Blind School Read Online Free
Author: John Matthews
led to a large marquee.
Above the airfield, three Falcon F-35’s put on a warm-up display as the air force brass, government officials and arms representatives took their seats, amongst them Alex and John Culverton.
As Alex slid along the second the third aisle in the display stand, he turned to John.
‘I even managed to arrange your seat next to your favourite Senator.’
‘Thanks. I didn't know you cared.’ John offered a taut smile.
‘Oh, John. You don't appreciate just how much I care. Never have.’
John's brow knitted, as if gauging hidden import. Then he turned with an open smile as he saw his pet Senator approaching.
‘Senator Finley. Good to see you again.’
Culverton Industries newly rolled out Aquila was fourth in the display schedule. As its pilot took it up to Mach 1.5, its cockpit started to shake.
‘Just going into the roll now.’
The sky and clouds tilted, and twelve hundred feet below practically every eye in the spectator stand was fixed on the manoeuvre.
Each aircraft manufacturer at the show had their own visual co-ordinator in the control tower to guide their pilots. The voice of the Aquila co-ordinator came through the pilot’s earpiece:
‘Lock on just beyond the apex.’
‘Affirmative.’ But with the G-force, the pilot could barely move now; it took all his effort to manipulate the controls.
Before the Aquila had fully straightened from its roll, one of its missiles fired. It streaked across the sky, and the spectators below observed it consume one of the turbo-props in a fireball.
A ripple of applause ran through the audience, including Senator Finley. He turned to John Culverton at his side.
‘Impressive.’
‘We like to think so. The Aquila is one of the only jet fighters that can lock-on and fire coming out of a Mach one-point-five roll.’
Alex smiled tightly at the two locked in conversation. He leant closer to John's other ear to be heard above the jet roar.
‘Got something to see to. I'll leave you two to it.’
Inside the marquee, a flurry of waiters were busily putting the final touches to its buffet.
Alex headed towards the bar in the corner and his assistant, Coby, who also doubled as a bodyguard and chauffeur. Coby wasn’t that tall, otherwise Alex might have felt inadequate alongside. But he was broad and bull-necked with the usual De rigueur bodyguard fashion-accessory: a shaved head. Coby handed Alex his drink as he approached.
‘Thanks.’
Alex perched on a bar-stool and looked thoughtfully towards the marquee entrance and activity outside.
John Culverton and Senator Finley tilted their heads up as another jet fighter completed an impressive spinning dive and straightened out.
‘Nice to see our competitors raising their game.’ John smiled tightly. ‘ A bit .’
‘Still doesn't seem appear to have the manoeuvrability of the Aquila , though.’
John's cell phone started ringing in his pocket. ‘No, I daresay it doesn't. Excuse me.’
But John appeared to have trouble hearing with the increased roar as the jet made another approach. He held his cell-phone out for a moment, pressing a button on it before bringing it back to his ear.
At that moment in an SUV parked in a side street three miles away, its equipment inside suddenly came to life. Lights flashed urgently as its mass of circuits started speaking to each; but with its windows blacked out, an activity totally unseen by any passers-by.
John Culverton had moved to the end of the spectator stand, still struggling to be heard above the roar of the jet. He nodded and gave a last glance towards the Aquila above, then headed towards the marquee.
The Aquila pilot swept in low, centring on screen for the final missile lock-on – when suddenly the plane jolted and swept in lower still.
He wrestled with the joystick, flicked some switches – but still no response.
‘I... I don't know what's happened. I don't seem to have control any more.’
Above the airfield, three Falcon F-35’s put on a warm-up display as the air force brass, government officials and arms representatives took their seats, amongst them Alex and John Culverton.
As Alex slid along the second the third aisle in the display stand, he turned to John.
‘I even managed to arrange your seat next to your favourite Senator.’
‘Thanks. I didn't know you cared.’ John offered a taut smile.
‘Oh, John. You don't appreciate just how much I care. Never have.’
John's brow knitted, as if gauging hidden import. Then he turned with an open smile as he saw his pet Senator approaching.
‘Senator Finley. Good to see you again.’
Culverton Industries newly rolled out Aquila was fourth in the display schedule. As its pilot took it up to Mach 1.5, its cockpit started to shake.
‘Just going into the roll now.’
The sky and clouds tilted, and twelve hundred feet below practically every eye in the spectator stand was fixed on the manoeuvre.
Each aircraft manufacturer at the show had their own visual co-ordinator in the control tower to guide their pilots. The voice of the Aquila co-ordinator came through the pilot’s earpiece:
‘Lock on just beyond the apex.’
‘Affirmative.’ But with the G-force, the pilot could barely move now; it took all his effort to manipulate the controls.
Before the Aquila had fully straightened from its roll, one of its missiles fired. It streaked across the sky, and the spectators below observed it consume one of the turbo-props in a fireball.
A ripple of applause ran through the audience, including Senator Finley. He turned to John Culverton at his side.
‘Impressive.’
‘We like to think so. The Aquila is one of the only jet fighters that can lock-on and fire coming out of a Mach one-point-five roll.’
Alex smiled tightly at the two locked in conversation. He leant closer to John's other ear to be heard above the jet roar.
‘Got something to see to. I'll leave you two to it.’
Inside the marquee, a flurry of waiters were busily putting the final touches to its buffet.
Alex headed towards the bar in the corner and his assistant, Coby, who also doubled as a bodyguard and chauffeur. Coby wasn’t that tall, otherwise Alex might have felt inadequate alongside. But he was broad and bull-necked with the usual De rigueur bodyguard fashion-accessory: a shaved head. Coby handed Alex his drink as he approached.
‘Thanks.’
Alex perched on a bar-stool and looked thoughtfully towards the marquee entrance and activity outside.
John Culverton and Senator Finley tilted their heads up as another jet fighter completed an impressive spinning dive and straightened out.
‘Nice to see our competitors raising their game.’ John smiled tightly. ‘ A bit .’
‘Still doesn't seem appear to have the manoeuvrability of the Aquila , though.’
John's cell phone started ringing in his pocket. ‘No, I daresay it doesn't. Excuse me.’
But John appeared to have trouble hearing with the increased roar as the jet made another approach. He held his cell-phone out for a moment, pressing a button on it before bringing it back to his ear.
At that moment in an SUV parked in a side street three miles away, its equipment inside suddenly came to life. Lights flashed urgently as its mass of circuits started speaking to each; but with its windows blacked out, an activity totally unseen by any passers-by.
John Culverton had moved to the end of the spectator stand, still struggling to be heard above the roar of the jet. He nodded and gave a last glance towards the Aquila above, then headed towards the marquee.
The Aquila pilot swept in low, centring on screen for the final missile lock-on – when suddenly the plane jolted and swept in lower still.
He wrestled with the joystick, flicked some switches – but still no response.
‘I... I don't know what's happened. I don't seem to have control any more.’