‘Like what?’
In reply she just rolled her eyes, then swung out of bed and took the two steps over to him. She lay down in front of him, her back pressed against him. ‘Never mind. Just get some sleep.’
She grabbed his arm and pulled it around her.
They had been in close proximity many times since they had first shared warmth, but it had only been for that, for survival. This was different, for comfort, and Drake found his tension washing away and his awareness of the world with it.
‘Rudy, come on, time to go.’
Drake opened his eyes to find Tanya’s dark shape looming over him, her hand shaking his shoulder gently.
‘What...?’
‘No questions. Just put your coat on and follow me. Quietly.’
A surge of adrenaline brought Drake instantly awake and he swivelled his legs out of bed. ‘What do you need me to do?’ he hissed.
‘Just what you’re told.’
He was about to stand, but stopped when he noticed that the bed was cold where the Muscovite had been next to him and that the cell door was already open. He opened his mouth to ask her about it, but she gave him a look and he closed it again.
She smiled and reached out to pat him on the shoulder. ‘Good boy, you’re learning at last.’
Drake stifled a laugh, then stood and followed her from the room.
The light from the guardroom at the end of the corridor was warm and inviting, but Drake found his breathing hitching as they neared it, knowing what he would find.
It was worse than he’d imagined.
It didn’t matter that he had seen Tanya take apart several men before, seen her stain pure white snow the deepest red, each time was a shock.
Her favoured method for killing Prussians with her knives was from behind, a single cut to the throat severing the arteries while similarly piercing their windpipe and cutting off their ability to cry out, but it seemed that this time she had been unable to take her victim by surprise. Instead of the clinical precision that she had demonstrated previously, there were signs of the Prussian putting up a fight. It had done him no good and only served to prolong the inevitable, but it meant far more wounds than usual and that, combined with the close quarters, meant that almost every surface in the room, the floor, walls, even ceiling, was liberally covered with blood. As was she.
‘Come on, Rudy!’
Drake started at Tanya’s hiss and realised that he had stopped just inside the room to stare at the gory sight. He shook himself out of his stupor and stepped carefully around the pools of blood to join her at the door.
She looked at him inquisitively and he gave her a tense nod in return; this was the most dangerous part of the escape. They had known exactly where the guard was going to be within the cell block, but beyond the door was an unknown - there might be entire patrols walking the paths, drunken soldiers staggering to their barracks, or even dogs.
Tanya opened the door a crack and looked out, blocking as much of the light with her body as possible. She grunted in satisfaction, then slipped through.
Drake followed her and closed the door behind them as softly as he could. He winced as the latch clicked, seeming like a gunshot in the silence of the night, but there was no shout of alarm and he moved to the side of the door, crouching beside it as they had discussed, waiting for her to check the area.
‘We’re clear.’
Her whisper came from right beside his ear and gave him the shock of his life. He half leapt up, half toppled to the side and tripped over his own feet, ending up sprawled face down on the grass.
He rolled over to find Tanya kneeling beside him, grinning, her teeth white in the faint moonlight.
‘Stop messing about, Rudy, and let’s go!’
Glad that the darkness hid his blushes, he picked himself up and followed her as she set off at a crouching run between the buildings towards the airfield.
The Prussians had done an extremely good job of clearing the snow from the facility, using the Muscovite prisoners to shovel the places that their machines couldn’t reach and the going was far easier than it would have been. It also meant that it would be much harder for them to be seen, their dark figures not standing out against moonlit snow.
They got to the perimeter track and hunkered down to survey the ground at the end of the adjacent building, a barracks by the chorus of snoring coming from within. The direct route to the hangars would take them across the airfield, but that would be suicide; even without snow on the ground, movement in the open would catch the eye of anyone looking even casually in their general direction. The other option was to take the track around the outside of the field. It was a lot further, a mile or more, but once they got past the last of the brick buildings, the trees would hide them much better. As long as they didn’t meet any guards coming the other way, of course.
There was nobody around, so Tanya led them at a run along the perimeter track, still hunched over and sticking to the grass alongside the concrete to deaden their footfalls. The buildings they passed were all still, silent and dark, apart for the one on the end, which appeared to be some kind of guard hut or communications shed and from which laughter came every so often.
Tanya grinned at him when they were safely in the clear and they slowed down and began jogging easily. ‘I guess we know where the guards are.’
Drake huffed quietly in agreement, but didn’t have the breath to answer properly; he was still feeling the effects of his injury and it was all he could do to put one foot in front of the other.
Tanya saw the difficulty he was in and slowed even more, but didn’t stop. ‘Just a few more minutes, Rudy. Remember the plan?’
‘Uh huh.’ Drake nodded without looking at her. They would enter the MU9 hangar and prep the two aircraft closest to the doors. Then, when all was ready and the only thing left to do was to release the spring, they would open the doors just enough for them to taxi out. Hopefully, by that time, even if someone saw the doors opening, they would be too far away to interfere before they had taken off.
The two of them had debated which machines to steal. Tanya had been all for stealing a couple of Blutsaugers, or even Gruber’s machine, but she agreed that it was far too likely that a guard would be permanently posted within the Baron’s hangar and was too big a risk. Drake had suggested an MU10 because they could both go in a single one, but in the end they had agreed to take a couple of MU9’s because they were faster and would also be easier to prep on their own and quicker to get in the air.
Two hundred yards from the hangars they slowed to a walk, both so that Drake could get his breath back and so that they wouldn’t make as much noise, in case someone was within and awake. There were no signs of life, though; no mechanic working late, no guard walking a beat. It seemed the Prussians were supremely confident that being so far behind the army lines made them safe and not for the first time did Drake wish that they could afford the time to disabuse them of that belief and do something to the aircraft, set them on fire or something, but they couldn’t and he was just going to have to be satisfied with stealing two of them.
They were fifty yards from the first of the huge buildings when there was a brilliant flash of yellow light, like the sun had risen suddenly, and they were picked up off their feet and tossed aside by a hot wind.
Drake landed heavily and pain shot up his arm, but he was mildly surprised when it didn’t snap again. He stared at the sky for a second while he made sure that he was in one piece, all of his limbs still present, before rolling onto his side and looking at the hangars, or what was left of them.
Three of them, the ones containing MU9’s and MU10’s, had collapsed in on themselves and were nothing more than heaps of twisted metal, but the fourth, the one that had contained the Baron aircraft had been blown completely apart by the force of the blast, peeled like an orange, and there was a fire raging in the remains. Luckily for the two escapees that hangar was the furthest from them and the others had absorbed some of th
e force of the blast.
Tanya was lying next to him and she pushed herself up on her elbows then groaned when she saw the wreckage. ‘This is getting ridiculous.’ She glanced at him. ‘I’m starting to think that you’re bad luck.’
‘I’m starting to think the same.’ He looked around. Lights were coming on everywhere and an alarm was sounding, almost drowning out the shouts of men streaming out of the buildings.
‘Time to run, Rudy. We’ll lose them in the forest, no problem.’
‘Righty ho, one last crack at freedom, eh?’
They struggled to their feet and staggered woozily towards the trees, less than a hundred yards away, holding onto each other for support. Tanya stumbled and almost dragged Drake down with her, but somehow he managed to hold her up and they kept going. Finally they managed to get a good rhythm going between them, almost as if they were in a three-legged race, and he took the opportunity to glance over his shoulder.
Dozens of Prussians were charging across the airfield towards the hangars, but the pilots were off to one side of the blaze, in the relative darkness, and the men didn’t seem to have seen them yet. It wouldn’t take them long to do so, though, and their only hope was to get to the trees and into cover before they did.
When Drake had run the hundred yard dash at school, the races had been done almost in the blink of an eye, with barely enough time to take a breath, but it seemed to be taking them an eternity to cover the open ground. His back itched and he cringed as he ran, expecting the bullets to strike at any moment, but they never did and at last they were in among the trees.
Tanya pulled him to a halt and looked back. ‘They’re not following,’
‘Even so, let’s not push our luck by hanging around here, shall we?’ He grinned, then reluctantly turned away from the spectacle of the devastated hangars.
Before he had even taken a step, he came face to face with a Prussian soldier who seemed to just materialise out of the darkness.
‘Oh!’ Drake wasn’t sure who was more surprised, him or the Prussian, but Tanya certainly wasn’t and she shoved him to the side and thrust her stolen knife into the man’s throat.
Blood sprayed, hitting Drake in the eyes and he turned away in horror, wiping at his face with the sleeve of his greatcoat while trying to forget the look on the face of the young man, barely more than a youth, as he realised his life was at an end. However, when the shouts and screams began, he abandoned his efforts and blinked through the liquid.
The boy hadn’t been alone. There were about a dozen more soldiers with him, or at least there had been, because three were already on the floor motionless, leaking red as Tanya spun through them like a whirlwind.
Drake watched her, mesmerised, for long seconds until finally realising that he should probably be helping her.
He had no training beyond his boxing and knew that was going to be completely ineffectual against the Prussians, but he threw himself into the fight anyway, figuring that if he could distract at least a couple of them then it would make Tanya’s fight just that little bit easier.
He lasted less than five seconds.
Drake was a great proponent of the Marquess of Queensberry rules, but the Prussians quite obviously weren’t and, while he was taking on one opponent and jabbing him satisfactorily on the nose, rocking him back on his heels, two more sneaked up on him in a most unsportsmanlike-fashion and bore him to the floor.
The last thing he saw before a rifle butt filled his vision was Tanya, screaming like a banshee, surrounded by more men than she could possibly handle, their guns pointed at her.
Chapter 11
‘Guten Tag, Lord Drake. Are you hungry?’
Drake’s eyes blinked open to find Hans Gruber sitting opposite him, the knife and fork in his hands poised over a large plate filled with sausage and vegetables, including cabbage.
‘Huh? What?’ His voice was barely audible, even to himself, over the racket the engines were making and he took a sip from the glass of water he found on the table in front of him.
Still drowsy and not quite sure why he wasn’t lying dead in the snow of the Prussian airfield, he looked around.
If it hadn’t already been obvious by the sound of the Fischer-Berg engines, the small windows, low rounded roof, and rows of deeply padded seats all confirmed that he was indeed aboard a Prussian aircraft.
He was facing the back of the machine, on one side of a large wooden table with four seats, which occupied almost the entire width of the craft, leaving just enough space for someone to pass. As far as he could see, there were no other conventional seats in the entire aircraft, just a couple of armchairs and a sofa, placed around a low coffee table, near to the rear bulkhead.
His vision swam suddenly and he put his head in his hands and stared down at the table, waiting for the dizzy spell to stop.
Gruber grinned. ‘What you are feeling are the after-effects of the drug the doctors had to give you during treatment. The anti-aircraft crew who you came across were a little, how shall we say, enthusiastic in punishing you for the death of half their number and you required extensive surgery all last night and this morning to repair the damage. Among other things they broke your collarbone and left arm again and did something to your right knee that the doctors tried to explain to me, but I didn’t understand.’
Drake lifted his head. ‘An anti-aircraft crew... Damn, forgot about those blighters.’ He remembered Gwen telling him about the numerous ack-ack and machine guns stationed in the woods, defending the airbase, which had taken such a toll among the unfortunate Muscovite bombers. Of course they would have sent troops to investigate the explosions.
He sat back in his seat and groaned as pain spiked through him from various parts of his body. Gruber hadn’t been lying about his injuries - it felt like he’d been run over by a wagon. Several times.
‘I rather imagined you had, otherwise you wouldn’t have run straight into them.’ Gruber laughed. ‘Anyway, what I asked you was if you would like anything to eat.’ He gestured at his food with his knife, even as he stuck a laden fork in his mouth. ‘I’ll have a plate prepared for you.’
Drake grimaced as particles of meat sprayed over the table, but no matter how much the man disgusted him, he wasn’t going to say anything; he had to be at least moderately pleasant to the man until he was sure that Tanya was safe. He couldn’t afford to be squeamish either; the rumbling of his stomach was telling him that he needed food.
‘I’d like that, please.’
Gruber grunted and jerked his chin at someone Drake couldn’t see at the front of the aircraft.
Drake tried to twist in his seat to look, but found that his wrists were bound to the arms of his seat. He raised an eyebrow at Gruber who grinned and shrugged.
‘After you ripped apart half that crew and blew up the hangars, my guards insisted on you being restrained for my protection.’
‘Guseva killed the soldiers, not me, and it wasn’t us who blew up your hangars.’
‘She is a ferocious young thing isn’t she?’ He laughed. ‘And as for the hangars, I know it wasn’t you and I don’t really care.’
‘What happened to Guseva? Was she killed?’
Drake prepared himself for the worst; he didn’t think the Prussians would have let her live after she’d killed so many of them. He was relieved when Gruber shook his head.
‘Everybody in this army knows better than to kill anyone in a red jumpsuit; it means you’re mine. They hurt her badly, but she survived, don’t worry.’
‘Did the doctors take care of her as well?’
Gruber smirked. ‘Let’s just say she’s in no immediate danger, but she’s travelling in rather less comfort than we are, with the rest of my squadron.’
As if proving how well Gruber was treating his prisoner, a steward, the one from the pilot’s mess, appeared from behind Drake. He laid a large plate of steaming food on the table, then used a cooking knife to slice through the ropes binding him. While he rubbed some life b
ack into his wrists, Drake smiled his thanks at the man, who began to smile back, then seemed to remembered himself and nodded coolly at Gruber before hurrying off.
Drake could feel Gruber’s eyes on him as he began tucking in, but, even though he was exceedingly hungry, he wasn’t going to give the man the satisfaction of seeing him slip, so he kept his manners perfect while still eating as quickly as he could.
After several mouthfuls, he felt more himself and he wiped his mouth, then looked up at Gruber, curious. ‘You don’t look at all upset that your aircraft were destroyed.’
‘I’m not.’
‘Shouldn’t you be? I mean, aren’t your superiors going to be a little disappointed that you’re abandoning the northern front?’
‘Not at all.’ Gruber shook his head, but Drake thought he saw a hint of doubt in the man’s eyes when they flickered to the black Prussian eagle, emblazoned on the red velvet headrests of the seats. ‘On the contrary, while the destruction of the aircraft is only a temporary setback for which I am not to blame, my destruction of Wasp is a propaganda coup, showing the continuing weakness of the Misfits and their female pilots. I consider my job in the north done and now I’m going to head south for the winter, like the aerial creature I am; there is much more important work for me in Italy and I already have plenty of aircraft to replace the ones that were lost.’
‘Italy? That’s nice. It’ll be good to get some sunshine.’
Gruber chuckled, shaking his head. ‘I’m afraid you won’t get much sun where you’re going.’
‘And where is that?’
‘You’ll see.’
Gruber smiled enigmatically, but said nothing more as he turned his full attention to the remains of his meal and Drake was glad to do the same.
A change in the engine note brought Drake out of a deep sleep and he sat up and looked around with bleary eyes.
He had become increasingly drowsy as he’d eaten and wasn’t sure if he’d finished before succumbing to exhaustion.
‘Maybe I should have warned you that there were sedatives and painkillers in your water. Oops.’ Gruber appeared from behind Drake, grinning widely as he sat in his seat and did his safety belt up. His day uniform had been replaced by the smart black dress uniform and his hair was slicked back severely.
The Lion and the Baron Page 10