Sea Skimmer (Jon Hunt Book 1) Page 2

  Marcel thought furiously. The Captain was right, there was nothing to keep him here and the money would set him up for life. There was only one problem. Disillusioned though he was, he was not going to get involved in anything that could compromise him. He might have strong views over his recent treatment but he also had an ingrained streak of integrity particularly when the security of his country was at stake.

  ‘It is very tempting Captain but much of what I know is classified information and I don’t think the authorities would be too happy with me if I took that information abroad.’

  Captain Mendez smiled. ‘Of course, we are aware of that monsieur. But as we have the system ourselves you would hardly be breaking any security rules. What we need is an expert to help us overcome some of the teething problems we’ve encountered and help make our systems more effective. You would be acting as a technical consultant to a programme already approved by the French government. We are not asking you to compromise yourself in any way.’

  Marcel considered the proposal. If what the Captain said was true, then this could be the answer to his current woes. It would only be a temporary job but it would get him out of the country for a while and the money would do no harm. And who knows, maybe all those stories about the beauty of South American girls were true. Yes, a clean break but only if it was authorised.

  He looked at the Captain. ‘Monsieur, I don’t know how you found me but you are very convincing. If you can get formal clearance from my government then I agree.’

  The Captain smiled and held out his hand which Marcel accepted and shook. They talked some more and then left the cafe together.

  Chapter 2

  April 3 1982, Mid South Atlantic

  Grey everywhere, the iron grey sky and the gunmetal grey sea. The horizon was virtually invisible where the two colours merged. The warship in the distance could not be seen by the naked eye as it was also the same grey. Only radar gave a clue to its presence.

  The Lynx Mk 2 helicopter was flying low. Very low and flat out, her two man crew concentrating totally on their task. The slightest slip on the controls by Jon Hunt, the pilot, would fly them into the sea rushing past at one hundred and fifty knots a scant few feet below the aircraft’s wheels. Brian Pearce, the Observer and only other crewmember sat in front of his instruments timing their route. His radar was currently in standby mode so they didn’t give away their presence until the last moment.

  ‘Standby, five, four, three, two, one. Pull up, heading one two zero,’ he called and the pilot pulled the nose up and cranked the aircraft over at sixty degrees to get to correct height and heading as swiftly as possible. They grunted with the forces of the violent turn. At the same time, the Observer was turning the radar onto transmit.

  ‘Target acquired, range nine miles, radar locked on, good heading, launching one.’ He reached over and pushed the red button on the Sea Skua missile launch panel. Ten seconds later he launched another and then two more until the complete missile load was in flight.

  As soon as the last missile was away the pilot slowly reduced height and turned away from their target. There was no point in giving their victim a chance to fire back while the four radar guided missiles were in flight. However, he could only turn a limited amount as they had to keep the target locked on and the Lynx radar only operated in the ahead sector over an angle of just less than one hundred and eighty degrees.

  ‘Standby for impact,’ called the Observer. ‘First weapon impact,’ and then in a ten second series, he called the other three as they smashed into the side of their target at various skim heights to maximise their damage.

  The pilot exhaled and gently climbed the aircraft back to their normal operating height of four hundred feet and engaged the automatic height hold. He leant back and relaxed for the first time in fifteen minutes.

  ‘Well, that went well. It’s a shame it was our own ship we sank. It’ll be interesting to see what they make of it when we get back.’

  The Observer laughed and looked over at his friend. ‘Yup, a good one, luckily they’ll never know. Would have been different if they were real missiles but who knows, with this Argentinian thing blowing up, we might be doing it for real soon.’

  ‘God, I hope not, these missiles weren’t designed to go up against big ships you know and the Argies have a pretty good navy. It should be, after all we teach them. Their two newest ships are Type 42’s like ours and they’ve got a carrier even if it’s an old one of ours. Anyway, we’re now officially low on gas so let’s go home.’

  He turned the aircraft back towards their previous target and started scanning the horizon for the familiar shape of their home, the Sea Wolf armed, Leander class frigate, HMS Prometheus. Before he could see the outline of the ship, the electronic surveillance equipment mounted on the dashboard picked up the distinctive characteristics of the ship’s radar and gave him confirmation that he was heading directly towards her.

  ‘Right, pre-landing checks and let’s go get a cup of coffee.’

  The crew quickly ran through the familiar sets of checks and the pilot called the ship for landing instructions which were quickly given. The Observer was the first to spot the ship which was bows on and presenting a very hard visual target. He pointed it out and looked over at his friend. ‘Got her dead ahead, just on the horizon.’

  ‘Right, I see her now. Let’s go and wake up the Officer of the Watch.’

  Brian knew what was going to happen next and tightened his straps reflexively. Jon was a bloody good pilot. They had known each other from Dartmouth days and Brian trusted him totally. But Jon lived on adrenaline, whether it was chasing young girls, an activity in which he was inordinately successful or flying his helicopter. He never missed the chance to explore the aircraft’s immense performance.

  Jon smiled to himself and lowered the nose, diving the aircraft and simultaneously pulling up on the collective lever, accelerating up to full speed and settling at just below fifty feet. The ship suddenly seemed to rush towards them and the helicopter shot past her below the level of the bridge and then past the flight deck at the stern. Jon waited for a count of two and then pulled the nose up vertically, letting the speed wash off and then rolling her over on her back in swooping parabolic arc to dive back down to the ship. As he approached the flight deck he again pulled up the nose but this time lowered the collective lever to stay level and rapidly decelerated until he had stopped, before pulling the lever back up to establish a hover on the port side of the flight deck. The Flight Deck Officer raised his wands and signalled to move across the deck. He waited a few seconds until he judged the deck movement was right and swiftly moved right and then down, thumping the aircraft firmly onto the deck, then pressing the harpoon button which activated a hydraulic claw on the bottom of the aircraft. It lanced down and hooked onto the steel landing grid securing the aircraft to its mother ship. Signalling his ground crew to run in under the whistling rotor blades, they attached four nylon lashings to special hard points on the aircraft. At last safely secure, he signalled to the FDO and then shut down both engines and the rotors.

  In the silence, Brian let out his held breath and looked at his friend. ‘Nice one and we didn’t even leave any rotor blade marks down the side of the ship.’

  ‘Glad you appreciate good aviating skill when you see it. Right, let’s go debrief in the Ops room.’

  No 10 Downing Street

  The cabinet office was suddenly quiet as all the meeting’s participants filed out. The Prime Minister was the only person to remain in the room and she was worried and angry as she had every right to be. The day before, the Argentinians had invaded British territory in South Georgia and the Falklands. That was bad enough but the intelligence services had completely failed to warn of the danger until it was far too late. What was worse, she had only just recently appointed John Nott as Defence Secretary with a brief to reduce the size of the armed forces and now she needed all she could get. One of only two serviceable aircraft carriers, HMS Invinc
ible, had just been sold to the Australians and so now on top of everything else she was going to have the embarrassment of telling them the sale was off.

  Her meeting with the three heads of the Services had gone about as well as could be expected. The Army and Marines seemed quietly confident but only if the navy could get them there. The navy said it could be done but it didn’t take a mind reader to realise that they were going out on a limb. The Air Force were no help at all as they had nowhere to base any air power, although they did go away from the meeting promising to see what could be done with their few remaining long range bombers.

  Nevertheless, she had given them the go ahead to form up a Task Force and get a military effort underway. Meanwhile, diplomatic efforts would continue. Although, knowing the parlous state of the government in Buenos Aires, she doubted they would come to much, even with the help that the Americans had promised.

  Looking forward to a few minutes peace before her next meeting, she was just about to call for a cup of coffee when her private secretary put his head around the door and said the First Sea Lord, Sir Henry Leach and Commander in Chief Fleet Sir John Fieldhouse would really like another word in private. She knew they wouldn’t have asked for such a meeting without good reason, so she told her secretary to show them in.

  ‘Prime Minister, thank you for giving us a little of your precious time but there really is something more we need to discuss and I didn’t want to do it in front of the other Service Chiefs,’ said Sir Henry. ‘I take it you know Sir John?’

  ‘Yes Sir Henry,’ she said nodding towards CinCFleet.

  ‘Ma’am,’ said Sir John with a serious frown. ‘There is one particular problem that is seriously taxing our minds. In one word it is Exocet.’

  The PM nodded. ‘Go on,’ was all she said.

  ‘As I am sure you know it’s a missile designed to sink ships. It’s a sea skimming missile that has quite a long range and we have it fitted to many of our own warships. The missile is French but we have put quite a lot of our money into the design, so we know how capable it is. The problem is, that the Argentinians also have some, quite a few in fact. What is worse, they have five which can be launched from aircraft which gives them even longer range. That means they can be fired at very short notice against our forces. I am really worried about this. If we lose even one of the carriers all bets will be off I’m afraid.’

  The PM thought for a second. ‘Alright, I can see you are really concerned. I take it this is your top issue?’

  ‘Yes Ma’am, if one of these damned things is launched against our ships with a good targeting solution we have virtually no defence. We have four ships armed with the new Sea Wolf point defence system, which should be capable of taking one down but only if we can modify the system software in time but apart from that, we are virtually defenceless. This was never going to be easy, we face many threats. Their Air Force could be a real problem, as could their conventional submarines, if they can get them working, to name but two. But we are trained to respond to those. However, we never expected to have to face our own missiles. We bought them because they are very, very effective and we have no solution to a workable defence at the moment.’

  ‘Well, you’ve managed to scare me Sir John. So, what do you want from me?’

  ‘We’re already working on several ideas for jammers and other ways of seducing the missile in flight but there might be something else we could do. Some months ago, we acceded to a request from the French government, to allow a senior aerospace engineer to work as a consultant to the Argentinians. He has all the latest knowledge and is quite capable of making them even more effective and hence dangerous to us.’

  ‘I think I can see where this is going Sir John but do go on. What do you need my permission to do?’

  ‘Prime Minister, if we could get him on our side he would be invaluable. I want to try and get someone to him and make him an offer he can’t refuse.’

  ‘Surely that is a job for the intelligence services?’

  ‘Yes it is but they don’t have the specialist knowledge and frankly the means of transport. We have both. We believe the Argentinians are keeping him under wraps in a remote location. One that we think we can get to. But we are collaborating. In fact, they have provided invaluable intelligence about this chap which could prove very useful. I have the frigate HMS Prometheus already heading towards Ascension Island. She will get there well ahead of the main Task Force and I would like to get the right people in her and use her to get them ashore in Argentina to try and get to this man.’

  The PM thought for a moment. She didn’t know whether it would really come to a shooting war. Maybe the Argentinians would see sense and back down. The Americans were putting enormous pressure on them. There was clearly a risk that if this mission was discovered, the diplomacy could be ruined but she didn’t see any way around it. If the navy’s concerns were this serious she had to trust them.

  ‘Alright gentlemen, set it up and let me know when you are ready to go. But I want a full briefing on the mission detail and will not give permission to commence until the diplomatic and military situations means we have no choice. Oh and keep me informed on any other of those measures you mentioned. You have been quite successful in getting me worried about this so now please do your best to reassure me when you can.’

  Chapter 3

  April 4, HMS Prometheus South Atlantic

  The Operations Officer put his head around the wardroom door and spotted his quarry. They were the last on the list of people he needed.

  ‘Hey, you two steely eyed aviators, you can put down the coffee. The Skipper has called an urgent council of war. You’re wanted in his cabin straight away.’

  Jon nodded. ‘Any idea what Father wants?’ he asked with a slightly worried frown. The Captain rarely called meetings in his cabin and never in the middle of the forenoon.

  ‘No, but I expect it’s something to do with the developing Argentinian situation. He’s got me, the warfare officers and the First Lieutenant in for the meeting as well, so I reckon it’s pretty serious.’

  Brian looked at the other two. ‘This could be interesting. We must be the closest warship to Argentina at the moment.’

  On entering the cabin, they saw they were the last to arrive, so Jon closed the door behind him. Captain Mike Test and the First Lieutenant were seated on the far side of the cabin table, while the rest of the officers were this side, with their backs to them. The table was covered with charts and signals.

  ‘Ah Jon, Brian, welcome,’ said the Captain. ‘Right, now we can start. OK gentlemen, firstly we have had a couple of signals from C in C Fleet which you need to know about. The Prime Minister has given the go ahead for a Task Force to physically remove our Argentinian friends from the Falklands if they fail to go of their own accord. The two carriers, Hermes and Invincible, will be going plus amphibious ships, escorts and a great number of Ships Taken up from Trade or STUFT as they will be known. They will declare a two hundred mile exclusion zone around the islands and then as soon as possible we will be enforcing it. I will give you more detail when I have it. You can tell your people about this and I will make a broadcast to the ship’s company after this meeting.’

  The First Lieutenant interjected. ‘Bet the politicians are regretting getting rid of the fixed wing carriers and aircraft now. When will they ever learn?’

  ‘Yes, quite,’ the Captain agreed. ‘And I bet John Nott is now on the phone to Australia and telling them they can’t have their shiny new carrier as well. But that’s not our problem. It seems we have been given an unusual task but they haven’t yet seen fit to divulge all the detail. Now, this is to be kept within these walls please. We are to make best speed to Ascension Island which will be used as the staging point for the Task Force when it arrives. We will be taking on some visitors and get a full briefing. Reading between the lines, it looks like they are Special Forces types, so my guess is that we are going to be doing some advance work for the Task Force. Another
interesting question we have to answer is whether we have any fluent Spanish and or French speakers on board and if memory serves me, you have several languages, do you not Flight Commander?’

  Jon looked slightly embarrassed at the question but answered promptly. ‘Yes Sir, my mother was French so I was fluent as a kid. I did Spanish at school instead and I’m pretty fluent as well. The languages are similar, so it wasn’t hard,’ he ended lamely.

  ‘Excellent, well we will signal Fleet with confirmation. Now, we could speculate endlessly about what they are intending but it wouldn’t help. Let’s just concentrate on getting fully prepared for wartime conditions. We can use Ascension to land any unnecessary equipment and make final preparations. It’ll be just like our work up after commissioning but for real this time, so that should concentrate everyone’s minds. Anyone have any questions?’

  There weren’t any, although everyone’s heads were whirling with speculation as they left the cabin.

  As they filed out, the Captain called for the First Lieutenant to remain behind. Captain Test was very popular with his ship’s company. A rather rotund Scotsman, he was nevertheless notorious for being taciturn. It was a standing joke that the more pressure he was under the cooler and quieter he became. It was a characteristic that endeared him to many who were more used to officers shouting and laying down the law. It generated a feeling, that whoever they were, their Captain trusted them to get on with it.