Sowerbutt's Muscle

Brendan Bracken nodded: “There’s an airfield at Barton up in Bedfordshire. Flew in there on one nightmare occasion with Harry Wernher, never again. RAF has requisitioned it now, I’m told. We could easily go on to Luton Hoo, which is about 15-20 minutes away, for the talks, Eastern Command HQ as you know. Besides Sowerbutt is working up in Luton, isn’t he. We’ll use his muscle to seal off the area. The fewer official fingerprints on our envoy, whoever he is, the better.”

The military man swallowed the rest of his Black Label. “I’ll motor up there, sir, and make some discreet inquiries. We’ll need a flight plan from someone we can trust in the RAF and we can lock down the nearby RAF bases, AA emplacements, radar stations etc on the night. We don’t want some enthusiast shooting down the Jerry plane, do we?”

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