“Rob?”
“It’s possible,” Rob said quietly.
Kilton continued, in a chipper voice.
“Speedy, you’re an experienced V-Bomber pilot, is it possible in the Vulcan to move the stick without meaning to?”
“Under normal flight operations I’d say it’s unlikely, but in this scenario, with the pilot covering the controls, while they move independently, I would say it’s an increased risk, certainly. An unintended consequence of this level of automation.”
Millie kept his eyes on Rob. “Either you knocked the stick, or you did not knock the stick.”
“That’s enough, Millie,” said Kilton. “The point is, we don’t know for sure what happened and no-one is going to ground a critically important system without firm evidence.”
Millie looked up at the men around the table. No-one else spoke.
“What if it wasn’t? And what if we have a serious, potentially fatal problem?” He didn’t wait for Kilton to reply before adding, “In which case, we need to look at all the flying data we have with a matter of urgency. As you note, boss, we’ve gathered many hours and the tapes are in the cabinet…” He stopped, suddenly remembering the empty shelves.
Kilton gave a dismissive wave. “The tapes have already been analysed by the mainframe computer in Cambridge. It took place overnight. Mr Stafford, would you care to illuminate us?”
Stafford cleared his throat. “Certainly, Mark. We asked the computer to search for any anomalies in the height data. Such things as sudden changes in the numbers, which if translated into aircraft movement would result in an aircraft loss. Specifically, we were looking for periods of erroneous data, enough to affect flying for a sustained time. We found no such occurrences, I’m pleased to report. So I have to concur with the meeting that whatever you experienced, it wasn’t as a result of Guiding Light.”
“That’s not a conclusion you can draw, Ewan,” said Millie. “You weren’t there.”
Kilton shot him a warning look. “Millie, don’t be foolish. Ewan and his team have had full access to the data, and it showed no issues. That’s it.”
“I don’t believe it,” said Millie.
Kilton sat back in his chair. “You don’t?”
A heavy silence hung in the room.
“What I mean is, I am very surprised. That’s all. Can we have it analysed elsewhere? A second opinion, if you like? With all due respect to Mr Stafford and his team, boss, you set up TFU to be independent of industry.”
“There’s no chance,” Stafford piped up. “We simply don’t have access to another mainframe computer. We have one of the few in the country. Plus, I’m not sure why you would need a second opinion.”
“Because DF Blackton have a vested interest in failing to find a fault.”
Stafford harrumphed, with his shoulders twitching. “What are you suggesting, Mr Milford?”
“I’m not suggesting anything, but let’s be clear. Blackton is playing both gamekeeper and poacher in this scenario, and—”
“I said that’s enough.” Kilton looked straight at him. “No-one respects you around here more than me, Chris, but this has to stop. I’ll remind you that DF Blackton is a distinguished firm and subject to the Official Secrets Act. The very suggestion you are making is slanderous. I’ll also remind you that at TFU we make decisions based on the evidence.” Millie opened his mouth to speak but Kilton held up the palm of his hand. “Actual evidence, not stories. That’s why we carry the data recording unit, Millie, and I might say it is your responsibility to operate that system to the standards required.”
Millie removed his reading glasses and rubbed his eyes.
He placed his specs on the table and sat in silence.
Kilton picked up the pace again. “Now we have fewer than a hundred hours left to fly. We can split that between the Canberra and Vulcans, so I’ll think about bringing in additional crew.”
He turned to Millie. “And we can stay above one thousand feet if you’d recommend it, Millie. You are after all the project leader.”
Millie shook his head in disbelief.
“Am I?”
“You’ve done good work on this project, Millie. Don’t let us down at the final hurdle. I want you and Rob to get up to Woodford to check on the next installation. It needs to be identical so we can move crews between the Vulcans. OK?”
Millie glared at Kilton, who stared back. Eventually Millie shrugged.
Kilton sighed. “Good. Well, that’s sorted. Finally, security. You’ve no doubt noticed that we have unwanted visitors at the zero-eight threshold. A so-called peace camp filled with those who would undermine national security. Our own military security police are working with the courts to take eviction action, but in the meantime, it goes without saying that Guiding Light is the British crown jewels. The power of any new weapon or system is reliant on it remaining secret. If any aspect of the project gets out of the confines of TFU, I would expect arrests, criminal charges and prison for the culprits. It doesn’t matter if you are an air commodore or a junior technician, you will be prosecuted. Therefore, you will remain exceptionally vigilant. There will be no discussion with anyone outside of those directly involved with the system’s evaluation. And, of course, no paperwork or items relating to the project are to go past the front door without express clearance and police escort.”
The meeting murmured its agreement and broke up.
Kilton, Stafford, Johnson and the clerk stood up and headed out. Kilton trailed the group. Pausing at the door, he looked back.
“Millie, you’re months from retirement. Don’t do anything stupid. You need that pension, don’t you? Why risk everything you’ve promised Georgina? You’ve made your case, but it’s over.”
“You’re threatening me, Mark?”
“Just tow the bloody line, Millie. Now’s not the time for one of your displays of petulance.”
He left the room.
As the door swung closed, Rob looked up and made eye contact with Millie for the first time.
“I’m sorry. It happened in the bar. I’d had a few drinks and he cornered me. I felt like he wanted to explore all scenarios and I agreed it was a theoretical possibility.”
Millie looked at his friend. “I’m trying to work out whether you are naive or stupid. Do you understand what’s happening? This is where it starts, Rob. Meetings like this can save or cost lives, for god’s sake. Think about all those rear crews in the V-Bombers, lost because they sent the aircraft into low-level without a proper escape system. What we do here matters.” He banged the table.
Rob looked hurt, pitiful even, like a puppy who needed comfort. “Please understand my position, Millie. I had no choice. Let’s not fall out.”
Millie stood up and gathered his papers. “There’s more at stake here than our friendship, Rob.”
KILTON DROPPED into the seat behind his desk and studied the small square of paper handed to him by Stafford.
“I’ve bought us some time. Now tell me what all this means,” he said, laying the piece of paper face up on the desk.
Stafford shifted in place. “We looked at nearly two hundred hours of flying records. The problem is definitely there. On that piece of paper are the extrapolated results. The frequency and magnitude.”
“What does that mean in plain English? You said on the phone that in most cases, crews won’t even notice?”
“In most cases, the burst of incorrect height readings will be too brief for the autopilot to react in any meaningful way.”
“In most cases?”
“It’s possible, on very rare occasions, that the flutter could last long enough to affect the actual flight. But they’d have to be very unlucky for it to cause a serious problem. Typically, even if it did happen, they’d observe the deviation and intervene, just like they did two days ago.”