‘Want to bet he doesn’t plan on taking us all the way to the platform, though?’
Jason opened the door enough to let the noise back in and saw Stratton walk up the steps of the helipad and out of view. ‘We’ll have to watch him.’
With the rotors unengaged only the hot exhaust from the engines bothered Stratton as he entered the Chinook. The relatively spacious cabin had a line of hammock seats halfway down one side, while on the other dozens of various-sized plastic moulded boxes were lashed to rings on the bulkhead. Taking up most of the centre of the floor was a reinforced fibreglass SBS mini-submarine that looked like a fat and stubby black cigar, rounded at the front like a revolver bullet. The propeller, at the rear, sat inside a housing designed to protect a diver from swimming into it. Directly behind the nose was the open cockpit with seats for pilot and navigator. A compartment behind that, separated from the cockpit by a grille, was just about large enough to accommodate four people. The craft had breathing umbilicals attached along the inside of the bulkhead with nozzles for six divers. With no doors in the cabin or cockpit, just gaps where the crew climbed in and out, the sub was termed a ‘wet ride’: it flooded fully when it was underwater.
As soon as Stratton saw the sub he had a fairly good idea what the SBS plan was. In the cockpit the pilots and the crewman were in a discussion about something. Stratton put down his bags, reached inside and tapped the crewman on the back.
The man looked around and broke into a broad grin on seeing the face he instantly recognised. ‘Stratton. What’re you doin’ ’ere?’ he asked, immediately wondering why he was wearing a firesuit.
‘How’s it going, George? You well?’
‘Not bad. Not bad. Chaz didn’t mention we were picking you up.’
‘Who’re the drivers?’ Stratton asked, trying to get a look at the faces inside the helmets worn by the two guys sitting with their backs to him.
‘Charles and Steve,’ George said, tapping both men on the shoulders and indicating the new visitor.
Charles, the pilot, smiled a hello on seeing Stratton and Steve gave him a wave. ‘What are you doing here?’ Charles shouted.
‘Complicated story,’ Stratton said.
‘Got a comms problem,’ the pilot continued. ‘We were in the middle of a sitrep from ops when everything shut down.’
‘Can you fix it?’
‘It’s not us. I’m certain of that.’
‘Maybe it’s this complex.They have a lot of security here. Haven’t you spoken to ops at all?’
‘Told them we arrived.’
‘Did they mention our situation?’
Charles shook his head. Stratton got a little closer. ‘There’s been a security breach inside the complex. One of the team tripped a lockdown.’
The pilot’s gaze moved to look beyond Stratton at the bunch of new faces outside, all wearing firesuits and carrying kitbags. ‘Who are they?’
Stratton glanced over his shoulder to see Jason and the others. ‘What I thought you’d already know by now. Chaz and the others are stuck in a security vault for the next twenty-four hours. They took something into the complex that tripped the lockdown. London has given us the okay to continue with the task. These guys are up to it. Luckily enough I happened to be here.’
The pilot looked from his own crew to the newcomers. It was definitely an odd situation. ‘I need to confirm this with ops.’
‘Of course,’ Stratton agreed.
‘But I don’t have any comms,’ he reminded Stratton.
Stratton needed to help him along. ‘We can’t jeopardise the task,’ he shouted above the noise of the Chinook’s engines. ‘I suggest we get airborne, see if your comms clear, then confirm it with ops.’
The pilot agreed. ‘Get them on board and I’ll wind us up.’
Stratton waved Jason aboard and the team filed into the cabin.
The entire crew gave Rowena a double take and George looked approvingly at Stratton.
Stratton moved his lips close to the crewman’s ear. ‘Careful, George, you’re just her type.’
George suspected that Stratton was joking but a part of him hoped it could be true. Smiling, he faced the team as the engine noise increased and he indicated for them to sit in the seats. ‘Buckle up!’ he shouted and mimicked buckling the seat belts.
They felt at their sides for the belts. George was on his knees and in front of Rowena like a shot. He slid his hands past her thighs in order to retrieve the straps from beneath