Magical Mechanications

by Pip Ballantine

  Elsa remained stock still. She would not make it to the door before this captain would gun her down. “Did you come into my home to ask for something in particular? I have not started baking yet for tomorrow.”

  “Oh that is very kind of you, but no, I am quite content with those chocolate chip scones of yours. They are delicious.” Maximiliane took up her tiny cigar, and said, “I will miss them.”

  Und so endet es, Elsa thought to herself.

  “We have some unpleasantness before us, you know this,” the captain stated quite plainly, “but we can make this less tiresome, less inconvenient, if you tell me where the plans to the Black Ghost are.”

  Elsa kept her gaze with the woman. Perhaps this was not the end, after all.

  Still, she would have liked to see Teutoburger Wald just one more time.

  Four

  This was Scarlett’s fourth day with the Hornet, and she honestly thought that she would drop the somewhat silly euphoria she enjoyed whenever she flew it. No such luck. She had remained loyal to her faithful, if not somewhat well-worn, Brighton Scout; but that flying deathtrap was a distant memory now. With additional modifications from Tink and Major Hemsworth offering what seemed to be limitless resources, the Hornet was ready for a flight into enemy territory.

  Getting into Germany she knew would not be a problem. It was getting out that concerned her the most.

  Just stay on the mission directives, she could hear Hemsworth reassuring her again and again. Stick to that path and you will be back in France safe and sound with the plans to this Fokker prototype. Easy as pudding.

  Hemsworth was not the one flying into enemy territory. Although, he did assure her support. What that entailed, she could not be certain.

  The Hornet stayed low on the horizon, the agreed upon color making her difficult to spot by any patrol in the air which, according to this experimental proximity warning system Hemsworth had installed, was of no concern now. The skies were clear, and the flight plan that she, Tink, and Hemsworth had plotted would take her to a small field just outside of Halle. From there, she would need to obtain transportation of some sort, then rendezvous with “Grandmother” at her house.

  A yellow light flickered on her panel. The map scrolling across her dashboard indicated the landing coordinates just ahead. Scarlett took the Hornet even lower, eased up on the throttle, and hoped the ground underneath would be firm enough to handle a landing. Lower and lower still, until finally she felt the Hornet touch ground. The plane hopped up in the air and then touched down a second time.

  She really needed work on her landing in this plane.

  Once the Hornet powered down, Scarlett draped the netting over it. From the air, it would look nothing more than a patch of heavy grass. However, to passersby it would look like something covered up under netting, so hopefully, this rendezvous would be a quick affair. The sooner she would be back up in the air, the happier she would be. Scarlett still found this mission to be a bit of a fool’s errand, but she was duty bound and had her orders.

  The Hornet, she begrudgingly admitted, did take the sting out of the madcap nature of the mission. She just hoped she would return to the airbase and have the time to truly enjoy all the wonderful machinations her new plane had to offer.

  Scarlett pulled out of her jacket a small metal box no bigger than her hand. Pressing the latch, the lid flipped up and revealed the two larger lenses housed within it. She took in a quick scan of the countryside for anything worthy of concern. It was rather quiet in this part of the German Empire, something that she found both delightful and unsettling. The Germans were occupying the nearby city of Brussels, but from what she could see there was very little going on in this low-lying country. She had certainly expected more foot patrols.

  Snapping the binoculars shut, Scarlett flipped open the cover of her wristwatch. The window of her rendezvous was closing quickly. She needed to get to Halle and get there fast.

  Stepping carefully into the open, Scarlett headed east, into the direction Hemsworth’s maps indicated would be Grandmother’s house. Around her, pastures stretched for miles, but there was a farmhouse a few hundred yards ahead of her. Perhaps if she found a bicycle that would get her to Grandmother’s house with a few minutes to spare.

  Scarlett checked the perimeter of the barn. So far, no one about to cock up her plans. She pushed one of the main doors aside and slipped in.

  It was a barn, reminiscent of the ones back home in Ireland. There was also a modest work bench with a variety of tools both scattered across the table and hanging on a pegboard above it. Scarlett then saw her chariot—an old Hildebrand & Wolfmüller.

  “Well now, aren’t you a sight?” For a motorcycle nearly twenty years old, this farmer kept it quite pristine. “I hope you run as good as you look.”

  Guiding the cycle outdoors, Scarlett gave a quick look around the barn. Once she started up this metal monster, the peaceful tranquility of this countryside would be a memory. Satisfied she was alone, Scarlett risked it and coaxed the motorcycle to life.

  The bike snarled and growled as it zipped her across the green fields of the German Empire. She checked her watch again. It looked as if she would reach Grandmother’s House in plenty of time. Back into the air and over to France quick as she pleased? That suited her just fine. Yes. That would be splendid.

  After a few minutes of dipping up and down hills, Scarlett found herself on a small dirt road, heading east to the small city of Halle. The rendezvous, according to intelligence, was somewhere outside the city, closer to where a forest once stood. Scarlett opened up the throttle and made quick work of the road. She paused at a sign indicating Halle was just ahead of her. Scarlett flipped open her map folio, checked her bearings once again, and then headed off.

  Just stay on the mission directives. Stick to that path and you will be back in France safe and sound.

  Mission Directives: Get into Germany, get the plans from Grandmother, and then get out. No heroics. No sabotage. Just get the plans and then get the hell out of here. It sounded simple. Almost too simple.

  Stop trying to muck it up, Scarlett chided herself. You can do this.

  Following a hill downward, Scarlett’s gaze passed over a barren patch of earth where she could tell a forest of some description once stood. Now she could see in its place a factory with two hangars, a test track for automobiles, and a large runway. The Kaiser stays busy here, she thought to herself. There were also small clusters of homes visible, and Scarlett soon picked out the cottage described to her by Allied operatives.

  According to Bureau’s contacts, Grandmother’s house was a typical brown color, but distinguished by bright blue shutters and a vegetable garden to the right of it. Sign out front should read Katzer, Hemsworth had told her. In the verification greeting, make sure to refer to her as Grandmother. And remember to listen for your code name as well. It’s Little Red.

  Hemsworth thought it was cute. Scarlett wanted to clock him with a spanner.

  She pulled up outside the gate of the humble cottage and checked her watch. She was early. Hopefully that wouldn’t be a problem.

  Her knuckle rapped on the door three times. No answer.

  One more thing, Red, and our contact was pretty adamant about this, she suddenly recalled. If Grandmother is not home for any reason, you should to help yourself to a blanket. It can get chilly in Halle.

  Really? That was what she was to do if her contact was nowhere to be found? Bundle up and wait? It was too easy to think this was her own personal Gallipoli unfurling in front of her.

  She knocked on the door again. There was a pause before she heard a voice call out with some effort, “Come in, child. Do come in.”

  The door opened with a prolonged squeak, unsettling Scarlett all the more. The curtains were drawn, and what light was present did little to illuminate the house. There was a soft tick-tock-tick-tock of a beautiful cuckoo clock. It was a shame Scarlett had not been closer to two o’clock as she would have loved to hear
it go off. There were the remains of a fire in the hearth, with a small wisp of smoke disappearing into the chimney.

  From upstairs Scarlett heard coughing.

  “Up here, dear,” came a weak voice. Grandmother was not sounding so good.

  “Coming on up, Grandmother,” Scarlett said as she climbed the steps up to the bedroom.

  The light up here was not much better, but it was considerably warmer. The air was still, and from the half-shadows created by a single lantern, Scarlett could see a form moving in the dark. Another hacking cough came from the woman under the covers.

  This was the operative the Allies were counting on? This mission was growing more and more ridiculous by the minute.

  “Are you sick, Grandmother?” Scarlett asked.

  “Frightfully sick, child,” her contact croaked. “Come closer so I can see you better.”

  Scarlett’s eyes were beginning to adjust to the dimness of the bedroom. Grandmother’s skin was quite pale, but the eyes staring back at her were quite dark. In fact, they appeared black. Like a doll’s eyes.

  “Grandmother, what big eyes you have,” Scarlett said.

  “The better to see you with, my dear,” Grandmother replied.

  Scarlett took a step forward. Grandmother’s hands were not visible. They were clutching something underneath the blankets. “Grandmother, what big hands you have.”

  “The better to hug you with, my sweet child.”

  She braved another step forward and she could see Grandmother’s smile. “Grandmother, what big teeth you have.”

  “The better to—”

  Scarlett’s fist shot out quick as a lightning strike, catching both the top visible teeth as well as the soft spot just underneath Grandmother’s nose. The woman’s head rocked back, giving Scarlett the chance to grab at the woman gown and pull her into two more punches. The pistol, a Luger P08, fell out from underneath the covers.

  “I just gave you the verification greeting three times, lady,” and Scarlett knocked the woman back into the shadows with a Glasgow Kiss. “You are no grandmother of mine.”

  Scarlett pulled the unconscious woman out of the bed and turned up the lamp’s flame to see this hostile stranger up close. From the looks of the uniform, she appeared to be an officer. High rank, maybe a captain. The uniform also looked as if it had been slept in so whatever happened to her contact must have happened the other night, and this woman had been waiting for her. Scarlett immediately went to the window. No sign of reinforcements. She could guess as to why there were no guards. Perhaps they were given orders to wait until a check-in was missed, and then what? They were to storm the house?

  The cuckoo clock made her jump with a start. This was the time she was supposed to arrive. This had to be her final check-in. If not, they will probably give her five minutes before an extraction.

  If Grandmother is not home for any reason, tell your contact to help herself to a blanket. It can get chilly in Halle.

  Not “Wait for me” or “Make yourself at home” but specifically to get a blanket.

  Scarlett’s eyes darted to every corner of the cottage until finally coming to fall on a closet. She wrenched open the door, and let out a scream as an old woman’s body toppled out. This must had been “Grandmother” and from the looks of her face and the condition of her bent, broken fingers, that bitch unconscious in the bedroom must have tried to torture her for the whereabouts of the Fokker schematics. Instead, she had been beaten to death.

  “I’m so sorry,” Scarlett whispered.

  Her gaze then jumped to the wardrobe open in front of her. She reached up to the heavy blankets folded neatly on the higher shelf and shook the top blanket. When she unfurled the second blanket, the blueprint slipped free.

  Scarlett bent back an open corner of the schematic and read the word “Fokker” and also saw written underneath the numerical designation the words Schwarzer Geist. She knew very little German, but recognized the second word there. Ghost. This was it.

  With a final look to the old woman, Scarlett ran for the door and nearly tore it off its hinges. She stuffed the blueprint into one of the bike’s saddlebags and then started up the engine. She cast a quick glance around her, and then she saw the truck slowly working its way towards the cottage. Scarlett mounted the bike and headed back up the hill, back the way she came. With any luck, she would have a five-minute head start on Jerry. If she could keep up the speed, perhaps she could make this lead a ten-minute head start.

  One…two…three…four… Scarlett was trying desperately not to count the seconds or even preoccupy herself with whatever time was slipping away. She was also trying not to continuously look over her shoulder. She had to keep driving forward, keep pushing the cycle as hard as she could. What good would it do if she saw over her shoulder this strange woman that she punched several times, accompanied by a truck full of German soldiers? There would be nothing for her to do but try and hold her lead.

  Still, she threw a quick glance behind her. No one else was there.

  “Stay on the path, Scarlett,” she whispered out loud, “just stay on the path and you’ll be home before you know it.”

  The countryside did not seem to pass her as quickly as it did when she first arrived, but just up ahead were the familiar hills that she had ridden over. She could still see the faint impression left by her bike wheel on the trip in.

  “I will not look behind me,” she insisted. “I will not look behind me...”

  On cresting another hill, just within sight, Scarlett could see her camouflaged Hornet. If her head start was indeed that ten minutes she speculated, she would need all of it to prep, taxi, and finally get up in the air.

  Seventeen…eighteen…nineteen…twenty….

  Five

  Fuel was steady. Nothing to worry about there.

  The electric engine, good for only thirty miles, she had kept offline. She had put the plane into a “Patrol” mode in order to utilize the petrol engine’s ability to charge the battery while still in flight.

  Proximity Alarm. The odd device that Tink was told not to take apart until Scarlett got back to base was reading all clear.

  It should be a straight shot home from here.

  Scarlett had been in the air for nearly an hour. The skies were clear, and below her the outskirts of the German empire were slowly creeping by. The Western Front would be underneath her within minutes which could mean unwelcome company in the air. All she needed to do was make it over the border, then maybe she could start breathing again.

  The Proximity Alarm suddenly came to life, screeching madly while a yellow light pulsed. At least it wasn’t the red light. Scarlett could only assume the red light meant things had gone completely pear-shaped. Yellow probably meant things were only inconvenient, but warranted attention.

  Her eyes scanned the skies, but there was nothing above her. Underneath, however, she could see the outer edge of a patrol. Scarlett pulled back on the throttle and banked her Hornet a few degrees for a better look. Five LVG’s, the Cross of the German Empire notably visible on the edges of their top wings, kept tight formation roughly three thousand feet below her. They were predators on the hunt for reconnaissance craft. Probably her, considering the sky they preoccupied. This must have meant Scarlett was over the Western Front. This was her sky.

  Just stay on the mission directives, Hemsworth’s voice echoed in her head. Stick to that path and you will be back in France safe and sound.

  Get into Germany. Check.

  Get the plans from Grandmother. Check, in a manner of speaking.

  Get out. Check.

  No heroics.

  Yes, it was a very simple plan.

  And yet there were five LVG’s below her. They were looking for an old, antiquated Bristol Scout, held together by duty, honor, and sheer will.

  Scarlett hit the “Acknowledgement” button on the alarm, then flipped the switches on her dash. Around her, she could feel a low thrum of power vibrate through her seat and tight
cabin. One by one, the lights of offensive measures and defensive countermeasures switched from yellow to green. Scarlett’s grip on the stick tightened as she sucked in a good amount of the frigid air then breathed out slowly, granting herself a small, heady rush.

  Then she thrust the stick to the left, and began a quick descent on the patrol.

  The front mounted guns of her Sopwith Hornet roared to life, and Scarlett followed with her eyes the trails of her white-hot tracer bullets as they blazed between her and the LVG’s. She could just make out the enemy pilots frantically trying to see exactly where the hostile gunfire was coming from.

  Two of the outer planes immediately broke formation while the lead plane and its right wingman both fell into Scarlett’s sights. Their planes were devoured by fire and smoke as her bullets tore through the fuselage. With two kills in her opening maneuver, Scarlett brought the Hornet around in a wide, banking turn, and become quite lightheaded at the speed she was reaching. On coming out of the turn, she felt as if she had been thrown out of a slingshot, the velocity throwing her back in the seat but the Hornet remaining inconceivably stable.

  The LVG in her sights bobbed left and right, trying to evade her bursts of incendiary bullets. Scarlett could have easily matched the tactics, but it would have also consumed more fuel, fuel she would need for both attack and evasion. She kept the Hornet steady, waiting for the LVG to slip back into her line of fire.

  The Proximity Alarm screeched as a thought came to her: I’m stationary up here. I’m a target.

  The Hornet twisted into a tight corkscrew just as bullets rained down from above her. Scarlett flipped the craft a fourth time, and then on the fifth roll she climbed up and then banked hard to see the descending LVG swoop past her and then try to pull out of its dive. Following her own turn, Scarlett felt the Hornet gain speed, close the gap between her and the enemy craft, and finally place the offending LVG square in her sights. With that plane out of the fight Scarlett banked hard in the opposite direction, turning to face the remaining two LVG’s that had regrouped behind her. They were closing in fast, but she kept her own flightpath steady. She always did enjoy the gallant challenges Jerry would throw at her. They were curious as to what mettle she was made of, completely unaware this was the pilot they had often tangled with over the Western Front.