Iceline by Martyn Taylor

Author:Martyn Taylor
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: crime, adventure, action, england, scotland, british author, yorkshire, thriller and mystery, british crime thriller, rotherham, cheeky seagull, martyn taylor, iceline
Publisher: Martyn Taylor

Charlie dragged the old wooden box from under his bunk and carried it on deck, he opened the flare locker and lifted out a tray to reveal a pair of insulated terminals and opened the box. He unpacked an old transmitter with a Bakelite Morse key and unwound the connecting leads and clipped each one to a terminal. He had scribbled out a terse report for Ben, to pass it on to Jardine, or whoever had the overview for Steel. Ben would get the message, but the monitor at the Grange would have it sooner, or a version of it. Jardine would have to decipher it himself as the only other Granger who knew the key was on board with him. He turned up the signal strength and began tapping with a call-up sign. WESTHOME CALLING ANGEL and repeated it twice, then sat back to wait. ANGEL RECEIVING WESTHOME, came back five minutes later, the volume of the bleep turned down low in his headphones and Charlie settled down to transmit.

Hannah Brown was out of it when the signal buzzed in her headphones, the hiss of white noise lulling her concentration and suddenly the beep had jolted her. He wasn't taking the mickey, somebody was still using it. The request had come through from Jardine. The frequency tweaked to the finest degree of tuning they could achieve and she still thought it mad. Nobody uses Morse any more, most official maritime organisations were permanently standing down the transmitting and receiving stations in favour of more advanced systems, even VHF was on the way out as GMDSS began to take over and yet here it was. A blast from the past, the distinctive beep, dot-dash, dash-dot, dash-dash-dot, dot, dot-dash-dot-dot and the first words appeared to be clear, then it changed and she took down a seemingly random collection of letters interspersed with numbers. Instinctively she stabbed her finger down on the record button and scribbled away with her pencil, the recording was too check against later. Jardine had demanded a copy immediately and he got it. Hannah's pencil danced across the pad, thankful that a fascination with radio and Morse had finally paid off. The fist signed off with a traditional GNOC and she whispered the words as she copied down the shorthand, Good Night Old Chap and the signal stopped and white noise filled her headphones once again. This was a blast from the past. She switched off her own key and tapped GNOC, WHOEVER YOU ARE, but the dumb machine sent nothing. She waited for five minutes after the receiving station confirmed receipt of the signal before she dragged off her headphones and took the signal up to Jardine's office. She went in and handed over the chit. "Westhome just sent this to Angel, no reply, just confirmed receipt. They're now both off the air."

"They will be for some time now," he said, "thank you, it's good of you to bring this up so promptly."

"You did say immediately Sir."

"Thank you nonetheless.

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