for Saturday night.
“I need the box back, please. That’s why I’m here.”
“And what will you do with it?”
“I don’t know.”
“Well, that sounds like a solid plan.”
He shrugged.
“OK. So how about I tell you what I know? Your friend Millie found something, didn’t he? Something that worried him. Something that needed reporting, but not through the usual channels. Am I getting warm?”
“Maybe.”
“Is that why he’s dead, Rob?”
“No.”
“Are you sure?”
“He’s dead because I wasn’t paying attention.”
“The crash was your fault?”
He took a breath. “I don’t know. No, probably not. But I could have prevented it. I think.”
“And you feel guilty?”
“I’m sorry, who did you say you were again?”
“Another drink, Flight Lieutenant?”
He looked down and saw he’d finished his first pint. Susie headed off to the bar.
As Rob watched her chatting with the landlady, he tried to reconcile this
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