Debut for a Spy (38 page)

“
We got a bit of it on the radio. The skipper wants to hear the rest, especially as we just splashed a Fiddler and he's gonna have to explain how come the brand new USS Enterprise, the world's first nuclear-powered aircraft-carrier, is knocking down a Soviet aircraft on the way to her very first assignment with the 6th Fleet in the Med.”

He led me through what appeared to be great confusion on the flight deck – aircraft coming up in the elevators, then pulled off and parked, some on the catapults launching. I was surrounded by Crusaders, Skyhawks, a few Phantoms, and several types I didn't recognize like the two with large enclosed radar dishes on them. The whole place was humming like a beehive.

Recovery of my rescuers and escorts took place on the runway which angled off the port side of the gigantic ship.

I looked back at XP831. She was surrounded by curious pilots, wondering about the nozzles and how she had hovered.

“Skipper's on the bridge,” said the CAG. “Follow me up.”

We stepped through a doorway into the island superstructure which contained all of the command, control, and communication functions aboard the ship. Clambering quickly upward, we arrived on the top enclosed level and walked onto the bridge. I glanced around, saw the 4 stripes on an older man as he came toward us. The CAG introduced us.

“Captain, this is Major David Baird who has something to do with the British Army, though what the hell he's doing in the middle of the Atlantic still remains to be seen. Major, this is Captain Robert Driscoll, USN, our Commanding Officer.”

“
Welcome aboard the 'Big E', major. This is our Operations Officer, Commander Daniels, and the Officer-of-the-Deck, Lieutenant Paternoster. I think we'll be more comfortable in my quarters. Would you like a coffee?”

“
Yes, sir, I would.”

He turned to Daniels.
“Have some coffee sent up, will you, Ben, and you join us and get Walt Farrugia.”

“
Aye, aye, sir.”

I followed the captain and CAG, nearly jumping as a loud voice roared out,
“Captain's off the bridge!”

In his cabin he indicated his washroom, or 'head', and I accepted with thanks. Coffee, pastries, and other goodies had arrived when I came out, and another commander along with Daniels.

“Major Baird, our Executive Officer, Commander Walt Farrugia.”

We shook hands, then we all sat and helped ourselves.

“Well, major, what the hell is going on?”

“
It's a long story, sir. Briefly, the Soviets had stolen that aircraft and were trying to get it to Russia on a civilian ship, the Empress of Britain, which they had chartered and staffed with a Soviet crew. I was on the ship to sing a concert, and when I discovered the aircraft there I grabbed it and here I am.”

“
Sing? I thought you were a military pilot. Fill me in, please, and don't spare the details. I've got a lot of explaining to do, especially about the two Soviet fighters we downed.”

CAG spoke up.
“Captain, we only splashed one of them. Major Baird got the other.”

“
I thought you were unarmed.”

“
I was, sir. I ducked a missile launch and it hit the other Soviet aircraft.”

“
You ducked a missile launch?”

“
Yessir, using the VTOL capability of the P1127.”

He started to laugh.
“You ducked? And one shot down the other? Well, don't that beat all. You hear that, CAG? Who the hell needs all this expensive hardware? Just fuck with 'em a little, and they do themselves in.”

The absurdity of it hit them all, and the cabin roared with laughter. The captain wanted the details, so I told them, beginning to end, about my involveme
nt with the P1127. When I'd finished, there was a perplexed silence in the cabin.

“
Jesus, that's quite a tale, major. And you're only a reserve officer, and really a musician. Dammit, CAG, tomorrow the band flies the missions. Maybe they'll do better than the pilots.”

He started to laugh again.

“Well now, Major David Baird, what do we do with you? I suppose you'd like to get that crate home?”

“
I would, sir, but I don't have the range for the flight. I was probably going to ditch until you showed up.”

“
Lucky for you we came on the northern track. Lemme think. CAG, you wanted some flying time before we took up station, didn't you?”

“
Aye, sir.”

“
And Walt, the US Navy band has all its instruments?”

“
Aye, Skipper.”

“
Then I'm going to suggest a little diversion. If we come about and steam north for a few hours, we'd put the major close enough to fly to Britain. For the crew let's clear some space on the hangar deck, and ask the band to play a concert. Otherwise we won't hear them play – they leave us in Naples.”

He took a good look at me.

“I think you need some shut-eye, major. We'll organize a cabin for you.”

“
Thanks, sir. I didn't get any sleep last night, and there's still a lot of today left to go.”

“
Walt?”

“
Aye, Skipper. I'll look after it. We need some time to get the hangar deck organized and the band clued in. I'll fix David up with a cabin. It's 0800. Why not make it a lunchtime thing? We can set it for 1200. That gives David a three-hour rest and time to have something to eat before he launches, and it means we steam north for 5 hours – about 150 knots worth.”

“
Make it so, commander,” said the captain. “CAG, you'll see to the aircraft?”

“
Aye, sir. We'll check it out and make sure that all functions are working properly. We don't have manuals, but we'll come pretty damn close to everything.”

“
What about communicating to Britain, David? Do you want to pass a message?”

“
Not yet, sir. I'm so tired I can't think straight. I'll do it later, if that's alright.”

“
As you wish. Have a good rest. Why don't you join me for lunch around 1100?”

“
I'd like that, sir. And thanks for everything you've done. I could never repay you in a million years.”

He waved his hand as I left, dismissing my comments as if he had done nothing at all. I grabbed my helmets, and a few minutes later I had been taken to a cabin in the officers' quarters where a young ensign showed me how to pull the bed down. I wasted little time in getting in, my exhaustion having no trouble convincing me to make the most of it. I was out like a light, but thoughts of Marijke were in my subconscious even as I slept, and my concerns for her well-being and those of the band on the Empress would not allow me the peace of mind necessary for an untroubled rest.

*

Lisbon
,
Portugal
–
the
same
morning

Nalishkin sat in the shielded cipher room of the Soviet embassy in Lisbon, where he’d been flown by helicopter from the Empress. He was alone, waiting for the phone link to be established.

His hands were sweating. This was not going to be pleasant. He had been threatened already when he had reported to Moscow by radio-telephone back on the Empress. Now he was to be told what his future would be, if indeed he had a future.

The whole thing had fallen apart. It was Baird's fault. How did he know about the aircraft? How could he fly it?

The telephone rang.

*

The
Atlantic
Ocean
–
noon
the
same
day

The light went on. I thought I'd been asleep for about five minutes. I looked at CAG through bleary eyes and mumbled “Already?”

“
Sorry, David. Rise and shine. Just after 1200. The skipper's expecting you for lunch as soon as you can make it. There's a marine corporal outside who'll be your escort. It's easy to get lost in a ship this size. Oh, here are some khakis for you, if you want to change from the sweat suit. They should fit. Sorry we don't have any British rank badges.”

I got up, had a quick shower, and used the toilet materials laid out for me
– even a little electric shaver. Fifteen minutes later, dressed in USN khaki, I was escorted into the senior officers' wardroom and seated for a lunch of bacon, eggs, home fries, and grits, with coffee and rolls. I was hungry.

“
How are you now, David?” asked the captain.

“
Better, sir, thank you, but reveille came too soon.”

“
l gave you an extra hour, but we've got to put her about before 1400 in order to meet our schedule. If you launch at 1330 you'll be about 450 miles from Guildford in England, and that's the home base for this aircraft if I'm right.”

“
Yes, sir, 10 miles away.”

“
Your aircraft's range is 600 miles?”

“
We think so – no one's ever tested it, but given the factors that's the theory. That also depends on the take-off. Vertically you use a pile of fuel. What's the overall deck length, sir?”

CAG answered.
“1123 feet. What d'you need to get airborne?”

“
Under a thousand, and if the carrier's headed into the wind and we're traveling at 30 knots it'll be a lot less.”

“
What if we can rig you for a catapult launch?”

“
I'd be worried about the undercarriage, especially the outriggers. They mightn't handle the strain. I think we'll be fine with a short take-off, and that'll leave me lots of fuel. I went through the short take-off drill at Dunsfold.”

“
Okay,” said the captain, “that's how we'll play it.” CAG carried on. “We're going to send two escorts with you. We've got four F-4A Phantoms with us from our RAG doing carrier trials. They've got lots of range – over 1500 miles on internal fuel alone. But we're going to arm them to prevent anyone taking a pot shot at you again, so we'll put external tanks on them to give them lots of margin. What'd you say the name of the airfield is?”

“
Dunsfold Aerodrome. It's an old wartime field.”

“
We'll have it on our charts. They'll lay in a course to take you right over it.”

“
Gentlemen, may I say thank you on behalf of Her Majesty's government and Hawker aviation. And as for me, if any of you get to London I insist you look me up, and the night will be on me.”

The captain stood up.

“David, wherever the Enterprise is you'll always be welcome aboard. You may be an entertainer, but we know you as a flyer. You've been in action, you've deck-landed – you're one of us. We'd like you to have these souvenirs from the United States Navy.”

So saying, the captain, CAG and the exec came up to me, pinned silver oak leaves on my collar and gold metal wings on my shirt. They stepped back as the operations officer put a naval hat on my head. Then they saluted as the captain spoke.
“Welcome aboard, Commander Baird.”

I returned the salute, but I was so choked I couldn't speak as they each shook my hand.

“Time to launch, sir,” said CAG. “I'll take David down.”

“
Right. I'll see you off from the bridge.”

I saluted, navy style, and the captain returned it as the others stood to attention, and CAG led me out. We went straight to the flight deck.

“I had your other gear brought up and tucked into a sea-bag. You can probably squeeze it behind the seat. And I've got something else for you from the Air Group.”

He handed me one of the most prized possessions of a navy flier
– a leather squadron flight jacket, and a pair of flight gauntlets.

“
Jesus, CAG,” I started to say, but he stopped me.

“
That's from the pilots. Just accept it.”

A pilot in flight gear came over.
“David, this is Lt. Commander Brad Cochrane. He's leading your escort.”

He saluted, so I returned it, and we shook hands.

“I've plotted our course, commander. If we're airborne in 15 minutes we'll be right on the money all the way. I've planned on 20,000 feet and a speed of 400 knots. I did some calculations and figure that'll leave you about 40 minutes of fuel when we get to Dunsfold – enough to divert if necessary. You fly lead, but I'll give you the course and corrections. That way you don't have to formate with us, we'll work off you. Any questions, sir?”

“
What's our ETA at Dunsfold, Brad? And please call me David.”

“
1450 GMT, David,” he said with a grin.

“
CAG, will you contact Tony Cippola, CIA at the US Embassy in London. Tell him to phone Colonel Basil Hammond of British Intelligence. The message to read: '1450 Dunsfold. Be there. Minstrel.' And not another word of explanation. Can do?”