by Tim Wheat
“My darling. That’s more like it. My name is Serena.”
Poppen took her hand in his, kissed it, and replied.
“I’m Bobby, er Robert, I mean, my friends call me Bobby.”
She giggled and took her seat.
“So, what brings you to D.C., Bobby?”
He was still in awe of her beauty, and fumbled for his words.
“I, uh, well; I just came down here for the day on a little bit of business, and am heading back to Boston now.”
“What a coincidence,” she replied. “I’m in town on a bit of business myself. What business are you in?”
Poppen blushed, and he could feel his face burning. It wasn’t every day, or any day for that matter, a beautiful woman chatted him up.
“I’m a mathematician. I just came down to help a friend.”
“That’s nice. I suppose a mathematician makes a handsome salary, and you must be quite good if you are called on to make day trips to the capital.” She brushed a piece of hair from her face as Poppen tried not to stare at her breasts.
“Well, I’m still a student, so I don’t even get paid, I…”
“I’m thirsty” she interrupted. “Would you like something to drink?”
“Yes, I should…” Poppen stood as if to retrieve them beverages, but she interrupted again.
“It’s my treat, Bobby from Boston. My salary is larger than yours.” She smiled at him, and he watched her as she walked away. Stunned, he murmured to himself.
“Try not to be such a stuttering stick in the mud when she gets back, Bobby. Ya moron.”
He checked his breath in his hand, sniffed his armpits, wished he had some cologne of some kind, and before he knew it she was returning.
“Bobby, all they had was ginger ale. Will that do for you?”
“That will do fine, Serena. I’m in your debt, thank you.” She handed him his drink, and before taking a sip of her own offered a toast.
“To new friends.”
“To new friends.”
The two drank from their glasses, and over the course of the next twenty minutes spoke about everything. Bobby found himself doing most of the talking, though, which even he found odd. Most days he was quite shy, but here he was, telling the most beautiful woman he had ever seen his entire life story. She had sat and watched him, a smile on her face, and laughter in her voice, when she interrupted him.
“Bobby, if you don’t take your eyes off of those I’m afraid they may burn up.”
Poppen blushed again, as he realized he had been speaking to her breasts almost the entire time. What was wrong with him? He averted his eyes but before he knew it, found them focused on her breasts again. They were perfect, and the cut of her blouse revealed just enough for him to be smitten, and fuel his imagination.
“It’s OK, Bobby. I don’t mind too much.” She smiled demurely, and unbuttoned another button on her blouse, revealing more of her flesh, and sending his hormones into over drive.
“I’m sorry. I’m sorry,” was all he could say as she took his hand in hers.
“Shhhh. Don’t be sorry, Bobby,” she said in a husky tone as she guided his hand under her shirt, and massaged the growth in the front of his pants. “I’m not sorry.”
His head was swimming. Something was wrong, and something was very right, but both were overloading his senses. Blinking his eyes he looked at the beautiful woman again, and relished her breast in his hand. It was more perfect than he had even imagined, and as his consciousness slipped away he managed one more sentence.
“I think I love you.”
Serena smiled as she watched the darkness envelop him and sleep took over. Removing his hand from under her shirt, she propped him back up in his seat, but felt the front of his pants again.
“Surprising for such a thin little man,” she said to herself with a slight smile as she stood. “How could I kill a sweetheart like you?”
Taking notice of those around, she saw nobody paid her any attention. Leaning over his now sleeping body, Serena took Bobby’s notebook from next to him, and thumbed through it. Inside were the computations for solving the E8 problem, and the formula that would revolutionize the world.
“This is all jibberish to me” she said to no one.
*******************
47.
Hours had gone by since the plane had made a momentary stop for fuel, and then returned to the skies. Chase and Ahiga had slept in shifts, and wondered where they were heading, once it became obvious they were not going to Boston. Appearing underneath them now was the Atlantic Ocean, and both men began to weigh their options.
“It’s not possible that we have enough fuel to make it to Europe, and I don’t think this beast is equipped to land on any kind of aircraft carrier. Where do you think we’re headed, Chief?”
“Beats me” was the honest reply. “If there’s one thing I’ve learned about Hans, it’s that he’s one-hundred percent insane.”
“I’ll second that. So what’s the game plan?”
George relished his friend asking him for advice. Growing up the two had been inseparable, but Rex was the obvious leader. It was inside of him, but now they were in Chief’s element, and Ahiga didn’t have any good options right now.
“I’m not sure, man. I mean, we could try to take over the plane, but then we wouldn’t know how to land it.”
“Don’t worry about that. I have a little flight time under my belt,” said Chase and Ahiga raised his eyebrow.
“You’ve been moonlighting as an air force pilot since I’ve seen you last?”
“Something like that. I tell you what, I think our buddy Hans up there has something else planned. Maybe we just flew out over the ocean because he likes the salt air.”
“Well, I hope you…” at that instant both men became aware of a shadowy figure leaving the cockpit. The bomb bay and waist gunner section of the plane separated them from the front, and though they sat behind cover the conversation ceased. They watched as Hans descended the ladder, passed through the bomb bay, and began attaching cables to the boxes in the waist gunner section.
“Static lines.” Chief leaned close to Chase and spoke into his ear. Rex nodded that he understood, turned, and spoke into Ahiga’s ear.
“I say we jump him. It looks to me like he’s getting out of here.” Chase leaned his face back in time to see Ahiga shaking his head.
“No good. It’s too tight back here, and I’m kind of wedged in behind you. Not enough room to maneuver to fight, plus, I don’t know how well either of us will fit through that bomb bay. He just made it through, and he’s tiny.”
George was right, and Chase knew it, but as he sat watching Hans toss boxes out of the plane, anger built inside of him. In front of him was the man with the answers, and Chase wasn’t going to let the devil out of his sight. When Hans pulled a parachute out of one of the boxes, Rex knew it was now or never. Without consulting Chief with words, he looked, nodded, and knew his friend understood.
Chase had been in an uncomfortable position for hours now, and his legs protested the command to move. Hans had turned his back to the men lying in wait, and Chase sprung forward, taking advantage of the opportunity. His left leg, though, was asleep, a not uncommon problem for a tail gunner, and Hans turned just in time to see him trip over a piece of the plane and fall to his knees. Their eyes met, and Chase’s lip curled into a menacing grin, as he saw both recognition and fear on the face of his enemy.
In an instant, though, the fear vanished from Hans’ face and his gaze flitted between Chase and the cockpit. The forty five caliber pistol in his grip, and aimed at his quarry, Chase spoke to his would be killer.
“Fancy seeing you here. Thought you had gotten rid of me, I see.”
“I should have shot you and that farmer. Don’t worry, I won’t make the same mistake this time.” The response was quick, and put a small doubt in Chase’s mind. He noticed the weasel still looking in the direction of the cockpit, and inching his way toward
it. Rex knew he needed information from the man more than he needed to kill him, so he pointed the gun at his shoulder, hoping to wound him should Hans make a break for the front.
“Is there somewhere you would rather be, Hans? I noticed we aren’t making our way into Boston. Maybe you’d like to get to that cabin up there so you can retrieve your own pistol?”
If it surprised Hans that Chase knew his name, he didn’t show it, but instead fired back.
“What you do with me does not matter anyway. In a matter of days, or minutes, you will be dead. I’d prefer to be alive, but I’ve made my peace with death hundreds of times. I know you, though; you’re just a kid with a gun. You’re no killer.”
Ahiga listened to the conversation, and waited for Chase to move. He had stopped too nearby, and George didn’t have enough room to maneuver his body out of the tight tail section. Besides that, he was sure his legs were both asleep as he heard his friend’s reply.
“Oh, yes, the grand plan to dominate the world. It’s no secret anymore Hans. You and Dietrich Hoff are building a weapon to bring the world to its knees. It sounds a little hokey, doesn’t it? Scalar radiation and giant antenna meant to shoot death rays all over the planet. Do you even understand any of this stuff? I have two doctorates, and I’m here to tell you, it’s complicated academia. I mean, first you send a group of guys on a raid, and they are eradicated by one man, a ghost, if you will. Another man, our pilot up there, got away, though, and I’ve gotta be honest with you Hans, that didn’t go over real well with the ghost. Doctor Sarff is going to be none too happy when he finds out you’ve kidnapped both of his daughters, and I suppose he’ll give the ghost a call back. I suppose he’ll send him looking for you.”
Hans was angry now, and fire seemed to be shooting from his eyes as he replied.
“The ghost is dead. We killed him.”
Chase responded with the smile that melted the ladies hearts as he stepped to the side and revealed Ahiga struggling to his feet.
“Man, both of my legs are asleep. I need a second to…”
Just then, the plane hit a pocket of turbulence and leapt ten feet. Chase’s left leg was still weak from the restricted blood flow and he lost his balance. Ahiga’s legs had no strength, and he yelled in aggravation as he fell in a pile to the floor. Hans, seeing both men’s weakness, reacted with speed. Closing the ten feet between them in the blink of an eye, and lowering his head, he buried his shoulder into the much bigger Chase. At the same time, he delivered a blow to Chase’s right hand, which was holding the forty five, and it flew out the nearby window. Before he knew what had hit him, Chase was on his back, the smaller man straddling his torso, delivering fierce blows.
Ahiga was out of arms reach, and he begged the blood in his legs to restore him use of his appendages, but it wasn’t happening fast enough. His friend was losing a fight to a smaller, weaker, man, and there was little he could do to help. Next to him lay the wrench he had used to enter the airplane. Picking it up, he flung it with all his might, and hit Hans in the ear.
The blitz attack dazed Chase, and his arms were now in front of his face, deflecting blows. Though the beating Hans was giving him looked bad, none of the punches were doing any real damage. His wits now under his firm control, Chase looked up to see a wrench bounce off of Hans’ head. To his left Chief lay on the ground, looking like a wolf that had missed a meal. Calm came over Chase as he hooked his arms underneath the smaller man’s legs, and pressed him in the air, throwing him ten feet.
Hans scrambled to his feet, though, and was pressing the attack before Chase could collect himself. The fight was fierce, and he found himself fending off biting, and clawing at his eyes, in addition to kicks and punches. Even though Hans had a clear size disadvantage, he made use of every weapon he could. Chase had been on the defensive the entire fight, when almost out of instinct, he lashed out with a right cross, while pushing Hans away with his left hand. The blow landed firm on the scoundrel’s cheek, and Chase could see he had injured the man.
On all fours, Hans seemed to be defeated, until he raised his head, and the other two could see his face. It was not a face of defeat, or fear, but a face twisted in hate. Hurling his body across the floor, the German/American feigned a similar blitz attack as before, and Chase prepared himself. Pulling up short, however, Hans punched him once in the stomach with his left, and grabbed one of his testicles with his right, squeezing as hard as he could. Rex howled in agony as he dropped hammer punches onto the back of the smaller man’s head, causing him to lose his grip.
Stunned from the punches to the back of his head, Hans stumbled away as Chase collected himself. Ahiga could now feel his legs, and rose to fight, but stopped dead in his tracks when Hans pulled a large, menacing knife from his boot. It was eight inches long with a serrated edge on one side, and a sharpened edge on the other. Ahiga assumed that the insane little prick could hold his own in a knife fight. A maniacal look on his face, and blood staining his teeth, Hans snarled.
“I’d stay right there if I was you. This knife has had a busy couple of days, and it’s just getting warmed up.”
Chase rose to his feet, still clutching himself, and came to Chief’s side.
“You’re insane. I have a blow torch and a pair of pliers at home with your name on them.”
“Edward Rex Chase,” he proclaimed, as he taunted the other men with his knife, “the world famous baseball star and genius extraordinaire. You know, the lovely Mary Elizabeth didn’t put up much of a battle when I came to her door. Hell, she let me right in. Perhaps you hadn’t satisfied her quite enough?” Hans could almost see the fire shooting from behind Chase’s eyes. “It was a shame I had to slit her throat. I was going to try to make it painless, but she was on the phone to her daddy, so…” Hans made a gesture to his throat with the knife as Ahiga looked at Chase. He had never seen a man more focused than Rex Chase, and wondered to himself what plans he had for Hans.
“So… What?” Chase ground his teeth as he prod his tormentor.
“Well,” Hans continued with a smile. “Let’s just say I could hear my echo when I peered down her neck.” He continued while he laughed. “I almost cut her head clean off. It was quite a show. I wish you could have been there for it, but then I had to try to run you over with that car, and you just wouldn’t die.”
“Your demise will be worse than anything your feeble mind can imagine, Hans. You will beg me for mercy, and I will show you none.” Chase’s delivery was razor sharp, and both Ahiga and Hans could see he meant every word.
“OK, well, that doesn’t concern me, since you’ll be dead soon. I need to be going. It was great chatting with you boys.”
Hans moved toward one of the larger boxes by the door, attached its static line, and pushed it to the edge. Chase and Ahiga stood in impotence a mere ten feet away. Hans was in a superior tactical position, and had angled himself on the other side of the large box. Any attempt to rush him, and they would be met with fury from the knife.
“You’re a coward.” George said.
“I wouldn’t call what I’m about to do an act of cowardice” said Hans. “Besides, I’d love to stick around and gab with you guys, but I have a bit of a schedule to stick to. I have some fantastic stories about that Angela Sarff. When I raped her over and over she wept and cried for you to save her.” Hans laughed his maniacal laugh once more, and continued in a mock impersonation of Angela Sarff. “Oh George, George. Help me George… It was disgusting, but I powered through it.” Hans grabbed a smaller box from the floor, and kicked the larger box out the window. “It’s been fun, guys. Goodbye.”
Rex and George dove for him in unison as Hans leapt from the door of the plane, but were too late. Both lay on the floor, gathering themselves for thirty seconds before getting to their feet and looking out the doorway to the skies below. Chase held in his hand the parachute Hans had been putting on when the fight began.
“You don’t suppose he forgot he hadn’t put this on yet?” Chase attem
pted to mask the hatred in his voice with little success.
“It wouldn’t surprise me if the little bastard sprouted the wings of a demon and flew down,” George replied.
“That settles it then.”
“That settles what?” Ahiga asked.
“Nothing much; just planning young Hans’ death. I want to make it special.”
*******************
48.
Anelie Hoff lay sunbathing on the deck of the submersible boat as the B17 lumbered overhead. Her long lithe body glistened with sweat on the warm spring day, and she wore a large hat to shade her eyes. Lifting the brim of the cap to follow the path of the plane something had been missing. A number of objects were floating to the earth, but a parachute with a man was not one of them.
Anelie sighed as she lowered her hat, relaxed, and listened to the waves lap at the edges of the boat. Her adopted son was bred to serve a purpose since being abducted all those years ago, even if he hadn’t known. Still, she remembered how the boy had flourished upon his arrival in Germany, and wondered how his life might have differed had they let him choose his own path.
None of that mattered now, though, since he had not bailed from the aircraft. She wondered what had happened, but would not lose any sleep over the loss. Anelie had treated him as a son, but in reality he was six years her junior. A smile edged across her face as she realized that she did not know his true age.
“Mrs. Hoff.” One of her husband’s goons now stood in her light, and she made her displeasure apparent.
“Move, you imbecile. You have an entire ship, and you choose to stand in the one place that would annoy me most.” The man held his ground and she paused, then continued with more impatience. “Well, MOVE.”
“Ma’am, Mr. Hoff requests that you come inside.”