That was pretty much what Richter had expected, so he didn’t foresee too much trouble.
Simpson nodded approval. ‘That should be enough for getting just one man.’
‘More than enough,’ Richter said, though he was agreeing with what Simpson had said, rather than what he meant.
Fifteen minutes later Richter pulled on the Kevlar vest and secured it around his torso. The vest was, in fact, a bonus that Richter hadn’t anticipated. He’d expected that the DCPP officers themselves would enter the property to arrest Lomas, then call him in later to carry out the identification, but it now looked as if he would actually be on the scene when they first entered the villa, which might make things a lot easier for him.
Richter and Simpson headed out of the building towards the Agusta 109, following Perini. The pilot was strapped in and running through his pre-take-off checks. A ground marshaller and fireman stood in front of the helicopter waiting for engine start. Richter increased his stride to fall into step beside Perini. ‘Could I ask a favour?’ he said.
‘Of course, Mr Richter, what is it?’
‘It seems a long time since I’ve flown in a helicopter. Could I ride in the front seat?’
Perini had no objection to this seating arrangement. ‘That’s fine by me.’
‘Thanks.’
The right-hand-side rear sliding door on the Agusta was already open for them, so Simpson and Perini climbed aboard and strapped themselves in. Richter opened the much smaller door of the cockpit and manoeuvred himself into the right-hand seat. The Kevlar vest, being heavy and bulky, made his movements slightly awkward. He strapped in too, then put on the headset.
It was already plugged into the intercom system, but before Richter introduced himself to the pilot he could hear Perini gabbling away in what Simpson would probably describe as ‘high-speed foreign’. When he finally stopped, Richter addressed the pilot. ‘Hi, I’m Richter,’ he said. ‘Do you speak English?’
In many ways it was a silly question, for English is the international language of aviation, and all commercial pilots can be guaranteed to speak at least some English.
‘Of course.’ The pilot extended a hand across the cockpit. ‘Vento. Mario Vento. Signor Perini tells me that you are a qualified Sea Harrier pilot.’
‘That’s right,’ Richter replied, ‘but this is all new to me.’ He settled back in his seat as Vento made a twirling motion with his right forefinger to the maintainer – the signal for engine start. He looked with interest around the cockpit as the Italian started the two Pratt & Whitney 206C engines in sequence.
The Agusta was very different to any helicopters Richter had previously flown in. Quite apart from the long ‘bonnet’ sloping sexily away from the cockpit windshield, the A109 Power model has full LCD instrumentation, meaning that the dials found in a conventional helicopter cockpit are replaced by a pair of computer screens. This reduces the cockpit workload considerably, as the screens only display what the flight control system computer deems to be relevant.
When computerized cockpits were first introduced, there was both resistance and suspicion on the part of the pilots. In fact, shortly after its introduction into service, one of the most common remarks made by pilots on the flight deck of the Boeing 757 aircraft, one of the first to possess a semi-computerized cockpit, was: ‘What’s it doing now?’
Time and technology have marched on, and nowadays on most commercial airliners and a large proportion of military aircraft the cockpits almost entirely lack the traditional engine and navigation instruments. And there are some, particularly the new generation of American air-superiority fighters, which are inherently aerodynamically unstable, and literally impossible to fly if the computers fail.
‘This is fitted with the FADEC system,’ Vento explained, as the noise from the engines increased to a dull whistling roar. The Full Authority Digital Engine Control system applies a level of digital control to the twin engines, and has been responsible for both reducing the fuel consumption and increasing the helicopter’s range and payload.
‘That,’ Vento added, releasing the rotor brake and watching as the main blades began turning slowly, ‘and the better aerodynamics, have given us a range of over nine hundred kilometres, a top speed of one hundred and fifty knots, and a service ceiling of six thousand metres. It’s a truly delightful aircraft to fly.’
Vento then called Brindisi Tower and obtained taxi and take-off clearance. The ground marshaller watched as the helicopter lifted into the air and turned to the west, accelerating as it crossed over the main runway. The Italian retracted the undercarriage as they cleared the airfield and climbed up to two thousand feet for their transit to Matera.
It was late afternoon, but the sun was still high in the sky as the Agusta flew swiftly across the fairly flat terrain lying to the north of Taranto. Vento pointed out the villages, towns and roads as they passed near them; San Michele Salentino; Villa Castelli; Montemesola; the sprawl of Taranto itself looming to the south; Crispiano beneath the
A couple of minutes after they’d flown past Laterza, Vento descended the Agusta to one thousand feet. ‘That’s Matera,’ he said. ‘Right one o’clock at about five kilometres.’ Richter peered forward, as did Simpson and Perini. ‘We’ll be landing a couple of miles outside the town. There’s a convenient field right alongside the road, and that’s where the cars will be waiting.’
Vento dropped the undercarriage as he descended the helicopter further and, as he brought the Agusta in to land, Richter could see four dark-coloured vehicles parked nose-to-tail in a lay-by immediately adjacent to a small and level field. Three minutes later they were on the ground, and walking towards the gateway by the road.
Gravas and his assistants had carefully stripped off their white overalls and overshoes, and had placed them beside a wall right across the street from Aristides’s house. Gravas also issued orders that nobody was to approach the clothing, except to add to the pile.
Everything any one of them had been wearing was possibly or probably contaminated, so should really have been placed in a sealed bag for destruction in a furnace. But they possessed no bag big enough to hold everything, and Gravas had decided that simply getting out of the clothes was probably the best they could do in the circumstances. Originally they had anticipated investigating a murder scene, which had dictated the equipment carried in their vehicle. Some lethal and invisible virus was a very different situation.
The last items to be removed were their gloves and masks, though Gravas ordered them to don fresh ones immediately. He also told Inspector Lavat to remove his uniform jacket, his trousers and shoes, and provided him instead with a white overall and a pair of rubber boots from the back of the van. The two Greek women, as Gravas had silently predicted, were more difficult to sway.
‘This is for your own safety,’ Gravas insisted, for at least the third time, while Christina Polessos stood in front of him, hands on hips and rock-like in her defiance. ‘We believe that house has been contaminated with some kind of deadly virus, a germ that killed him and might kill both of you too.’
Christina snorted. ‘Call yourself a doctor? We saw Aristides and he was covered in blood. Somebody killed him, with a knife or a club or a gun. It wasn’t some germ – germs just give you a cold.’
Maria Coulouris, still tearful, added her contribution. ‘And we are respectable women. We cannot disrobe here in public, out in the street.’
‘Not even if it kills you?’ asked Gravas, in exasperation.
This blunt remark stunned both women into a momentary silence.
‘But we didn’t touch him,’ Christina insisted. ‘We never even went near him.’
Gravas shook his head. ‘That doesn’t matter,’ he said. ‘The virus I mentioned could be anywhere in that house: on the floor, the walls, the door handles, or just floating in the air. And now it could be somewhere on your clothes, so if you breathe it in, you could end up like Aristides.’
The two village women looked at each other, then back at Gravas. ‘And if we do take off our clothes?’ Christina was the natural spokeswoman of the two.
Gravas shrugged. ‘I can give no guarantees, but the risk would be much less.’
Again the women exchanged glances. ‘Very well,’ Christina said, ‘but you must erect a proper screen, and provide us with something decent to wear.’
Gravas rapidly gave instructions for his assistants to rig up a temporary screen using waterproof tarpaulins
