Point of Impact

by Point of Impact (retail) (epub)

  Drew grinned. ‘I’ll meet you in the changing rooms in twenty minutes.’

  Michelle turned as Ali closed the door. ‘Emotional blackmail – it gets them every time,’ she said. ‘It’s bad enough that you want to risk your own life, without making him risk his as well.’

  ‘I didn’t make him do it – he volunteered.’ Drew avoided her gaze.

  ‘Promise me one thing,’ Michelle said. ‘Whatever happens, even if it’s nothing at all, promise me you’ll call it a day after this. If this doesn’t work – and I hope to God it doesn’t – draw a line under it.’

  He turned her face to his. ‘I promise. You do understand why I have to do it, don’t you?’

  For an answer she pulled him to her and kissed him.

  ‘This is my last shot, anyway,’ Drew said. ‘By this time tomorrow, I’ll be banged up in a cell back in England.’

  ‘Then we’d better not waste tonight, if you manage to get down again in one piece,’ Forcing a smile, she kissed him again, then walked out of the door without looking back.

  Drew waited a couple of moments, then stuck his head out of the door and called to one of the MPs. ‘I feel a bit rough. I’m going to get my head down for a while. If anyone else wants to see me, can you ask them to come back later?’

  He shut his door and turned his light out, then stood for a few moments, letting his eyes get accustomed to the darkness. He pushed the window open. Its hinges gave a faint protesting squeak. He waited, then swung his leg over the sill.

  The drainpipe was four feet to the side. Drew crouched on the sill, facing inwards and grasped the steel frame of the open window with his right hand. Then he pushed himself off, swinging round with the window towards the wall and reaching out for the pipe with his left. As his fingers grasped it, the window slammed against the wall, jarring his other hand loose. He grabbed desperately for the pipe, skinning his knuckles as he slid down the wall, until his flailing feet caught on one of the brackets.

  He hung on, motionless, as he waited to see if there was any response to the noise. Then he slid quickly down the pipe to the ground. He looked around, then slipped away past the corner of the building.

  Ali was waiting just inside the changing room. Drew checked that the room was empty of other aircrew before he spoke. ‘Any problems?’

  Ali shook his head. ‘I just told the authoriser I needed a trip round the houses to get my confidence back after the ejection.’

  Drew motioned Ali towards the counter where the corporal was scribbling in his ledger. ‘Keep him distracted,’ he mouthed, ducking behind a bank of lockers. He heard Ali asking for two pairs of night-vision goggles.

  The corporal turned away to pull the goggles from the locked store behind him. While he had his back turned, Drew whipped his own helmet from his locker and then grabbed a handful of used flying suits from the pile on the floor. He went to the far end of the changing room, out of sight of the counter, and found one close to his size. He threw the rest in a corner.

  Ali walked down to join him and they began to change in silence, keeping a wary eye on the corporal, who had returned to his ledger.

  Drew had just pulled on his G-pants when he heard the door swing open. He hastily put on his helmet and threw a spare suit over his shoulders to hide the name patch. Ali peered round the end of the row of lockers and then disappeared from Drew’s sight, hurrying to waylay the newcomer.

  ‘Hello, sir,’ Drew heard him say. ‘Not flying are you?’

  ‘Sadly not, Barber, sadly not,’ came Russell’s reply. ‘Too much bloody paperwork, I’m afraid.’ There was an awkward silence. ‘You getting back in the swing?’

  ‘That’s it, sir. Jumbo and I are going up for a quick spin.’

  ‘I thought he was off duty,’ Russell said.

  ‘He was.’ Ali’s voice tightened. ‘But I managed to bribe him into going up with me. It’s costing me the best meal in Gióia.’

  ‘No great sacrifice then,’ Russell said, chuckling.

  Drew could hear the voices getting closer despite Ali’s efforts. He gathered the rest of his gear together and sped through the door leading to the airfield. He hurried out to their aircraft, waiting on the line outside the hangar and gave it a cursory look-over before scrawling an illegible signature on the form Springer presented to him.

  ‘Fastest check I’ve ever seen in my life,’ Springer said, eyeing Drew with curiosity. ‘Not exactly regulation was it, sir? But then, come to that, nor’s your outfit.’

  Drew glanced over his shoulder and saw Ali and Russell emerging from the changing rooms, still locked in conversation.

  ‘Look, Springer – Neville…’

  Springer waited, cocking an eyebrow at the use of his Christian name.

  ‘That meter of yours I had running the other day.’

  ‘Sir?’ Springer said, still impassive.

  ‘If you can fit a case of beer in it tonight, then it’s Jumbo Collins in the front seat of this aircraft… should anyone ask.’

  A smile spread across Springer’s face as he took in the approaching Russell. ‘Sounds fine to me, Jumbo, and by the way, I’ll be drinking Becks… should anyone ask.’

  Drew hurried up the steps and strapped himself into the cockpit as Russell arrived with Ali.

  ‘It’s just like falling off a horse, Ali: get straight back into the saddle and there’s nothing to it.’

  Springer gestured to his headset. ‘Flight Lieutenant Collins says would you hurry along, sir? He’s got a fault showing on his preflight checks.’

  Ali hurried up the ladder while Springer saluted Russell with the blend of deference and insolence that had taken him twenty years to perfect. As the ladders were removed, he sauntered over to the side of the aircraft, ready to start the engines, leaving Russell standing alone by the Tempest’s wing.

  ‘What’s the snag?’ Ali asked as he strapped himself in.

  ‘There isn’t one. That was just Springer earning his corn.’

  As they fired up the two massive engines, Russell stepped back a couple of paces and glanced up at the cockpit, illuminated by the glaring halogen lights. He looked away, then snapped his head back, the smile fading from his face.

  From the corner of his eye Drew could see Russell’s features contorting with rage. His mouth opened and shut, his words lost in the engine noise.

  ‘Oh, oh,’ Drew said. ‘I think Russell’s just noticed that Jumbo bears an uncanny resemblance to Drew Miller.’

  Ali glanced out. ‘Come on, Drew, it’s all gone to ratshit. We can’t go ahead with this now.’

  ‘Sorry, Ali. It’s now or never.’

  Russell sprinted across to Springer, who had his headset plugged in to the jet. Pushing him angrily aside, Russell pressed the mike to his throat and began shouting. ‘Shut down those engines now. That is an order.’

  The only reply was the wail of the siren as the canopy began to close.

  Russell ducked under the nose of the Tempest and, as soon as the siren died, he stepped back, standing directly in front of the aircraft, looking up into Drew’s face. ‘I order you to shut down those engines,’ he shouted again.

  Again Drew did not reply. Instead the engine note rose as he applied the power. The airframe juddered, the engines howling their frustration at the brakes holding them back. Then the Tempest began to roll forward off the line.

  ‘Stop this aircraft,’ Russell yelled. ‘I am not moving. You will have to run me over.’

  Once more there was no reply. The Tempest towered over Russell and at the last minute he jumped out of the way, the headset tearing free from the fuselage. He clapped his hands to his ears as they thundered past.

  Glancing back, Drew could see Russell sprinting towards the Engineering Control hut.

  ‘What now?’ Ali asked.

  ‘I imagine he’ll be on the phone to Air Traffic. He’ll try to get the runway blocked and stop us taking off.’

  He wound up the engines further, the note rising as the jet jump
ed forward, rumbling along the taxiway at twice the normal speed.

  ‘We’re not going to have time for all the usual checks, Ali. We’ll just have to hope everything’s up and running.’

  He glanced over to the windsock and groaned. ‘Sod’s Law, it’s a tail wind, but we’ll have to live with that as well.’

  As Drew spoke, he saw the shutters on the emergency sheds further down the airfield slam upwards and the first vehicles pull out, blue lights flashing.

  The radio crackled. ‘Tempest, you have no clearance. Bring the aircraft to a halt.’

  Drew made no attempt to reply.

  ‘Tempest, a Hercules is on final approach, inbound to this airfield. Stop the jet now and await further instructions.’

  ‘Drew!’ Ali yelled.

  ‘They’re bluffing.’

  ‘What if they’re not?’

  ‘Then one of us is going to have to get out of the way.’

  They were almost at the end of the runway. Looking back over his shoulder, Drew could see a wavering line of blue flashing lights advancing across the airfield towards the edge of the runway.

  He flicked the radio back on. Tiger 2–1, self-cleared for take-off. ‘Hang on, Ali – we’re going for a rolling start.’

  He swung the jet around the apron, pushing the throttles forward. As they began to accelerate he saw the blue lights also begin to move again, rolling forward on to the runway itself.

  ‘Shit,’ he said, heaving back on the throttles and braking savagely. The jet lurched and shuddered as Drew swung it around. It slid sideways, the wheels drifting perilously close to the edge of the runway as he forced a turn into the maze of taxiways around the hardened aircraft shelters.

  Ali groaned. ‘What the hell are you doing?’ he said.

  ‘Just following our war training. If the main runway’s bombed out, use the taxiways as emergency runways.’

  The jet lurched again as he swung it onto a long taxiway, running parallel to, and fifty metres east of, the main strip. Instantly he rammed the throttles forward again and the engines began to howl as jets of blue flame blasted out behind them.

  ‘Drew, there’s not enough room left on this for a take-off.’

  ‘There’ll have to be.’

  Drew saw the blue lights advancing again and imagined the emergency crews cursing as their vehicles bounced and bucketed over the rough ground. He sighted along the concrete strip to its abrupt end in the Adriatic, trying to work out if the jet would run the gauntlet of emergency vehicles in time. Then he shrugged his shoulders. Let them worry about it.

  ‘One hundred knots,’ Ali said as the jet accelerated.

  They ripped past a lorry and a fire engine, which were still some way short of the taxiway, but there were more blue lights up ahead, rapidly closing on the edge of the concrete.

  Drew saw an ambulance hit the brakes and grind to a halt at the side as the Tempest zipped past, but his smile faded when he saw a fire engine coming straight towards him from the far end of the taxiway.

  ‘Speed, Ali?’

  ‘One hundred and forty.’

  ‘Can’t wait any longer. Rotating.’

  ‘Drew!’

  Ali was too late. Drew was already pulling back on the stick. Still accelerating, the jet stayed on the ground for a moment, but as it reached flying speed there was a bump and the wheels lifted. The gap between the Tempest and the fire truck was closing fast as the jet dragged itself into the air, generating no lift from the following wind.

  He held the stick rigid, unwilling and now unable to take evasive action. It was far too late to stop and any attempt to fly round the fire engine would simply send the Tempest’s wing slicing into the ground.

  As they rocketed towards the fire truck, he knew with a sickening clarity that the jet would not clear it in time. ‘Look out Ali, we’re going to hi—’

  Drew had a momentary glimpse of two white faces framed in the windscreen, as the fire engine swerved violently off the taxiway.

  It took Drew a few moments before he could trust himself to speak. He flicked a couple of switches. ‘Gear travelling… and the flaps.’ Then he eased back on the throttles as the Tempest climbed higher. ‘Out of reheat.’

  Chapter Twenty

  Drew held the climb right up to thirty thousand feet and levelled off well out over the Adriatic. It was a clear, starry evening, but neither man had eyes for the beauty of the night sky. The sea far below looked black and leaden as Drew began to give the most unusual briefing he had ever delivered.

  ‘Okay, Ali, we’re starting from thirty thousand feet, so we should have plenty of room to spare, but, if we do go out of control, six thousand feet is absolute baseline.

  ‘If we’re still nose down when we come out of the spin, we’ll need every inch of that to recover. Less and we won’t have enough room before we hit the sea. So, if we’re still going down when we get to six thousand, we’re coming out without waiting to see what happens next.’

  ‘And if we’re still spinning?’

  ‘We’ll be going down too fast to eject, because the upward thrust of the seat won’t be enough to counter the downward fall of the aircraft. If we’re still conscious, I’ll probably just have time to say sorry before we hit.’

  ‘Then perhaps we’d better get it over with, before I begin to realise what a bloody stupid idea this is.’

  They both lingered over their final checks, trying to postpone the moment when they had to begin the dive. Drew thought of Michelle listening in the tower and longed to speak to her over the radio.

  ‘Come on, Ali, let’s get this over with. This one’s for DJ.’

  He rolled the jet inverted and pushed the stick forward. As the Tempest’s nose dropped sharply, the panorama of stars was replaced by the black emptiness of the sea.

  ‘Beginning a spiral dive.’

  Their airspeed rose rapidly as the Tempest flashed downwards, spiralling towards the earth, the moonlight glinting from its silver wings.

  ‘Coming around hard left… Increasing speed to max power… Pulling a hard, four-G turn…’ Drew’s G-suit inflated, pressing in on his stomach and compressing his thighs as the Tempest hurtled down faster and faster towards the sea.

  ‘Dropping chaff… Selecting air-to-air missile… Stick top armed… Max power now…’

  There was a long silence and then Drew’s voice, sounding almost disappointed. ‘So that’s what Russian roulette feels like. One chamber empty, climbing back to height to pull the trigger again.’

  ‘Just our luck,’ Ali said. ‘Today of all days, we finally get an aircraft that works.’

  Three more times they swooped down in the dive but each time the aircraft responded perfectly to its controls. As they pulled back up to height, Ali warned him, ‘Fuel for just two more.’

  ‘Okay. Let me think a minute. Where have I been going wrong? Maybe it’s the speed of commands. Perhaps I’ve been selecting them too slowly, giving it time to part-process one set of instructions before the next comes in behind.’

  Ali interrupted him. ‘Drew, we’ve got company.’

  Two dots on the radar screen were moving rapidly towards them. As Drew saw the shapes of two more Tempests outlined against the rising moon, the radio crackled. ‘Hello, Jumbo, this is Jumbo.’

  ‘I do hope we haven’t interrupted your dinner,’ Drew said.

  ‘This is madness, Drew. What the hell are you doing?’

  ‘I’m starting to ask myself the same question.’

  ‘We’re ordered to escort you down.’

  ‘Sorry. I can’t oblige you there.’

  There was a long silence. ‘Very well.’ Jumbo took on a portentous tone. ‘Tempest aircraft, you are being intercepted. We will escort you to Gióia del Colle. Should you fail—’

  Drew broke in. ‘Don’t give me that bullshit, Jumbo.’

  Jumbo ignored the interruption. ‘Should you fail to comply, we will be ordered to engage.’

  ‘Do what he says, Drew, please,’
Ali said.

  ‘If you refuse to comply, Drew,’ Jumbo said, ‘we will shoot you down.’

  ‘I don’t think so,’ Drew said. ‘I really don’t think so. It took three weeks of handwringing and UN debates before we could have a crack at an enemy who was carrying out wholesale torture, rape and murder. I hardly think you’re going to shoot down one of your own side because Russell’s a bit cross.

  ‘Now I suggest you keep well back out of range because, with any luck, we’re going to be putting this jet into an uncontrolled dive. Ready, Ali? This time we’re doing it flat tack.’

  The two other Tempests kept their distance as Drew began another white-knuckle ride down towards the waves, rattling out the sequence of commands as fast as the most hectic combat. ‘Beginning dive. Coming around hard left. Increasing speed to max power. Pulling four-G. Dropping chaff. Selecting air-to-air missile. Stick top armed. Max power now.’

  There was another long silence, followed by Drew’s dispirited voice. ‘Nothing again.’

  ‘Fuel for just one more,’ Ali said. ‘Let’s try something different. DJ had just put our jet into a victory roll when he lost it.’ He paused. ‘I don’t know how that could have affected the computer, though.’

  ‘Neither do I, but we might as well try it. Nothing else seems to be working.’

  Once more they climbed back to height and began the long dive. As Drew rattled through the sequence of commands, he flipped the Tempest into a high-G barrel roll. Sky and sea reversed and then righted themselves over and over again, but still the warning panel stayed stubbornly blank.

  ‘Come on, Drew,’ Ali said. ‘We’ve no fuel for anything else. Let’s go home.’

  As the other Tempests trailed them, he mechanically pulled back to height and set course towards Gióia, warning the tower they were coming in. He stared dejectedly ahead, rocking the stick in his hand as he thought gloomily about the fate that awaited him on the ground. ‘I’m really sorry, Ali.’

  ‘Don’t worry about it, but do me one favour, will you? I know you’re depressed right now but try and concentrate on your flying until we get down. You’re making the jet rock worse than a novice on a maiden flight. Even DJ at his most tense was never as bad as this.’