For a few precious days there had been no war for them, but all too soon reality came crashing back.
It wasn’t the barking that disturbed Gwen, because every time the dogs sniffed a fox or cat wandering past they would make sure the entire estate knew it. Rather it was how suddenly the noise coming from the kennels was cut off.
She was instantly awake, her eyes open and searching the darkness of the room, looking for something out of place. She found nothing and was about to dismiss it as her mind, unused to such quiet, creating threats where none existed, when there was a clatter from outside as someone knocked over one of her mother’s ornamental milk pails.
Kitty was still breathing deeply beside her and she reached over to shake her. ‘Kitty! Wake up!’
All she got in reply was a groan, so she insisted. Harder.
Grumpily, the American came awake. ‘What is it? It’s dark, let me sleep.’
‘Something’s wrong.’
Kitty may have been a heavy sleeper, but she was also a warrior and the urgency in Gwen’s voice banished all remnants of her lethargy. ‘What is it?’
‘Someone’s outside in the garden.’ Gwen slid out of bed and padded across to the window. She opened the curtains a crack and peered out, but there was not enough light to see anything, so she just let them fall back into place and made her way back to the bed. She twisted the knob to turn up the gas lamp by the bed there was just enough light to see by, then bent and grabbed her work coveralls from where they had been discarded in the throes of passion.
‘Are you sure it’s not just an animal?’ asked Kitty.
There was a muffled crunch, then a soft tinkling noise as a window broke.
‘Pretty sure.’
Kitty chuckled softly, then began pulling on her own coveralls. ‘So, what’s the plan? Are there weapons in the house?’
‘I have a small clockwork pistol in my desk, but my parents have proper guns downstairs, in a locker by the back door. I have the key.’
‘It’s too risky to go for that.’ Kitty stood up and followed Gwen out of the room and across the corridor to the study. ‘Why don’t we just stay in your rooms and lock the outer door; if they’re burglars they might just stay downstairs and rob the silver.’
‘That sounds like a good idea.’ Even as she said it, though, something, a memory, made vague with sleep, made it feel like the wrong decision. ‘The dogs.’
‘What about them?’
‘They silenced them. I don’t think burglars would have done that.’
‘So if they’re not burglars, who are they? What do they want?’
‘I have no idea, but I don’t think we should wait around for them to come to us.’ Gwen grabbed her pistol from the drawer, along with a box of projectiles and stuffed them into the thigh pockets of her coveralls. The clockwork gun was much less lethal than the one used by the Prussian agent to kill Mac’s girlfriend in Vaenga, useless for much more than target practice, but it would have to do until they got downstairs. ‘No talking from now on, alright? And no lights. We’ll hold hands to keep in contact with each other and if either of us sees something we give a tug.’
‘OK.’
Gwen took Kitty’s hand, then extinguished the lamp and led the way back out.
The door that separated Gwen’s rooms from the rest of the house was open and they tiptoed through it on bare feet and out onto the landing at the top of the main stairs, overlooking the main entrance hall.
They leaned over the banister, peering into the darkness, straining their eyes and ears to try to make out some sign of the intruders.
Using the gas lamp to find their way round their rooms had damaged their night vision and that almost proved to be a fatal mistake, because the two men were almost at the top of the stairs when their eyes adjusted enough to see the faint light they were carrying.
Their clasped hands tightened until the grip they had on each other was almost painful as they pushed themselves away from the banisters in a panic and scurried back into Gwen’s rooms.
It was too late, though, and the men called out as they saw them run.
A chill shot through Gwen’s body at the sound of their voices; the shout hadn’t been in English, but in Prussian - they were in more trouble than they had originally thought.
With all need for stealth gone, Gwen slammed the door behind them and shot home the bolt. It was flimsy and wouldn’t hold the men for more than a second, but that second would make all the difference.
‘Into the study!’
They felt their way along the wall until they found the open doorway and Gwen pushed Kitty through, then stepped back and patted at the wall again. ‘Close your eyes!’
Fire bloomed behind Gwen’s eyelids as she turned on the bright electric lamps in the hallway, but then the glow was gone as she went into the study and slammed the door behind her, blocking it off. She blinked rapidly, trying to clear them; even though they had been closed, the light had still taken away some of her precious night vision. It had been worth it, though, because the lights would do far more to the Prussians when they came through the outer door.
‘Where are you?’ Gwen asked.
‘Right here.’
Gwen started as something touched her, but immediately realised it was Kitty’s hand. She grabbed it, wanting the comfort of knowing that the American was still there with her, but then released it. ‘Can find your way to the desk?’
‘I think so.’
‘Turn the gas lamp up a bit while I deal with the door. Quick as you can.’
Gwen didn’t wait for Kitty to acknowledge, but just moved to the left of the door where she knew there would be a chest of drawers. She felt her way around it to the other side of it and leaned on it, trying to shift it. It wouldn’t budge, though; not only did the piece of furniture itself weigh a considerable amount, but it also contained hundreds of sheets of heavy draft paper containing every single design and sketch she’d ever made while growing up.
There was a crash as the outside door burst open and then a stream of swearing as the men had their night vision effectively destroyed.
Gwen was out of time. She backed away from the chest of drawers then threw her whole body weight against it, almost blacking out as the impact sent a jolt of agony through her still sore shoulder. The piece of furniture had moved, though, so she growled, steeling herself against the pain and charged it over and over.
Light speared into the dark study from the corridor outside as the door began to open, but it was too late; the chest of drawers was in place and it moved less than an inch before coming up short against the blockage. More swearing in German accompanied the discovery and then the door rattled as the men threw their body weight against it.
The chest of drawers shuddered, but didn’t move and Gwen sighed in relief. She rubbed her shoulder, wincing, and called out across the room. ‘You found the light yet?’
‘Hang on... got it!’
Light blossomed in the room, forcing Gwen to squint against it, but she didn’t complain; there was no longer any need for night vision or stealth.
She pulled the gun out of her pocket and placed it on the chest of drawers then began to slot the thin cones into the magazine one by one.
The clockwork pistol was laughable, compared to the kinds of weapons that soldiers had access to. It was extremely underpowered, its projectiles coming out with so little impetus that heavy clothing could significantly reduce their lethality and even a hit to the head at close range wasn’t any guarantee of a kill.
It was a fiddly task, but finally the pistol was loaded. All that remained was to wind it and she took the small key from the base of the stock and tried to fit it into the hole in the barrel. Her hand was shaking so much that she couldn’t, though, and the more she tried, the more her hand shook and the more frustrated she got. She could feel tears pricking behind her eyes as terror slowly overcame the surge of adrenaline from the chase; she could handle anything in the air without baulking, a
ny danger, any threat, but this...
A hand closed over hers. ‘Here, let me.’ Kitty took the pistol, finished the job quickly and efficiently, then gave it back to her.
Gwen took a deep breath and smiled at the woman; just that smallest of contact had been enough of a calming influence for her to regain control of herself. ‘Thank you.’
A moment’s silence had them glancing at the door nervously, wondering what the men were doing, but then there was an almighty thump and the chest of drawers jumped forwards an inch. A second collision followed immediately afterwards with the same result and the door opened another inch until there was a gap of about three inches between it and the frame.
In a panic, the two pilots threw their weight against the chest of drawers. They were shaken several more times as the men threw themselves against the door, but it didn’t budge any more.
Suddenly, though, the banging stopped again and a heavily-accented, but quite civilised voice called to them. ‘Miss Stone, there is no need to be stubborn! We do not want your friend, we just want you. Give yourself up and we will not hurt her.’
Gwen looked at Kitty, but the American immediately scowled at her. ‘Don’t you even think about it. We’re in this together.’ She raised her voice so that the Prussians could hear. ‘We’ve called the police. If you want to get away alive, you’d better go now.’
The men behind the door laughed. ‘I think not; we cut the lines before we came in!’ Suddenly the voice wasn’t so friendly. ‘Our orders are to take you, Miss Stone, and it does not matter if you or your companion are dead or alive! Do not make this hard on yourself!’
A hand appeared around the door, followed by a tweed suit-covered arm and began groping, trying to find what was blocking the door.
Without hesitation Gwen lifted the pistol and fired.
There was a decidedly unmanly scream and the arm instantly disappeared, leaving behind a tiny smear of blood.
Gwen’s shot was answered almost immediately by a thunderous racket and the two women ducked behind the chest of drawers as the door was rocked by impacts, bullets, fired one after another in quick succession.
The noise was deafening and Gwen covered her ears, squeezing tight her eyes, wishing for the nightmare to stop.
Steady hands cupped the side of her head and she looked up to find Kitty crouched in front of her, a confident smile on her face, and once again she found herself in an oasis of calm, swimming in warm blue eyes.
The American bent forwards and kissed her softly, then put her lips close to Gwen’s ear so she could hear over the racket. ‘This isn’t our fate. We’re not dying here, Gwen. You and I are part of the sky, that’s where we’ll die when it’s our time.’
Gwen blinked at her as she pulled back, processing her words. While on the surface they might not appear to be the greatest of encouragement, there was something about them that called to something deep inside her and she felt her courage returning. She lifted her head just enough so that she could peer over the top of the chest of drawers. The door was solid oak, almost two inches thick, but even it couldn’t withstand the concentrated, short range fire and there were already several splintered holes in it. It wouldn’t be long until it was weakened enough for the men to break through and when that happened they would be sitting ducks. If Gwen was going to do something, it had to be before then.
The firing stopped, replaced by the clicking and clacking of guns being reloaded and Gwen surged to her feet. She put her pistol to the gap and pulled the trigger blindly several times.
There was a shout of anger from the other side, but she hadn’t prevented the men from finishing their task and the bullets began to hit the door again. Some of them came straight through this time and the window across the room shattered, letting the freezing night air surge in.
Gwen checked the magazine of the pistol. She still had six projectiles left, enough to take care of both men if she could get a clear shot - at such short range she was confident that her aim was good enough to hit something vital, like an eye. The only problem was that, if she had a clear shot, then so would they, and they had much better guns than she did. She only hoped she could take at least one of them down with her and injure the other enough for Kitty to make her escape.
Gwen crouched, gun held at her shoulder, ready to sacrifice herself.
The shooting stopped and was replaced by the sound of splitting wood as one of the men tore at the hole in the door with his bare hands. Gwen popped up, pointing the pistol, but he was standing to one side and she wasn’t able to draw a bead on him.
A huge chunk of the door came away and the long barrel of a rifle poked through it and tilted down towards her. The man still remained in cover behind the door, though, and with nothing for her to fire at she just ducked back down. She wrapped her arms around Kitty, trying to shield her as much as possible from the coming storm; the chest of drawers was sturdy but not nearly sturdy enough to stop the bullets.
Without the solid door in the way the noise of the firing was even louder than before, but it wasn’t accompanied by any impacts and then, after just a couple of seconds it stopped again.
Cautiously, Gwen uncurled herself from around Kitty and lifted her head.
The rifle barrel was gone from the doorway and the chest of drawers was completely intact - the most recent shots couldn’t have been aimed at them.
The silence behind the door went on and on and, absurdly, Gwen considered calling out to the Prussians to ask what they were doing, but, before she could, a different voice to before, a very English voice, called out to them.
‘Lieutenant Stone, Officer Wright, are you hurt?’
‘Who’s that?’
‘It’s Perkins, ma’am.’
Perkins was the name of the butler that Gwen hadn’t recognised. He had apparently joined the staff recently, after the previous one had volunteered for the army and been killed in France.
A spark of hope ignited in Gwen’s heart, but she was still wary; it could be a ruse - the man could have been helping the two Prussians. ‘Stay where you are, if you please, Perkins!’ She hefted her pistol in her hand while she racked her brains to come up with a way to prove that he was on their side.
‘I’m glad to see that you don’t trust me, ma’am; you shouldn’t trust anyone. However, if I were to say the word Icarus to you, perhaps it would allay any doubts you might have?’
Gwen grinned at Kitty; she’d forgotten that the squadron had been given a codeword by the King himself when they had been formed, a way for them to recognise British agents if they came in contact with them. Relieved beyond measure, they stood and pushed the chest of drawers out of the way, then opened what was left of the door.
The scene they encountered in the corridor wasn’t very pretty.
The two men were lying on the floor in pools of blood which were slowly spreading across the thick brown carpet.
Standing over them was the butler, a heavy pistol held by his side. He drew himself to attention and nodded at Gwen. ‘Corporal Perkins, at your service, ma’am.’
‘What the hell are you doing serving as a butler, Corporal?’
The man smiled crookedly at Kitty’s question before again addressing Gwen as the superior officer present, despite the informal circumstances. ‘A week ago Mr Hawking made the Ministry aware that men had been seen lurking around his home and it was suspected he would be the target of industrial espionage by the Prussians. The thinking was that they would try to get to the work he and Mrs Hawking have been doing in the study downstairs and I was put in place to keep an eye on things. Which is why I didn’t go with them to Yorkshire. However, I’m beginning to suspect that the real target was yourself all along, ma’am.’
‘Whatever the target was, I’m just very glad you were here. Thank you.’
‘Just doing my job, ma’am, but you are more than welcome. Now, if you’ll excuse me, I need to radio this in, but while I’m at it, why don’t I put the kettle on?’
&nbs
p; ‘That would be lovely.’
Gwen gave him the warmest smile she could manage and the man nodded again, then jogged away along the corridor and out of the door.
Gwen wanted nothing more than to follow him and leave the scene in the corridor behind, but her legs were like jelly. She reached out to grab Kitty’s hand and pulled her close, both for comfort and because she needed the support to keep her on her feet.
‘Do you recognise them?’
Kitty’s voice was soft in her ear and Gwen forced herself to look down at the men, swallowing her nausea as she tried to see past all the blood. It wasn’t easy, but eventually she recognised them and her eyes widened. ‘They’re the fishermen from across the river.’
Kitty nodded. ‘Right, but not only that, we’ve seen this one before.’
She pointed at one of the men. He was dressed in an awful tweed suit that was somehow familiar and Gwen frowned as she tried to place it. Eventually, though, she just shook her head.
‘He was the man who the crowd almost knocked over at Oxford Station. He was also on the train with us, but I’m not surprised you don’t recognise him; he was two seats behind you. I had a good view of him, though, and he stuck in my mind, not just because of his clothes, but because he didn’t stop picking his nose the whole way.’
‘Lovely.’
Kitty grinned. ‘I know! I’m not sure what’s worse, that he made me feel sick the whole way up from London, or the fact that he tried to kill us.’
Chapter 11
An hour later, four military intelligence agents turned up and, while a couple of them questioned Kitty and Gwen over tea in the lounge downstairs, the other two went up to Gwen’s rooms to secure the weapons. One of them was sent hurrying off to the camp site on the other side of the river, though, when the Misfits revealed that the two men had been posing as fishermen.
A Misfit Midwinter Page 9