‘Yes, but there is someone you must speak with first. Please to come to my office.’
He hurried across the tarmac to the far end of the terminal. The wind was icy and cut through the thick navy blue pullover Andrew was wearing.
‘Ah, that’s better. It’s warm in here. Now I’ll leave you three alone for five minutes. That should be enough?’
Andrew saw a whey-faced young man in a flying suit rise from a leather armchair to greet him. His shoulder insignia marked him as an RAF Flight Lieutenant.
‘Five minutes should be fine,’ the pilot acknowledged in a strong Scots accent, then introduced himself. ‘Alex McCringle. I expect you saw the grey beast on the tarmac?’
‘Nimrod MR2, unless I’m much mistaken.’
‘Exactly. Just come off patrol. This is my AEO, Stan Mackintosh. He’s the boss. Northwood told us to land here so we could report to you.’
‘Picked up some curious activity which they said you’d want to know about,’ Mackintosh explained.
‘Oh? Did they say why I’d want to know?’
Andrew was curious to know how much the RAF had been told of the Navy’s problems.
‘Said it was to do with the exercise Ocean Guardian? You’re involved in a special operation code-named Shadowhunt? Playing the part of the Soviets, trying to track one of our submarines?’
‘Something like that, yes.’
He could tell they hadn’t been convinced by the cover story.
‘Odd sort of operation, when Northwood doesn’t even know where its boats are,’ the AEO needled. ‘Anyway, let me tell you what we got.’
The flight lieutenant spread a chart on the office table. His finger drew a square shape over the sea about two hundred miles west of Trondheim in southern Norway.
‘We began a box search of this area at about one o’clock this morning. Beautiful clear night. Getting worse now, though. Anyway, we dropped a sonobuoy barrier looking for a Victor which the Norwegians had been tracking. Well, we found it but he wasn’t on his own. He was chasing one of yours, a bloody Trafalgar.’
He pointed northeast on the chart.
‘And what happened?’
‘We tracked them for a bit, then suddenly your boy got wise and slowed right down. The Victor didn’t realize what had happened at first, but then he slowed up too. We lost your boat at that point. They’re bloody quiet when they’re not rushing about, the Trafalgars. The Victor must have lost him too, because he suddenly went active! Practically deafened us!’
‘Pinged him, did he? They don’t often do that.’
‘Exactly. Must have been pretty bloody eager to keep tabs on your boy, don’t you think?’
‘Well, they don’t often get a chance like that. We’re normally too careful for them. But this time.…’
Andrew searched for the right words, that would give nothing away.
‘This time it’s different tactics,’ he added cautiously.
‘Well, the sooner you get back to the old ones, the better, I reckon!’
‘So what happened after that?’
‘We never picked up the T-boat again. Nor did the Russian. He went pinging around in all directions, up and down, changing depths, but he never found him again. Northwood told us to try to track your man; we dropped buoys all over the place, but he’d gone. And that’s it, Commander. Any use to you?’
‘Very much so, thank you. Now show me again on the chart exactly where you lost her.’
The AEO pointed and Andrew made a note of the co-ordinates.
‘So where are ye off to now, then?’ McCringle asked, making no effort to restrain his curiosity. ‘Hunting the Shadow underwater, are ye?’
‘That’s right. Trying out some new equipment…’ Andrew lied.
‘Hidden in that wee bag, is it?’ he joked, pointing at Andrew’s holdall.
‘’Sright. Don’t need much space for a floppy disc…’
‘Well, we’ll see how good it is, then. We’ve been told to stick around here for a few more days. See if we can be of some help. My fiver says we’ll find him again first!’
‘If you do, I’ll happily pay you ten times that.’
‘You’re on!’
They shook on it.
‘When do you plan to fly again?’
‘Tomorrow at eight,’ said Mackintosh. ‘They’re flying in a Here from Kinloss with a load of sonobuoys — we’ve almost run out.’
The door clicked open. Major Mjell poked his head round.
‘You must go now to the briefing room, Commander. It’s the last chance to get off tonight.’
‘Good luck,’ McCringle called as Andrew followed the major out.
He followed the Norwegian out onto the tarmac again. The wind was even stronger. They passed the HS. 125, refuelling for the return journey, and walked on towards the big, brightly lit hangar with the two helicopters parked outside.
‘This is the regional search and rescue headquarters,’ Mjell explained. ‘The Coastguard use it too.’
Warm air enveloped them as they stepped inside the flight office.
‘Klaasen,’ announced the pilot, introducing himself.
‘Tinker.’
The three-man aircrew for the Sea King were dressed in drab green immersion suits that would keep them dry if they ended up in the sea.
The loadmaster took a quick look at Andrew, assessing his size, and took from a rack a larger rubber suit in dayglo red.
‘You’ll be familiar with this equipment, Commander?’
Andrew pulled down the heavy zip and stepped into the legs of the suit. Floppy black rubber boots encased his feet. He forced his arms into the sleeves, taking care not to rip the soft rubber at the end which made a watertight seal with his wrists.
‘We need the suit back,’ Klaasen reminded him drily. Andrew knew how expensive they were. ‘After you’re safely on board the submarine, we’ll lower a bag for you to put it in. And the life-jacket too.’
‘Fine.’
Andrew slipped the life-preserver over his head and pulled up the strap under his groin.
‘Now, if you’re ready, I will start my briefing.’
The aircrew stood in a semicircle and checked their watches. Klaasen spoke in Norwegian for the first minute, outlining the flight plan. Then he broke into English.
‘The rendezvous with the Tenby should be seventy kilometres west from here. It will take about half-an-hour to the area, and then we have to find her. She should be surfaced, but we have not been able to contact her on VHF. Some hills are in the way. We can try again in the air.
‘The sea is high and the wind getting stronger, so we’ll put you on the fin. We lower a guideline first, so that they can pull you to the right place as you go down. You use the same system, I think?’
‘Yes. I’ve had the misfortune to go through this several times!’
‘Then we’ll waste no more time. We can go to the aircraft now, and the loadmaster will give you the safety brief. You have heard it all before, but we insist.’
‘Fine by me.’
Major Mjell gripped him by the hand and wished him luck.
Andrew clambered into the helicopter, and felt his way into one of the aluminium-framed canvas seats that lined the fuselage. Klaasen flicked the power switch and a red light came on in the roof, just bright enough for Andrew to make out the layout of the interior.
‘The door close while we fly. I open when the pilot finds the ship.’ The loadmaster’s English wasn’t up to the standard of the pilot’s. ‘When I say, you unfix seat belt and sit on the floor. Very careful, it’s a long way down. Then I put cable harness on you, you know?’
‘Yes, I know,’ Andrew answered patiently.