Wings of Death

by David Holman

  He slammed the phone down on his desk, walked out of the office and across the hangar to a set a double green doors. At the bottom of the stairs, he was greeted by US Ranger Will Hart. The small, stocky soldier stood to attention as Maitland approached.

  Maitland raised a hand. ‘At ease, Will. I may have another job for ya.’

  Hart acknowledged his superior, shouting eagerly. ‘Yes sir.’

  ‘There’s a Limey investigator on his way here. He wants to poke his nose into our business. We must make sure that he meets with a little accident, if you know what I mean.’

  Hart remained silent, just nodding his acknowledgement.

  ‘Okay, Will, I am not sure when we can expect him to show up, but it will probably be with that son of a bitch Barnett. We need this guy Alex Swan on his own.’

  The Ranger just nodded again.

  *

  Swan rose from his seat as the train pulled into Maryport Station. After leaving his American pursuers back at Crewe, the journey to Carlisle had been an uneventful one. However, giving more attention to his book, he had discovered a lot more about The Eagle’s Lance. He recalled what Clinton Sanger had told him while they were having lunch in the café. Of how the CIA even had a file on this strange society.

  At Carlisle, he crossed the platform and boarded the two carriage West Coast shuttle service to Maryport. The train was on time, and after a short journey, Swan stepped down onto the station platform and walked towards the ticket barrier. He showed his ticket to the stationmaster and then recognised Howard Barnett waiting for him. ‘HB, nice to see you old chap. Really good to see you up on your feet again. Arthur and I felt the worst when we got the news,’ Swan shook the Brinton Chief Engineer’s hand.

  ‘How was your journey, Alex?’ asked Barnett.

  ‘Very interesting, I had a tail from the office in Whitehall and then on the train at Euston, but, I managed to lose them at Crewe. After that I had a relaxing and surveillance-free journey.’

  ‘Bloody Ada,’ was all Barnett could manage to say in response.

  The two men walked out into the station car park and climbed into Barnett’s Austin. ‘Change of plan, Alex. My wife Heidi has insisted that you come back to us, have dinner and stay the night.

  Swan smiled. ‘That’s awfully jolly hospitable of her HB, I would be honoured.’

  ‘That settles it, then. In the morning, I will take you into Brinton’s and you can then do your thing with the Yanks.’

  The drive back to Barnett’s house in Ellenborough was semi quiet, with Barnett recalling his experience on the heath. This allowed Swan to gather his own thoughts, and recall the events so far.

  At the house, Swan was shown in and introduced to Heidi. ‘I have heard a lot about you in this very short time, Mr Swan. Now shall we eat, meinen herren?’

  Heidi led them into the dining room, and Swan sat down at the beautifully laid table and eyed the pot of stew and dumplings sitting in the centre.

  ‘Please, help yourself Mr Swan,’ invited Heidi.

  ‘Your husband praised your cooking to me, Mrs Barnett. I am looking forward to this.’

  After a short while, Heidi cleared away the dinner plates and took them into the kitchen.

  Barnett then rubbed his hands with excitement. ‘Is that a strudel I can smell, lass?’

  Heidi returned with a tray holding the apple strudel and set it on the table, then returned to the kitchen to retrieve a jug of custard.

  Following dessert, Swan sipped his coffee while going over what he intended for the next day. ‘I will need to get downstairs in the hanger.’

  Barnett had an idea. ‘I could arrange for a fire drill, that way everyone has to clear the area, even the Yanks. While we do the roll calls, this should give you enough time to get down there and see what’s going on.’

  Swan liked the sound of this plan. ‘Excellent idea, HB.’

  Barnett rose from his chair, reached into a side cabinet and pulled out a bottle of Glendronnach Single Malt Scottish Whisky.

  ‘Now Alex, how about a nightcap?’

  *

  The distinctive lights of Albert Bridge over the River Thames make this particular structure one of the most attractive landmarks of London, and Jake Brannigan looked out at the river as he crossed the bridge in the black taxi cab. Once the taxi reached the other side, the driver drove along the main road, passing the concrete pillars marking the entrance to Battersea Park. At the end of the road, the driver turned right, and then a first left into Battersea Church Road. He pulled the taxi over to the side of the curb, parking next to a white Volkswagen Beetle. Brannigan paid the driver and climbed out of the cab, then walked up the steps to a terraced house and rang the bell. After a few seconds, the door opened and an elderly woman, wearing brown trousers and a beige cardigan, stood in the doorway.

  ‘Mr Brannigan. Please come in,’ she said in an American accent. Having already received a full description from Maitland, Ellie Cartwright knew what to expect.

  Brannigan walked in to the hallway, gazing at the chandelier that hung down from the ceiling in the centre. The elderly lady walked in front of him. ‘Welcome to London Safe House 23. Let me show you to your room.’

  Brannigan followed her up the stairs and was led through a white door into a bedroom. She spoke as she walked. ‘Are you hungry, I can do ya some ham sandwiches?’

  ‘No err…?’

  ‘Call me Ellie,’ she informed.

  ‘No thanks, Ellie, I ate on the train down from Carlisle. I need to use the telephone though.’

  ‘It’s right outside, down the hall. There’s a scrambler on it, so feel free to speak how you want to. How about some coffee?’

  ‘Thanks, Ellie. That would be swell.’ Brannigan smiled and closed the door as Ellie walked back down the stairs and into the kitchen. She had been ‘housekeeper’ of this CIA safe house for seven years. Before that, she had worked as a secretary in the US Embassy in Paris. Her husband, a systems analyst, had been involved in early advisory deployments to Vietnam, working alongside the French Army, at the air base in Tan Son Nhut, near Saigon. He was meeting in a Nissan hut with French officers when tea had been served by a young Vietnamese boy. A box had been added to the tray of beverages, showing the label of a locally made sweet biscuit bread. The boy had placed down the tray and exited the room. One of the French officers had gone to the tray and poured out the tea for the men, who were studying a map of the North Vietnamese area. He handed each cup to the other members of the party, and then reached out for the wooden box. Placing his fingers underneath the lid, he lifted it. The explosion that followed was heard in the operations hut 1000 yards away. The box had been rigged with three Russian-made hand grenades, linked to a fuse. The detonator was connected by a small wire to the trigger that had been taped to the bottom of the box lid. All four men were killed instantly.

  After the death of her husband, Ellie requested to be assigned to London, as she had enjoyed the sites many times when her husband had been posted there. She was offered the post as a CIA ‘housekeeper’ and had taken it willingly. Part of her clandestine daily routine was to walk through nearby Battersea Park, another place where she used to spend time with her late husband. She made many friends during her walks in the park, but none of them would think that this sixty two year old widow controlled a secret CIA establishment, situated on the south bank of the River Thames.

  Jake Brannigan lifted the receiver of the phone and dialed. After six rings, he heard Maitland’s voice. ‘Hi Frank, its Jake. Just letting ya know, that I’m now at the safe house.’

  Maitland sat at this desk. ‘That’s great, Jake. We may have a problem here, as Alex Swan has given our boys the slip and could be heading this way. Don’t worry, I’ll be ready for the son of a bitch if he shows up.’

  Brannigan smiled. ‘Too bad that I’m not there with ya. I sure would like to have a piece of that action.’

  Maitland agreed. ‘Okay, pal. Remember, tomorrow you just get to the GK st
and and Ava will give ya the package. Follow the instructions I gave ya, and you should be okay.

  Chapter 20

  The A594 out of Ellenborough was quiet at this particular time of the morning. The sun had just started to rise, and a combination of purple to blue rays of mixed light crept over the hills.

  Howard Barnett drove his Austin A40 casually, his passenger sitting next to him, contemplating on how the day would pan out.

  ‘When we get to Crash Gate Four, Jim Lewis will be waiting there with the Bird Scaring Land Rover. He’ll unlock the gate and let you in, then take you to the garage which is next to the Magic Box. Lay low in the garage office until I can arrange for the fire alarms to be set off. Then, Jim will go with you into the side door and show you where the entrance to the basement is. I’ve told Jim everything, so he was keen to give us a hand to get his revenge for the Yanks turning him into human laundry.’

  Swan acknowledged and agreed the plan. ‘Does anyone else know that I am going to be snooping around in there?’

  Barnett shook his head reassuringly. ‘No, I thought it best to keep it low profile.’

  Swan relaxed in his seat and stared out at the bright yellow fields of rapeseed that paralleled the road.

  *

  Inside the perimeter fence, Jim Lewis drove the yellow painted soft top Land Rover idly along the Brinton runway. He noticed a mass of long black necks and brown bodies ahead and as he approached, the Canadian Geese began to flutter their wings. Jim turned on the siren and drove slowly towards them with roof mounted amber lights now flashing.

  One by one, the geese took to the air and formatted on each other. He stopped the Land Rover and watched as the flock formed a perfect ‘V’ on the lead bird. They circled that part of the Brinton airfield a few times, and Lewis watched them cautiously as they gave signs that they were going to set down on the dew ridden grass again.

  As they came past the Land Rover, Lewis turned on the sirens again and this time, the geese climbed higher, with the lead bird bringing the V around in larger circles, flying straight across the airfield and beyond the perimeter fence. Lewis checked them as they disappeared from view, looked at his watch and got out of the Land Rover. He reached back into the cab for his packet of Woodbines and lighter on the dashboard and lit one, then leant on the door, taking in the cool early morning breeze as he puffed on his cigarette.

  After a few minutes, he dropped his finished cigarette butt and stamped on it, then opened the door of the Land Rover, climbed in and started the engine. He put the vehicle into gear and turned the steering wheel. His destination was over to the other side of the airfield, to Crash Gate Number Four.

  Howard Barnett swung the A40 around the bend and approached the perimeter of the Brinton complex. He drove a hundred yards along the perimeter fence, and then slowed the car, pulling into the left and into a lay-by. Swan looked at the two yellow gates in front of him with its red sign mounted on each one.

  Brinton Aviation Limited

  Crash Gate 4

  Keep Clear

  Emergency Vehicle Access

  Howard Barnett got out of the car and raised his hand at Jim Lewis standing behind the gate, smoking another Woodbine. ‘Morning, gents,’ he greeted, cigarette still in his mouth.

  Barnett gave him a mock salute. ‘Morning Jim, I think you know Mr Swan?’

  Lewis nodded his head in recognition. He nodded, placing the key into the padlock on the gate and opening it slightly enough for a man to walk through. Step right this way, sir,’ he requested.

  Barnett turned to Swan: ‘Good luck Alex,’ said the Chief Designer, shaking his hand.

  ‘You, too, Howard. I am sure I will see you later on.’

  Swan turned and walked through the small gap between the gates.

  ‘Thanks Jim,’ said Barnett as Lewis closed and locked the gate.

  ‘No problem, HB. I just hope it’s all worth it in the end.’

  Swan turned to Lewis. ‘If I find what I’m looking for Mr Lewis, then it will be, I assure you.’

  The two men then climbed into the Land Rover and headed for the main buildings, while Barnett got back into his car and drove back along the A594 to the main gate, showed his pass to the duty security guard and drove up to the reception building and parked his car in his designated parking bay, then walked inside.

  He was greeted by the security guard. ‘Good morning, HB,’ said a uniformed Bill Wright, sitting at the reception desk.

  Barnett walked over and found his clock card, put it into the machine and placed it in the pocket on the wall. ‘Bill, I want to run a fire drill at ten o’clock. We haven’t had one in a while and to meet the new government safety regulations, we need to do one.’

  Wright smiled. ‘Right you are sir, I’ll set the alarm of at ten.’

  ‘Thanks Bill.’ Barnett walked through the doors and headed for his office.

  *

  In the vehicle garage, Lewis presented Swan with a Brinton work overall. ‘You’ll look a lot less conspicuous, and a lot less like Double O Seven, if you wear this, sir.’

  ‘I agree with you, Jim.’ Swan took the overall and changed, reaching into his jacket pockets to pull out the camera and a few other affects, then hung his jacket up on a hook in the office. He turned to Lewis. ‘Do I look the part now, Jim?’

  ‘Champion, sir. Just like all us other Brinton employees.’

  The telephone on the desk rang and Lewis went and picked up the receiver. While he did this, Swan quickly pulled Gable’s revolver from his jacket and placed it into the left pocket of the overall.

  ‘Garage,’ said Lewis, and listened. He then handed the receiver to Swan. ‘HB for you, Mr Swan.’

  Barnett spoke to Swan informing him of the time for the fire alarm.

  He put down the receiver and turned to Lewis. ‘HB says the alarm is set for ten o’clock.’

  Lewis looked at the clock on the wall. ‘In that case, we’ve got time for a brew. I’ll just put kettle on.’

  At a few minutes to ten, Bill Wright retrieved the roll call sheets from the filing cabinet behind the reception desk.

  In the garage, Swan stood opposite Lewis and looked at his watch. Iinside his office on the mezzanine of The Magic Box, Barnett sat nervously, nursing a cup of coffee. He looked at the wall clock. Then, when the fire alarm rang out, filling the complex with shrill horn blasts, he put down his cup and walked outside.

  In a few moments, every inhabited area of the complex had disgorged their contents of personnel, as they made their way to their designated assembly points.

  In the garage, Alex Swan prepared himself.

  ‘This is it then, sir,’ said Lewis excitedly over the sound of the alarm.

  The two men watched through a window as the emergency doors of the assembly hangar opened and people filed outside.

  ‘There’s Maitland,’ Swan shouted, as he recognised the tall Kentuckian.

  ‘Those other blokes with him are also American,’ added Lewis.

  Swan noticed that there was no sign of Brannigan. He mentioned it to Lewis.

  ‘Oh Mr Brannigan’s not ‘ere sir. I overheard him yesterday saying to June, our canteen girl who fancies him, that he was going down to London for a few days.’

  They watched as Maitland led his entourage around to the front of the building. ‘Right sir, this way, we have no more than twenty minutes tops,’ informed Lewis.

  They exited the side door of the garage and walked to the assembly hangar, quickly disappearing inside.

  The assembly areas were now full of crowds awaiting their designated Fire Marshals to conduct the roll calls, lots of cigarette smoke filling the air around them. Although smoking was usually not permitted during a real fire evacuation, word had soon spread that this was in fact a long overdue practice drill.

  Bill Wright walked along the crowds with his clipboard and searched out his duty team. One by one, he checked with each that the personnel on their lists were present. Once satisfied, he moved to o
thers to do the same.

  Swan and Lewis walked down the side of the hangar, keeping within the yellow walkway areas marked out on the concrete floor until they came to a set of green rubber doors. On the doors was a temporary stencil in yellow print with the words:

  Restricted Area – GK Personnel Only.

  Lewis turned to Swan. ‘This is it, sir. I’ll wait for you here, and keep an eye out.’ He patted Swan on shoulder.

  Swan pushed the door and walked through. On the other side, he saw that he was now in a long corridor that had a staircase at the end. He walked over to it and cautiously, descended the stairs.

  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?’