Pandemic

Tuesday

Aeroporto di Brindisi, Papola-Casale, Puglia, Italy

In fact, Richter was almost at Brindisi. Vento had been right about the speed of the Agusta. Richter had wound it up to an indicated one hundred and fifty knots and climbed to two thousand feet. He could have stayed low, but he thought that would probably attract more attention than a transit at a normal height. It also meant he didn’t have to worry about power lines, pylons, higher ground or any other obstacles, and he was also too low to conflict with most fixed-wing aircraft.

When he’d lifted off from the field he knew he had about seventy miles to cover before he reached Brindisi, but that was less than a half-hour flight in the helicopter. At the moment when Perini was ordering checkpoints to be positioned, the Agusta was less than five minutes from the airfield boundary, and Richter was already in descent.

Like any competent pilot, Vento had put a note of Brindisi’s frequencies on the instrument panel, and as Richter pulled the Agusta round in a tight right-hand turn over Punta Penne, due north of the town, he selected VHF frequency one one eight decimal one, picked a callsign and called Brindisi Tower.

‘Brindisi, this is helicopter Lima Whisky at three hundred feet over Punta Penne.’

‘Lima Whisky, Brindisi, roger. State your intentions.’

‘Lima Whisky would like to refuel, sir. We’re running a little low.’

‘Roger, Lima Whisky. Cleared for a visual approach to land by the two northerly hangars and await a fuel bowser. Wind is light and variable. The active runway is three two. Hold well clear of the active; we have inbound heavy civilian traffic long finals.’

‘Thank you, Brindisi. All copied.’

That had been Richter’s biggest gamble. By flying low to the north of the airfield and making his approach from Punta Penne, he had been hoping that the Tower controller would instruct him to land somewhere to the north-east of the active runway, which meant he could put the Agusta down not far from where the Sea Harrier was parked.

Two minutes later Richter lowered the undercarriage and landed the helicopter about fifty yards from his Harrier. He shut down the Agusta, pulling on the rotor brake a little sooner than he would have liked, but he was in a hurry, then climbed out and trotted over to the squadron building he and Simpson had been using.

HMS Invincible, Ionian Sea

Just over an hour earlier, the Invincible had increased speed by about two knots and altered course slightly. The rate at which rumours travelled throughout the ship never ceased to amaze newcomers, and they were, perhaps surprisingly, usually reasonably accurate. Almost as soon as the engine revolutions increased, the word spreading on the lower deck was that the planned visit to Athens had been cancelled, or at least postponed, and the ship was now proceeding to Crete. Or maybe Malta? The Wardroom didn’t get to hear about Malta, but the word ‘Crete’ was certainly being bandied about.

‘So what the hell’s going on in Crete that involves us?’ The inquiry from the lieutenant filling a cup at the coffee urn was plaintive and somewhat querulous. ‘My wife’s flying out to Athens tomorrow. What’s she supposed to do all by herself in Greece while we’re poncing about the Med?’

‘That’s life in a blue suit, mate. You may not like the fucking Navy, but the Navy likes fucking you. Anyway, you’ll find out what we’re supposed to be doing in about ten minutes. The Old Man’s going to brief us all on the CCTV system. What your wife’ll find to do in Athens for the next week or so with all those randy Greek men is something else.’

The Wardroom filled rapidly. With no flying operations planned and the ship winding down in preparation for a planned port visit, most of the officers had time on their hands, and when the big TV screen in the corner of the room flickered into life and a familiar face, flanked by epaulettes bearing four gold stripes, appeared on the screen, it was quite literally standing room only.

‘Good afternoon, this is the Captain. As you are all no doubt aware, our planned visit to Athens and Piraeus has been delayed for operational reasons, and we are at present proceeding on a south-easterly heading towards Crete. The current situation is still somewhat confused, but we have been advised that a state of medical emergency exists on part of the island. At least one person has died, and there are fears of a major epidemic. The Cretan authorities have requested international assistance in containing this situation.

‘I should emphasize that at this stage we have no further information concerning the nature of the epidemic, or the disease or illness involved, and I think it unlikely that we will become too involved in the detailed management of the crisis. I anticipate that our involvement is likely to be purely supportive. We will probably act primarily in an off-shore replenishment role, and assist the Cretan authorities in the movement of personnel and supplies around the island.

‘I am sorry that our scheduled visit to Athens has been disrupted, and I am keenly aware that many members of the ship’s company have arranged for their wives or girlfriends – in some cases perhaps both – to travel out to Greece over the next few days. Those of you who wish to do so may avail yourselves of the communications facilities to make brief telephone calls to Britain to cancel or modify these arrangements. Please contact the Operations Office to arrange a schedule for such calls.

‘That is all I have for the moment but, in view of the changed circumstances, Commander (Air) will now address the Air Group.’

The television screen blanked for a few seconds, then a swarthy, darkly bearded face appeared. ‘Good afternoon, this is Commander (Air). As the Captain has just outlined, it is likely that we will have to begin flying operations, possibly intense flying operations, at fairly short notice. The nature of the emergency on Crete suggests that it is unlikely that the Sea Harriers will be required, but rotary wing operations are almost certain to be carried out. There will be an initial briefing in the Number Two Briefing-Room at twenty-one hundred today. All rotary wing squadron personnel are to attend. That is all.’

Commander (Air)’s face was replaced on the TV screen by a sudden grey snowstorm and a buzzing sound, and someone switched off the big set with the remote.

‘Isn’t that typical?’ an anonymous voice piped up. ‘The bloody stovies get to sleep through this lot as well.’

Sporadic laughter greeted this remark. It was true that the Sea Harrier pilots – the ‘jet jockeys’ or ‘stovies’ – flew fewer hours than the helicopter crews, but this was primarily because of their very different roles. Nevertheless, it was popularly rumoured that the most common medical complaint suffered by 800 Squadron pilots was bedsores.

Outskirts of Matera, Puglia, Italy

‘It’s gone,’ Vento shouted out, as he ran back up the villa’s drive towards Perini. They’d found one set of keys in the field adjoining the wasteland, and Vento had immediately set off with the driver to where he’d left the Agusta.

‘What?’

‘The helicopter,’ Vento said, ‘it’s gone. And the other Alfa Romeo was parked in the lay-by. Richter must have taken the Agusta.’

For a moment Perini said nothing, then he span round to face Simpson. ‘You knew,’ he said. ‘You knew he could fly a helicopter.’ Simpson nodded. ‘Why didn’t you tell me?’

‘You never asked,’ Simpson replied, with a wintry smile. ‘And let’s get something quite clear, shall we? I will do nothing at all to assist you in capturing Richter. He’s one of my most valuable assets, and I will not tolerate seeing him incarcerated pointlessly in Italy, or anywhere else for that matter.

‘I don’t condone what he did here, but I do understand why he did it. Lomas killed a woman Richter had become personally involved with. He killed her slowly and with incredible precision so as to cause her the maximum possible pain, and when he’d finished he dumped her body next to Richter himself while he was unconscious. What Richter did was actually rather less than Lomas deserved. If it had been my decision, Lomas would have taken days to die.’

‘I have no interest whatsoever in Richter’s reasons,’ Perini snapped, then turned away and told one of the DCPP officers to contact Brindisi airport immediately and place the Sea Harrier under armed guard. Then he faced