CHAPTER 8
It was nearly 18.00 hours when Andy arrived back at RAF West Sanby. He would just have time to drop his bag in his room and go over to the mess before evening meal finished. The mess was nearly empty when he got over there and the cooks were preparing to clear the servery. They attempted to give him extra to reduce the amount of leftovers. Andy decided that he would need to get some exercise to work it off. He sat alone in the corporals’ section and thought about his task apart from his normal duties as he ate. From his brief it was fairly certain that the base would have to be under surveillance by someone on the Russian payroll. He would need to find that person or persons. Everyone at RAF West Sanby had been thoroughly checked by the RAF security process but it may have been compromised. He hoped that it wouldn’t be anyone in the RAF. He wondered what civilians worked on the base and where. Andy decided that he had better check out the nearby villages as well. The first would be West Sanby. It was a small village with a church, pub and shop-cum-post office. He could start by walking down to the pub tonight and getting some idea of the characters there. Andy decided that before he left he had better telephone Alice as he had promised. There was a telephone box near the main gate so he could do that on the way out. When Andy made the call, it was Alice that had answered when the operator told him to ‘go ahead’. As they talked, Andy felt an ache to be with Alice and realised that this was a new experience for him. Before they had finished the operator came back on the line with, “Your three minutes is up. Do you wish to extend?”
Alice immediately said, “Yes, and reverse the charge.” The operator went off the line and they continued to talk. Andy noticed someone waiting to use the telephone and suggested that they should finish. “Love you, Andy. Goodnight,” came the response.
He found himself saying, “Love you, too. ‘Night.” Then he hung up the ‘phone and exited the telephone box. He nodded to the waiting person and headed off down the road to West Sanby at a brisk walk.
Thirty minutes later, Andy was pushing open the door to the bar. A game of darts was in progress at one end. There appeared to be three or four airmen from the base, identified by their haircuts and their manner, and the rest may have been locals. Andy nudged up to the bar and asked for a pint of mild. “It’s Hewitts,” the barman said. Andy nodded and the man pulled a pint of dark beer and put it on the bar. Andy looked at it as it settled and noticed sediment floating in it.
Pointing to it, he asked the barman, “Is it normal to have these bits floating in the beer?”
“It is,” said the barman. “It’s our local brewery in Grimsby. Not one of your fancy city beers.”
Andy was tempted to comment on the ‘grim’ but thought better of it and said, “Fine. I’m new here so I’d better get used to it.”
“You up at the RAF base, then?” queried the barman.
“Yes,” said Andy. “Just arrived. What made you think I’m RAF?”
The barman smirked and nodded toward the men Andy had picked out as airmen. “You’re just like them, and they’re from the base.”
“Oh!” said Andy. “You’re pretty observant. I guess you notice everyone that’s a stranger or not a local.”
“Too right, I do,” was the response. “It’s part of my job. We run a peaceful pub and we watch out for potential troublemakers.”
“I’d better remember to behave myself then,” said Andy. The barman nodded his agreement and went down the bar to serve another customer.
Sitting at the bar and sipping the beer, Andy wondered whether he would ever get used to it. He was sizing up the different customers when a man came through the door behind the bar with a crate of bottled beer and gave Andy a nod as he went past to stack the bottles on the shelf. Andy hoped his face didn’t register the surprise that he felt at recognising the person. The last time he saw him he was a corporal in the RAF Mountain Rescue Unit based at RAF Leuchars. He was also a member of the mountaineering club based in Lutterworth and an operative like himself. As he recalled, his name was James Rogerson, nick-named ‘Wilco’. Watching him, it was obvious that he was working as a cellarman in the pub and, with his build, most likely dealt with any unruly types. It wasprobably a temporary job.
The cellarman saw Andy watching him and asked, “Is there something you want?”
“Yes,” said Andy, “I’d like some potato crisps.”
“Ask the barman,” was the response. Andy replied with a “Wilco,” and watched for a response. “Fine,” said the cellarman as he walked back and through the doorway behind the bar. It was clear to Andy that he knew he had been recognised and that he also recognised Andy. Now Andy would have to wait and see what developed. The airmen of the Mountain Rescue Unit weren’t as rigid in discipline as most of the RAF. They usually grew their hair longer and were flexible in what they wore with their uniform. As such, it was hard to pick them as servicemen when they were in civilian dress. They would be good undercover operatives because of that.
The locals on the dartboard finished and moved off and the three airmen went over to it to play. Andy decided that it would be a good move to join them so he went across and asked if he could make up a fourth if they played in
