Day of Vengeance

by Johnny O'Brien

  As they raced towards the mound, a plume of vapour exploded into the air directly ahead. They were only fifty metres away.

  “Keep going – get as close as you can!” Jack yelled.

  Sophie bent over the handlebars and twisted the throttle grip as the bike surged forward. Jack took the detonator and pushed it into the explosive. He set the timer. Ten seconds.

  Then, amongst the gas and vapour spewing up from the mound there appeared a huge, black, pointed cone rising into the air. It was the rocket. It seemed to rise slowly at first, its twenty-five tons of thrust driven by the controlled explosion of the alcohol and oxygen, deep in its belly, fighting hard against the pull of gravity. In only twenty-four seconds the mighty projectile, with its lethal payload, would reach the speed of sound. In thirty-five seconds it would reach twice the speed of sound and in under a minute it would be twenty miles high, above the earth’s atmosphere and travelling at more than five times the speed of sound. Minutes later it would arrive without warning above Portsmouth and detonate its deadly radioactive cargo, killing thousands of people and rendering the city uninhabitable.

  The vast rocket loomed before them. Sophie had no time to turn the bike away. It hit the mound and they were thrown upwards towards the rising rocket and the hot exhaust gases spewing up from the silo. Sophie twisted the handlebars to avoid smacking straight into the rocket and the whole bike lurched sideways. As the sidecar flashed past the rocket, Jack took the charge in one hand, reached out and slammed it onto the smooth, metal skin of the rocket. The adhesive clamped the explosive firmly to the V-2. The sidecar flew down the other side of the mound and slammed back onto the concrete apron. Jack and Sophie were thrown forward but managed to stay on the bike as it raced on towards the fencing at the far end of the launch pad. Sophie hit the brakes and wheeled the sidecar round. For a moment they gazed upwards as the mighty rocket cleared the silo.

  “Don’t wait!” Jack bellowed. “It’s going to go off.”

  Sophie gunned the engine and they recrossed the launch pad, skirting past the silo and heading back down the access track towards the assembly houses and storage cave.

  “Faster!” Jack shouted.

  They had only travelled two hundred metres back down the track when the charge on the side of the rocket went off, immediately igniting the alcohol and oxygen tanks inside the rocket, directly above the launch pad. There was a white flash and the shockwave from the airburst caught them and propelled them down the track. Jack looked behind him as fire rained down from the heavens. It was as if half of France had gone up. No one underneath could possibly have survived. Then something else struck him. They had narrowly avoided the blast from the exploding fuel tanks… but they were as good as dead anyway. The compartment with its radioactive payload would have surely fractured and would already be casting its invisible deadly radioactive dust across the French countryside. They had been irradiated and soon they would be dead. Just like Pendelshape.

  V–2 rocket launch

  Sophie brought the sidecar to a sudden halt. In the clearing next to the assembly houses, Tom Christie stood before them, supported by Angus. Jack jumped out of the sidecar and rushed towards his dad.

  “It blew up… right above the launch pad… but the radioactive dust… we’re all as good as dead…”

  Christie clung on to his son, he wanted to comfort him, but he could find no words. He looked into his eyes and said, finally, “I’m sorry Jack.” He took Sophie and then Angus by the hand, and said, “I’m so sorry…”

  At first, they didn’t notice the strange stunted tanklike vehicle that crawled its way towards them into the clearing from the access track. It moved slowly on caterpillar tracks and although it was clad in heavy armour, seemed to have no discernible guns or weaponry attached to it. The vehicle rumbled forward. One by one they turned to face it. It stopped about ten metres away from them. In the distance, they could see the plume of smoke rising from the woods where fires had been started by the burning remnant of the V-2. The four of them stood in a line staring at the vehicle. Christie could only stand supported by Angus. Jack and Sophie had scalding on their faces and hands from their close encounter with the rocket. They were all filthy, dishevelled and exhausted, and – knowing they were as good as dead – they no longer had the energy to fight or run.

  Suddenly, a metal hatch on the roof of the tank clanged open and a man climbed out and stood up on top of the vehicle. At his throat he wore a black iron cross. He had a thin, scarred face and penetrating green eyes. At the centre of his cap there was an unusual silver emblem – a skull and crossbones. The Death’s Head. Secreted in the armoured V-2 launch control vehicle, Axel Gottschalk had survived the destruction of the V-2 and now he pointed a machine gun down at them.

  “Let me guess. British Intelligence,” he shouted to Christie.

  “It’s over Gottschalk… we’re all dead anyway.”

  “Over? It has only just begun. We have the plans… how long do you think it will take us to build another rocket; another bomb?” Gottschalk mocked.

  “You are completely barking,” Christie said, under his breath.

  He shouted up to Gottschalk, “Perhaps you may be interested to know that Pendelshape had already passed us his plans.” He was lying, but it was worth a final throw of the dice. “Yes… that’s right. We’ve handed the plans on to the British military. And the RAF know all about this site and your research centre in Germany. Whatever you throw at them, you’re going to get it right back with interest.” Just for a moment, a look of doubt ghosted across Gottschalk’s face. Then he reddened with pure rage and raised his weapon to fire.

  But he never pulled the trigger.

  From the woods off to their left there came a loud popping sound and something fizzed like a firework across the clearing towards the launch vehicle. It smacked plumb into the side of the vehicle and there was an ear-splitting explosion. As the smoke cleared, they could see that the launch vehicle was a wreck. The blackened body of Axel Gottschalk lay on the ground.

  They turned towards the woods and watched as a figure emerged. He wore civilian clothes and a long, tubular device hung from one arm. Jack recognised the figure and as he got closer, his father limped forward to greet him.

  “Albrecht. You survived!”

  “Not just me,” Altenberg said, smiling. “I have made some new friends…”

  At that point Marianne and Jean-Yves ran towards them from the woods. Sophie’s parents were alive. Pierre and Dominic followed behind. Sophie bolted forward and soon she was in her mother’s arms, crying with joy.

  “But how did you…?”

  Altenberg smiled. “A bit of confusion during the accelerated countdown. But I still managed to swap the payload. Things did not happen quite as I planned them, but anyway, the radioactive material is safely on its way back to my laboratory at the Kaiser Wilhelm Institute in Berlin. From there I shall arrange a suitable resting place for it, just as we planned, Tom.”

  “So – we’re not going to die?” Angus said.

  Altenberg looked at him, “You look a bit the worse for wear, my friend, but I assure you, you do not have any radioactive poisoning…”

  “But how did you rescue the others?”

  Altenberg grinned. “I didn’t. They were perfectly capable of escaping on their own. What did you call it, monsieur?”

  “Les jeux abnormales,” Jean-Yves smiled.

  “It was yesterday; they put us together – they were transferring us somewhere – the airport we think,” Marianne said. “There was me, Jean-Yves, Pierre and Dominic. They killed all the others. We decided to take a risk. They didn’t stand a chance. We then started searching for you three. Last night we hid out in the woods and this morning we discovered this place…”

  “But you must go now, all of you,” Altenberg said, urgently. “Soon the whole German army will be here. You must be well away before they arrive. They will be asking many questions.”

  “But what about you
, Albrecht?” Christie said.

  Altenberg shrugged. “We will blame this failure on another raid from the resistance Network. I will return to Germany and continue my work. For peaceful ends. You have helped me Tom. I now understand what I must do. I will pretend to help the Nazi war effort but I will, of course, ensure they are unable to develop radioactive materials. The reactor we built will be quietly dismantled. The plans will turn out to be deeply flawed. A British trick to waste our resources. We will cover up, blame it on Gottschalk, say that the weapon was not nearly ready. We will say that Gottschalk was too ambitious, too desperate to make an impact and imply that he had ambitions for the leadership of the Reich itself and that he had threatened all of us to keep us in line.” He sighed, “I suspect that elements of the programme may continue – there were too many people involved with the rocket development, in particular. But the one thing I can ensure is that these rockets will never have nuclear materials on board. I hope, one day, some good will come of all this.”

  “And what about Petersen…?” Christie asked.

  Altenberg gave another little shrug. “Like your colleague Pendelshape, Gottschalk had no further need for him. A sad business, I’m afraid.”

  Christie reached out and shook Altenberg’s hand. “It was good working with you Albrecht – I hope you are right and that good might come of this… You never know – one day a rocket might take a man to the moon.”

  Altenberg laughed, “Now, Tom, you are just talking nonsense,” he paused. “And what about the British? They have this technology of course… I suppose that means that one day it might be used against us – in Germany.”

  “The British government are not convinced. They are distracted and do not think they have the resources… they think it is just another mad scientist’s dream…” Christie was lying. The British government, of course, knew nothing. But then Christie added, mischievously, “But maybe the Americans might be persuaded, one day.”

  “I can’t see why, Tom,” Altenberg replied. “Why on earth would the Americans want to join in another war in Europe? They would be mad.”

  “Are you two going to stop talking, because I think we need to go. I can hear voices coming down the track,” Angus said nervously.

  “Yes Angus – you’re right. Albrecht, there are charges on the assembly houses. They are timed to go off later. You will need to deal with them. Now, we must go,” Christie said.

  “There are also some guards in the storeroom. I have secured them, but they are wounded. They’ll need medical help.”

  “Thank you, Angus,” Albrecht smiled. “We will blame you and your friends in the Network, of course. Pierre, take my weapon… they mustn’t find me with it.”

  They quickly shook hands and headed back into the cave system. A few minutes later, some dazed soldiers emerged from the access track, guns at the ready. Altenberg had climbed up on the launch control vehicle, pretending to tend to Gottschalk. He pointed in the direction of the woods, away from the cave.

  “A raid… a small group… that way, they went that way, hurry! One of you – come here and help me with the Brigadeführer. They got him – I think he is dead.”

  Altenburg knelt beside Gottschalk’s corpse. The soldier leaned across to look at him.

  “No hope. A tragic loss,” Altenberg said.

  He padded Gottschalk’s charred uniform. As he did so, he felt a lump inside, just behind the breast pocket. Altenberg reached in and pulled something out. It was a piece of wood. He held it up to the light.

  “What is it, Herr Altenberg?” the soldier said.

  “Most strange. It seems to be a little toy boat. Look – it has a name – SMS König. How very odd. I wonder why it was in the Brigadeführer’s pocket.”

  As they made their way back up through the cave system, Jack turned and whispered to his father, “Will he be OK? Altenberg I mean.”

  “Yes. From what I know of history he plays his cards brilliantly, no one will ever really know whether he was a Nazi supporter or if he deliberately prevented the development of a Nazi nuclear bomb… or whether he was just incompetent.”

  “He’s not stupid is he?” Jack looked up. “And neither are you, are you, Dad?”

  Christie put an arm round his son. “Runs in the family, Jack. I’m afraid it’s got us into a bit of trouble now and again… but then, it’s got us out of trouble as well.”

  It was three days since the destruction of the rocket at Villiers. They had made a clean getaway back through the limestone caves and a day later they were back in Paris where they holed up in a small, innocuous apartment in the Marais. Sophie, Marianne and Jean-Yves had left for the south soon after they had arrived back in Paris. Pierre and Dominic would also have to start a new life. It was too dangerous for them to stay. The farewell had been short but emotional. Sophie had hugged each of them and she’d had a tear in her eye as she said goodbye to Jack. Christie had repeated the instructions that he had given to them before: they should break all contact with the remnants of the Network and never speak to them, or of the events in which they had been involved in June 1940. Christie had explained that this was a matter of ‘allied security’ and above all it was for their own safety. But Jack and Angus knew otherwise. The family were sentenced to a quiet life. It was something, Jack felt, that all three of them – Sophie, Marianne and Jean-Yves – would probably find difficult.

  With regular food and rest, Jack, Angus and Tom were on the mend. Jack had relished spending time with his dad and felt he understood him better now. He had finally told him what he’d seen as he and Angus had set off in the Taurus for 1940. But they all knew their adventure wasn’t over and a sense of foreboding still hung in the air. They sat round the kitchen table in the apartment eating croissants and drinking coffee and pored over a large map that Christie had unfurled in front of them. This time the map was not of central Paris or of the area around Villiers-sur-Oise. It was a modern map, of somewhere much closer to home. They had already been through the plan ten times, but Jack had come to realise that his father was nothing if not thorough.

  “So Jack, you said you entered the VIGIL site there,” he pointed at a spot on the plan, “Entrance Two, is that right?”

  “Yes – and I think it leads through that tunnel there to the Inner Hub, and then on to the Taurus Control Centre… there,” Jack said.

  Christie stared at the plans, pondering. “Yes – I remember it well.”

  “You remember it?” Angus exclaimed.

  Christie smiled. “You’re forgetting, Angus, I designed most of it. When I left, I took copies of all the plans, everything… my life’s work… but never mind about that right now.” He turned back to the map. “You say you were in the Control Centre when Belstaff and Johnstone jumped you and then you escaped in the Taurus, leaving the others behind?”

  “Yes.”

  “Do you recall anything… anything at all: comments or images on the CCTVs about where the other Revisionist intruders were located on the site?”

  “Yes – I think so,” Jack said, pointing at two spots on the plan. “Here and here… I got the impression there were about six of them. And there were the others who attacked us up at Rachan.”

  Christie rubbed his chin, thoughtfully. “Interesting, that would explain why there were only a couple at the Revisionist base when I went there.”

  “Your team,” Angus clarified. “Your ex-team, you know, the Revisionists – there weren’t very many of you, then?”

  “Not many – Pendelshape and a few others. Plus myself, before we had our little disagreement. But that’s all we needed to run things. They managed to turn Belstaff and Johnstone, though – without them on the inside, of course, there is no way they could have mounted an all-out attack on VIGIL.”

  Christie sipped his coffee. “So I think we are ready then. We’ll enter the site in exactly the same way and follow your route into the heart of the complex. I have an entry device and copies of all the security protocols, so it should
be straightforward. When we get inside, we spring a little surprise for our friends Belstaff and Johnstone. Once we have control of the centre we can bring up the security systems and start to mop up the other intruders. No one knows their way round the systems in that place better than I do.”

  “So we just wait?”

  Christie reached beneath his jacket and pulled out his time phone, placing it in the middle of the table on top of the map. Now they were safely in Paris, he had taken back Pendelshape’s time phone from Jack, for safe-keeping.

  “I have set the Revisionist Taurus to power up automatically every time there is a time signal.”

  He glanced over at equipment and weapons lying on the other side of the room. “We need to double-check that lot…”

  “Dad, there is one thing I don’t understand. VIGIL training says that you can’t travel back to the point before you left… so how can you and I travel back, you know, before Angus and I escape to 1940?”

  Christie smiled. “Good question, Jack. But we’ll be using the Revisionist Taurus and my Revisionist time phone. From what you told me, I am pretty sure I followed Pendelshape back to 1940 before you escaped. Pendelshape should have waited till he was absolutely sure that VIGIL was under control. He made a mistake – went too early. He was always impatient. It was only an hour or so difference, but that’s all we need. We’ll be arriving back after I left. Two time machines – it makes the world a complicated and dangerous place. It was never meant to be like that.”