Oblivion

Начало книги

A fierce wind was blowing over Midnesheidi Moor. It had swept south from the highlands, across the choppy expanse of Faxaflói Bay, before ascending again, bitterly cold, onto the moor where it whistled over gravel beds and ridges, whipping a pale etching of snow over the sad, stunted vegetation. Exposed to open sea and northern blast, only the toughest plants survived here, their stalks barely protruding above the level of the stones. The wind raised a shrill screeching as it penetrated the perimeter fence which loomed out of this bleak landscape, then hurled itself against the mighty walls of the aircraft hangar which stood on the highest ground. It raged with renewed force against this intractable obstacle, before hurtling away into the darkness beyond.

The noise of the wind carried into the vast interior of the steel-frame hangar. One of the largest structures in Iceland, covering 17,000 square metres and as tall as an eight-storey building, it had doors opening to the east and west that could accommodate the wingspan of the world’s biggest aircraft. This was the operational hub of the US Air Force 57th Fighter Interceptor Squadron on Midnesheidi. Here, repairs were carried out to the fleet of AWACS spy planes, F-16 fighter jets and Hercules transports. Huge pulley systems for manoeuvring aeroplane parts hung from girders running the length of the roof.

Читать дальше →