by John Booth
The men flopped to the ground. To look at them you would not think any of them strong enough to do a single push-up.
“Now.”
The men strained. One or two began to lift up. The General felt a tingle run through his body and then gasped for air as his belt nearly cut him in two. The buckle broke under the strain as he reverted to being a man.
“I am back,” he said defiantly.
“Glad to be of service, sir. I will be off back to Rennes now.” Wittington began to walk to his horse.
“Stop. I am your superior officer and I order you to help us catch the witch.”
Wittington groaned. He had warned his Colonel this would happen.
Laura and Daisy waved goodbye to the friends they had made. Marie had given them food and a flask of wine and they were eager to be off. The sun was shining and the morning could not have been more beautiful. Pierre had drawn them a map, showing them the shortest way to France. Laura felt particularly optimistic.
Daisy felt the weight of visions about her head. The breaking of the bind was unexpected and had changed the future yet again. She didn’t need to be a Precog to know that General Brent-Smyth would be chasing after them with all the speed he could muster.
“I feel so happy,” Laura said, spinning with her arms stretched out. “In such a beautiful country travelling with my best friend. The only thing that could make it better would be if Tom was here. Do you think Tom is missing me?”
That was a difficult question for Daisy to answer and so she evaded it.
“We have to go as fast as we can. The General is probably already after us and he will be on horseback.”
At that very moment General Brent-Smyth had gathered two dozen men with horses, among them were Captain Trentwood and Corporal Wainwright. Neither man was happy to be involved but they had been selected because of their supposed knowledge of Laura.
“And which direction would you have us go?” Captain Wittington asked. “Brittany is a big country.”
“She will be trying to get across the border to France and that is where we are going,” General Brent-Smyth snarled. This time it sounded like a snarl, though he remained clean shaven as his moustache and sideburns had not yet grown back.
“The shortest route to France is in rebel hands,” Captain Trentwood pointed out.
“Yet that is where we are going. We stop for nothing, but a sighting of the Spellbinder until we reach the French border.”
“Begging your pardon, General, but isn’t that a suicide mission?” Wainwright asked. He knew he could be court-martialed for talking like that to a General, but then that would not be a bad outcome under the circumstances.
The General drew his pistol. “I shall shoot anybody who lags behind. Now let us ride!”
Nobody wanted to be at the front and it was clear the General was going to ride at the back ready to shoot anybody who decided to hang back. Thus it was that Corporal Wainwright found himself at the front of a madcap race for the French border.
Tricky, Alice and Edith were ushered into Trelawney’s house and into his presence. They had received the summons via Arnold earlier in the day.
“Are the Brotherhood at it again?” Tricky asked. “Cause I got a score to settle with them.”
Alice and Edith curtseyed to Trelawney, an event so extraordinary that Tricky was momentarily silenced. Trelawney took the chance to get a word in edgeways.
“Things are certainly heating up in that regard. The paper you obtained for me has proved most edifying. However, I have brought you here to talk about Ebenezer.”
Tricky felt as though someone had kicked him in the stomach.
“’e ain’t pegged it ‘as ‘e?”
Trelawney shook his head gravely. “Not yet, but his condition has worsened. I have spoken to Dr Thomas and he has agreed to allow you to stay at the sanatorium for as long as it takes.”
“You means till ’e dies,” Alice said somewhat brutally.
“Or until Tom arrives. I have reason to believe that Tom Carter is on his way and he will undoubtedly go straight to the Sanatorium.”
“’ow will ’e know where to go?” the ever suspicious Tricky asked.
“Because Andrea Wright will have told him. Expect him to arrive in an unlikely manner.”
“What, is ’e gonna fall from the sky or somethin’” Tricky sneered.
“Something like that,” Trelawney agreed. “You need to give him these when he arrives.” Trelawney handed Tricky a roll of papers, tied together with a cloth band and sealed with wax.
“What’s this?”
“Maps of Brittany, our latest intelligence showing where we think the rebels are.”
“Oh,” Tricky said, at a loss to make further comment.
“A carriage is waiting outside. Your parents have been informed and have provided spare clothes for you. Have a good trip.”
When the children had gone Belinda stepped into the room.
“Are you sure about this? Why involve the children?”
Trelawney sat down in his favorite chair and started to load his pipe. “Did you notice how well those children work with Tom and Laura? Their talents blend together to make a capability much greater than the sum of the parts.”
Belinda went back to her knitting, satisfied with the answer she had been given, and Trelawney lit his pipe.
16. Journeys
Dougal woke Tom a little after noon. He was in an officer’s bunk in the barracks and had been catching up on missed sleep.
“Time to get up, the Hubris is stocked up and ready to go.”
“Where is everybody?” Tom asked groggily.
“Antonia is on the ship with Baum. I don’t know where French is. He may have changed his mind about coming with us.”
“I very much doubt that.”
“Be that as it may, we have to get out of here now. We cannot rely on Captain Evans’s continued stupidity. He may have already asked questions of his superiors.”
Tom nodded and got to his feet. He felt as though he had only slept for a few minutes and stifled a yawn. Dougal strode out of the room and Tom ran to catch up with him.
The barracks was empty. Dougal led them through rows of bunks and into a long corridor. Tom remembered none of it; he had been too exhausted when they arrived. Dougal took them through a set of double doors out into bright sunlight. The massive building housing the Hubris took up half the view. Its great doors were open and there was a strong wind blowing across the doors from the direction of the sea.
“Can we get the Hubris out of the building in this wind?” Tom asked. An airship had to be light and that meant fragile. It would be crushed if it was forced into the side of a building.
“You will have to find a way.”
When they entered they spotted Captain Evans with two soldiers at standing at the opposite end of the building. He raised a hand to wave at them.
“We need to get on board before he stops us,” Dougal said urgently and began to run for the steps leading to the ship. Tom took a moment to take in the situation and then ran to catch up with him.
Captain Evans shouted, “Stop,” but they ignored him.
Tom put a foot on the steps when Captain Evans shouted again.
“Stop, or my men will shoot.”
Tom stopped. Dougal who was almost at the Hubris door, stopped as well. They turned to find the soldiers had taken up a shooting position on one knee, their rifles pointing at them.
“Captain Evans, what is the meaning of this?” Dougal said in an annoyed tone and then smiled at the man.
“My superiors have ordered me to detain you until they check the orders you claim to have received from above their positions, my Lord.”
“Do you think the Queen will be happy about this delay?”
Captain Evans’ face turned pale, but he remained determined. “I have my orders and must carry them out, sir.”
Tom spotted French entering the hangar. He carried a wooden box that was heavy
enough to be causing him some trouble. When he saw Captain Evans and his men he put the box down carefully and lifted a finger to his lips. Tom moved his eyes back to the Captain in case someone wondered where he was looking.
“Lord McBride outranks you. How dare you detain him?” Tom asked to create a distraction.
Captain Evans took out his pistol and pointed it at Tom. “And I outrank you. Put your hands in the air.”
The soldier to Tom’s left grunted and fell to the floor, knocked out by the stock of French’s pistol. In one fluid movement, French disarmed the other soldier and held him by the neck as his pistol pointed at Captain Evans.
“Drop the pistol, soldier boy.”
Evans changed his point of aim to French. However, French presented a poor target as he held the soldier in front of him.
“If you shoot, you’ll just kill your own man and then I’ll kill you. Hand your pistol over to Tom.”
Captain Evans stood for a long moment with his pistol aimed at French. Then he sighed and let it spin in his hand to point at the ground. Tom took it from his open hand.
“Find some rope and tie them up,” French ordered, Dougal nodded and Tom obeyed.
That took a couple of minutes during which Dougal became anxious.
“We have to go. The wind’s getting stronger and somebody may come and find us.”
French laughed. “Calm down, your highness. Tom, help me get the munitions on board.”
French strode over to the box he had been carrying. The box was very heavy.
“Ammunition for the Gatling Guns. His lordship ordered everything but ammunition for the guns. It’s a US caliber so I had to go off the base to find some.”
“I’m surprised you only brought one box,” Tom said jokingly.
“Third trip, sonny boy. We sure got enough of it now.”
Tom headed for the bridge the moment he put the box down in the ship. The engines were already running and he felt the airship start to lift as he entered the room.
“Dougal just untied the ropes,” Antonia said from her seat at the attitude controls. “As soon as he gets back we can go.”
Tom thought about the problem presented by the cross wind. As soon as they started to go out the doors the wind would push them into the side of the building. The propellers were at the rear and if they tried to use them to counter the motion they would spin about the middle of the ship. It did not seem a solvable problem.
“Get us out of here,” Dougal shouted as he returned to the bridge.
There was a lot of space behind the Hubris. This shed had been built to the same plan as the one in Kansas but the construction workshops were missing and there was room for a second ship behind them.
“Are the engines clear of the lead shielding?”
“I think so,” Antonia replied.
“Put the propellers in reverse,” Tom ordered.
Antonia gave him a worried look, but Dougal nodded at her and she did what she was ordered.
The attitude controls were wrong for going backwards and Antonia had to reverse them as the bottom of the ship scraped alarmingly across the lead containment box.
“Got it now. Attitude controls are reversed when the engines are,” Antonia said tersely. They were only travelling at a walking pace, but when the ship hit the back wall it felt like a major impact.
“I have not had the time to insure this vessel,” Dougal said dryly.
“Do we have a plan?” Antonia asked.
Tom felt it was time to explain the insane idea he had come up with.
“We cannot do anything about the wind except to go through the doors so fast that it does not have the time to smash us against the shed wall. Antonia, I want you to set the engines to full speed and try to stop us hitting the ground or the roof. I will try and get us out of the doors.”
Antonia gulped. The effects of the altitude controls would be magnified by their speed. What Tom was asking of her was probably impossible.
She grinned. “Best do it now then, before I change my mind.”
French and Baum had entered the bridge while they were talking.
“Go for it,” French said. He appeared delighted by the idea. Baum crossed himself and went back to the observation room.
“Let’s go!” Antonia screamed and set the engines to full throttle.
At first the ship did not seem to be move at all despite the high pitched whine of the compressors and the loud whirr of the propellers. The ship vibrated in sympathy as the propellers shook on their mounts. Then they started to move and all at once the walls were flying by.
Tom aimed the ship as close to the windward wall as he could. No matter what they did, they would still be pushed the other way. They felt the ship taken by the wind and Tom swung the wheel to compensate. Even at the speed they were going it would take them several seconds to clear the door.
The port propeller shield scraped against the left hand side door and then they were out, heading straight towards the twenty foot wall surrounding the base.
“WheeeeeeHoooooo!” French yelled as they cleared the wall by inches. “Man, we have to do that again some time.”
Dougal’s calm voice broke through the clatter of the compressors. “Head due east for now. I’ll work out a proper course when I get my breath back.”
Laura and Daisy saw the lights of the town in the gathering gloom of dusk. It was pointless trying to look at the map Pierre had given them in the dark. Daisy had spent some time trying to memorize it earlier.
“That should be Agentre du Plesses, which is near the border with France. I for one, have never heard of the place.”
“Do we avoid it, or try and find an Inn for the night?”
Daisy sighed. “I am tired of sleeping on floors or the ground.”
“Then we are agreed,” Laura said delightedly.
There was only one building in the town that looked like a tavern. The owner spoke English and Daisy bought them room and board. The stew they were offered as an evening meal was venison and Daisy thought it the best meal she had ever eaten.
“They were looking at us strangely,” Laura said as she secured the bar across their bedroom door. “Women travelling alone would be suspicious enough, but two English women travelling through a war zone must be unheard of.”
“Tomorrow’s problem,” Daisy said as she sank onto the bed and sighed. “Bliss is a mattress underneath one’s back.”
Laura dropped onto the other side of the bed and they fell fast asleep.
Corporal Wainwright was not the most expert of riders and was beginning to think that being a girl must have some advantages as certain parts of his body were getting very sore indeed. Night had fallen and he could barely see the road in front of him.
“Halt!” General Brent-Smyth called from the rear and Wainwright brought his horse to a stop yards ahead of the other riders. “We will make camp, off the road in the trees. We can’t be far behind the witch and her accomplice. We shall certainly catch or overtake them tomorrow.”
The Corporal found he was the lowest ranking man in the camp. Most of the other men were officers who had suffered at the hands of Laura Young. The only conversation around the small campfire was what they would do to her when they finally caught her.
“I say we tie her legs to a couple of horses and let them tear her in two,” Trentwood chipped in, to murmurs of approval.
“It’s too good for her,” Lieutenant Kincaid opined. “My brother tells me we are the laughing stock of the Army. There’s talk the campaign medal will be made in the image of a naked little girl.”
“There were some good things,” a man said, causing a few gasps of disbelief. “My wife’s going to find I know a lot more about pleasing a woman when I get home.”
Yells of laughter and derision were followed with thrown mugs. Corporal Wainwright was soaked by a poorly aimed one.
The General spoke and all the other voices died away.
“My orders are to bring her back aliv
e and unharmed. However, no blame could be attached to any of us if the rebels were to kill her before or after we capture her.”
The only sound in the camp was the fire crackling and Wainwright felt the intensity with which the men were listening.
“We will face ridicule when we return to Blighty, but that ridicule will be much reduced if the cause of it is no longer living. Something to think on, gentlemen.”
Wainwright had never heard an order to kill given with such subtlety before and he had to hand it to the General for his speechifying abilities. However, if there was a way the Corporal could find to protect the women, he was going to use it.
Harris was on his second cup of tea when Sir Anthony Baxter stomped into the office and through to his own. This was extremely surprising because it was a Sunday morning. Harris was only there himself because he was feeling nervous and wanted to run through the timetable one more time. A minute later Baxter appeared at the door.
“My office, two minutes.”
Harris wondered what had gone wrong now. As far as he knew, everything was going to plan. Annelise Shultz was here to supervise the killings of Trelawney and his wife. The Austro-Hungarian Empire was much feared for the skill of its assassins and with two assassins involved, the death of Trelawney was a certainty. Their deaths and what was to follow would create the situation they desired and the Brotherhood would become very rich.
The allotted time up, Harris made his way to his boss’ inner office. Baxter paced the room, which was never a good sign.
“I got this damned message first thing this morning.” Baxter handed over a telegram. It was from Dr Thomas.
“Hart, Short and Trenchard dispatched to Templar Sanatorium on compassionate grounds after request from Trelawney,” Harris read out. “So what?”
“He is plotting something, Harris. I can feel it in my water.”
Harris stifled a laugh. The idea that a few children, one of them dying, could seriously affect their plans was madness. “I do not see how,” he said diplomatically.