stressed about the lost comms,’ he yelled above the noise of the rotors and engines. ‘What’s weird is that none of us have even been able to get a signal on our cellphones.’
‘What does he want to do?’ Stratton asked, placing a magazine into a semi-automatic pistol. It was drawing close to that critical moment.
‘Do you think something back at MI16 damaged our comms?’
‘Ask those guys,’ Stratton said, indicating the scientists still in their seats.
George glanced at them. Jason was looking at the ceiling. Binning was watching him and Stratton. Jackson was tapping the screen of a pocket computer with a stylus. Smithy was literally twiddling his thumbs and Rowena had her head back and her eyes closed. ‘Doesn’t matter if they can’t fix it. We’re going to have to land somewhere we can contact ops.’
Stratton had been thinking all the time about a way round this obstacle and had been unable to come up with an even remotely acceptable option. The only solution was the extreme long shot of the pilot taking things into his own hands and pressing on with the task. But that would have required a sudden madness in Charlie.
‘If there’s been a change in plans we won’t know about it,’ George explained.
Stratton knew he had to make some kind of effort, futile though it looked. He made his way to the cockpit, stepped inside and tapped the pilot on the shoulder. Charles looked around at him. ‘Ops’ll know that you have lost comms. The procedure is to continue with the task.’
‘I understand that. The plan calls for us to put down on a ship north of the Morpheus. But a serious storm has overtaken the operational area. We have enough fuel to get to the ship and land on it but not for a return to the mainland. If the ship has moved and we have to turn back for the coast, we could be in trouble.’
Stratton had hoped they were headed directly for a sea drop-off. ‘Could you drop us off a couple of miles from the Morpheus and get back?’
‘The rig’s closer to land than the command ship. But those aren’t my orders.’
‘It’s one of the contingencies, though, isn’t it? To go direct to water drop?’ Stratton was guessing but it was an option he would have put in the orders.
‘I can’t make that decision. And neither can you.’
Stratton knew he had hit a brick wall.
‘If we don’t have comms by the time we reach the coast, I’m landing,’ Charlie added.
Stratton nodded and walked away. He sat beside Jason. ‘The pilot’s going to land if they still have no comms by the time we reach the coast.’
‘What are our options?’ Jason asked.
‘If we have any, I can’t think of one.’
Binning began to look agitated. ‘If it comes down to it, could we threaten the pilot?’
‘You want to threaten to shoot one of the crew?’ Stratton asked sarcastically, wondering about the man’s common sense.
Binning realised it was a stupid comment but it was a sign of his growing frustration.
The crewman stepped out of the cockpit and walked over to the group. ‘Scarborough’s coming up,’ he said.
Stratton looked through the porthole behind his head at the coastline below. The sea stretched to the horizon.
‘We’re going to head north to Aberdeen,’ George informed them. ‘Charles will put down at the forward mounting base there.’ He headed back to the cockpit.
The news only served to increase Binning’s agitation. ‘We’re screwed if he does that.’
Stratton had to agree. He could see it all grinding to a halt if they landed in Aberdeen. ‘You’d better turn the comms block off.’
Binning was on the verge of anger. ‘Is that all you can come up with?’
Stratton flashed him a look, finding his response odd. ‘Turn it off,’ Stratton ordered, a warning in his tone.
Binning clenched his jaw and looked at Jason for help.
‘Turn it off,’ his boss said resignedly.
Binning was alone and had no alternatives. He opened the apparatus’s plastic casing, reached inside and flicked a switch. Stratton got to his feet and went to the cockpit door, taking a pair of headphones from a hook. He put them on and the voices in the cockpit came to life.
The operations room commander sat in his high chair staring at the giant screen showing the North Sea covered in its various information markers, with Morpheus in the centre. On the east coast of England, close to the Scottish border, was a moving object circled in red, the window next to it giving its details. The circle turned to blue and began to flash.
‘Whisky four-zero is back on line, sir,’ one of the console operators called out, informing his boss of something that he had seen for himself.
The ops officer pushed a button on his panel. ‘Whisky four-zero, this is zero Charlie.’
‘Zero Charlie, Whisky four-zero.’ The pilot’s voice came over speakers that were mounted around the room.
The operations officer beckoned to one of the aides. ‘Tell Nevins we’ve got comms with the SBS team,’ he said.
‘Haven’t a clue about the cause of the blackout,’ the pilot continued. ‘Strangest bloody communications breakdown I’ve ever experienced. Everything went offline. Even our mobile phones. Diagnostics picked up absolutely nothing.’
The ops officer frowned. ‘What’s the likelihood of it happening again?’
‘Since I don’t know what caused it, I have no idea.’
The ops officer looked over at his communications specialist who could only reply with an apologetic shrug. The door opened and Nevins walked in, his stare switching immediately to the screen.
Jason joined Stratton at the cockpit door, unhooked another pair of headphones off the bulkhead and put them over his ears. ‘You’re fifty minutes behind schedule,’ he heard the ops officer say to the pilot. ‘How’s your fuel?’
‘Plenty to get to the RV. I was idle while at India one-six waiting for the team change which took more than half an hour.’
Jason and Stratton braced themselves for the reply.
The operations officer frowned on hearing the words, as though he had missed something. ‘What do you mean, “team change”?’
‘The new team, sir. After Chaz’s bunch got stuck in the airlock. They took a while to get geared up.’
The ops officer looked around at Nevins whose confused expression reflected his own.
‘I received a report of a shutdown at Sixteen but no mention of any personnel involved,’ Nevins told the officer.
The ops officer was now completely confused. ‘I don’t know what the hell you’re talking about,’ he said into the microphone.
The pilots looked at each other and the crewman turned to look at Stratton.
‘Tell me precisely who you have on board your helicopter,’ the ops officer asked.
‘John Stratton, SBS, and five members of MI16, one of them a woman.’
Jason moved the headphones’ microphone to his mouth and found the transmit switch on the cable hanging from one of the earpieces. ‘Hello. This is Jason Mansfield, head of MI16.’
The ops officer was stunned to hear the strange voice boom over the speakers, as was Nevins.
‘I am accompanied by Phillip Binning, Avis Jackson, Harold Smith and Rowena Deboventurer,’ Jason continued.
‘By whose authority are you on board my helicopter?’ the operations officer asked.
‘The original team violated a security protocol and got themselves automatically locked in a security vault as
