Operation Lavivrus. John Wiseman
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amazing,’ said Peter. ‘I’m really impressed.’ They both stood there thinking the same thing: This is all too good to be true. It is so simple there must be some drawbacks. They were both experienced in the use of modern technology, and wary of it. It was great when it was working, but anything that can go wrong usually does, especially when the pressure is on. Simplicity is the key, and this device, although very sophisticated on the inside, was simplicity itself. They were both lost for words trying to think up snags or shortcomings.
The doctor left them to their thoughts and gave them time to discuss things between themselves. He retired to the first bench and opened a drawer, removing a sheath of papers. ‘Is there any tea left in the pot, Susan? I could murder another cup.’ With his glasses balanced on the end of his nose he looked every inch the mad professor. He shuffled a pile of forms and papers, occasionally writing in a notepad. He wrestled with sheets of carbon paper, and kept dropping them on the floor. As he stooped to pick one up he would drop his pen; he spent a lot of time arranging the paperwork to his satisfaction.
Susan returned with a tray full of fresh tea and Peter needed no second invitation to join her at the bench, leaving Tony deep in thought, still playing with the cylinder. While the doctor was recovering a piece of paper from the floor he found a small grub screw. ‘Do you know I looked everywhere for this?’ he exclaimed.
Tony joined them and handed over the cylinder. ‘Come on, doc, there must be some snags. This looks all too simple.’
‘The only snag or drawback as I see it is accurate placing. Because of the size limitations everything is minimal, and proximity to the signal source is paramount.’ As he spoke he rhythmically tapped the device in the palm of his hand. ‘I believe you are now going on to Shrivenham where they will advise you on placement.’
‘Yes we are due there this afternoon,’ replied Peter. ‘Everything is happening at once.’
‘I have got the paperwork sorted. This is the hardest part of the project for us. I am well over budget and have used up the entire department’s overtime allowance. I would rather go with you than face those paper-pushers over the road. What about you, Susan?’
Before she could answer Pete chipped in, ‘We would love to have you along.’
‘Susan, can you put this one with the others, please.’ The doctor handed over the aluminium cylinder. ‘Gentlemen, the only thing I can add is that you must ensure that in transit you have all the arrows facing the same way. We have tested the device thoroughly in the laboratory, but to a very limited extent in the field. We just have not had the time. What do you think, Captain? Will it do?’
Peter’s gaze followed the girl as she walked to the door and busied herself packing away the device with all the others. He noticed the absence of make-up and the neatly swept-back hair. There was a pregnant pause as the doctor waited for an answer.
Tony came to the rescue. ‘Thank you for all your help, Doctor. We certainly didn’t expect you to come up trumps so quickly.’
A sly dig in the ribs got Pete’s attention and he took over. ‘Yes, thank you very much. It is now up to us.’
‘We wish you the very best of luck. Sign here for the thirty-six devices, and again on the bottom of the pink form. Let me sign your passes and remember to surrender them at the gate.’
Tony backed the vehicle up to the cabin and loaded the boxes while Peter chatted to Susan. ‘Come on, you old Tom,’ he called out. ‘We must be going. The wife and kids will be missing you.’
It was Pete’s turn to drive. ‘Did you see her eyes? They were lovely.’ He jumped hard on the brakes to slow down for the sleeping policeman.
‘Why is it that every time you meet a woman you fall in love, and why is it that every time there’s work to be done . . .’ The two argued good-naturedly for several miles, with Pete discussing the girl and Tony the device, before lapsing into silence. They were heading back west but had a short detour to make which would take them to the Royal College of Science, Shrivenham. Tony tried to sleep but Peter thought he was driving his Caterham 7, and was throwing the car around with gay abandon. Tony gave up the idea of sleep and concentrated more on survival. Finally he broke the silence. ‘What do you think?’
They instinctively knew what the other was thinking; they had been working together for two years and a special bond had been forged between them. They understood each other’s moods and fancies, knowing when something wasn’t quite right. When troubled Pete tended to lapse into long periods of silence, mulling things over and keeping them to himself, whereas Tony did the opposite and liked talking about any problems as he attempted to work them out.
‘Well, they certainly have done their homework. I was expecting a bloody big box with switches on.’
‘Considering how little time they had, they’ve worked miracles. It’s a pity there are no practice devices. I don’t like the idea of training with the same ones we are going to use on ops.’
‘The man said they’re indestructible, but he doesn’t know the lads. We could lose them, especially when parachuting, and there are no replacements.’
‘I think we only use them on the target attack phase, and not the infiltration.’
They discussed the best way to train with them, considering the alternatives. Tony tried to keep Peter engaged in conversation as he didn’t drive so fast when he was talking. When they lapsed into silence Pete would speed up and the scenery would flash by. They turned off the motorway onto a narrow country lane, and Tony was thrown around too much for his liking.
‘Do you remember them knock-out drops in Borneo?’ he asked.
Peter didn’t answer straight away as he came up fast behind a pick-up truck. He didn’t check his speed but accelerated past just as they were entering a left-hand bend. Tony’s foot stamped on an imaginary brake pedal with both hands gripping the dash, his eyes out on stalks scanning ahead. His worse nightmare happened: a car appeared, closing the distance rapidly. There was nowhere to go, thick hedges on both sides laced with large tree. A crash looked inevitable.
With less than inches to spare, Pete passed the truck and pulled back in, ignoring the fist waving and flashing lights from both vehicles.
‘No. What drops?’ he asked coolly.
Tony couldn’t speak – in fact he couldn’t remember the question – and when no answer came, Pete enquired, ‘Hungry, mate? Let’s stop at the dog stall for a sarnie.’
Tony stared intently at Peter, nursing the circulation back into his hands. The last thing he wanted at that moment was something to eat. When the crash seemed inevitable all he wanted to do as his last gesture on earth was to punch the driver as hard as he could. He was still fighting for composure. All of his ailments and discomforts had temporarily left him, but now they returned with a vengeance. His ears and lips throbbed, and a bout of cramp gripped his left calf. He thought to himself, ‘Wait till I get out he vehicle . . .’ but he actually said, ‘There’d better be a toilet handy.’
After a short break and all essentials had been catered for, they arrived at Shrivenham and went through the same routine as before. Security was more obvious here, but the same monotonous procedures were followed.
Eventually they were guided to a large hangar, where they were greeted by a lively, fit-looking man wearing a Royal Signals cap badge.
‘Hi, chaps. I’m Captain Charles Minter. Come on in. Please call me Chas. Toilets to the right, and my office is the last on the left, at the far end.’
He shook their hands warmly, pointing down a long bare brick corridor painted in a sickly green with polished brown lino covering the floor. There were many doors on the left-hand side, but only one large double door on the right. They followed the captain down the corridor, declining the offer of the toilet. All the doors were identical, varnished in dark oak with a frosted glass panel at the top. He stopped and opened the last but one door. Balancing on one leg, he stuck his