Meltdown (16 page)

The helicopter that Danny was flying in could
hardly have been more different from the Sikorsky,
but in its own way it was just as impressive.

The Cougar was a no-frills military helicopter. It
could carry twenty-nine combat troops, all seated
down the centre of the aircraft in red, nylonwebbing
seats that could be folded away to make
room for cargo or stretchers.

The interior walls were covered with a thin silver
padding. It was there to protect the wiring, which
lay behind it against the aluminium bodywork.

Conversation at normal levels was impossible;
the two turbo engines were directly above the
passengers, so they had to shout or talk via
the intercom with earphones and mic.

There was a constant smell of aviation fuel being
burned and the floor was covered with solid, gritted
tar to give some grip in wet conditions.

It was Danny's first time in a helicopter and he
was one of just seven passengers. The others were
Fergus and Deveraux and her four-man team. The
team was already prepared for action: they had to
be ready; no one knew where they were going or
how long the flight would last.

They were wearing full body armour, with a
ceramic plate placed in the pocket over the chest.
The plate was capable of taking and dispersing the
energy of a round by shattering on impact. Ceramic
is extremely tough when acting as a shield but
delicate when being handled, so wearers always
take great care when handling their plates.

Deveraux and her team had MP5s as their main
weapons, with a torch attached below the barrel,
zeroed so that the rounds would go wherever
the light shone. The MP5s also had a laser-beam
box next to the torch. These carried out the same
function as the torch but were more precise and
could be used in the dark if the team was wearing
NVGs.

The five also each had a Sig 9mm semi-automatic
pistol strapped to one leg, with spare magazines
attached to the other, as their secondary weapon.
They were carried on their legs because the body
armour made it difficult to draw a weapon from
a belt.

The only ones not ready for immediate action
were Fergus and Danny, and Fergus wasn't happy
about it. He looked back and was glad to see that
Danny was dozing. It was an important lesson to
learn: you grabbed any opportunity you could to
catch up on sleep.

Fergus was sitting directly behind Deveraux. As
soon as she had checked her body armour and
weapons, he tapped her on the shoulder.

When she turned back to look at him, he nodded
down at her ready bag and then shouted to be
heard. 'What about Danny and me?'

Deveraux shook her head. 'I shall be operating
with my team, as a team. I don't want Batman and
Robin getting in my way.'

'This is a joint operation!' yelled Fergus. 'You
know Dudley's orders. I'm in command. We must
have weapons!'

Deveraux hesitated. She had been hoping to avoid
handing over the two Sig pistols Dudley had ordered
her to provide for Fergus and Danny. Reluctantly she
reached into her ready bag and took out the pistols
and just one spare magazine for each short.

'These are for your defence only. For your protection.
Do not get in my way! I will not be
responsible for your safety if you or the boy get in
my line of fire!'

Fergus smiled. The warning was clear enough
and he reckoned that Deveraux would be only too
pleased if he or Danny got anywhere near her line
of fire. But he was going to make absolutely sure
that didn't happen.

The pilot's voice came over the intercom. 'He's
just entered French airspace. Still staying close to
the coast.'

Dudley was overseeing the tracking of the
Sikorsky, working in tandem with experts back at
GCHQ in Cheltenham.

The helicopter was being tracked through the
EU's air traffic control centres. All countries would
no doubt have co-operated with GCHQ had there
been time to make the arrangements. But there
wasn't time and it wasn't necessary anyway. GCHQ
boffins could easily infiltrate the systems. They
were reporting directly to the Cougar pilot, who
was passing everything back to Deveraux and
Fergus over their headphones.

It meant they knew exactly where the Sikorsky
was heading, but they still had no idea of its
ultimate destination.

Kubara was getting stuck into a plate of bread and
cold meats. He wanted to keep his strength up.

Teddy watched him, too scared to ask questions
for fear of hearing the answers.

Will had his eyes closed and his head against a
window. He wasn't asleep; there was no way he
could sleep. He was thinking; he'd been doing a lot
of thinking since they got on the aircraft.

He'd glanced back at Storm several times. She
seemed perfectly calm and unruffled, even flicking
through a magazine as casually as if she were on a
pleasure trip; some specially arranged mystery tour.

The helicopter suddenly dropped as it hit an air
pocket, and Will opened his eyes and saw Kubara
slip a large piece of bread and meat into his mouth.

The Sikorsky sank again and he continued to chew
contentedly. Will wanted to throw up.

The Bosnian smiled at Will and lifted the plate he
was holding, offering him some food. Will barely
had the energy to shake his head.

Storm finished her magazine. She tossed it onto
the seat next to her, got up and walked over to the
sofa where Kubara was sitting. She smiled as she sat
next to him, and then, to the twins' amazement, she
took a small piece of meat from his plate and
popped it into her mouth.

Teddy could keep quiet no longer. 'Storm! What
are you doing? Get away from him!'

She smiled. 'Oh, Teddy. I don't know how you
could have been so stupid for so long.'

Teddy stared, his tired brain struggling to make
sense of the situation.

Storm was still smiling at the total confusion
written all over his face. 'You don't get it, do you,
Teddy? Even now.'

He didn't. Maybe it was the fear, the terror of
flying into the unknown, but he still didn't understand
what Storm was trying to say.

But for Will it was all becoming horribly, terribly
clear. 'She's right,' he said, shaking his head. 'We've
been so
fucking
stupid.'

Kubara laughed at Teddy's bewildered face. 'Did
you never wonder how I found you? And how I
knew exactly what you were doing? All the time?
The trucks . . . the coaches? Yes, you told me the
basics, but didn't you ever think that somehow I
always knew more than you told me? No, because
you were too arrogant, always too arrogant.'

Teddy looked at his brother and then back at
Kubara. 'You mean . . . you mean Storm was working
for you?'

Kubara laughed again. 'Oh, more than that,
Teddy. Much more than that.'

This time both brothers looked at Storm, their
minds racing with the implications of what he was
saying.

'She's . . . she's your . . . ?' Teddy was desperately
struggling to voice what he was thinking. 'She's
your . . . your girlfriend?'

Storm shook her head. 'You know, I somehow
knew you'd think that when the time came.
Someone else for you to be jealous of. But no, Teddy,
I'm not his girlfriend.'

'Then what?'

Kubara leaned close to them. 'Don't you English
have a saying about blood being thicker than
water?'

Teddy gasped. It was impossible.

But Kubara was nodding proudly. 'Yes, Storm is
my daughter. The most wonderful daughter any
man could have.' He kissed her on the cheek. 'And
the image of her beautiful mother.'

The Sikorsky was beginning to descend, and in the
Cougar the pilot came on the intercom. 'He's going
down. Looks to me as if he's going into the heliport
at Monaco. What do you want me to do?'

'Wait out!' said Fergus into his mic before
Deveraux had the chance to reply.

'Roger that,' came back from the pilot.

Deveraux turned to Fergus, her eyes demanding
an explanation.

'We don't know that this is his final destination,'
he told her. 'He may just be refuelling. Wait until we
know for certain, and in the meantime find somewhere
we can refuel if necessary'

Deveraux nodded. Fergus was right. They needed
to be able to refuel quickly if the Sikorsky was
preparing for a longer stretch of flying time.

The heliport at Monaco perches on a stretch of land
reclaimed from the sea and is a favourite arrival
point for visitors to the millionaires' playground of
Monte Carlo and for the residents of Nice.

The Sikorsky touched down smoothly and
Kubara was quickly out of his seat. His dark eyes
rested on Teddy and Will. 'My earlier warnings still
stand.' He gestured towards his bodyguard, who
had sat in menacing silence throughout the flight. 'If
I am not watching you, he will be. At all times.'

They stepped out of the aircraft and Teddy and
Will saw the lights of Monte Carlo glittering back at
them from the shoreline. The harbour was full of
yachts the size of cruise liners, many with helicopters
of their own resting on the stern. The twins
had visited Monaco for the Grand Prix, but all that
– all their past life – seemed a million miles away
now. Everything that was normal seemed a million
miles away.

Kubara went over to talk with one of the heliport
officials and they were left with Storm, under the
ever-watchful eyes of the bodyguard.

She was gazing back towards the shoreline.

Teddy went to stand beside her. 'Are you going to
explain?' he asked quietly.

Storm shrugged her shoulders. 'Is there any point?'

Teddy was suddenly angry. 'Of course there is!
You led us into this trap.'

'You brought this on yourselves; you're hardly a
couple of innocent victims.'

'You made fools of us,' said Will, glaring back
at her.

Storm laughed. 'It wasn't difficult.'

The insults no longer bothered Teddy, but there
was something more he needed to know. 'I still
don't understand. How can he be your father?'

The hardness went from Storm's eyes. 'My
mother was in Bosnia as a volunteer, working for a
relief organization. She met my father and they fell
in love and got married. She gave up everything to
be with him.'

She gazed out at the dark sea. 'When my mother
became pregnant, they thought she would be safer
in his home village. And she was, for a while. My
father was away fighting when I was born. Then the
village was attacked, my mother was killed and . . .'
She fell silent for a moment. 'A few people escaped.
My aunt smuggled me away and we hid in the hills.
I was two years old when my father found me
again.'

'But he sent you to school in England,' said Will.
'If he hates the British so much, why did he do that?'

'Because it was safe. Because he wanted me to have
a good education. Because he wanted to use the
British system, take everything it had to offer. Because
one day he knew that the sort of opportunity that you
two presented was bound to come along. And he was
right. My father is always right.'

Before the twins could say any more, Kubara
came striding back towards them. He had caught
the tail end of their conversation. 'So now you know
the whole story,' he said. 'Good, I'm glad. Come, we
are leaving.'

*

HMS
Cornwall,
a type 22 frigate, was cruising in the
north Mediterranean after a goodwill visit to
the deep-water port at Villefranche in France.

It was all routine stuff: flying the flag, maintaining
the
entente cordiale
between Britain and its
nearest neighbour.

But now the crew was standing by to carry out an
operation that was not routine: a hot refuel in the
dark on a helicopter they were unfamiliar with.

The darkness was no problem; the vessel was
fitted with powerful lights for just such a situation.
The frigate's own Lynx helicopter had been
returned to its hangar, and the landing opal at the
rear of the warship was ready to receive its new
visitor.

The sea was calm and there was no reason to
think that the operation wouldn't proceed
smoothly. But when the crew spotted the lights of
the Cougar as it descended towards the ship, there
was an understandable air of tension around the
landing opal. Everyone had a job to do and nobody
wanted to be the one person who cocked up.

A hot refuel involves an aircraft being refuelled
while the crew and passengers are still on board
and the rotors turning. If it works efficiently, it can
be completed in a matter of minutes, and the crew
of HMS
Cornwall
were intending to make sure it
worked efficiently.

Hot refuels are usually carried out when a
helicopter is on an operation, ferrying troops to
a target. The helicopter may have a range of 200K,
but the target could be 400K away. In these
situations, larger helis carrying fuel bladders move
forward to isolated areas en route and become
mobile filling stations.

On a ship, the operation is more complex, with
little room for error from either the refuelling team
or the helicopter pilot.

Inside the Cougar, Danny was feeling a lot better
after grabbing some sleep. He watched in amazement
as the heli sank lower and touched down
perfectly.

Instantly, crew members appeared on the deck;
they were dressed in dark-blue flame-resistant
overalls and white face hoods and looked more like
members of a Formula One refuelling team than
sailors. They ran out and slid blocks behind the
Cougar's wheels so that it remained stable. At
the same time more seamen were dragging the
heavy refuelling pipe across to the heli, along with
the thick length of wire that connected the aircraft
to the ship so that the helicopter was earthed.
Without that, a single spark could lead to a
catastrophic explosion.

The moment the helicopter landed, the loadie,
who was in the back of the aircraft with the team,
pulled back both doors at the rear of the Cougar so
that he could check that everything was in place
while the refuel was carried out. A cable running
into his helmet linked his intercom with the pilot's.

And throughout the operation, a crew member
stood in front of the helicopter so that the pilot and
co-pilot could see him. His arms were crossed: this
signalled that the pilot should keep the aircraft
exactly where it was. The operation was not finished.

It all meant that the pilots were getting two independent
lots of information on what was
happening, visual and verbal, as the loadie made
his constant progress reports.

As a final safety measure, the side doors were
kept open so that the passengers could make a
quick exit in case of fire.

The noise was deafening and the smell of aviation
fuel was overpowering. The heat of the two engines
made the interior of the Cougar feel like a furnace.
Danny watched the refuelling team move around
the aircraft like ants as the ship moved up and
down in the swell.

He looked at his grandfather and saw that he
seemed to be lost in thought. Danny tapped him on
the shoulder. 'Amazing!' he shouted, nodding at the
men rushing around the heli.

'What?'

'This! The refuel!'

'Oh. Oh yeah . . . I was just remembering something.
Did I ever tell you about Binsy?'

'Who?'

'Binsy Murray!' Fergus was having to shout.

'Binsy?'
asked Danny.

'Bins – you know, binoculars. Bloke I was in the
Regiment with. We called him Binsy 'cos he wore
these thick bottle-top glasses. It was during the
Falklands War – we were on a frigate waiting for a
heli pick-up!'

Danny shook his head, wondering why his
grandfather was telling him a story at a moment
like this. And then he realized that Fergus was
looking nervous and he understood exactly what
was going on. The only time Fergus showed fear of
any sort was when he was on a vessel – boat, ship,
big or small, he just didn't like them.

'What happened?'

'Well, me and Binsy are walking towards this
Scout helicopter when these two Argentine jets
come in fast and really low, trying to bomb the Brit
ships. They'd already sunk a couple that way.'

'Did they hit you?' Danny was looking interested,
and he was, but he was also keeping his grandfather's
thoughts off the ship rolling beneath them.

'No, they missed us that time. Anyway, our ship's
right in the middle of the fleet – anti-aircraft guns
start banging off and everyone dives for cover,
including me. But not Binsy. He stands there with
his general-purpose machine gun and fires off a
complete two-hundred-round belt of ammunition
at the jets. Got nowhere near them, but it made him
feel better.'

Fergus glanced out towards the deck: the refuel
was over and the earthing wire had been disconnected;
the refuelling team was moving away.

'So, anyway, four days later, when we get back
from our mission on the main island, there's a
signal from the navy's fleet chief. He's thanking
Binsy for having a go but asking him not to do it
again,'

'Why was that?' Danny asked.

'He's missed the planes, but his rounds hit our
own ships! The bloke was more of a threat to the
fleet than the whole Argentine air force!'

Danny laughed as he looked out through the
Cougar's open doors.

The wheel blocks had been removed and as the
loadie reported what was happening to the pilot,
the guy in front of the helicopter double-checked
that everyone was safe before uncrossing his arms
and stretching them skywards.

The Cougar's doors were closed and the helicopter
took off in a burst of power.

'Great story, Granddad!' shouted Danny.

Fergus nodded and smiled and then settled back
in his seat. He would never like ships, even Royal
Navy ships.