Read Online Aggressor by Nick Cook - Free Book Online

knew he would be allowed only one stab.
    â€˜Exercises are planned long in advance, for obvious reasons. The tankers are one thing, the fighters something else. If this F-15E fighter deployment was last minute, it would prove they were mobilized in response to some genuine emergency and not an exercise. Reasonable?’
    Kelso nodded, not sure where all this was leading.
    â€˜So,’ Girling continued, ‘I have to prove that the fighter deployment was last minute. There is a way.’
    He consulted his notebook, wrote down a number, and handed it to Kelso. ‘This is a special phone number for pilots, ordinary people like you and me who own private planes. It tells them which areas around the UK have been closed to commercial traffic because of military aircraft movements. It’s run by the National Air Traffic Service.’
    Kelso stared at the piece of paper. ‘So what do I want with this?’
    â€˜Dial the number.’
    Kelso hesitated.
    â€˜Just do it,’ Girling said. He continued talking while Kelso punched in the numbers. ‘On their way here, those F-15Es would have needed mid-air refuelling in an area called Refuelling Area One, off northwest Scotland. That’s standard procedure. When you get through, ask them whether Refuelling Area One was closed to commercial traffic on Tuesday, the day the F-15Es got here. If they say yes, then ask when the order came through.’
    Kelso held his hand up for silence the moment he made the connection. He mumbled two sentences into the receiver and listened intently for the response.
    A few seconds later he put the phone down. ‘Monday,’ he said. ‘They closed the son of a bitch the very day before the fighters arrived in this country.’
    â€˜That’s your proof,’ Girling said, managing to control his voice. ‘The rest is up to you.’
    Girling had not been back long at his desk when the phone rang. It was Kelso. ‘Get your arse in here smartish,’ he said.
    When Girling walked into Kelso’s office, his editor was jotting words onto a desk pad, face flushed to the roots of his thinning ginger hair.
    Girling steeled himself for a bollocking.
    â€˜I just got a call back from the MOD,’ Kelso said. ‘They want to know where the fuck we got this information from.’
    â€˜They denied it, you mean.’
    Kelso laughed. ‘Of course not. There’s probably a bloody witch hunt going on for our informant right now. Denbeigh thinks there’s been a high-level leak.’
    The DPR, Alan Denbeigh, was a shrewd operator, a good man to know well. Few journalists could claim that privilege, but Kelso was one of them.
    â€˜What did he say?’ Girling asked.
    â€˜Nothing attributable, naturally. But when I convinced him we had the story, and we weren’t going to drop it, there was no holding him back. Here is the news. The US Air Force was poised to launch bombers from Lakenheath against a target in the Middle East. This week. All the preparations were made. The bombers were to have flown in under cover of the exercise.’
    â€˜Stalwart Divider?’
    â€˜Exactly as you said.’
    Kelso burrowed in the top drawer of his desk and produced a box of Villiger cigars. He offered one to Girling.
    Girling shook his head. ‘And London approved the plans?’
    â€˜Certainly.’
    â€˜So what happened to make the Americans change their minds?’
    Kelso lit his cigar and sucked the end thoughtfully. ‘Denbeigh said there had been a difference of opinion within the National Security Council. The doves won. The hawks, mind you, did not have a very strong case, it seems.’
    â€˜How come?’
    â€˜They didn’t know who they were meant to be bombing.’
    â€˜I don’t understand.’
    â€˜Come on, Tom. Work it out for yourself. There’s a small US task force floating off the Lebanese coast right now. Extrapolate a little. Use your