Kilton turned to the general. “Guiding Light is working and it will change everything.”
A broad grin spread across Leivers’s face. “Damn straight it will, Kilton.” The general leaned forward and banged the table. “Gentlemen, I have to tell you, we’ve carried out some theoretical simulations using the information you’ve provided about Guiding Light, and the results have been phenomenal. Phenomenal.”
He took a deep breath, lowered his voice.
“What I’m about to tell you will never leave this room. Understood?”
The general’s eyes darted between Kilton, Mannington and the two other men sitting at the table. They each gave a nod of acknowledgement.
“Terrain-following radar, the new technology we’re both rushing to fit to our new jets, is dead.”
“Dead?” Mannington asked.
“Dead, Dickie. The Russkies can detect it.”
Kilton tried not to show his shock.
“But we’re planning to fit TFR to everything,” Mannington said. “The laser… Guiding Light. It’s supposed to be a backup.”
Leivers continued. “It just got promoted. Instead of helping our boys get in and out of the badlands, TFR will do the opposite. Every Russkie SAM from Berlin to Vladivostok will lock on and blow them out of the sky. They may as well be flying with floodlights and a big arrow that says SHOOT HERE. Damn shame.”
Kilton inhaled. “Do the Russians know we know this?”
Leivers smiled at him. “No, Kilton. They do not. And neither do they know about Guiding Light. Your silent laser solves a very big headache at just the right time. This goes all the way up the line. And I mean all the way. This is not about winning World War Three. It’s about preventing it. Once we have an unassailable advantage over the Reds, it’s game over for them.” He leaned back and spoke a little more slowly. “And that’s why I’ve got POTUS’s attention on this one.”
Mannington turned a pencil over in his hands. “What’s Potus?”
“POTUS is the President of the United States, Dickie.”
Minister of State David Buttler cleared his throat. “General. The United Kingdom is not putting Guiding Light on a shelf for sale to all comers.”
Leivers balked. “All comers? I thought we had a special relationship, Mr Buttler.”
“Of course we have a special relationship, General. But we must remember that Guiding Light is a system that gives us all an advantage only so long as the enemy remains oblivious to its existence. At least until it’s fitted to the fleets.”
“You don’t trust the US to keep a secret?”
“Britain trusts America implicitly. It’s just that the chances of the secret getting out are simply higher the more people know about it. How many aircraft are you considering it for?”
The general shrugged. “Two thousand to start with.”
Ewan Stafford appeared nonchalant, but Kilton knew him of old and knew damn well the short, tubby managing director was doing cartwheels inside.
“And what else?”
“Excuse me?” said Leivers, tilting his head to one side.
Buttler spoke with patient clarity. “The order for Guiding Light would be substantial, and I’m sure our colleague here from DF Blackton is doing his best not to burst into song. But we’d like to know that our most secret military breakthroughs can be shared both ways.”
The general shrugged again. “Well, that’s a little beyond my powers, Minister.”
“But not beyond the powers of POTUS, I assume?”
“Well, no—”
“And you have POTUS’s attention on this?”
The general thought for a moment. “Yes, sir. I do. And I dare say there will be some good deals for both of us in the pipeline. But this is something to discuss when we’re ready to talk turkey. So far, we haven’t seen this thing working.”
Kilton felt the eyes swing back to him.
Stafford spoke up. “Perhaps Mark could give us all an update on the trial work his team have been carrying out for a while now. A very long while.”
“As you’re aware, Mr Stafford, the Royal Air Force Test Flying Unit will be the sole and final arbiter of Guiding Light’s operational effectiveness. We have a detailed trial timetable and it is being executed even as we speak. The two working Guiding Light systems have been fitted to a Vulcan and a Canberra. The Vulcan is airborne at this moment with a TFU crew.” He glanced at his RAF issue pilot’s watch. “We’ve flown one hundred and ninety-four hours as of this morning.”
“And no problems?” said Leivers.
“No. We’re still a few weeks from sign-off. We did agree three hundred hours of intensive airborne time. You want to fit this to two thousand jets and we want to equip more or less our entire Bomber Command fleet. I think it’s in all our interests that it’s working as advertised.”
“Fine,” said Stafford. “But I need not remind the room that the longer we wait, the more chance there is of a leak.”
Kilton ignored him and turned to General Leivers. “You’re sitting in the United Kingdom’s most secure RAF station. As long as the project remains under wraps here, there is no scenario where it’s rendered ineffective. The Soviets will have no clue what it is or how to defend against it. And when it’s operational, and it will become operational soon, NATO jets will for the first time be able to operate deep into Russian territory without giving off any radar energy whatsoever. At low-level we will be invisible.”
Leivers clapped his hands together and beamed. “That’s what we’re doing this for. Kilton, you deliver this system and it’s not just Mr Stafford’s accountant you’re gonna make happy. We are gonna be friends for a long time.”
“Excellent, Mark,” said Buttler. “Very good work from TFU. This won’t be forgotten.”
General Leivers’ hand appeared at Kilton’s shoulder. The man from Baton Rouge leaned in close and whispered loud enough for all to hear. “I’ve dedicated my life to defeating communism, boy. It’s a nasty, lethal plague and you, my friend, have its final demise in your hands. Don’t let me down.”
Kilton nodded. “General Leivers, you have my word.”
THE MEETING BROKE UP. Kilton reminded the room that they allowed no papers relating to Guiding Light to leave West Porton. The men obliged by pooling their briefing notes into a single pile for him to deliver to TFU’s secure cabinets.
Leivers looked suitably impressed with the emphasis on security. “You really do run a secret operation here, don’t you, Kilton?”
The air vice marshal cut in before Kilton could answer. “You’d be forgiven for thinking there’s no station here at all. At Group we call West Porton RAF Hidden.”
“Then I’d suggest we’re doing our job properly,” said Kilton.
Leivers disappeared out of the room.
Mannington turned to Kilton. “What’s that American expression you used once, Mark? Need to know. I suppose you think your superiors don’t need to know anything.”
Kilton continued to shuffle the papers into a brown folder.
“We do need to know something, Mark,” Mannington continued. “There is still a chain of command. Just keep that in mind, please.”
He walked out of the room; Ewan Stafford followed close behind, offering a tip of his hat before he placed it on his head.
The minister paused for a moment, allowing the others to move out of earshot.
“That was impressive, Mark.”
“I thought the same of you, sir. Quite the card player.”
The minister smiled and clicked his briefcase shut.
“You realise this project cannot fail. After the mess of TSR-2, we need this victory. Having to cancel a high profile fighter-bomber project was embarrassing to say the least. Guiding Light needs to be a success. As I said, it won’t go unrewarded. The PM’s always on the lookout for reliable men in the upper echelons of the military. You deliver Guiding Light, we authorise Blackton’s sale to the Americans. That’s an extremely welcome injection of cash just when we need it. A winning scenario for all of us.”