As if to greet him, the shimmering metallic plane bounced a few times in a mock bow. With hot gases still escaping from various outlets, a ground crew appeared, to hook on the boarding ladder. When they raised the big Perspex canopy, Hornsby and his pupil, appeared, and descended the boarding ladder.
Inside the operations room, Hornsby removed his flying gloves, instantly recognising Jack Rowse. Alex Swan was introduced to the fast jet pilot. Over a much-needed cup of tea, he listened as Hornsby recalled the last month’s Shackleton incident at Nicosia.
‘We shut her down and were asked by the Turkish commandos to come out of the aircraft and accompany them to the main terminal building. Then, before long, an RAF Land Rover picked us up and we were soon heading south for Akrotiri, leaving poor old Doris behind. I did ask the Turkish commander if we could just fly back out to Akrotiri, but following a phone call to his head of operations in Ankara, this was denied to us.’ He smiled. ‘I guess that they wanted the plane for themselves. Anyway, a lot has happened since then with the airport now in the hands of the UN.’ He turned to the man from the Foreign Office. ‘And now you want to go and retrieve something you hid inside Doris, Mr Rowse?’ Hornsby then turned his head to Swan. ‘And whatever it is, it must be very important for this gentleman from the MOD to be here, as well.’
‘Indeed it is, squadron leader,’ replied Swan. The future of this island depends on us getting there and retrieving this paper — providing of course that it hasn’t already been found by other parties.’
‘And what if it has, Mr Swan?’ Hornsby enquired.
‘Then, squadron leader, we could find ourselves embroiled in much more of a war than we have seen here already.’
Hornsby gasped. ‘Christ! That is something this place really doesn’t need.’ He looked at his watch. ‘It will be dark soon, chaps. Best not head out to Nicosia now. I’ll arrange some accommodation for you both this evening, and after a good breakfast in the NAFFI, we can head out first thing tomorrow. What say you both to that idea?’
Both civilians agreed.
After a nice evening, with a superb meal and drinks as guest of the officer, Swan and Rowse retired early. Looking ahead, Swan was unsure of how things would go. This latest story of British engagement in the conflict now loomed over their mission, like a roaming black cloud. He considered that tomorrow’s journey to the isolated airport could well be a hazardous one.
At the same time, in his father’s east London garden, Andrew Gable looked down at the stones of the patio, noticing how the setting sun was changing their colour. Following the incident at Dover Castle, he had decided that, despite his busy role as a superintendent of the Kent Constabulary, it was high time he made an effort to visit his parents.
He sat at the garden table, waiting for his father to bring out a fresh pot of tea, pondering a change from his profession. At the bottom of the garden, his wife Sandra was with her mother-in-law, helping Annie Gable to water the prize roses that had recently won the Best Rose category in their horticultural club’s competition. At intervals, the women had to pause their conversation and wait for a train on the East London Line from Fenchurch Street to Southend pass by on the viaduct at the end of the street. It wasn’t the noise of the train that was the distraction, but the spontaneous barking from Jason, the golden labrador retriever of their next-door neighbour, that prevented them from talking. On cue, he would start howling as soon as a train began its journey across the raised platform, and unless stopped by a more audible bark from his Welsh owner, the dog was only quiet again once the train had passed. There would still be a few growls, after which he would settle back down into his favourite spot inside the Godfrey’s conservatory until the next train.
Arthur Gable appeared with the tea and sat down opposite his son. ‘So, how’s Oliver? What’s he up to at the moment?’ It had been a long time he had seen his only grandson. Being an apprentice marine archaeologist meant that Oliver spent most of his time abroad.
Andrew explained his son was currently working in Bristol, having been part of the team that recovered the abandoned SS Great Britain from her berth in the Falkland Islands. ‘He phoned to tell me he’s just joined the committee looking into raising Henry VIII’s flagship, the Mary Rose, from the Solent. Mind you, it will be a while before she’s brought up. They have to get her out of all that silt first. He’s also found himself a nice girl, Laura, he met her in Bristol.’
Arthur sighed. ‘What an adventurous job my grandson’s got. Travelling the world, diving down on shipwrecks. I’m so glad he saw sense to decide not to follow us into the force.’
Andrew agreed, he was also proud of his son’s achievements. He then raised a subject closer to home. ‘So, what’s the latest on Allenby, dad? It seems that all of a sudden, a blanket of silence has descended over him.’
‘Well, I am not supposed to tell anyone, but he’s still in a coma. Alex flew out to Cyprus this morning with Jack Rowse, to recover this Ankara agreement document. I reckon they’ll be there by now. I haven’t heard anything from him since seeing them off, this morning, but I’m sure Janet has. I might give her a quick ring later, to see if they got there okay.’
Andrew Gable smiled. ‘Surprised you didn’t go with him, dad.’
‘What — me and aeroplanes? Do me a favour, son! That’s why your poor mum doesn’t ever get to go on one of these package holidays. Besides, the plane they flew in from Northolt is about the size of one of Oliver’s old Airfix models. Not to mention that the last time Rowse flew in it, a sea-bird had got into its engine and it had to do an emergency landing! And your mum wouldn’t take to me too kindly, if I told her that I was flying into a bloody war zone!’
Andrew Gable laughed at the thought. ‘No, I reckon she wouldn’t!’
He glanced at the ladies at the bottom of the garden, then his voice suddenly took a more serious tone. ‘By the way, did you tell mum about what happened in Dover?’
‘Of course not. She already worries about me, now that our job has Alex and I chasing dangerous terrorists and their bombs. She doesn’t need to know, Andrew, so we need to keep that from her. You haven’t told Sandra, have you?’
His son shook his head. ‘No, I just told her that I bumped into you down at the Dover bunker.’
Arthur Gable nodded. ‘That’s good, then. Besides, I have been thinking a lot about the other day. It really scared me, Andrew. In fact, it really bloody scared me. I thought that was my lot and that your poor old mum would be left here without me.’
Andrew nodded. ‘Well, you are getting on a bit, dad. Maybe it’s time to call it a day with SID.’
Arthur Gable shifted in his chair. ‘Maybe you’re right son. I think Alex knows it, too. Janet keeps asking me if I need a rest every time we’ve had little bit of action.’
‘In that case, when Alex comes back from Cyprus, why don’t you have a word with him?’
‘Not sure how to tell him, to be honest. We’ve been a good pair, I don’t think he could contemplate having someone different in the office. Especially after what we’ve been through, since he formed SID.’
Andrew finished his tea. ‘Actually dad, I’ve also been thinking. I’ve had enough of my time with the Kentish force. I don’t really want to come back to the smoke to work in the Met, and that bit of action I had with Alex through the tunnels and around the hover port had me thinking. I could really enjoy your kind of life.’