“I hate England. If the weather ain’t soggier than a wet dog or cold as a witch’s titty, everyone talks like they’re a drunk Irish preacher and to top it all off, their beers warm.”
Vin Tanner dug his gloved hands into his coat and noted the tendrils of cold swirling around his face as he and Ezra walked down the footpath running along Westminster Bridge, so JD could take pictures of Big Ben while they were taking a break in London, waiting for the Millie to get refuelled. After a seventeen hour flight, they needed to stretch their legs and feel ground beneath their feet before resuming their journey to Egypt.
The kid had yet to be jaded by all the exotic locations they often travelled to and one of the first things he’d bought himself was a Beau Brownie camera which he took with him everywhere they went. Since joining them, JD had developed a pretty impressive pictorial record of their travels and the kid had a real eye for it because Josiah often said some of JD’s photographs deserved to be in Life Magazine.
JD was oblivious to all this as he continued to snap images of Big Ben and Westminster Abbey, craning over the stone edge of the bridge, leaving Ezra to take the brunt of Vin’s tirade. The normally unflappable sharpshooter was never good when he was taken out of his environment and England in particular, seemed to push all his buttons. JD suspected it had to do with the number of people crammed into such a small area. He had been the same in New York.
“Worse yet, Alex wants a souvenir. When I ask her what she wants she says ‘surprise me’. What the hell does that mean? I don’t know what to get for a girl, other than flowers and chocolates.”
Ezra suppressed an amused smile at the younger man’s dilemma. From the boy he had been on the Front, Vin had evolved into Chris Larabee’s undisputed second. In Chris’s absence, Vin was a quick-thinking natural leader who could track prey across concrete and pin a fly between the eyes from a thousand yards away, so it was quite eye-opening to see this bundle of nerves in front of him.
“Never fear Mr Tanner,” Ezra said kindly, “we shall go to Knightsbridge.”
“What’s there?” Vin eyed him suspiciously.
“Harrods.”
“What’s a Harrods?”
“A big store,” JD said helpfully as he walked past the two of them to get a better angle of the House of Commons.
“A store?” Ezra stared at him with reproach. “For shame Mr Dunne, Harrods is not merely a store, it is an institution. The modern version of the Grand Bazaar of Istanbul, the Agora of Athens or the Thirteen Factories of Canton.”
“Can I just get her a postcard or something?”
Vin would rather face a tribe of cannibal savages than wander through a huge department store with all those people brushing past him, chattering in his ears like a bunch of quacking ducks.
“Postcards are something you give a lady when you visit Niagara Falls. When one comes to England, one ought to aim for something a little more ambitious.”
Vin was muttering unhappily to himself when suddenly, he lifted his head and saw two men approaching JD. The kid had yet to notice them approaching him but Vin sized them up quickly. Both stood tall over their youngest member, wearing nondescript grey suits and Fedoras pulled way down low as if they were trying not to be noticed. However, it was the way their coats shifted against their upper body that made the sharpshooter really pay attention.
They were armed.
“Ezra,” Vin stepped forward, all traces of the anxious suitor vanishing to be replaced by the former Texas Ranger.
When Ezra looked up, Vin was already on his way to JD with the team’s procurer a few steps behind. However, it was not the two torpedoes Ezra was so concerned with. It was the grey Humber that was driving up to them. The car was coming to a gradual stop and the look of the men behind the windscreen bore a striking likeness to the stone-faced duo closing in on JD.
JD lowered his Brownie and saw Vin approach and puzzled at the serious expression on the sharpshooter’s face when suddenly JD felt cold steel pressing against his back. He knew immediately what it was and stiffened at the mouth of the barrel planted firmly at the base of his spine. One wrong move and he’d never walk again if the bullet didn’t kill him first.
Vin saw the shift in JD’s expression and knew he hadn’t gotten to the kid in time. The two men behind him had clearly drawn and even though Vin was carrying, he was reluctant to go for his gun. There were too many people around and any gun battle was going to end up with innocent bystanders getting shot.
“What do you want?”
“You will come with us,” the man standing directly behind JD spoke. He looked a head taller than the kid, had a passing resemblance to a brick outhouse if the things came with blond hair and watery coloured blue eyes. As he said the words, the grey Humber came to a stop directly next to Vin and Ezra. The man in the passenger’s seat was pointing a gun at them through the wound down window. “You will come with us, or we will put a bullet through the boy’s back.”
“Who you calling boy?” JD glared looked over his shoulder in annoyance only to have the barrel shoved harder in his back, silencing him.
“You seem to have us at a disadvantage,” Ezra frowned and met Vin’s gaze. If they went for their guns, they’d get JD killed, there was no doubt in their mind of this. As much as either of them might be loathed submitting to the demands made by these thugs, there appeared to be little choice at present. With JD firmly in their power, Ezra sighed in resignation and opened the back door of the car and got in.
*****Leaving behind the private airstrip at Croydon Airport, Chris strode through the crowded terminal towards the nearest counter selling airline tickets. He had every intention of buying Mary a ticket back to the States and physically strapping her into her seat on the plane to make sure it took off with her on it. Behind him, Mary hurried after Chris, brushing past other travellers, still trying to talk him into letting her stay while Chris, who had her leather backpack, (a rather sensible bit of luggage he thought but would never admit it to her), continued to ignore her.
As they neared the Imperial Airlines ticket counter, Mary was starting to realise her efforts to convince him to let her remain on the Millie was dwindling and with that vanishing hope came her anger at being so easily dismissed. Glaring at the back of his black duster, she finally stopped walking and decided she was not moving one step further.
“Chris Larabee, I will not have you put me on a plane like I’m some badly behaved child!”
Her outburst made him freeze in midstep to turn around. A few eyes paused to stare at her before his glare in their direction sent them scurrying. “Well, you sure behave like you could use a paddling.”
Mary scowled at him, “You wish.”
Chris's jaw tensed, not at all liking her insinuation that he was hot for her, He was, but that was beside the point. “Don't flatter yourself, I'm not the one who stowed away in a crate.”
Mary’s eyes widened with indignation and she protested hotly. “I was chasing a story!”
“Sure you were,” he uttered those words as if butter wouldn’t melt in his mouth and then added, “that’s what all you dames say before you beg me to take you home.”
Mary’s jaw dropped open before she sputtered in fury. “Why you arrogant son of a bit...”
“Mr Larabee, you will come with us now.”
Both Mary and Chris fell immediately silent and turned their gaze sideways to see a familiar but unwelcomed face. It seemed while he and Mary were bickering, the Kraut that had tried to run him over in New Mexico had managed to get the drop on them with several goons in tow. In a sea of bodies, they stood out like unmovable boulders, enclosing Chris and Mary in a ring of stone.
“Aw hell, see what you did!” He swore as he threw the accusation at Mary after giving the Kraut a quick glance.
“Me?” Mary stared at him in astonishment. “How is this my fault?”
“You’re distracting!”
“Just because you can’t keep your mind focus on anything but how I’m getting to you, don’t blame me!” Mary spat back, forgetting for a moment they were surrounded by armed German agents about to spirit them away.
“You’ve been dogging my heels since I met you!” Chris retaliated when a rather large and formidable matron wearing a red cloche hat and carrying an umbrella ambled past them. Without warning, Chris grabbed her and shoved her directly into the lead Kraut and his gun. The woman uttered an angry howl before all two hundred pounds of her went down, taking the man with her. For a brief instance, Chris had the absurd image of a bowling ball knocking down pins flashing in his head. As she screamed indignantly and while all eyes turned to her and the other Krauts rushing to the aid of their downed leader, Chris grabbed Mary’s hand and started running.
“Come on!”
Mary was still shocked by the sudden shift of events but recovered quickly enough when she realised Chris’s display had been an effort to distract the Germans so they could get away. At least it had better be. Feeling her arm almost yanked out of her sockets, Chris was dragging her through the crowded terminal, shoving other travellers and airline workers out of their path as they sought to put more distance between themselves and the enemy.
Chris’s intent was to get back to the Millie and cursed Mary being with him. He had no problem falling into the Krauts’ hand if it could not be avoided but there was no way he was going to let that happen to Mary. He simply wouldn’t have it. Glancing over his shoulder, he saw them recovering from his bit of distraction, although he took some satisfaction seeing the matron he had used as his proverbial bowling ball putting that umbrella to good use by clubbing one of the Krauts with it. The others, however, were spreading out, trying to cut them off before they reached the exit leading out of the terminal and towards the private airstrip were the Millie was berthed.
Just as they were about to reach it, three more Kraut stepped through the doorway, scanning the terminal and locking eyes immediately on the two of them. Chris paused in his tracks and searched for another route, knowing he was not about to confront them when they were armed and he was not. Scanning the terminal quickly, he searched for another way out and found it just as he saw them closing in.
Not explaining, he headed towards the small chute in the wall where the baggage handlers were distributing passenger luggage, with Mary’s wrist still gripped tightly in his palm. The Krauts had not thought to keep watch on that route allowing them an avenue of escape as Chris shoved and dodged the handlers and the passengers filing past them. Then as if things could not get any worse, someone open fired, turning the entire place into chaos.
One of the Germans had been stupid enough to draw his Luger, firing over the crowd in an effort to clear their path. All this resulted in doing was creating pandemonium as Chris and Mary clambered through the chute, climbing up the ramp. He had to give Mary credit since she was able to keep up with him as they scrambled clumsily up the smooth surface, avoiding pieces of luggage on the way down. As the noise levels rose behind them, a clear indication of what a single gunshot could do in a crowded environment, Chris climbed through the chute to be greeted by baggage handlers. They were unloading a cart holding the belongings of a newly landed craft and stared at him with puzzlement and surprise.
“Don’t you have a gun?”
Helping her through the opening, he knew it wouldn’t take long for the Krauts to find them again and he needed a fast way back to the Millie. Unfortunately, he could see no sign of any vehicle they could ‘borrow’ to escape. Hearing her yap in his ear, he turned back to her and remarked with a growl.
“I try not to be armed when you’re around.”
“This is hardly the time to be funny!”
“Oh,” Chris said as he heard decidedly German chatter coming through the chute. “I think it’s a good a time as any.”
Without giving her warning, they were off running again and Chris saw that their pursuers had converged into half a dozen men ready to take them to whatever purpose they intended. Whatever it was, Chris had no intention of finding out. Running out of the baggage handling area, he could see open sky outsight and the shrill rumble of airplanes taking out across the field. Suddenly, he spotted something that was a way out, if he didn’t get himself and her killed first.
“What are we going to do?” Mary asked, not about to lie that she was a little frightened. While her journalistic nose did sometimes land her in trouble, (mostly with her editor), actual physical danger was new. Although in the fleeting seconds she had to consider the subject in between catching her breath, these occasions seemed to coincide with her proximity with Chris Larabee. The man was simply a magnet for trouble.
“I can’t fight them off with you around, so we need to make ourselves scarce. “
Now that they were in the open, the Krauts were no longer holding back and the next thing they knew, gunfire erupted again. This time, there were no warning shots into the sky, but bullets aimed at them. Mary uttered a squeal as she saw one of the metal posts spark after a bullet struck the column of its faded paint. Leading them was the German in the trenchcoat, hollering orders to his soldiers to surround them and cut them off.
“Where are we going?”
“There,” Chris gestured ahead.
Mary stared at him. “Are you out of your mind?”
“Nope,” Chris brushed aside her concerns, “that’s our exit.”
The small Boeing 40 sat in the middle of one of the smaller runways, a construct of wood and fabric, capable of reaching altitude with a single engine. Judging by the markings on its fuselage, the craft was used to ferry mail. It was a two-seater, although Chris very much doubted the pilot ever had need of passengers. They raced towards it, weaving across the grass and tarmac, trying to evade their pursuers who were firing at them on mass. Judging by the trajectory of the shots, Chris suspected the purpose was not to kill them but to wound them enough for collection. Whatever it was they needed from him, they needed him alive. He was not so certain that Mary would get similar consideration.
“Get in!” Chris said when they reached the craft.
The Krauts seeing where they were headed were now firing at the plane and one of the bullets tore through the side, leaving a hole in the material. They had to take off before the gunfire did enough damage to prevent it altogether. Without asking permission, he dropped his hands to her waist and lifted her up to the rear pilot’s seat. Mary blushed at the contact and if there were time for it, Chris might have made a comment but they were less than a minute away from being caught.
“Can you even fly?” She asked as she climbed into the craft and hastily strapped herself in.
Chris was in the process of doing the same when he tossed her a look. “I don’t know,” he grinned. “Let’s find out.”
Mary’s eyes widened. “Let’s find out? WHAT DO YOU MEAN LET’S FIND OUT!”
Chris didn’t answer, strapping himself into the seat before pressing the starter. The propellers started to beat to life, gaining momentum with their familiar whump whump whump sound. Mary saw the Nazis hastening their pace, shooting more bullets. One of them struck a support strut, sending splinters at her. She uttered a cry and kept her head down as she felt the plane beginning to move.
“Oh my God,” she whimpered to herself. “We’re going to die.”
Truth be told, but not to her because Chris was deriving some perverse pleasure in hearing her frightened muttering behind him, he did know how to fly. While he would not even begin to pilot something like the Millie, almost thirty years of friendship with Buck Wilmington had taught him how to acquire the skills necessary to handle a small plane like this. This old biplane was not that different from driving a car. The crash was just a lot worse.
Once the engine was started, the plane lurched forward. Bullets continued to riddle the body and Chris knew if he did not get into the air, they would do serious damage to the craft and he and Mary would be going nowhere. The plane moved briskly across the tarmac, prompting the Nazis to increase their speed in the effort to catch up. Mary had ducked down low, keeping her head down as the glass in front of her cracked with another bullet.
“Will you move this thing already!”
Chris ignored her and kept taxiing down the small airstrip, the mini Boeing picking up speed the further and further they drew away from the terminal and became lost among its newer, larger counterparts at Croydon. Bullets continued to chase them down the tarmac, their pursuers still determined to catch up. Finally, he’d achieved enough velocity and gradually pulled the throttle lifting the nose of the small craft aloft. The front wheel bounced once or twice against the runaway before it followed suit and with a final burst of shrill sound, the engines settled into a more comforting drone.
Behind him, Mary squealed as the gunfire dissipated and the rush of air enveloped there.
“You okay back there?”
“No, I’m not!”Mary shouted over the roar of the wind. “I’m on a plane with an idiot.”
Chris managed a smirk. “At least you’re not in a crate.”
”Oh, you’re just loving this aren’t you?”Mary glared at him, clutching the sides of the seat so hard, her knuckles were white. “Where are we going?”
“We’re going to circle around a bit until I’m sure they’re gone,” Chris hollered back. “Then I’m going to land this thing near the Millie.”
Below them, the landscape was tilting at an angle as Chris steered the plane to continue his flyover of Croydon Airport. London’s busy sprawl had given away to the loveliness of the English countryside, full of lush green colours. If one could forget the circumstances forcing them aloft, the whole situation could have been quite pleasant.
“Well do it fast,” Mary glared at him, hating to be seen as weak but unable to ignore the queasiness of her stomach. Her idea of air travel was limited to luxurious airplanes with metal fuselage and stewardesses who brought you drinks with ice and shot of vodka. “A camping tent is sturdier than this thing!”
“This won us a war,” Chris grinned, enjoying her discomfort very much because she needed taking down a peg or two after her ludicrous stunt of stowing away on the Millie. Besides, Buck would have considered this craft a beauty and in the absence of his old friend, felt the need to defend their instrument of deliverance.
“Whatever,” she grumbled, her cheeks red from the cool air and her eyes filled with apprehension.
Suddenly the engine cut out.
Tendrils of smoke began to flow from one of the bullet holes in the fuselage. Its abrupt stop was soon followed by the gradual slowing of the propellers.
“What just happened?” Mary demanded.
Chris winced as he considered what to do next and was struck with one thought as Mary’s questions about their situation intensified.
Oh, she was not going to be happy.
The instant she walked into the room, Ezra Standish knew they were in trouble.
To be fair, their situation had become critical the moment they were forced into the Humber and driven out of London, into the countryside so picturesquely immortalised by numerous English artists for centuries. Their captors had been reluctant to talk, proving to be more immovable than Vin Tanner during one of his quiet turns, where he would merely nod, utter monosyllabic answers and generally infuriate everyone who tried to get a straight answer out of him.
The men who brought them here, with their indistinguishable suits and their equally bland and impassive expressions had been little more than couriers, incapable of interacting with their packages beyond the duty of delivery. Once they arrived at the gothic manor, with its gargoyles and manicured lawns and Victorian architecture, they were promptly shown into a study that did not look unlike Professor Orin Travis’s office at the University. This room, however, was much larger and the decor fitted someone with a fortune behind them and not a scholar’s modest salary.
“You notice the eyes follow you,” Vin remarked as the sharpshooter observed the portraits of old men hanging from the walls, surrounded by gold gilt frames. They all wore the look of importance and dignity artwork like this was meant to convey, even if it were the furthest thing from the truth. Expensive Persian rugs covered the polished wooden floor and the desk where leatherbound books and a Rodin sculpture sat, was crafted from English oak.
“It’s kind of creepy,” JD commented and noted the frown crossing the faces of the men standing watch over them, all armed with Lugers and appearing to need no excuse to use them.
“Yes, portraits do have that quality,” Ezra agreed as the three of them were tied to chairs, being watched over by a trio of Teutonic guardians. He wondered what they wanted since none of them appeared to be the brains of the operation. In fact, he wouldn’t be surprised to learn that they had one mind among them and they needed to share it to be at all functional.
When the door swung open, and the woman made her appearance, Ezra realised they didn’t require brains because clearly, she was the one who did all the thinking for them.
She was a tall drink of water, as Buck would say, all angles and hard lines making him think she would be the perfect subject for a cubist. Wearing a well-tailored suit of dark wool with padded shoulders and a thin pencil skirt that flared at the knees, she completed the outfit with a functional pair of single-strap leather heels. Her blond hair was pulled back into a severe bun, and her hazel eyes studied them with the precision of a diamond cutter. Her lithe, slender form, coupled with thin lips and alabaster skin might have made her look delicate, but there was no doubting the authority she wore as prominently as the swastika pin on the collar of her jacket.
“I intended to wait until your leader was here, but it appears we must begin without him.” Her voice revealed a thick German accent and made Ezra think of Marlene Dietrich, without the allure or the mystery, since her intentions towards them were apparent.
All three men exchanged quick glances as the same thought flared across their faces. Chris.
“What do you want?” Vin faced her, wanting to get this over with.
“To expedite this matter with the minimum amount of blood loss and unpleasantness,” she leaned against the desk, facing them as they remained tied to their seats in front of her.
“That would be our first choice as well,” Ezra said smoothly, speaking up because Vin was too honest and direct to be diplomatic which what was they needed if they were to avoid the torture she was labelling the ‘unpleasantness’. “And what would this matter be?”
“My name is Isabella Krauss,” she introduced herself. “I know who you are, so introductions are not necessary. You work with Chris Larabee in the acquisition of rare and precious objects. Usually, antiquities of value, from hard to reach locations. At present, you are in pursuit of the Aegis of Zeus, an object we wish to acquire. You three are here to help me convince Mr Larabee it is in his best interest if he continues his search on our behalf.”
“Good luck with that,” Vin snorted under his breath but was still loud enough to be heard.
“For your sake, you better hope otherwise,” she warned, not liking his dismissive tone.
Ezra shot him a look before addressing the woman again. “What my associate is trying to say, albeit a little less tactfully than I would prefer, is that Mr Larabee has entered an agreement with a client already and he does not like breaking it for any reason.”
“We would, of course, compensate him handsomely,” Isabella turned her attention away from the coarse American with his slouch hat and typical American arrogance, to his more erudite companion.
“I’m afraid it is not a question of money,” Ezra shrugged because he knew like Vin and JD, Chris didn’t just consider it an agreement but a word given. While a quaint notion in Ezra’s opinion, for Chris Larabee, when a man had nothing else in this life, he at least had his word and such oaths when entered should be adhered to at all costs. “Mr Larabee has given his word to the client, and that exceeds any trappings of fortune.”
“That is unfortunate,” the woman retreated behind the desk, her gaze shifted behind them, and she nodded slightly. The two guards who were stationed at the door now took up flanking positions next to them. “I did not wish to resort to extreme measures, but the Fuhrer will have his prize.”
Before Ezra could speak, a fist lashed out and struck him across the jaw, just as one dug into Vin’s stomach. Both men uttered soft grunts of pain while JD sat in the middle, struggling against the ropes binding his wrists so he could do something to help. Unfortunately, there was little or no slack, and he only ended up having the rough hessian fibres dig into his skin, refusing to yield.
“Stop it!” JD shouted. “Chris won’t give you what you want! You can beat and torture us all you like, and the only thing that’s going to do is piss him off!”
“I see,” she signalled at the two men who were performing the nastier aspects of this interrogation, causing them to retreat. “You’re right of course. Mr Larabee won’t be convinced by just a few bruises and broken bones. We must give him a very compelling reason to accept our offer. We’ll send him one of your eyes.”
JD’s heart clenched in his chest so hard it felt as if a fist had reached through his ribs and squeezed. Next, to him, Vin and Ezra’s reaction was even more extreme. She uttered her order without batting an eyelid, still wearing that expression of icy cold satisfaction on her face. At the corner of his eye, one that might soon be plucked out, he saw one of the Krauts moving in, brandishing a switchblade that was more than equal to the task.
“Leave him alone!” Vin snapped, struggling so hard against the ropes he could feel blood oozing from the skin rubbed raw at his determination to break free. “You do this and Chris will never help you! He’ll kill you!”
“I’m sure,” Isabella answered, unaffected by the threat and prompting the henchman to proceed.
“Miss Krauss,” Ezra sputtered, trying to think of some way to save JD from this grisly assault. “I’m sure we can be reasonable about this.”
“The German people have been far too reasonable about everything. We are no longer interested in reason, we only care about results, and we will do what is necessary to get it, without minor concerns about who might care or what anyone else thinks. Our Fuhrer has freed us from such constraints, and our Reich will last a thousand years. However, it will not get done by diplomacy or reason, it will get done because we have the will to do what is necessary.”
Then to the man standing over JD, she ordered. “Proceed.”
“Goddamnit!” Vin swore, almost lifting his chair off its legs to save JD but he was shoved back against the floor by a powerful hand while being held back by a gun. JD was trying not to show fear, but the size of that six-inch blade was playing havoc with his composure. He was scared and had good reason to be. He was seconds away from being blinded. The third man had taken up position next to Ezra, the barrel of his Luger brandished as a warning to the gambler what would happen if he tried to move.
JD closed his eyes, refusing to look even though he suspected, he was going to get an extremely close view in a second. He felt hands touch his skin and flinched, wanting to plead for them to not do this because as a scholar, his eyes were everything. Even the loss of one was too much, and as his eyelid was pried open, the column of metal blade became his entire world.
Don’t scream, don’t yell, he told himself. Don’t give the sons of bitches the satisfaction.
Of course, Vin and Ezra at this point had become very vocal, but the woman knew what she was doing, this would give Chris more than pause, this would send him into a frenzy and who knew what decision he might reach to save them from further mutilation. JD was panting in fear, his resolve to be strong crumbling as he saw the point of the knife coming at him and the face leering with almost sadistic pleasure at the horror about to be inflicted on him. At her desk, Isabella Krauss watched impassively as if she were waiting in line for coffee.
Suddenly without warning a single gunshot was heard.
The bullet came through the window, puncturing the glass and then the forehead of his would-be eye gouger. The back of his skull exploded spectacularly, sending a spray of blood across the front of the desk and over Krauss’s face and shirt. She jumped back in her chair, startled by this sudden assault as her henchman sunk to his knees and fell forward into JD’s lap, allowing the younger man a macabre glimpse of the man’s freshly vacated skull.
“What....” she started to say when a second shot was fired, and this one took out the man standing over Ezra, who collapsed just as quickly from another deadly headshot. He fell on his side, landing on the carpet soiled by his blood and brain matter.
Vin wasted no time, jumping to his feet and swinging his chair around hard. The legs swatted the Luger out of his guard’s hands, and the gun went flying across the floor. Vin knew what a high powered rifle sounded like and though he had no idea who it was who had come to their rescue, he was not about to waste the opportunity to escape.
Outside, the sound of gunfire broke out. This time, it wasn’t a rifle but rather the staccato rhythm of a machine gun. If he didn’t know better, he would have said it was a Tommy gun or something similar. In either case, it was unleashing a barrage of holy hell outside the walls of this room. Bent over, while still strapped to the chair, Vin turned his head into a battering ram and ran straight into the disarmed man. The Kraut stumbled backwards from the collision and took Vin with him, crashing against the floor in a heap.
Meanwhile, Ezra was also on his feet, but he was heading towards that massive oak desk because the woman had now recovered from her shock and was searching for a weapon, presumably one from the dead men. Ezra was not about to give her the chance. He swung the chair he was tied to against the sturdy desk with all the force he could muster and felt the wood beneath him give. Her eyes narrowed at his efforts as Ezra tried again, this time putting more power into the swing, until the chair crumbled around him, loosening the ropes around him and allowing him to slip them off. She got to the gun first however and turned to shoot him when a new voice entered the fray.
“I just as soon as you didn’t, Miss.”
The middle-aged man who stepped into the room was one none of them recognised. His Irish accent revealed his Celtic origins, and he stood taller than Buck and had a frame that would have matched Josiah’s easily. Armed with a Thompson machine gun, he aimed the weapon at Isabella while turning to the men held captive. “Come on lads, we can’t stand around here all day. These Krauts never travel in small numbers. We’ve got to go.”
Vin who was in the process of shedding the remnants of broken chair, got to his feet, not about to question their rescuer after what had almost happened to JD. The kid was still in his chair, no doubt thankful that he was still in possession of both his eyes after what this bitch almost done to him. Giving the man a nod of thanks, he ended his confrontation with the German at his feet with a well-placed kick across the face that knocked him out cold.
“Who are you?” Isabella demanded.
“Never you mind,” he said coolly. “Come on lads!”
Ezra shook off his surprise and hurried to JD. “I am not one to refuse the kindness of strangers,” he declared as he started untying the younger man.
“No kidding,” JD finally managed to speak.
“This is not over,” Isabella spat angrily, “We will have the Aegis!”
Vin took a step towards her, but the stranger halted him in his footsteps. “She’s not worth it lad, and we don’t have the time.”
Vin glared at her and said coldly, “next time,”
With that, the four men hurried out of the room.
*****Emerging into the hall with their mysterious new ally leading the way, they had taken no more than two steps before gunfire erupted in their direction. All four men took refuge behind the marble columns against both sides of the wall before returning fire. Vin had liberated a Luger from one of the Krauts earlier and immediately returned fire, giving Riley the opening he needed to unleash another hail of bullets from the machine gun. The enemy, nowhere as heavily armed, were forced into retreat as vases and sculptures perched on their pedestals exploded spectacularly when struck.
When the path appeared momentarily cleared, and they continued to make their escape, Ezra saw the handiwork of their rescuer before his timely arrival into the room where they were held captive. Bodies were strewn intermittently across the polished floors and expensive rugs while bullet holes ruined the wooden wall panelling and upholsteries. The man had laid down a wall of gunfire to reach them, and anyone who got in his way paid the ultimate price.
“Who are you, Sir?” Ezra managed to ask as they crossed the meandering hallways and corridors to reach the wide staircase with its ornate wooden banister, leading to the entry hallway.
“Riley,” the man glanced over his shoulder before facing front again, scanning their environment for any assailants waiting to ambush them. “I work for Miss Pemberton.”
“The client?” JD exclaimed in surprise, finding his voice again. “She’s here?”
“Aye,” Riley nodded when they reached the marble of the manor’s ground floor and the front door he had come through, remained splayed open, revealing the evening outside.
“Who made the shot?” Vin inquired. Being a sharpshooter, he knew it couldn’t have been Riley who pulled the trigger that saved JD from being horribly maimed. That shot had been made from a distance and the time between its delivery and the outbreak of machine gun fire was too narrow for it to be the work of one person. Whomever this Riley was, he wasn’t alone in this rescue.
“That would be telling,” Riley grinned when they approached the open doorway.
As soon as he stepped out, more gunfire erupted, driving him backwards, almost running into Vin as bullets chipped at the masonry of the doorframe, covering the floor in fine dust and small fragments. Riley wasted no time shooting again, and Vin took cover on the opposite side, trying to give the man what protection he could with his dwindling supply of ammunition. He could not see how many shooters there were but judging by the intensity of the shooting, he counted at least three men. Amidst the roar of gunfire, voices barked urgently.
“Snell! Snell! Sie sind hier!”
Except for JD, all three men had spent enough time in the war to know someone outside was rallying the others.
“Is there another way outside?” JD asked.
“I do not like our chances if we go back and finding an alternate route out of this place,” Ezra frowned when suddenly a loud roar filled the air, muting the sound of gunfire temporarily. It took him a moment to realise it was the sound of someone gunning an engine. As the roar intensified, it broke into the rumble of a car speeding towards them. Tyres crushed gravel as the twin headlights lit up the path in front of the door. They pierced through the descending darkness of the night and made everyone in its glare flinch and look away.
The four-door Morris 10 might have been black or blue, it was difficult to say, but its wire wheels came to a screeching halt next to them, creating a small cloud of dust behind it. Stopping directly in front of the doorway, the vehicle’s sudden arrival halted the shooting and gave the men trying to escape the opening needed to get past the barrage of gunfire in their direction.
“Get in!” Riley ordered, hurrying to the vehicle he appeared to have been expecting and pulled open the back passenger door, his eyes surveying the area to ensure no one else took shots at them while he ushered the others through.
“Go JD!” Vin shoved the kid through the opening, and JD just about jumped onto the back seat and scrambled across it when the shooting resumed.
“Hurry!” Riley barked, and Ezra went in next, taking note the driver was now returning fire, just as Riley was doing with his seemingly inexhaustible Tommy gun.
Vin was the last to enter, his eyes darting over his shoulder at the way they had come because there was no way to be sure Riley had gotten all the men in the building or prevent others from sneaking through the back way to ambush them. His sixth sense told him as a bullet shattered the rear window of the vehicle and took out one of the side mirrors, they still had a fight on their hands.
He was right. Through the shadows behind him in the extended doorway, he saw the slender shape of Isabella Krauss peering over the corner, her Luger aimed not at him but Riley.
“Watch out!” Vin grabbed the man and yanked him clear as the bullet fired and struck the car door. If he had been standing there, it would have gone straight through him before it hit metal and would have likely killed him. Swinging around on reflex, Vin emptied the remaining bullets in his gun just as quickly, and he was a damn sight more accurate than she was, driving Isabella back the way she came.
“Stop mucking about and get your arses in here NOW!”
The decidedly feminine voice barked with extreme irritation, and Vin did a double take when Ezra caught him by the arm and pulled him into the back seat just as Riley flung open the front side door and climbed into the car. No sooner than both doors slammed shut, the engines roared to life with an accelerator being jammed hard. The Morris leapt forward violently, as more bullets were fired against its now ruined body. The car sped through the gravel driveway, sweeping past a disapproving menagerie of topiary animals, gaining speed as it raced towards the main gates leading off the estate.
Vin looked through the broken rear mirror and saw the faint silhouette of men running after them, attempting to give the car chase, exhausting what was left of their bullets even if the vehicle was soon beyond their reach. The sharpshooter’s keen eyes were paying attention to every shadow and tree as they drove off the estate and he wondered briefly who its owners were and made a mental note to find out. For now, he turned his attention to whoever was driving.
“That was a timely bit of rescue Miss,” Riley grinned.
Julia Pemberton cast a glance at the back seat, her emerald eyes moving across the stunned faces of the men staring at her and paused when she reached Ezra.
“Well Mr Standish,” she smiled. “It looks like coming to your rescue is becoming a full-time occupation.”
Chapter Twelve:
Free Fall
“Switch?” Buck Wilmington asked Josiah Sanchez as they stood beside each other, lowering the pencils they had been using to scribble on their notebooks.
“Yep,” Josiah nodded and handed his over.
The curious exchange went unnoticed by the other pilots standing in line, themselves engaged in thoughts about what needed to be done for their own trips as they all waited in one of the hangar offices at Croydon airport, allocated for private air travel. Unlike the main terminal, this area did not host as many travelers crisscrossing the floor in search of tickets, luggage, gates or loved ones. Instead, there were pilots, mechanics an, air services crew going about their business or waiting in line to lodge the appropriate paperwork to get on with their journeys, or in their case, refueled.
While the rest of their comrades were scattered across London, eager to escape the confinement of the Millie for a few hours before they resumed the long flight to Egypt, Buck devoted himself to getting the Millie ready for the next leg of their trip. Aside from refueling, there was the necessary paperwork to complete prior to their departure since they would be crossing at least four different countries before they reached the African continent.
Fortunately, Buck had Josiah to keep him company during this tedium just as he had done when they were still in the Air Aero Corps during the war. As always as Buck plotted their course with Josiah doing the same, before the exchange of notebooks would confirm each other’s calculations. As he took Josiah leatherbound notebook, ignoring the older man’s other writings which included the odd attempt at prose, he was satisfied to see his numbers matched the mechanic’s.
“Alright then,” he looked up at Josiah and handed the book back and reclaimed his own, thumbing through the pages a moment later to the lists of airfields and airports between Croydon and the Aegean Sea. “A full payload will get us as far as Belgium. I’m thinking Liege. From there, I say we avoid the direct route and head to Switzerland via France. With who’s after us, I think missing Germany might be a good idea.”
“I hear you,” Josiah nodded in agreement with that plan. The group had traveled to the Rhineland before this but lately, the mood in the country was increasingly ugly and Josiah’s instincts told him it was only going to get worse. The clouds looming over the world stage was taking on a shape Josiah hadn’t seen since before 1914 and it worried him what that promised for the future.
“We’ll take the route across...” Buck started to say when his words were muted by the sound of gunfire shredding the normal chatter within the hangar.
Chris, Buck thought immediately.
When he met Josiah’s eyes, Buck saw the would-be preacher making the same leap. Without saying a word, both men broke away from the seemingly unmoving line and headed towards the wide doors. Their departure prompted the line to break formation even further as the sound of gunfire continued to burst through the air, followed by the inevitable commotion caused by a crowd in a panic. As they emerged into the sunlight, they saw people rushing out of the terminal building in all directions.
When they were able to filter through the cacophony of noise confusing their ears, both men who were season combat veterans were able to determine from the random bursts, the shooters were on the move. Behind them, the rest of the line had scattered, some to investigate and others because they had loved ones waiting for them in the terminal building. The result was all the same, chaos.
“You think he’d head back to the Millie?” Buck asked as he started jogging back to the terminal, hoping to find Chris.
“Yeah,” Josiah nodded. “He wouldn’t try to fight them if Mary is with him.”
Buck had to concede the point to Josiah there. Chris Larabee might have been pissier than a burro with a stick up its ass because of Mary Travis’s uninvited presence on board the Millie, but beneath that anger was genuine affection. If there were Nazis after them, Chris’s priority would be getting her to safety. At that moment, entering the field of his peripheral vision, Buck sighted a biplane making a rather clumsy attempt to take off. The pilot observed the departure with concern because it was clear whoever was riding the stick wasn’t doing it well and would most likely get themselves killed if they weren’t careful.
It took a further second for Buck to recognize the pilot in the cockpit.
“Aw hell!” He exclaimed horrified and immediately started running towards the craft before it gained too much speed, offering no explanation to Josiah as he left his comrade behind.
“What?” Josiah stared blankly at the back of Buck’s flight jacket before hurrying after him, confused by the man’s sudden change of direction, not to mention the urgency in his steps.
“That’s Chris!” Buck shouted, waving at the aircraft making its way across the runway.
Josiah’s eyes followed the plane rolling across the tarmac, pursued by a handful of men who were making no effort to hide the menace in their intentions by the barrage of gunfire they were sending at it to halt its departure. Each bullet that tore into the fuselage or wing made the mechanic winced because he knew just how fragile biplanes were to gunfire. He had seen the wreckage of enough downed planes during the war to last him a lifetime.
“Can Chris even fly?” Josiah hollered after Buck as they both saw the plane gaining takeoff speed the further across the runway it got, even as it was chased there by bullets.
“Fly yes!” Buck shouted, not looking at Josiah because he hoped to reach Chris before the dang fool actually got airborne. “Land, NO!”
“What the hell is he thinking?” Josiah cried out, not expecting an answer but got one nonetheless.
“Oh I’m thinking he’s trying to impress a girl,” Buck growled.
Before Josiah could comment, the roar of engines behind them, this one from a more terrestrial vehicle, filled their ears. Both men paused long enough to look over their shoulders to see a Willys MB Jeep closing in on them, with Nathan Jackson behind the wheel. The healer hit the brakes just as the car rolled by them causing the tyres to screech in annoyance at the lack of a gradual stop.
“Get in!”
Buck jumped in first, followed by Josiah before the pilot gestured Nathan to get moving. “After that plane!”
Nathan stared at the biplane whose nose had just lifted off the ground and was taking the rest of its bulk with it, confused by the order but obeying it nonetheless. When he’d hastily ‘borrowed’ the jeep (actually took without asking), he intended to get to the terminal building and help Chris. Now Buck wanted him to chase after a small plane, a plane with at least a half dozen men chasing it....oh hell, his eyes became saucers when the reason became clear.
“Oh Lord, is that Chris?” Nathan asked abruptly putting the vehicle into gear before it lurched forward, nearly sending Josiah to the tarmac from the back seat.
“Yep,” Buck nodded. “Those Nazis bastards have him on the run.”
“But he can’t fly!” Nathan burst out, wondering if Chris was insane.
For the second time, Buck shouted exasperated. “Fly yes! Land no!”
“Oh Jesus Christ!”
“We wish,” Josiah grumbled and then brightened up when he saw what Nathan had quickly dumped into the backseat of their misappropriated vehicle when he left the Millie. Picking up his Tommy gun, he primed the weapon readying it for a fight.
The gunfire continued with unrelenting intensity and each bullet made Buck’s stomach hollow because he was all too aware the plane Chris and Mary were presently occupying was made of fabric and light-weight balsa. It would not stand up to the assault of gunfire for long. The plane was now in the air and soaring towards the clouds, leaving behind the gunfire riddling its fuselage with holes. The Nazis were continuing to shoot, refusing to give up even as the plane soared higher into the air.
“Sons of bitches are going to make that thing crash!” Buck swore as Josiah handed him his Remington.
“I hear ya!” Nathan shouted and sped towards the men who were still firing at the plane.
Chris’s assailants, suddenly aware of the vehicle bearing down on them, turned sharply in the direction of the jeep. Seeing two thousand pounds of metal about to run them over made them alter the trajectory of their gunfire and both Josiah and Buck ducked when the bullets pinged holes in the hood and cracked the windscreen. Nathan managed to avoid getting hit by crouching behind the wheel for cover.
“You two gonna do something or are you going to get me shot!”
Josiah and Buck exchanged irate looks before Buck sat up and returned fire, scattering the men in all directions across the tarmac. Josiah added his fire to the deadly barrage, giving the enemy further incentive to abandon the airfield. As they hurried away, uttering distinctly German curses, Buck knew they would be back and probably in numbers. Until the Millie was refueled and in the air, they were in danger.
“We’ve got to get refueled and off the ground,” Buck stated the obvious as the Nazis disappeared from view, taking advantage of the numerous buildings across the airfield to make their escape. “They’ll be back.”
“Oh we got another problem,” Nathan said as he continued to drive and Buck realized he wasn’t heading back to the Millie, he was driving off the airfield.
“What?” Josiah was almost afraid to ask.
Buck followed Nathan’s gaze and saw the trail of black smoke tracing a line across the sky. It was bleeding into the clouds from the wounded biplane and forced Buck to reach only one conclusion.
The plane was going down.
*****“You want us to do what?” Mary Travis stared incredulously at Chris Larabee through the cockpit glass separating them, trying to be heard over the sound of wind roaring loudly in their ears. Her face was almost entirely covered in her blond hair, now freed from its confining bun and swirling about her head as if her golden locks had suddenly taken on a life of its own.
The plane was going down. Mary wasn’t a mechanic but she knew they were in trouble. The fact the propellers were no longer moving and they were exuding a thick trail of black smoke behind them, seemed to confirm this fact. Chris had disappeared into the aviator’s cockpit for a moment and then emerged carrying something that looked like a knapsack until she realized what it was and decided then and there, he had lost his mind, or she had for ever thinking it was a good idea to stow away on the Millie to begin with.
“Jump,” Chris repeated himself and saw her balk at the suggestion. Unfortunately, they were out of options. Any chance of a smooth landing, even if he knew how to make one, was gone. It had gone the moment the enemy bullets had penetrated the fuselage and undoubtedly struck some vital part of the craft manifesting in the unhealthy sputter of the engine they were now hearing.
“You’re insane!” She barked back, mostly because she was terrified at the idea of what he was suggesting. Breaking her rule to not look down, the patchwork landscape that bore a striking resemblance to Aunt Adelaide’s quilt seemed far too close for her liking. “I’m not doing it!”
Chris, who had no patience with female histrionics right now, replied without humor. “Fine, you stay, I’m leaving.”
With that, he proceeded to slip the parachute straps over his shoulders.
Mary’s jaw dropped in outrage. “You can’t just leave me!”
Despite himself, he couldn’t help flash her a somewhat smug grin. “Oh, I’m sure you’ll get yourself out of trouble. You’re a gal who can take care of herself remember?” He winked at her for effect.
“Why you egotistical, chauvinistic, boorish, arrogant son of a bitch!”
“Keep going,” Chris ignored her tirade and continued to buckle up, making certain all the fastenings were secure for what he was about to do. “You’re really making me want to take you with me.”
For all his feigned indifference, Chris knew they were on the clock and there was no way he was leaving her behind, even though she was proving quite spectacularly she had a mouth that would put any longshoreman to shame. The plane was still level for the moment because it was high enough to ride the currents but eventually, gravity would win out and then nothing would keep them aloft. The plane would descend, most likely turning into a spiral that would keep them from making the jump, or worse yet, lose them too much altitude for the chute to do them any good.
“I won’t go!” She continued to rant, mostly out of fear and because at the moment, jumping was more terrifying than riding the plane to its fiery fate. “I’m not jumping out of this plane wearing that...that..contraption!”
“You won’t have to wear one,” Chris said with a perfectly straight face. “There’s only one chute and I’m wearing it. You’ll just have to hang on.”
“WHAT?”
As she descended into complete and utter panic, Chris decided this was about as much time as he was wasting on this argument. Climbing out of the aviator’s seat, he stepped onto the supporting plane of the lower wing and gestured at Mary to do the same. She was still cursing at him, making disparaging remarks about his parentage and offering suggestions about what could be done with parts of his anatomy. Despite this, he could see her terror, it radiated off her with every angry word she hurled in his direction like a goddess hurling thunderbolts.
“Mary, come on!” He barked finally, his patience exhausted at last. They had to get off this plane and they had to do it now.
“I won’t do it!” Mary shook her head like a petulant child. “You can’t make me!”
“Then give my regards to the afterlife,” he said turning away.
With a wail of defeat, she threw up her hands while shaking her head in disbelief at the situation she was in. Mary took the hand he offered and climbed out of the cockpit, submitting to her fate like a woman being walked off the plank. Only when Chris took her hand did he realize just how scared she was by how hard she was trembling.
“Look, if we die, at least we’ll go together,” he said hoping the joke would ease her tension somewhat. It did not.
“Oh my God,” she continued to lament, “I’m going to die and the last person I’ll be with is a moron!”
Of course, she had to do this, there was no other way and they both knew it. As adventurous as Mary was, there were limits to her bravado and jumping off the plane was something she would never dream of doing under any circumstances, even with the right amount of alcohol. Panic written on all over her face, she offered no protest when he turned her around and pulled her to him. The straps had enough slack to accommodate a large man and would have no trouble if they were pressed against each other, back to chest.
As he fastened her securely against him, Chris ignored Mary’s continued ramblings about the death she perceived was coming to claim her for sins including her idiotic act of stowing away and stealing from her father’s liquor cabinet when she was fifteen. When the nose of the plane dipped sharply, Chris knew they had run out of time. It was now or never.
“I’ve got you,” he promised her. “No matter what, I’m not going to let you go!”
Mary craned her neck and looked at him at that statement. “I’m going to hold you to that but if you get us killed, I’m going to be really mad!”
She was making no sense but she was too terrified to care.
“I’ll keep that in mind!” he smirked and was heartened by the fact she managed to give him back a nervous smile, even though the terror in her eyes was still present. “Ready?”
“NO!” She wailed before closing her eyes shut.
Chris decided not to waste any more time before she spiraled into complete hysteria. The plane was angled even more precariously and Chris knew they were seconds away from a treacherous corkscrew spin. Taking a deep breath, while keeping his arms secured around her waist, he ignored the ground beneath them and allowed the rushing wind to help things along when he stepped off the edge.
Mary’s scream filled his ears almost as loudly as the rush of wind as they both tumbled away from the plane. For a few seconds, the world was a spinning dervish of color as sky and ground created a kaleidoscope of confusing images before their eyes. Chris fought the disorientation even as Mary continued to scream. Fumbling for the ripcord, he dearly hoped the parachute could hold both their weight or else this was going to end rather badly.
Pulling hard on the handle, Mary’s scream reached another octave when they were both pulled backward by the release of the chute. Whether or not she knew it, he was holding his breath in anticipation of how the chute would handle once it was fully exposed to the currents. Telling her right now that it might not be capable of holding them both would probably serve little purpose other than to drive her into further hysteria.
However, when the chute was fully expanded, assuaging the turbulence of their plunge from the plane into a brisk but safe descent, Mary’s screams faded and Chris realized the contraption, as she put it, was managing to keep them both from a tragic end, he relaxed a little. As they descended into the landscape below them, Chris started to enjoy the moment with the wind rushing against his face and the opportunity to enjoy the sensation of her warm body pressed against him.
“See, this wasn’t so bad!”
“We just jumped out of a plane! Nothing about this is good!” She said hotly, although the fact they were not free falling to the earth, certain to pulverize every bone in their bodies, was a good sign. Still, until she reached the ground, she was taking nothing for granted.
“Oh, I don’t know about that,” Chris smiled faintly, admiring the view now it was possible they would reach the ground alive. Tightening his grip around her waist, he had to admit, there were worst ways to die than with a beautiful woman in one’s arms. “I could get used to this.”
“If you had just wanted to get fresh with me, a John Wayne picture would have done!”
“John Wayne picture?” Chris craned his neck so he could catch a glimpse of her face. She still wore that worried expression, indicating the view down had done nothing to calm her fears.
“Yeah,” she nodded, opting to close her eyes because looking at the ground was making her ill. “I like westerns.”
“Never thought of you as a girl who liked cowboys.”
“I don’t like cowboys,” she muttered, her hands clutching his arms tightly as if letting go would send her plunging to the ground and certain death. “Just gunslingers.”
Chris had to laugh. “ Why Miss Travis, I had no idea you were partial to the bad element.”
Chapter Thirteen:
The name is Pemberton, Julia Pemberton
Once they left the airfield, it wasn’t all that hard to find Chris Larabee at all.
For starters, Mary’s screaming was loud enough to give an air raid siren a run for its money and secondly, the plane spiralling out of control, tumbling to the earth with a tail of black smoke was not easy to miss even in the grey English sky. For one heart-stopping moment when Buck saw the plane spinning through the clouds, he was once again over the skies of France, trying to stay alive when Richthofen's Circus was shooting down friends like fish in a barrel.
Now, as he gaped at the bi-plane heading towards its doom in that familiar corkscrew pattern, he felt as if he were reliving the horror of knowing a friend was about to die and there wasn’t a damn thing he could do about it. It couldn’t end like this, not for Chris Larabee. There was still too much ahead for them for one of their number to be lost.
“Look!”
It was Nathan who managed to tear Buck’s horrified gaze away from the aircraft that was less than a minute from reaching the end of its journey in the large stream at the heart of the Beddington Farmlands. The jeep they had ‘commandeered’ (okay stolen), had left the airfield and was driving across the numerous empty fields to keep up with the biplane. The Nazis who had forced Chris and Mary into the air had temporarily given up the chase but Buck knew they would be back soon enough. It wouldn’t take much for the Krauts to find out where the Millie was berthed.
“Thank Christ!” Buck exclaimed when he saw the parachute appearing through the clouds like a flower blossoming at dawn. As it continued its descent, Buck saw two figures attached to the harness beneath the billowing silk and guessed immediately it was Chris and Mary eluding a fiery death.
“Can that thing hold both of them?” Nathan asked nobody in particular as he drove across the empty fields adjacent the airfields, taking the most direct route to their beleaguered friends.
“It can,” Josiah nodded, familiar with the devices himself although he was never confident their construction was at all sound, certainly not enough to entrust a pilot’s life to one. During the war, he’d seen the crude attempts to perfect the devices and hoped to God the one Chris and Mary were using was more sophisticated and better designed. “They’re supposed to carry the weight of a heavy man so Chris might pull it off since Mary probably doesn’t weigh much.”
“Yeah, but I’m guessing she ain’t too happy about it,” Nathan grimaced watching the slow drift of the parachute to the ground. Right now, he didn’t want to be in Chris’s shoes for all the money in the world. Judging from what they knew about the dame, she would be plenty mad before they reached land.
“That way!”
The parachute was coming down beyond the field they were presently crossing. Leaving thick, muddy trails in the mud as they drove across the damp English countryside, the jeeps roar felt incredibly intrusive against the serenity of the picturesque landscape. Nathan made a beeline towards the descending chute, following Buck’s directions while keeping his eyes on the progress of its journey. The Jeep rumbled unhappily across the wet and uneven terrain, crushing vegetation and splattering mud in all directions including its painted finish.
“Everyone, head down!” The healer warned when the jeep approached the thicket separating one meadow from another. They would have to go through it to reach Chris and Mary.
“Hell,” Buck grumbled, doing exactly that as Nathan ploughed straight through the dense shrubbery, fighting off branches and twigs clawing at them as they tore through, taking broken leaves and other bits of fauna with them.
However, once they reached the other side, the jeep suddenly swerved hard to avoid the large flock of Rough Fell sheep occupying the field they just entered. Both Buck and Josiah were thrown sharply to one side of the vehicle, slamming against each other at the hard turn. Buck had to grab hold of the handrail to avoid being thrown off the thing.
“What the hell?”
“SHEEP BUCK! SHEEP!” Nathan growled answering Buck’s indignant cry as the walking sweaters, with their curled horns and their black and white faces, scattered in all directions by the sudden intrusion, their large, woolly bodies waddling ridiculously about as they brayed fearfully in protest of the metal monster invading their peaceful home.
“Watch out!” Josiah warned.
In front of them was a particularly large, irate ram with impressive horns curled about his head as if it were the helmet of some Norse Viking god, about to wage Ragnarok on their asses. Instead of fleeing, this particular ovine stood his ground, going against type. Refusing to run to safety, the creature (called Sir Percival by his owner), considered it his sacred duty as one of his breed, to defend his keep and charged, having every intention of ramming the jeep.
“What’s that crazy thing doing!” Nathan swerved to avoid the animal, having no wish to harm it but it was good intentions lost on Sir Percival. The ram continued to give chase, determined to give the what for to the interlopers who had shattered his flock’s pleasant afternoon and scared his ewes and lambs.
“I don’t know but he’s gaining,” Josiah muttered looking over his shoulder unable to ignore the humour of the situation as Sir Percival ran after them, braying what Josiah was certain sounded like the war cry of angry Scots just before they trampled the English army into the mud.
“Will you get us out of here!” Buck shouted at Nathan, unable to believe they were getting run off by a sheep of all things!
“Hey, you want to get in front here and drive?” Nathan bit back, trying to navigate across the field with its loosened earth thanks to the grazing and traffic of the flock occupying it. “This ground is wetter than one of your dreams about Inez! If I ain’t careful we’ll get bogged and then that crazy animal will catch up to us!”
“Alright, alright,” Buck conceded the point until what Nathan said registered. “HEY!”
The Willys B continued across the field chased by Sir Percival who refused to let them escape, before Nathan finally slammed through another hedge, this time, finding himself on the narrow strip of road that was a staple of the English countryside. As the jeep sped away from the invaded domain of Sir Percival, the irate ovine brayed angrily at them in parting, vowing in its ancient tongue they were all marked enemies of the Rough Fell Clan of the Primrose Farm fiefdom for all time.
*****Completely unaware of the blood feud his comrades had entered with Farmer Buckett’s flock of sheep, Chris and Mary watched in fascinated horror as the bi-plane went to its fate in the large stream inhabited by numerous species of birds and waterfowl. The waterway, though significant in size was not terribly deep and the impact on the plane was nothing short of catastrophic. The only consolation they could take from the utter ruination of the craft which crumpled from the nose up was the fact it had not harmed anyone in its final landing.
It was not to say the denizens of the stream were entirely thrilled by the crash since they took to the air to escape the flying machine’s turbulent descent. The frame of the aircraft, what remained of it, broke into three large pieces, with each one being claimed by the stream as dark water swirled over it in an exultant exclamation of victory over the invader. What flames managed to ignite during the impact, now gasped its last as the water choked away its life. All that remained was the dark smoke seeping through the few fissures of unsubmerged metal.
With the plane’s fate now settled, Chris turned his attention to getting himself and Mary on the ground. The woman had said little as she clung to him, probably feeling decidedly uncomfortable by their close proximity to each other. Chris couldn’t say he found the experience unpleasant because he could smell perfume in her hair and the heat pressed against his chest was soft and welcoming despite her accusations he was a rat bastard and a sexist pig.
He might be all those things but Chris knew with smug satisfaction she liked him.
“Chris, we’re landing!” Mary’s fearful gasp broke through his thoughts.
They were about fifty feet off the ground and descending fast. There was really no way to control where they landed but Chris was grateful it was going to be in one of the empty meadows beyond Croydon airfield. The strong currents had lessened their intensity the closer to the ground they got and by the time the field came into view, they were coming down at a rate that though quick, was nowhere as dangerous as it could have been.
“It was bound to happen sometime,” he deadpanned, trying to remember what he read about landing in one of these things. True, he never intended to do half the things he read, but he did retain enough to know what to expect. “It’s just something you got to do to get to the ground.”
“THIS IS NOT THE TIME FOR HUMOUR!”
Chris grimaced at the sharp shriek in his ear. “Just calm down and remember to roll when we hit the ground. Keep your legs bent.”
“Oh my God,” she started blubbering. “I am never going to stow away ever again.”
“Yeah right,” Chris snorted, more amused by her foxhole promises than the belief she could ever keep them.
Wrapping his arm around her waist, he pulled her close to him as the ground rushed up to meet them. Leaning into her ear, he said in a calm, soothing tone. “Mary, we’re going to be alright, I promise.”
Instead of cursing at him again she nodded, her blond hair rubbing against his chin in a manner he rather liked. “I’ll hold you to that promise Chris.”
They were now twenty feet above the ground and being swept across the field by the wind, capturing the attention of the dozen or so cows watching their arrival with curiosity.
Unlike their more militant neighbours, the cows of Upton Farm were starved for entertainment and in between their observation of Sir Percival’s battle of wills with Gwaine the Sheepdog, Alfie the Goose and the antics of Postie Rob, they were always looking to be amused. The appearance of the strange big bird with the four legs and the rather shrill squawk looked good for a few minutes of occupation during an otherwise uneventful day.
Chris and Mary drifted over the meadow covered by marigold, cornflower and scorpion grass before finally touching down. Bending his knees and ordering Mary to do the same, the landing was rough as he expected with both of them rolling across the damp grass, narrowly missing some cow pies as they tumbled to a stop, becoming entangled in the silk and cord of the parachute. For a few seconds, neither of them spoke as they both absorbed the realisation they were not only on the ground again but alive and in one piece.
“Mary?” Chris asked when he sat up a moment later.
Mary did the same and looked at him strangely, just before she threw a right hook into his jaw.
Chris felt against the grass, surprised and impressed by the force behind that punch. His chin stung as he sat up and stared at her in question when without warning, she grabbed him by the lapels of his jacket and pulled him to her in one swift movement. Taken completely by surprise, Chris felt her lips pressed against his and wondered would there ever be a day when he knew what the hell was going on in this crazy dame’s head.
“Has anyone told you how foreplay is supposed to work?” Chris asked when she pulled away.
“Oh just shut up,” Mary growled and pulled him to her again, deciding to show him just how happy she was to be alive in the simplest way possible.
*****In a car speeding away from an almost gothic English manor, escaping a sadistic Kraut doctor and her villainous cadre of Nazi henchmen, Ezra Standish found the whole situation somewhat surreal. Months ago, he’d glimpsed a mystery woman with the loveliest face he’d ever seen, seconds after she came to his rescue, only to have her vanish a moment later. In the weeks that followed, he often thought of her and those amazing green eyes, like pieces of emerald in the sunlight, wondering if he would ever see her again.
Seeing her now, the architect of the timely rescue from their earlier predicament, Ezra had to wonder at what point, the world had started surprising him again.
After dramatically revealing herself to him, the titian-haired beauty went back to the business of making good their escape. As Ezra stared with his mouth open, she drove away into the night, leaving behind gunfire and the enemy determined on bending Chris Larabee to their will. Surrounded by the thick shrubbery that flanked almost all tiny English roads, devoid of street lights and interspersed by road signs that were probably installed by the Romans, the Humber raced through the darkness leaving the enemy behind.
“You know her Ez?” Ezra heard Vin’s whisper coincide with a gentle nudge in the ribs.
“If the lady coming to my rescue during our initial encounter with the Erran at the museum constitutes as knowing her, then I must say yes.”
Vin could tell Ezra was just as puzzled by her appearance as he was about being rescued by the client who until now only Chris had met. She certainly knew how to handle herself if one were to go by her actions so far. Vin recalled the discussion on the Millie about Julia Pemberton and supposed she really could be a spy.
“Thanks for the save ma’am,” Vin said gratefully, despite seething over the peril they had narrowly escaped.
One second more and it was JD who would have been affected most profoundly. Even now, as Vin glanced in his direction, he saw the kid was still somewhat shaken by what had almost happened to him. Unlike the rest of the seven, JD was relatively new to this life and the danger that came with being a soldier of fortune. Vin suspected it never felt as real as it did when Krauss’s torpedo had come at him with a knife.
“My pleasure Mr Tanner,” Julia cast him a quick look. “I had hoped you were able to extricate yourselves from your circumstances but once Mr Riley and I saw that you were outnumbered considerably, it was time to act.”
“How long were you keeping us under surveillance Miss Pemberton?” Ezra wondered how they had missed seeing her and concluded she was damn good at it since her appearance had taken them completely by surprise.
Julia smiled to herself as she kept her eyes on the road. “Long enough. I saw no reason to interfere in how your group dealt with the arrangement I entered into with Mr Larabee, however,” she tilted her head slightly in JD’s direction,. “I was not going to idly sit by and watch Mr Dunne be maimed.”
“Yeah,” JD found his voice at the mention of his name. “Thanks for that ma’am.”
“It’s my pleasure,” she said kindly, shifting her attention to the vehicle’s mirror to ensure no one was following them.
Her caution prompted Vin's awareness of danger and he stared out the back window of the Humber to do the exact same thing. The lack of street lights along the narrow road meant they were shrouded in pitch black darkness save the headlights guiding them through the narrow English road. Judging by the abundance of empty fields and the absence of buildings Vin realised they were in a location remote enough to ensure their bodies were never found if that Kraut bitch had decided to kill them.
“Are you saying you made the shot that saved Mr Dunne?” Ezra blurted out in sudden realisation.
“Aye she did,” Riley grinned, always pleased to see his partner getting the due she deserved. “Miss Julia’s mighty handy with a rifle.”
“No kidding,” Vin smiled, appreciating a good marksman or in this case, markswoman when he encountered them.
“It was most impressive,” Ezra agreed but forgot for a moment Julia Pemberton’s sudden arrival into their world, when he saw through the dim light of the vehicle, the expression on JD’s face.
Being the excellent study of human behaviour that he was, Ezra could see the boy was shaken to the core by what had taken place in the manor. In their line of work, injury and death was always a possibility but even Ezra had to admit, having someone threaten to pluck out one’s eyes when as a scholar sight was everything, felt exceptionally cruel.
“JD, are you alright?”
“Sure I am,” JD shrugged, feeling defensive at the question and hating it that he felt this way. More than ever, he wished Buck was around because Buck would have understood what he was feeling. After all this time, being a part of the seven, JD thought he was ready to cope with anything but the horror of what had nearly been inflicted on him had gotten to him more than he cared to admit. He knew he was going to be spending many nights, seeing the glint of that blade in his dreams.
Both Vin and Ezra saw he wasn’t alright at all and while Ezra hid his anger behind his usual gambler’s facade, Vin’s similarly unflappable composure was lowered to reveal his fury.
“Who was what crazy bitch?”
“You mean Krauss?” Julia asked, not looking over her shoulder at him.
“Yeah, Krauss.” The sharpshooter’s voice was cold as ice. It wasn’t often Vin let anyone get under his skin but being forced to sit by helplessly as that woman intended to do JD grievous harm was more than he could stomach.
“She’s one of Hitler’s inner circle,” Riley explained for Julia who was concentrating on getting them back to London, specifically Croydon Airfield where their plane awaited as quickly as possible. “Since the Nazis came to power and Hitler started collecting antiquities, Krauss has been in charge of almost every expedition launched. Rumour has it, she’s related to Reinhard Heydrich and is a fanatic. She’s a staunch believer in all of Hitler’s propaganda, especially this whole business of a thousand-year Reich.”
“It’s why they’re collecting objects of supernatural power,” Julia added. “They think the possession of such objects will aid their longevity.”
“You mean they actually think the Aegis will be able to turn armies into stone?” JD blurted out, slowly recovering from his earlier trauma. “It’s just a story though. Even if we did find it, it’s gonna be a rusty old shield.
“Oh come now Mr Dunne,” Julia countered smoothly, still facing front. In the distance, they could see lights from houses blinking into view. “We all know that there are more things in heaven and Earth than are dreamt of in our philosophy. Take for instance the Tablet of Destiny. That was certainly not as benign as it appeared, was it?”
Suddenly Vin sat bolt upright.
“It was you,” he stared at the back of her head in wonder. “You were the one who took out that son of a bitch Shah?”
Of course, it made perfect sense, Ezra realised now Vin made the deduction. It was why she was at the museum that night. Someone like Julia Pemberton, who was able to follow them from America without giving herself away would be aware of the Erran and the threat they posed to her personally. Had she done then what she did now? Keeping them under observation, stepping in when needed to save them? At the crucial moment when the seven thought all was lost, the mysterious sniper had killed Adashir Shah, the leader of the cult and caused enough disarray for them to break free.
“Let us say Mr Shah owed me a life and I chose that moment to collect.”
“That was a hell of a shot wasn’t it?” Riley smiled like a proud father. “I didn’t think she could do it over that distance but she did away with that murderous heathen nicely.”
“It sure was,” Vin agreed, his admiration for the lady increasing. That shot had not only saved the seven but it had freed Alex from a fate worse than death. For that, Julia Pemberton would have his eternal gratitude.
“So what is your next step, Miss Pemberton?” Ezra hated to think they would go their separate ways now he had a name to that lovely face. “Now that you have freed us from our captors.”
“I hired Mr Larabee and the rest of you to do a job, Mr Standish,” she glanced over her shoulder, long enough for those amazing eyes to touch his like a caress. “Whether or not the Aegis is a story or a hunk of corroding tin, my employers have no wish to see it in the hands of the Nazis. We are going to have enough difficulties with them in the future. The last thing we wish to do is allow them to gain possession of props to fuel their propaganda.”
“You think this is going to end in a war?” JD looked at her and the idea of another conflict, one that was just as terrible as what the others had lived through, filled him with dread.
Julia knew the winds of war were brewing, slight as they might seem now. Those in the intelligence community knew what undercurrents were swirling about Europe at present and none of it amounted to anything good. With the breaking of the Treaty of Versaille and Churchill’s rather chilling view of Hitler, war was a possibility. However, that was a discussion for another day.
“I’m hoping it does not but right now, we are returning you to your aircraft. I assume Mr Larabee will be beside himself trying to determine your whereabouts at present. Once we get there, I suggest we depart these shores sooner rather than later..”
“Aye,” Riley added his voice in agreement. “Krauss knows where you are and she’ll be coming. Best place for us to be is in the air, ahead of the mad bitch.”
“Us?” Ezra stared at her and then at Vin because they both knew, another woman joining their party was not going to impress their leader, even if she was writing the cheques. Then again, she did save their asses in Arabia so that did sort of earn her a place on the Millie on this occasion.
“Of course,” Julia said as London welcomed them with open arms in the form of its widening streets, increased traffic and bright lights. “I do have a vested interest in this affair.”
Ezra wondered if it was wishful thinking she was looking at him when she said those words.
Chapter Fourteen:
Human
There was only one thing to do when everyone returned to the Millie. Leave.
In light of their experiences with Nazi agents, there could be no other choice in the matter. No sooner after Nathan, Buck and Josiah found Chris and Mary on Upton Farm surrounded by cows (who looked oddly entertained by the humans), they headed straight back to the Millie and found to their relief, the Nazis had yet to track them back to the hangar. Chris wanted them to leave immediately so Buck returned to the business of refuelling the Millie while they tried to figure out where Vin, Ezra and JD had gone. With JD’s penchant for playing tourist, they could be anywhere.
By the time the sun had set on the day, Chris feared the worse, imagining the Nazis had somehow managed to get their hands on the trio and were doing God only knew what to them. As it was, the remaining members of the seven were maintaining a vigil in the hangar, armed and waiting for an attack by the agents who tried abducting him earlier. Their focus seemed centred upon capturing him alive but if they had Vin, Ezra and JD in their power, they might not need to.
Staring through the open doors of the hangar into the night, Chris watched the planes departing the airfields of Croydon, growing more and more anxious as the duration of his comrades’ absence lengthened. It was clear something was wrong because Vin would know better than to let JD and Ezra stay away from the Millie this long. While JD could easily lose track of time when he was in a new city, and Ezra lost any good sense when he got near a poker table, Chris could always rely on Vin to keep his head.
The fact they were not here, made Chris imagine the worst.
“Chris,” Mary spoke to him, emerging from the cargo ramp leading into Millie’s hold. She was carrying two cups of coffee that immediately sparked his interest when the aroma wafted in his direction. Since returning to the Millie, neither had spoken about what took place between them in the field. While it was little more than a brief exchange of passionate kisses, it still left an air of unspoken tension between them.
“You out here to keep me company?”
Mary gave him a look of infinite patience. “Not with that gun in your hand.”
“I don’t know,” he managed a faint smile as he took the cup she offered. “I kind of think I need to be armed whenever I’m around you.”
“You’re a regular Groucho Marx,” she stood alongside him and stared at the view. “I can’t help it if you’re always two steps behind me.”
“I’m not two steps behind you,” he protested immediately, although to date, it did seem like she was capable of getting the better of him. Every time he told her not to do a thing, it was almost guaranteed she would. “You’re just sneaky.”
“It’s my job to be sneaky,” she smiled at him sweetly.
“Yeah,” he conceded defeat. “I noticed that.”
“What are you going to do if they don’t come back?” Mary asked, able to see beneath his stoic facade there was real worry about his friends. Mary didn’t relish having to tell Alex if anything happened to Vin. Mary and the soon-to-be doctor were best friends since they came into each other’s lives again and she knew just how devastated Alex would be to lose Vin so soon after they found each other.
“If they don’t come back, we’ll be hearing from those Nazi bastards. Sure as hell, they want something. If they do have Vin and the others, they’ll be using the bargaining point.”
“You think they want the artifact?”
“Possibly,” Chris nodded but was not entirely sure it was just the Circlet of Almathea the enemy was after. It probably played a part but not the whole reason. “I’m not sure....”
The twin strobes of headlights flashing in both their faces disrupted Chris’s words as he and Mary winced at the glare and turned away.
“Get to the Millie!” He barked at her and Mary nodded quickly not about to argue when the sound of the car’s engines filled the hangar and alerted the rest of the men to danger. As she hurried up the ramp, she was met halfway by Buck who was carrying a short-barreled shotgun in one hand.
Chris took cover at the side of the hangar door, prepared for trouble if it came tumbling out of the vehicle. Buck immediately took position on the other side, ensuring Chris was covered. While they could not see Nathan or Josiah, they could hear the footsteps behind them and the cock of steel catches of guns primed for use.
The car, one they did not recognise, did not waste any time coming to a halt with a sudden screech. It stopped with its side facing them as if baring its polished flank was a gesture of subservience. It took but a second for Chris and Buck to recognise the familiar face of Vin Tanner peering through the glass of the side passenger window.
“It’s Vin!”
Buck’s loud voice echoed through the hangar, disarming the others immediately.
Vin was the first one out of the car, perfectly aware of what kind of reception they were liable to get considering how overdue their return was. The sharpshooter knew his best friend well enough to know Chris would be chomping at the bit by now at their absence and be liable to shoot first and ask questions later if the person to emerge from the car was someone he didn’t recognise.
“Vin!”
Buck stepped out first, never one to hold back as he approached the younger man and was further relieved to see Ezra and JD stepping out of the car behind him. However, his broad grin faded when he glimpsed something on JD’s face he couldn’t place. Resolving himself to investigate further later, Buck turned his attention back to the safe return of their number.
“Where the hell have you boys been? It’s mighty rude of you to make us worry after you!”
“Sorry mom,” Vin quipped and noted Chris’s expression, knowing it well. It was the same one the man wore whenever the ten-year old he had been was forced to ride into battle with them on the Western Front. “We ran into some Kraut trouble.”
“You okay?” Chris asked quietly and once again, he could see nothing but that scrawny kid wearing a soldier’s uniform, covered in mud and blood.
“We’re fine,” Vin assured him, knowing how much feeling there was behind those two words.
“They seem to be everywhere today,” Josiah answered, he and Nathan joining them. “We’ve had our own problems with them.”
“They cause much trouble?” Vin asked, forgetting his own experiences for the moment.
“That’s a long story,” Nathan shook his head, having no way to condense the chase across the terminal, the runway, the fields, the SHEEP and finally finding Chris and Mary in a field with a whole bunch of bored bovines.
“What about you?” He directed the question at Vin though his gaze was taking note of Ezra opening the door for the driver of the vehicle.
“Just as long,” Vin shrugged. “But it could have gone pretty bad if it wasn’t for some friends.” The sharpshooter’s gaze moved to the new faces emerging from the Humber.
“Mr Larabee,” Ezra spoke up, “I believe you two have already met but Buck, Josiah, Nathan, permit me to introduce Miss Julia Pemberton, our client.”
*****A short time later, they were gathered in the main cabin of the Millie, getting caught up on each other’s adventures for the day. Chris listened to Vin’s recounting of what had almost been done to JD with silent rage, something Buck was incapable of hiding. The ladies man and pilot was properly infuriated by the threat made against their youngest member, retreating to the cockpit with JD to channel his outrage by readying the Millie for departure.
With an idea of what the Nazis wanted of him now, not to mention what they were willing to do to ensure his cooperation, Chris decided they needed to stay ahead of the bastards at any cost. Furthermore, the revelation of Julia Pemberton’s presence seemed to confirm his earlier suspicions about the woman. Despite feeling mild irritation at being shadowed by yet another woman all the way from America, Chris was able to overcome it after learning how she saved his friends from torture or worse. Not to mention, she was the mystery sniper who gave them the advantage during their final confrontation with the Erran in Arabia.
“So Miss Pemberton,” Chris said to the woman seated in one of the seats of the Millie’s passenger cabin. “You coming with us?”
Julia who had not intended to join the men on their journey exchanged a quick glance with Riley. At a glance, Chris saw the same kind of communication he normally shared with Vin, passing between them. Whatever relationship she had with this man, it was clear Julia trusted Riley implicitly.
“I had not intended to,” Julia answered honestly. “However under the circumstances, I think it might be prudent. My employer’s connections may assist us in our efforts to keep one step ahead. Especially once we arrive in the East.”
Chris gave her a hard stare. “And who would that be?”
Julia shrugged, supposing there was no concealing it now and perhaps if the men knew the stakes, they might be motivated to keep one step ahead of Krauss. “His Majesty’s government.”
“So you are British Intelligence,” Ezra standing next to Chris stated, unsurprised not merely because of their earlier discussion about the lady’s origins but also by how resourceful she had been.
“I won’t go into detail but let’s just say we work for the Foreign Office and leave it at that.”
“Just as long as the cheque clears,” Chris replied, deciding in the scheme of things, it mattered little. After Krauss’s attack on them, the least Chris could do was to keep the Aegis from the woman’s hands and would put a bullet in her the brain if she threatened him and his kind again.
“If she gets to go then I do too,” Mary stated, deciding this would be the perfect opportunity to bring this up since she had no intention of going home, not after hearing British Intelligence was involved. Her mind was practically discombobulating from the sheer juiciness of this particular story.
“Absolutely not,” Chris said automatically, not about to be swayed on this point, even if he did get to first base with her out in the field. “It’s too dangerous.”
“I can handle myself,” Mary bit back.
“Fine, when we get up into the air, you can show me how well by jumping out of the plane again with a parachute.”
Mary glared at him, feeling a little incensed that he was still behaving like a chauvinistic pig after what they shared and then realised, the shift in their relationship might make him even more intractable on this point. Unfortunately for him, she was just as stubborn and was not about to be sent home like a misbehaving child.
“I’m going.” She stated with a tone that implied there was no room for negotiation about this and he was just going to have to live with it.
“No, you’re not,” Chris bit back, feeling his own ire provoked, even if he had the sneaking suspicion, he might have already lost the argument here. But hell, he was a man not accustomed to going down easily. “If I have to strap you in a Pan-Am seat myself, you’re going home.”
“Look, you know and I know I’m going. Let’s just get over it and have a nice flight.” She smiled sweetly.
As they launched into another session of bickering, Julia who saw no surprise on any of the faces around her and downright amusement on Riley’s, leaned over to Ezra.
“What’s going on here?” Julia whispered at the gambler.
Ezra met her lovely face with an unrepentant grin. “Unresolved sexual tension.”
*****The Millie cleared the English Coast, crossing over the Channel towards Belgium an hour later.
Thanks to Julia Pemberton’s connections, they were able to gain flight clearance in record time once the refuelling of the Millie was complete. As of yet, the Nazis had not made a reappearance but with Vin, Ezra and JD’s escape, Chris estimated it wouldn’t take long for them to appear again. It was now clear the only reason they held off this long was because Isabella Krauss believed she had leverage to coerce Chris to her will while she had captives. Now this was no longer the case, the German agent would resume her pursuit of him.
As in recent months, JD took the co-pilot’s seat when the Millie left the runway of Croydon airport. However, unlike previous occasions where JD would fill the air with questions about what Buck was doing behind the controls, or chattering enthusiastically about the exotic location they had just left behind or were heading to, the kid was oddly silent. Even though he went through the motions of assisting Buck with the takeoff, the pilot could see the younger man’s mind was nowhere in the cockpit.
Buck made no reaction to this behaviour until England was behind them and the course was set for Belgium. Having heard Vin’s account of their captivity, Buck could tell JD was shaken by the whole episode, though he was trying very hard to hide it. The pilot knew JD sometimes felt lacking in their company, feeling his sheltered upbringing could not possibly match the experiences the rest of them shared collectively. Whatever JD himself felt, Buck knew he touched something in all of them, something that recognised he was a missing part of their number and deserved his place among them.
“You want to talk about it?”
JD lifted his chin and stared at Buck for a few seconds, so lost in thought he almost didn’t realise he was being spoken to. When it did register, he blinked and looked away, facing the dark sky beyond the cockpit glass.
“Nothing to talk about,” he shrugged. “I’m fine.”
“Are you? Really?”
Buck’s tone was devoid of disbelief but he didn’t think for one second the boy was fine. He spoke without the usual teasing he sometimes employed to roast the kid. JD didn’t need that right now, he needed to talk. They all saw how affected he was by what happened but Chris had left it to him to broach the subject with JD because he knew the kid best.
JD met Buck’s gaze at the question and saw nothing but the paternal concern JD had no idea he so craved until he met the man. “I’ll be okay.”
Yet even as he said the words, he knew he was anything but that. Krauss had scared the hell out of him and for the first time, he considered the life he was embarking upon by being one of Chris Larabee’s relic hunters. It wasn’t just that she intended to harm him. Hell, he’d been through worst situations helping Chris navigate some of the death traps they’d been forced to traverse to retrieve an artifact, but what happened tonight affected him on a level he hadn’t expected. She had threatened to take his eyes and the idea of what that could mean for the rest of his life was so terrifying, JD couldn’t even imagine it.
HIs entire life were books and what he could learn. No matter what hardships life threw at him, JD had always been able to take comfort in the written word, to lose himself in a story, a piece of history or even a riddle to be solved, and forget everything else. When he saw that knife, inches away from his face, its polished metal blade gleaming in the light, it felt like some demon winking at him in amusement, just before it took your soul.
“Spooked you huh?” Buck guessed accurately, seeing it on his face.
JD opened his mouth to protest, ready to deliver a sharp rebuttal to the comment when he realised what was the point? Falling silent for a few seconds, he gathered his thoughts and his nerve to speak.
“I feel like a coward. Nothing happened, I’m fine, I shouldn’t be feeling this way.”
“Being scared doesn’t make you a coward JD,” Buck said kindly. “Only an idiot ain’t afraid of consequences. What we do is dangerous. Today you figured out just how much. I can’t say what you ought to do with that but if that makes you take things a little bit more seriously, that can’t be a bad thing can it?”
JD had to concede the point to Buck. “I thought for a moment what it was like to be blind and I didn’t think I could stomach it, to not be able to do for myself, to never be able to see anything again. I know it didn’t happen and it’s silly but I got here because of what I know and what I know came from books. When I thought I was going to lose that I was ready to say anything. I can’t shake how that feels.”
“JD,” Buck stopped him. “It ain’t silly. I don’t think anyone of us wouldn’t have felt differently in the same situation. The fact is, you didn’t say anything or give that bitch what she wanted.”
“I might have,” he admitted shamefully. “When I saw that knife I wasn’t sure.”
“Who is?” Buck shrugged and then took a deep breath. “JD, all I ever wanted in life is to be exactly where I am right now. In my own plane, in the skies, sailing across the sky. First time I saw a plane fly, I knew what I wanted and I never let anything stop me from getting it. I breathed flying from that first day. Hell, it would even chase me in my dreams.”
JD listened, a little puzzled by the admission but willing to hear Buck out to gain context. He wasn't surprised by the revelation though. Buck may have been a shameful skirt chaser but the minute he got behind the yoke of an aircraft, he was home, they all saw it.
“When I fly JD, it’s like I’m where I belong and if I can’t do it anymore, I don’t think I could stand it.” Buck stared at JD in the eye to show the scholar he meant it. “First time I flew recon in the war, I was in this Bristol F2, which was nothing more than balsa and paint. I flew past enemy lines and up there, far away from the Western Front where men were dying like flies, you make the mistake thinking you’re goddamn invincible, nothing can touch you.”
JD didn’t speak, listening to Buck’s story intently, suspecting the point to this tale was the proof otherwise.
“Next thing I knew I got in the crosshairs of Richthofen’s flying circus. I was no older than you JD and I thought I was going to die. I thought the Red Baron had got me in his sights and no one got away from that son of a bitch. I’m a good pilot, maybe one of the best but I’ll tell you Manfred von Richthofen was THE pilot. Almost everyone who went up against him, died. I thought I was going to become another one of his kills.”
“What happened?” JD asked, unable to imagine the happy-go-lucky pilot that afraid of anything.
“I was lucky, it wasn’t him. It was a flyer from his squadron so I managed to get by him, but there was a minute there JD when I was so scared I thought maybe I ought to give it up because as beautiful as the skies are, I could die up here. At that moment, I would have made any promise to walk away with my life.”
JD blinked and looked away. He didn’t speak for a moment, ruminating on Buck’s words. Yeah, he was scared, terrified of what nearly happened to him but worse than that, would be the loss of his friends, the men who took him into their circle and made him apart of their brotherhood. Losing that might even be worse.
“I just wanted you to know,” Buck clamped his hand on his shoulder, “we’ve all been there and we understand. Don’t feel bad because you’re just as human as the rest of us.”
“Thank you Buck,” JD said quietly. “Thanks for telling me.”
“Anytime kid,” the older man said smiling. “Anytime.”
Mary Travis stood against the railing of the ‘gentlemen’s yacht’ procured by Ezra Standish shortly after their arrival in Alexandria, staring into the crystal blue ocean of Ageeba Beach. The shore in the distance revealed a tropical paradise one would find on a postcard from some exotic location, with crisp white sand that stood in stark contrast to the shimmering water. This was a place you’d imagine you’d find girls in hula skirts, not a forgotten corner of the great Macedonian Empire of Alexander the Great, now weathered into non-existence by time and history.
Beyond the shore, concealed by the tall row of palm trees, was the town of Marsa Matruh. During Alexander’s time, it was called Amunia and in the days of the Ptolemies, it was called Paraitonion. Here, was the ruins of the great temple of Rameses II and beneath the waters of this lovely beach was the last remaining annex of the Great Library of Alexandria. Constructed before Cleopatra became the last of her dynasty, the Serapheum was intended to preserve what remained of the library, then falling prey to Romans and later to Christians.
On this day however, it was the keeper of the only remaining clue to the location of the Aegis.
“I’m certain he is alright,” Julia Pemberton said leaning against the railing of the forty-eight-foot beauty of polished wood and twin diesel engines. The craft, called the Maverick, possessing a spacious wheelhouse, a saloon below deck and two berths, had become their temporary refuge since arriving in Egypt.
Mary tensed at the comment, having no desire to be caught exposing her true feelings for Chris Larabee to anyone. She supposed it might have been a moot point, but pride demanded she kept the non-secret for as long as she could. Watching the woman strolling down the deck, Mary thought she looked like Katherine Hepburn, with her fiery red hair, tailored slacks and loose white shirt, a contrast to her own one piece bathing suit.
“I’m not worried,” she feigned indifference. “Even before I met the jerk, I researched him and his group. I know what they get up to on their hunts.”
Of course, this was probably the first time he had gone diving with Ezra and JD wearing a contraption that looked all too fragile for the purpose it was intended. While Chris had assured her Le Prieur’s open-circuit system was less cumbersome than conventional diving gear, Mary was by no means assured. There was none of the protection provided by a normal diving suit and he, Ezra and JD had gone into the water just wearing swimming briefs. Despite the attractive view, Mary was still anxious.
Julia tried not to smile at the woman’s obvious evasion. Since she joined Mr Larabee and his team of adventurers in search of the Aegis, the interaction between him and Mary was almost a Lombard movie farce. Then again, she had no right to chide the woman since she had not liked the idea of Ezra Standish joining the underwater expedition either, though her feelings on that point were still unformed. He intrigued her and had done so since she first spied him at the museum in Albuquerque.
“Of course,” Julia said with a perfectly straight face.
“Ah what do you know,” Mary made a face at her, perfectly aware Julia was seeing right through her denials, before breaking into a good-natured smile. “You know, the last time I saw you, you were in a bassinet and I was barely out of diapers.”
“Well I am afraid I remember none of that,” Julia smiled back before facing the ocean, her emerald coloured eyes hidden beneath her sunglasses. She sometimes found it jarring to remember she had been born American when everything about the land of her birth was erased by her very English upbringing. “But I am glad to finally get the chance to catch up. My mother rarely liked to speak about her life in America, possibly because it was too painful to remember my father, so I know very little about him.”
“I understand,” Mary nodded. Donald Avery was killed six months after becoming a father by the Children of Erran, a doomsday cult. “I can’t say I remember much about that time, but I do know it hit my father, William Styles and Hank Conley quite badly. They were never the same after that.”
Indeed, Donald Avery’s death had revealed to the remaining members of the tight-knit circle of friends they were being hunted by the Erran and eventually it was only her father Orin, who was left.
“It can’t be easy outliving one’s friends,” Julia had understood as much when she spoke to Orin at the museum. The sadness at being the last man standing affected him profoundly, especially when he told Julia about Donald. It was clear just how much he missed the friends of his youth and it quashed any residual feelings of guilt she had at ending Adashir Shah’s life once and for all.
Not that there was much of that.
“How long has it been?” Vin Tanner announced himself, joining the two women at the rail maintaining their vigil. Next to him was Buck Wilmington, who was just as worried for JD as Mary and Julia were concerned for Chris and Ezra. Below deck, Josiah and Nathan chose to stave off their anxieties for their friends by playing cards with Riley.
Vin was no fan of the ocean, or that matter any large body of water. Having spent most of his life inland, swimming was not a pastime usual for him and he was unashamed to admit, he was not good at it either. Now he wished it were otherwise because he would prefer to be at Chris’s side during this expedition to the Serapheum, instead of cooling his heels on this fancy boat.
“Fifteen minutes,” Julia answered promptly.
Buck uttered an annoyed grunt. “Still don’t like the idea of them going down there with a tank of compressed air strapped to their backs. “Anything goes wrong, we wouldn’t have a net fine enough to pick up the pieces.”
Both Mary and Julia turned to him sharply.
Reacting almost on reflex, Vin flicked the back of Buck’s ear with his fingers.
“Ow! That hurt.” The pilot grumbled and tossed Vin a look. “What’s that for?”
“For scaring the womenfolk,” he shifted a sidelong glance at Julia and Mary who despite varying degrees of effort at concealing it, were worried about the expedition beneath the sea.
“Oh,” Buck stiffened in annoyance at his lack of sensitivity. “I’m sure they’re going to be okay. There isn’t much Chris and Ezra can’t handle.”
Buck hoped those weren’t famous last words.
*****The last time Chris went diving, it was while wearing a conventional diving suit, salvaging the spoils from a sunken Phoenician galleon off the Mediterranean coast. It was one of the few experiences Chris swore off ever doing again. Aside from feeling as if he were dressed in a suit of armour, he was limited in his explorations because he was tethered to the vessel they charted by the air hose vital for his survival. The inside of the suit was unbearably hot and he had climbed out of the thing smelling like the innards of a gym bag that had been left in someone’s locker for all too long.
This experience was vastly different.
Surrounded by the sapphire beauty of the sea, he was free to move wherever he wished. Wearing a harness across his body that held oxygen tanks to his back, the mask across his face revealed the world around him in all its spectacular glory. Meanwhile, Le Prieur’s breathing apparatus allowed him to draw air through his nose and mouth. His movement through the water was further aided by the flippers on his feet, making him feel like a fish as he swam towards the ruins not far away from their present location.
Above them, the silhouette of the Maverick, along with the illumination of the afternoon sky told them how far away they were from the surface. Next, to him, JD and Ezra remained within his line of sight. Indeed, his instructions to his comrades, in particular JD, was pointed. As much freedom as they were afforded thanks to this new diving equipment, they were traversing an alien environment they had little experience with. If any of them encountered trouble, the consequences could be fatal if they were on their own.
Thanks to the mask and the clear waters of Ageeba Beach, the outline of the Serapheum could be seen in the nearby distance. Little else about the structure was discernible since it was almost entirely encased in barnacles, coral and other ocean vegetation. An entire ecosystem had come to life around the ancient monument with fronds of sea anemone waving at the shoals of fish shimmering past them. Large groupers that looked like old men with a long way to travel on foot, puffed by with blank interest in the vibrant colours of the ocean bed.
Chris wished he could capture the glorious tableau of sea life as they swam across the coral, sending fish swimming away in fear from the unfamiliar creatures in their midst. All three men were armed with blades while Ezra carried a fishing spear in case they encountered anything down here that took a deeper interest in them. Careful to remain a safe distance above the coral which would cut them to pieces if contact was made with bare flesh, the trio headed toward the nearest opening they could find, once they became familiar with navigating through the water.
As always JD learned fast. Youthful excitement had him pulling ahead until a sharp tug on his flipper and the infamous Larabee glare making it through Chris’s mask, told the young man to slow down. Ezra, on the other hand, was scanning the area as Chris led the way, making sure they weren’t caught unawares by the predators in the deep. He spied the sinister stare of a moray eel watching them from its crack in the reef and a manta ray shifting the sand off itself in a huff at their passing, but so far the idyllic landscape remained just that, idyllic.
The entrance or a window, it was difficult to say at this point because it was covered in almost two thousand years of coral and ocean flora, appeared to be little more than a dark fissure in the coral encrusted walls. Approaching it, Chris flicked on the dive light he brought with him and shone the beam into the ragged hole. A school of clownfish scattered at the illumination and revealed a chamber large enough for them to enter.
Chris went in first, ignoring the claustrophobic feel of the place as he followed the chamber to its end. Like its exterior, it was covered with sea moss and pitted from erosion and salt. Through the deterioration, Chris did see faint outlines of art, some managing to stand the test of time. The letters were in ancient Greek and Chris looked over his shoulder to see JD pausing to study them before he was prompted by Ezra to get a move on. The air was finite and neither Ezra nor Chris wish to be down here when that supply was exhausted.
As they swam deeper into the submerged structure, the evidence of collapse was clear by the broken fragments of wall, the jagged sections still standing and columns crumbled up into uneven loaves across the floor. The slabs of marble paving remained mostly intact while the passage they were entering, clearly a hallway of some kind emptied into a larger room. More sea life began to shift in the darkness, some none too happy by the penetration of light into their safe, dark space and reacted to the strobes in the extreme. Some rushed away in fear, while the more brazen of them attacked the light, bouncing off the glass like moths before Chris shooed them away.
By now, Ezra and JD had turned on their torches and the combined beams of light illuminated the room they had just entered. It was large with high ceilings and while there was damage from its unceremonious end in the sea, it remained as it had stood thousands of years before the birth of Christ. The walls were covered with algae and seaweeds, corals and barnacles but there was no denying what this place was.
A library.
The shelves that once contained the most extensive collection of writings in the history of civilisation were devoid of any works. Each man felt a profound sadness knowing the scrolls, recreated from the books of every ship sailing into Alexandria, did not survive the sea. No doubt, traces of them might still remain on the floor of the library, lost within the layers of moss and sediments across the slabs. A few tables and chairs remained scattered throughout the room as well as pieces of broken pottery, most likely oil lamps peering through the mud on the floor.
While still keeping his comrades in sight, JD swam to one of the mosaic-covered walls. Aiming his torch against the tessera made of glass, shell and ivory, he sought out the reason for their journey here. Opening the knapsack he brought with him, the youngest of the adventurers produced the underwater camera with its Boudain housing and the magnesium flash he would need to record their discoveries here. Unfortunately, there was no way for him to use his notebook in this environment and while his memory was astonishingly good, he did not wish to rely solely on it.
Using the series of hand signals they agreed upon before making the dive, Chris gestured at Ezra to keep a vigil on the entrance to the room while he joined JD in examining the walls for the mosaic created by the forgotten artist Kephalon. Ezra gestured his understanding with a nod and tightened his grip on the fishing spear before swimming through the darkness, his presence marked by the strobe of his flashlight.
The mosaics taking up most wall spaces, revealed various scenes from the ancient world. Even though colour tended to bleed away at this depth leaving most things blue, Chris thought they were breathtaking. Similar to the Mosaics of Delos where the Hellenistic world was so strikingly depicted, the Serapheum’s version was also quite impressive. Images of classical mythology, including a rather gruesome image of Prometheus bound to his scab of rock for the sin of gifting fire to humanity followed one after the other as Chris charted the wall. Other depictions were more pedestrian, such as the view of the Serapheum in its glory. One piece revealed Alexander the Great taming his horse Bucephalus.
A tap on the shoulder reminded him they were here for a purpose and their oxygen supply was too precious for him to be wasting it gawking like a teenager. Turning to the hand that touched him, he saw JD gesturing for him to follow. Despite where they were, Chris could see JD’s enthusiasm through the swirl of floppy hair in front of his face mask. The kid was holding the camera Chris was assured would be worth the pretty penny they paid for it in their hunt for the Aegis.
Reaching the section of wall JD had swam to and had resumed studying, Chris followed the beam from JD’s torch. When Chris was close enough, JD pointed to the tessera in front of them. Flashing his own torch against the faded surface, the light revealed Kephalon’s surviving work. While time had taken the lustre of the tessera, it had blunted none of its power.
Perseus’s profiled image was staring into some depicted horizon. The great hero was astride the horse Pegasus, soaring against a tiled blue background intended to be the sky. Beneath him were the ranges of a mountain, one whose shape and peaks were detailed enough for Chris to believe the artist was describing a specific place, not somewhere random. Leaning closer, his breath sounding louder in his years as bubbles floated in front of him from each exhale, Chris wondered where it was and hoped the inscription would shed some light on its location.
Just as the thought crossed his mind, a burst of light startled him. Bubbles frothed in front of him and he turned to see JD looking a little apologetic. The young scholar was using the underwater camera to take shots of the scene for study later. The magnesium flash had temporarily made it as bright as day in the dark chamber and eclipsed the light of the torch for a brief second before the darkness encroached on them again.
Another burst of magnesium created brilliance, resumed the valiant effort to penetrate the dark and for the next few seconds, technology fought nature for dominance as JD took as many pictures as he could with his camera. Once they were on the surface, he could develop them and they would study it in safer surroundings. As JD continued his work, Chris raised his watch to his wrist and saw the time was running out on their oxygen supply. In the corner of his eye, he could see the light of Ezra’s torch from the entrance, watching their backs as instructed.
Then it started blinking on and off and Chris knew immediately they were in trouble
*****While Chris and JD were engaged in their study of Kephalon’s mosaics, Ezra was keeping a vigil on the chamber to ensure nothing larger than an angelfish made an appearance. As he made his own explorations of the chamber, though not straying far away from the entrance as Chris instructed, the gambler had to admit, he found this method of diving to be very pleasing and was fascinated by the remains of the underwater ruin. When this scavenger hunt was done, Ezra made a mental note to find out what he could about recreational diving. It was certainly a pastime he could enjoy.
Studying the broken fragments of ceramic on the floor, he noted something catching the gleam of his torch and drifted to the slabs to pick it up. The mud and moss swirled free as he lifted up the object and found it to be a cup, no doubt fashioned from bronze and encrusted with sediments. It would clean up nicely after some well-deserved attention Ezra thought. He slipped it into one of the compartments in the belt pack he wore around his waist. Once he tucked away his prize, Ezra returned to his examinations, eager to see what other trinkets he might salvage from this expedition, anything to keep his mind off the redhead on the boat.
Since the lady had come to their rescue and revealed herself to them, his interaction with her had been minimal mostly because his heart beat just a little quicker in her presence. For the last few months, the memory of those amazing eyes and copper coloured hair had been a fantasy he played with often. Despite his cynical nature, Ezra was a romantic and there was something about her that told him, she was someone who could matter to him. If he were not so private about matters of the heart, he would have been tempted to ask Vin if this was how it felt, to meet someone and know immediately, she was your soul mate.
Julia Pemberton made him think that way.
Ezra was also certain his infatuation was not one-sided. Shortly before he made his journey into the sea with Chris and JD, she had seen him off on the deck. Though she wished him well with typical British aloofness, Ezra saw the concern in her eyes. He knew right away she did not share her feelings readily and realised they had that much in common but her entreaty to him to be careful was full of emotion. If he had been so vain, he might have tried to draw it out of her, but they were both creatures of privacy and knew such an attempt would be a mistake. The lady would tell him she cared in her own good time and Ezra knew the value of patience.
The shimmer of silvery scales through the darkness tore his attention away from thoughts of Julia Pemberton and Ezra flashed his torch in its direction to see a shoal of fish swimming through the entrance. Light bounced off their striped bodies as they swam gracefully through the blue water, their speed making Ezra think they were zebras moving across the savannah. There was something about these fish that sparked a memory and for a few seconds, the gambler simply stared, trying to nail down why and then he remembered.
Pilot fish. They were pilot fish, which meant....
Through the black, he saw the shark’s white body swimming into the chamber. Almost eight feet in length, two things jumped out immediately. First, the size of its dorsal fin which was larger than most of its cousins across the globe, the second was the sheer bulk of it. Suddenly, Ezra felt extremely conscious of the fact the only weapon he had in his arsenal was a spear and against a creature who could move through this environment with far greater ease than him, it felt somewhat feeble.
A primeval fear, one that harkened back to the first caveman who came across a predator in the dark, gripped him and Ezra’s terror made his gut clench. Killing the light immediately, Ezra’s first thought was to make a wild dash for Chris and JD, to warn them of the danger. No sooner than the thought crossed his mind, Ezra dismissed it. The beast had yet to see him but the instant it did, it would attack. It took him a moment to identify the type of shark it was before concluding it to be a white tip shark. While his knowledge of ichthyology was not expert, Ezra knew enough to know this species to know it was responsible for more deaths than any other shark species.
Ezra remained very still, hoping his lack of movement and the darkness might shroud his presence from the creature but that would be of little help to Chris and JD, who were still oblivious to the imminent threat approaching them with dead eyes and serrated teeth. Thinking fast, he turned the flashlight on and off repeatedly, signalling in morse and hoped it would be enough.
All it did was tell the shark exactly where he was.
Someday, Ezra thought when he saw the shark turning its soulless eyes in his direction, someone was going to weave a tale of great fiction from the situation he presently found himself.
The shark’s silvery white body turned and stark terror filled him as he saw the upside down harlequin smile part to reveal a row of sharp serrated teeth. His first thought was to flee but then what? The predator about to rip him apart was surging through the water with graceful speed, while he was attempting to escape through the same environment like a clumsy intruder.
Searching desperately for an alternative that did not allow him to fight the beast, Ezra searched the area around him for refuge and saw only the tables left behind when the library descended into the deep. Swimming towards one before the creature intercepted, he wondered if Chris had seen his warning and gotten JD clear of the place while the shark’s focus was on him. Reaching the table, he had less than a second when the predator closed in.
Ezra flipped the table on its side and was rewarded by the impact of the shark’s nose against the wood. The power of the creature drove him and the table backwards and in the fleeting moment before he felt the collision of metal against the stone, supposed he ought to be grateful the table didn’t snap in half. As it was, the tank against his back made a loud clang and another thought struck him, what if the thing had been damaged?
These split-second thoughts had little time to coalesce because the shark was still coming. Ezra saw it quickly recover from his earlier action and was swimming through the water again, its jaws widening as it prepared to ram the table once more. Somehow, Ezra knew the wood would be incapable of withstanding a repeated assault. The serrated teeth seemed even more menacing and reminded Ezra of the spear he was holding.
Ducking behind the table like a shield when those teeth were upon him, he felt the shockwave through the wood as the nose of the creature struck it like a wrecking ball. A loud crack was followed by the table’s surface giving way and saw the pale colour of the bark when it was split. Raising his eyes to see through the cloud of bubbles, the wide mouth opened and Ezra never thought it was possible to feel this much fear. He lashed out, driving the sharp point of the spear into the beast’s cartilage hide.
The shark retreated immediately from the pain, the massive body shaking like an eel as a shudder raced across its length from head to tail. A trail of blood followed its withdrawal diminishing almost immediately by the ocean current. Ezra took a moment to seek out Chris and JD and was grateful when he saw only murky blue water. If they knew of his situation, they were would likely have switched off their torches the instant they saw his signal.
While he was no martyr, he hoped they had not stuck around to try and save him because in this watery environment they would be just as disadvantaged as he. He had no wish for them to face this monster in its domain and end up the same way if it was his fate to meet his maker this day. In any case, he had no more time to debate the matter because the shark had recovered from the surprise attack and was now coming after him, no doubt filled with fury and aggression. He had no doubt if he failed against this creature’s attack, he would be ripped apart.
CLANG!
The sound was so loud and jarring, Ezra reacted to it as swiftly as the shark with the great beast turning its bullet-shaped head in the direction from which the sound came. Another loud clang followed the first, giving both Ezra and the shark a clearer idea of its source. His heart froze at the realisation it was coming from the direction of where he had last seen Chris and JD. As he looked its way, he saw a flashlight come to life, flickering on and off in a sequence that repeated itself in the three seconds it took for him to comprehend what it meant.
GO.
The message was no doubt from Chris Larabee who was giving him the opportunity to escape with his life. For a second, Ezra almost refused until he realised staying would mean disobeying Chris’s order and after their service together for so long, the gambler was too conditioned to ignore it. Swearing inwardly, he did what Chris demanded and took his chance when the shark went towards the source of the noise, hoping that if he got to the boat, he might think of a way to help Chris and JD.
Because until then, they were on their own.
*****When Chris saw Ezra’s light flicker off, he realised immediately they were in trouble.
How much trouble didn’t fully reveal itself until he saw the shoal of pilot fish and caught on even quicker than Ezra, what the appearance of the creatures meant. Pilot fish and sharks shared one of nature’s oddest relationships where the tiny fish fed off the excess flesh around the apex predator’s mouth, keeping the shark in question free from parasites. It was also a good signal to any human in the water that if pilot fish was about, it was time to get out of it.
The white tip shark that entered the chamber was more than large enough to deal with the humans in sharing the space and Chris swam to JD the instant the lights had dimmed on Ezra’s torch to warn the kid of what was coming. JD was still taking his pictures when Chris’s arm on his shoulder made him turn sharply.
His questioning look reached through the mask and remained long enough for Chris to point out the shark presently trying to make Ezra Standish a meal before it was replaced by one of panic. Bubbles produced from his rapid breathing immediately covered his face and Chris had to put both hands on his shoulder to calm him down because hyperventilating whilst underwater with a diver’s mask was almost as damaging as a shark attack.
With growing horror, Chris saw Ezra who had reignited his torch so he could see the large creature attacking him, being slammed against the wall and knew constant pounding like that was going to cause serious injury to the gambler if he didn’t get eaten first. Even more alarmingly than those two possibilities was the fact Ezra might damage his oxygen tank and run out of air while down here. Perfectly aware of just how vulnerable they were here, Chris knew Ezra needed a distraction to get away..
Thinking quickly, he searched the floor for something to use to draw the shark’s attention and sighted the outline of what appeared to be a bronze candlestick against the floor. Swimming to it, Chris picked up the ancient relic, creating a cloud of mud and algae to swirl around his fist, before swimming to JD. Tapping the camera, he gestured quickly to the kid what needed to be done and hoped JD understood or else he was going to be just as screwed as Ezra if they didn’t do anything.
JD nodded, his fear apparent on his face but the kid was too stubborn to let it get the better of him.
Still clutching the candlestick in his hand, Chris swam to a fallen column, its shaft almost two weed wide and started banging it against the ruined marble. The sound was loud enough to capture the attention of the shark immediately and it halted in its attempt to reach Ezra. Once it turned, Chris flickered the torch on and off, delivering his short message to Ezra, hoping the gambler was smart enough to guess what he was doing and clear the hell out.
He didn’t get a chance to find out because his distraction had succeeded spectacularly, prompting the great fish to swing around, sourcing out its newest target. Chris immediately switched off the torch and got down low, ensuring the column provided him with cover as he saw the fish swimming towards him. The shark’s black button eyes which were the perfect reflection of the creature’s sometimes soulless visage sought out its prey.
Chris stopped breathing, further masking his presence and looked up to see the black silhouette passing over him in the water. Like Ezra, Chris’s heart was pounding, the way any lesser creature would do when faced with the animal occupying the top of the food chain. Man without his technology was at the mercy of an apex predator like any other creature in the wild. As it passed over him, Chris pushed up from the ocean bed, his blade brandished.
It slid into the belly of the creature all the way to the hilt, with pulses of blood flowed like tendrils through the blue, creating a mist of red that diminished quickly in the deep. The shark reeled in agony, its body twisting in reaction before it sought out the source of the attack. Before it could do so, JD under instruction swam out from his hiding place, his camera held in a white-knuckled grip. Not that Chris could blame him. Facing this monster would not be his first choice either.
Nevertheless, JD carried out his part of the plan despite his fear and considering all the things Chris had asked of him in the last year since the boy joined them, Chris had to admire his guts. Fear, like every other obstacle in JD’s life, was a thing to be hurdled, not to shrink from.
The first burst of light from the flaring magnesium flash bulb filled the space with such brilliance, even Chris had to look away. For a brief second, the space between man and shark was illuminated so brightly, it felt like they were only a few feet from the surface of the water, not dozens deep, in a chamber on the sea bed. The shark recoiled immediately, it’s sensitive eyes flooded with the glare. The conical head turned and Chris hoped the punishment they were inflicting upon it would be enough to force the creature to leave and not piss it off even more.
It circled the space where JD had been, trying to regroup after the bright flare, a mist of blood still drifting beneath its body where Chris had stabbed it. JD was trying to get to the exit out of the chamber as Chris ordered but was soon faced with the shark coming in for another run at the younger man. JD raised the camera at it again, setting off the magnesium lash a second time and once again, lighting up the room with its white-hot brilliance.
This time, the ploy worked better and when the shark circled once more it went further afield. Chris waved JD towards the entrance and the both of them surged through the water, reaching the narrow passage leading back to the surface. Of course, they were outrunning a predator that could move a great deal faster than they did in this environment and JD’s supply of flashes for his camera was not infinite. If they could leave the structure before the creature discovered they were gone, they might have a chance of surviving the next ten minutes.
Ezra was nowhere in sight and Chris hoped to God the gambler had gotten back to the boat with the opening Chris had given him. If the man was still in the library, Chris did not even want to think of what would happen when the shark found him.
Even with the weight of the tanks against their backs, adrenaline was making them move through the water with speed, leaving a trail of bubbles behind Chris knew the shark would hone in on soon enough. Both of them were swimming neck and neck when they saw the outline of the entrance to the passage suddenly appear, giving form by the sunlight outside the walls of this sunken ruin.
They were almost to the entrance when suddenly both men were thrown sideways against the walls of the chamber when the shark swam right between them. Chris bit down on the mouthguard of the breather he was wearing when he felt the pain of his brush with the creature. The shark’s cartilage scraped his side and he saw a light cloud of blood as skin was broken. Knowing there could be nothing worse than bleeding with a shark in the water, Chris ignored the consequences to himself and sought out JD.
JD had not been hurt, even though he was swept against the wall and was fully aware when the shark turned and came at them head-on. He had two bulbs left in his flash and his fingers fumbled to replace it as the creature closed in. Lifting up the camera as its jaw widened, JD set off the flash again and once more, that brilliant glare filled the space between them. This time, the effect was much worse because they were in a narrower space.
The creature’s conical snout veered away at the last minute, colliding hard against the wall in its effort to escape the intense light. Taking advantage of its present disorientation, JD swam towards Chris who was trying to put as much distance between himself and JD. Like Chris, JD knew that while he was bleeding like that, the leader of the seven was a beacon to a hunter who could smell blood at one part per million, and reportedly had the ability to sense heartbeats in water. Unless Chris got out of the sea fast, his blood would lead the creature straight to them.
They were at the ragged opening into the library and even though the faint light penetrating that doorway, they could see the shark’s reaction to the blood. It was going to catch up to them in seconds. What came next was pure inspiration and part terror. Pulling out his diver’s knife with its formidable blade, JD ignored Chris’s puzzlement before he slammed the hard still point into the shaft of the tank.
It didn’t penetrate at all, barely a scratch but the second try yielded the results needed. Ensuring his grip was on the strap of the harness holding the tank to Chris’s back, he saw Chris’s eyes widen and knew the shark was about to reach them. Despite this, Chris allowed JD to make one more attempt, showing the young man even in these possible last seconds, he trusted him.
The rupture was small but it was enough.
Chris was suddenly pushed forward, propelled by the compressed air escaping from his tank thanks to the puncture JD had put in it. As he sped through the ocean, JD held on to Chris and was taken along for the ride as the older man, realising what JD had done ensured they headed towards the Maverick whose outline they could see on the surface of the water. Looking over his shoulder, JD saw the shark had emerged from the sunken library and was giving chase. The puncture in Chris’s air tank had widened the gap between prey and predator for them to have a chance of making it back to the boat alive, but that margin was narrowing.
The shark, already stinging from its wounds and attracted by the scent of the prey’s blood water in the water, was not about to give up the chase. As the oxygen rushed out of the puncture in a jet of bubbles, both men aided the journey through the water by swimming harder than they had in their entire lives. Fleetingly, JD prayed Ezra was on the boat by now, because if he was still down here...
The thought was too terrible.
The hull of the boat came into view and JD could see the shimmering shape of the others standing at the edge, searching for them. The view was still too obscure for them to make out who was who, but knowing they were there was enough. Behind them, the shark was closing the distance as the supply of compressed air in the oxygen began to dwindle and JD knew if it ran out before they reach the ladder to the deck of the boat, the beast might still get its meal.
Out of nowhere, an arrow surged through the water and struck the creature on the broadside of its head.
The point of the arrow dove in deep and once again, a mist of blood oozed of into the water. Another arrow followed the first, this one lodging itself in the shark’s dorsal fin. They were close enough to the surface for the arrow to retain enough of its velocityto be damaging. The same could not be said if bullets were fired instead. WIthout seeing it himself, JD knew it was Vin Tanner on the deck of the Maverick, using the bow he loathed everyone calling Clara, giving them this respite.
The air finally gave out within a few feet of the stepladder leading to the deck of the Maverick. Not that it mattered because Josiah and Buck were already there, reaching for them when they neared it. Both men reached into the sea and hauled Chris and JD out, helping their climb up the rungs before they collapsed on the deck. As expected, Vin fired one more arrow at the shark, before lowering Clara and turning his attention back to the others.
To JD’s utter relief, he saw Ezra was there.
The gambler was seated on one of the wooden benches along the port side deck, attended to by Nathan. The healer was examining the dark bruise along the back, no doubt where Ezra was slammed into the wall when the shark had driven him into it along with the table Ezra had been hiding behind. Leaning against the railing and watching them both was Julia Pemberton and JD had the impression by the way her attention was fixed on them, it was real concern she hid behind her sunglasses.
At the sight of them, the gambler was on his feet, dismissing Nathan’s entreaties to sit down with a wave of his hand.
“Mr Dunne, Mr Larabee,” Ezra approached them with clear relief on his face. “I am gratified to see you both in one piece.”
“Same here Ezra,” JD smiled. “Thanks to you. If you didn’t warn us....”
“I believe considering you both availed yourself to my escape, we are even.”
Anything else he was going to say was overshadowed by Mary’s exclamation of horror at the sight of Chris on the deck, his torso swathed with a towel to stymie the blood flowing from his side scraped raw by the brush of shark cartilage.
“Chris!”
Her heart froze in her chest seeing the crimson stain spreading across the towel, the blood no longer held at bay by the ocean pressure. Her cry succeeded in propelling Nathan forward, the healer forgetting all about Ezra as he pushed past them to reach Chris.
“Good Lord!” His eyes widened with similar shock.
“I’m fine, I’m fine,” Chris winced at both their reactions knowing it was a little bit more serious than his casual dismissal might imply. Still, he knew the injury looked worse than it was and Nathan always reacted this way when any of them were injured. As for Mary, Chris thought it was actually rather nice to have a woman fuss over him again. Of course, he would rather face that shark instead of telling her such a thing.
No matter what Mary Travis might tell herself about Chris Larabee, the journalist could not deny she cared for this man deeply, even when he was being a chauvinistic ass. Seeing the towel stained with blood, struck cold terror into her heart and reminded her most sharply, what kind of life he led and how much danger he faced on a daily basis.
“You idiot!” Mary dropped to her knees next to him, her ire provoked by her concern. “Haven’t you faced enough scary things to learn how to get away!”
“Not that many,” he turned to her. “I still got you dogging me.”
Mary threw up her hands in exasperation while the men around her tried not to snigger.
“Why do I bother?”
“I’m sure Mr Larabee is fine,” Julia assured Mary as she stepped forward, seeing through Mary’s bluster to recognise what she was masking. In truth, when Julia had seen Ezra Standish climb out of the water alive but somewhat bruised, she had felt a little of that herself.
“Idiot,” Mary cursed again and leaned forward to plant a quick kiss on his cheek before they exchanged an affectionate glance.
“I’m okay,” he assured her once more.
“You better be. I won’t have you ruining my story by dying.”
*****While Chris and Mary shared their moment, with Nathan continuing to treat the leader of the seven, Vin joined the group after chasing away the shark, last seen cursing underwater sporting an arrow through its dorsal fin, having returned Clara to her case. Vin instructed Josiah to get moving, wanting to take the craft back to shore in case Chris needed more help than Nathan was capable of provider. The sharpshooter neared JD and Ezra instead, wanting to get the details on their expedition to the Serapheum.
“How did it go?”
Julia who was also very interested in the answer listened closely from her spot by the railing.
“I cannot say,” Ezra answered truthfully, aware JD had taken a few pictures when they were in the library but could add nothing more on whether or not the journey had been worth the price they had almost paid. “I was too busy trying to keep myself from being devoured.”
Inwardly, Julia stiffened at how close that had come to becoming a reality.
“I got what we needed,” JD said to Vin, lifting the camera as proof of his success. Aside from capturing what they needed from Kephalon’s work, the flash had saved all their lives. “As soon as I develop the film and translate what’s on it, we’ll know where to go next.”
Vin stole a glance at the ocean surrounding them and hoped wherever they ended up next, it was drier.
Chapter Seventeen:
The Eye of the Storm
"You should be resting."
Across the smoky glow of the candlelight on their table in the cocktail bar of the Paradise Inn, Mary Travis stared at Chris Larabee reproachfully. Surrounded by lavish furnishings and draperies of white and gold, a crystal chandelier hung from the ceiling, illuminating a painting of the Muses in classical style. On the floor of Valencia marble, were two dozen or so tables occupied by guests of the hotel who were waiting to take up their reservations at the five-star restaurant. In the centre of the room, a crooner accompanied by a ten-piece orchestra belted out Eddy Duchin's latest tune.
"You are my lucky star
I saw you from afar
If Garbo is a glamorous creature
You're a four-star feature
Though you are never seen
Up on a movie screen
You are my Shearer, Crawford, Hepburn, Harlow and my Garbo
You are my lucky star..."
"Stop nagging at me and drink your champagne," Chris ignored her and listened to the music. Even though his side did still feel a little sore, Nathan had swaddled him up good, and the pain was dulled enough by now for him to tolerate it. Besides, how often did he have to entertain a gorgeous dame with eyes for him (despite her claims to the contrary) in a fancy place like this? Until JD could develop the images he had taken of Kephalon's mural and examine them, there was little for them to do and since it appeared the Nazis had yet to catch up to them, there was no reason they couldn't take a little R and R.
"I am not nagging you," Mary made a face in his direction but picked up the flute of sparkling champagne. She had to admit Chris wore the black tuxedo expected of guests in this establishment very well. For a chauvinistic ass, he could be damned dapper when the mood took him, and she could not deny she was more than a little smitten, even if the realization galled her to no end. "I'm just worried. You were wrestling with a shark only a few hours ago."
"I wouldn't call it wrestling. More like getting my ass out of its way before I got eaten."
"That does not make me feel any better," she grumbled.
"Come on," he got to his feet and held out his hand. "Dance with me, Miss Travis?"
Mary looked up at him and flashed him a little smile. "Why do I put up with you?"
Chris took her by the hand, feeling a little pride when all eyes followed her across the dance floor. That glorious hair of hers hung around her shoulders like a cascade of gold, and she was dressed in a silvery, halterneck dress which emphasized her peaches and cream skin. He liked it even more when she offered no protest since she expressed her feelings for him quite clearly in that field outside Croydon.
"My charm and wit," Chris remarked, sliding an arm around her waist as they began to dance.
"Or the temporary leave of my senses," she returned smoothly but did not resist as they started dancing.
Chris hid his satisfied smirk, aware it would only serve to poke the bear of her feminist outrage. Sweeping his gaze across the room, he saw Buck working the bar, the big man playing up his devil-may-care pilot's persona to charm a few of the ladies present. A trio of them surrounded him, listening avidly to Buck tell God only knew what tall tales. Vin had opted to stay in the hotel room with JD, the young sharpshooter having no intention of getting into a 'monkey suit' as he called it, unless it was unavoidable. Julia Pemberton's offsider, Riley had volunteered to keep an eye on JD as well.
While there was no trace of the Nazis having followed them to Marsa Matruh, Chris did not wish any of their company to be alone at any point during their time in Egypt. After what happened in England, Chris was not about to risk anyone's life by being complacent. Even though he appeared to have recovered, Chris could still see what had almost happened to JD left its mark upon the young scholar's psyche. Enough so that when Chris ran into Isabella Krauss, he would be as merciful to her as she had intended to be to JD.
Surveying the room as was his habit no matter what the situation, he saw Josiah sharing a table with a rather attractive brunette in her forties. Both were engaged in conversation, and Chris wondered if JD would desist in badgering the former seminary student about Audrey King if he knew Josiah was capable of finding female company all on his own. Nathan on the other hand, was probably with Ezra and Julia, whom the gambler was trying to deny fascinated him, at the hotel's gaming tables.
At least Chris could be assured Ezra wouldn't lose the Millie in one of his games.
Returning his attention back to the woman in his arms, he couldn't help being intoxicated by the scent of her perfume which felt like a mixture of roses and some other element he couldn't name but was nevertheless pleasing. Sarah used to like roses, he thought absentmindedly and quickly put the thought out of his head. It had taken him a long time to accept she was gone and he needed to move on. Never was that more apparent than when he met Mary, and now they were here, he wasn't about to backtrack. Sarah would have been the first one to tell him to start living again.
"So is this what you expected when you stowed away on the Millie?"
Mary raised her eyes to him and sighed. "You're never going to let me forget that are you?"
Chris pretended to think and then replied with a grin. "No."
She rolled her eyes. "Well I didn't expect to be so hands-on in your adventures, and I could have done without falling out of a plane or being chased by Nazis, but all in all, you do know how to show a girl a good time, Mr Larabee."
"I try. So what happens after you write your story? You going to vanish on me back to New York?"
"It's what I do Chris," Mary met his gaze, sensing despite his light tone, there were deeper depths to his question. "However, I am the best kind of girlfriend."
Chris crooked a brow and stared at her in question. "Really?"
"Yeah," she smiled. "The kind who's not waiting for you to come back from whatever insanity you and *Sunshine Sammy, Mickey, little Farina and the rest of the gang are getting up to. Neither of us are the settling down kind, are we?"
Not any more, Chris thought. She was right. He liked his life, travelling across the globe with men who were his brothers, chasing treasure that most people were convinced were fiction. It was a good life, one that had given him and the rest of the seven, purpose. Chris was in no particular hurry to see that change, and he had a feeling, she was gripped with the same passion in her work as a reporter, he would not take that away from her, any more than she was hesitant to stake a claim on him. It was enough that they cared for each other.
The future was history yet to be written, and Chris was happy to let it unfold in its own time.
*****Ezra sat across the table and stared at his opponents.
He was in the eye of a storm, in a place of calm devoid of the chaos elsewhere. Sounds had diminished into nothingness, the clinking of glasses, the chatter of voices and the distant music penetrating the walls from the other rooms in the hotel. All he could see was the table, the faces of the opponents with their thin masks hiding nothing and of course, the cards. In his mind’s eye, he saw every play, calculated every probability and read the outcome in the orchestra of tics, twitches, and blinks escaping with a held breath or a random exhale.
There were three other opponents at the table, and Ezra had deemed all but one to be of any real threat. The Turk with his crimson red fez, with twirling moustache and cream white suit. He reeked of exotic oils, too much cologne and the slight whiff of a Turkish cigar. His portly gait straining the buttons of his ornate vest, he admired Julia who was sitting on Ezra's right with more interest than Ezra liked. Of course, he couldn't blame the Turk's attention because she was rather stunning in the satin green dress with the scallop neck, that brought out her emerald coloured eyes.
Next to the Turk was someone Ezra knew Maude would have taken particular delight in crushing. Dressed impeccably in a tuxedo with tails, the man introduced himself as Danforth Barrineau and spoke with a decidedly Charleston twang. He eyed Nathan who was sitting next to Ezra at the table with obvious disdain but was not brave enough to express his displeasure at sharing the gaming table with a negro. Just as well, Ezra thought, shooting a man in the kneecap was no way to end an evening.
That left the Englishman.
Like the rest of the men at the table, save the Turk, he was wearing a tuxedo although his was completely black. With a thick moustache and a face lined with too many years in the sun, most likely India, his speech indicated he was born to a title. He indeed carried himself with the airs and graces of someone who never had to worry about money because it was probably too vulgar to concern oneself with. Despite the fact he was quite vocal in his opinions, Ezra had learned quite quickly, the man was the most formidable talent at the table and was the one to offer him serious competition.
"So you don't think we'll get into another war?" Nathan asked, played out of the game some time ago and staying for the conversation.
Major Crittendon snorted at the notion. "I can't see White Hall stupid enough to get us entangled in another foreign mess. I'm certain this business with the Germans will pass. Hitler is a bombastic fool whose rhetoric will eventually wear itself out. I fought in the last war, and there was enough bloodshed on both sides for anyone to want a repeat of such a conflict. I served in Gallipoli."
Gallipoli.
Both Ezra and Nathan knew it well. Taking place before the entry of the United States into the Great War, the Entente powers attempted to weaken the Ottoman Empire by attacking them on home soil. The beach landing was so poorly thought out, thousands died by day's end. Ezra who had run into a few of the 'Anzacs' later on in the war, discovered the deep animosity felt by the Australian and New Zealand armed forces who thought they were used as cannon fodder by the English.
"Mr Standish," Julia spoke up, clearly sceptical of Crittendon's assessment of the German situation, "you and Mr Jackson served in the war, did you not?"
"We did ma'am," Nathan nodded, giving her a little smile because he'd caught on to the fact she disliked Crittendon's viewpoint of German aggression and Nathan had to admit, he agreed with her considering their experiences with the Reich of late. "Ezra was cavalry, and I was in the 92nd Battalion. We ran into each other during the Oise-Aisne Offensive."
Crittendon's eyes widened in surprise. "That was a nasty business. Heavy casualties indeed."
"I didn't think n... I mean coloured soldiers were allowed to serve in the war? I thought they had you boys working in the kitchens or cleaning floors." Barrineau's voice oozed with contempt at the idea of Nathan serving alongside any white soldier.
Ezra's kept his focus on the cards and Crittendon, but he did manage to respond, putting a kibosh on the tension he could see in Nathan's shoulders at that obvious disparagement. "On the contrary, the 92nd was one of the few coloured regiments serving on the front. Furthermore, if not for Mr Jackson here, who was a field medic, I would have died during that particular campaign."
"Oh my," Crittendon exclaimed. "You are most fortunate then."
Ezra shifted his gaze sideways long enough to brush against Ezra and added, "I am indeed. I owe Mr Jackson my life."
"Here, here," Crittendon raised his glass of whiskey in a toast to the healer.
"But you do not think another war is coming?" Sayid, their Turkish opponent who imbibed only water, asked.
"Not at all," Crittendon said confidently, and from the corner of his eye, Ezra saw the spark of disbelief in Julia's eyes.
*****Growing a little weary of listening to Crittendon's opinion on everything from the impossibility of another war and the 'Indian' problem currently taking place in the sub-continent due to the antics of Mahatma Gandhi, Julia excused herself to use the powder room. Unfortunately, Crittendon's attitude was not a surprise to her. England was reluctant to entertain the idea of another war after what the last one had cost them in lives.
Still, Julia was a realist, and she knew the sun was setting on the British Empire. The Great War had fractured it with Australia and New Zealand declaring independence, and India's was not a question of if but rather when. Even in this part of the world, the Arab states, expecting their freedom following the war, were simmering at the broken promises of independence. All it would take was another war and the British Empire as it was in Victoria's day, would fall. Oh, England would still exist, but it would never be what it was, and she had a sneaking suspicion, it would be the Americans taking centre stage.
It was a great deal more palatable to her than a world taken over by the Reich.
Those who knew better were watching with growing horror, the rapid growth of Germany's industrial and military powers. Little more than three years ago, Germans were walking around carting wheelbarrows of devalued currency. Next year they would be hosting the Olympics. Germany's prosperity would be awe-inspiring if it were not for the fact it was being generated by fascism.
War was coming, and like India's eventual independence, it wasn't a question of if but rather when.
She was about to slip into the small hallway leading to the powder room when out of the shadows of a tall, Doric column, a man stepped out and jabbed a gun against her spine. She stiffened, about to react when she saw he was not alone and with the barrel pressed so hard against her skin, she could not risk trying to disarm him. One pull of the trigger and she would be cut in half.
"I would not move Fraulein," the man with the leather coat and the weaselly eyes warned.
"I wouldn't dream of it Herr Mahler," Julia returned coolly and noted a slight stiffening behind her as he reacted to the knowledge of his identity. Without missing a beat and mostly to off balance him, Julia continued to speak. "You're Hermann Mahler, born in Stuttgart in 1890, to parents Edith and Heinrich Mahler. You were educated at Heidelberg University until your expulsion due to poor academic..."
"Silence!"
Julia allowed herself a satisfied smile when she saw the men standing with him suppressing their amusement at that little morsel of information. Mahler was a typical SS thug, a small man elevated to power because of his ability to discard morality and possessed the willingness to indulge his most sadistic pleasures. The SS had become home to men with dangerous ideas, finally giving leave to act upon their worst impulses thanks to their sycophantic worship of a mad man who believed himself a god.
The hallway leading to the ladies powder room intersected at the end to another corridor, one leading out of the building. Julia had no intention of going anywhere with him. Fortunately, he had ushered down the length of the narrow passage, which allowed no more than two men to stand abreast of each other. It kept them from rushing at her.
"You will come with us," he barked, his voice now laced with anger and she had no doubt he was salivating at the thought of getting his hands on her and back to Krauss.
Krauss.
Was she here? If Mahler was here, then Krauss would not be far behind. She had to warn the others.
"You don't have to shout," Julia replied coolly. "There is no reason why we cannot conduct ourselves like civilized people."
"We will show you what civilized people do Fraulein, soon enough."
Not if she had anything to do about it because at that moment a champagne cork popped somewhere and the sound was just loud enough to be distracting. The split-second Mahler took to crane his neck in reaction was all she needed. Julia spun around, just as his eyes snapped front and pulled the trigger. She tilted sideways sharply as she went for the gun. Gripping his wrist as he fired the bullet, she shoved the barrel of the gun towards the wall.
The explosion of sound was amplified by their narrow surroundings and felt a dozen times louder in her ears, serving its purpose as a signal flare to Ezra and the rest of the seven presently in the gaming floor and the cocktail lounge. Mahler attempted to break free of her grip as the second man next to him moved to grab her. Julia stopped Mahler’s dead in his tracks with an upturned palm connecting with his Adam's apple. Mahler dropped the gun immediately, both hands clutching his throat as he sunk to his knees.
The second Nazi coiled his arms around her shoulders like a snake, trying to restrain her and barking German profanities in her ear at the same time. As he gripped her tight, Julia saw the third man approach, gun in hand and kicked out her foot with a well-practised move that sent the weapon flying across the hallway. Glaring at her hatefully, she saw his fist clench in readiness to strike her, but once again, she was ready for him.
As soon as he was in reach of her legs, Julia pulled in her knees, using her captor's coiled arms for support. Kicking out, she planted both heels in the remaining man's chest and pushed back. Julia and her assailant were forced back against the wall hard. Bouncing off the hard surface, she used the momentum and flipped him over her shoulder. He tumbled against his partner.
While they became a tangle of limbs for a few seconds, Julia saw Mahler going for the gun, having recovered enough to make an attempt at it. She rushed past the two men and threw a forward kick at his face and felt confident she heard the crack of his jaw. He rolled on to his back, clutching his face, just as she sighted Ezra and Nathan at the end of the hall.
"Julia, drop!"
Without question, she ducked down low as Ezra produced the derringer hidden beneath the sleeve of his tuxedo jacket. The bullet though small, boomed loudly and Julia cast a glance over her shoulder to see one of her attackers sink to his knees, the very prolific bullet hole in the centre of his forehead oozing with blood before he fell forward.
"Miss Julia, are you okay?"
Nathan was at her side offering her his hand. Their arrival prompted the remaining assailants to leave, no doubt to regroup since their attempt at a covert abduction had failed. The remaining thug dragged Mahler to his feet, and the duo hurried away as Ezra fired the remaining bullet in their direction.
A sharp scream followed as Mahler clutched his bleeding ear in pain as he was ferried away.
"Thank you, Mr Jackson," Julia said gratefully at the timely rescue.
"Mr Jackson is known for his fortuitous arrival at the most inconvenient times," Ezra flashed the healer a grin and then regarded Julia with more than a hint of gratitude at her having emerged from the attempted kidnapping unscathed. "Are you alright, my dear?"
"I'm fine," she gave him a little smile. "That was an impressive shot."
"Terrible," Ezra frowned. "I was aiming to kill him."
*Members of Our Gang - 1930 serial.
“So, you been working long with Miss Pemberton?”
Francis Riley, or simply Riley to those who knew him, lifted his eyes to Vin Tanner at the question. He liked the younger man because Vin was nowhere as loud or obnoxious as most of the Americans he encountered tended to be. Riley suspected that might have something to do with wealth breeding arrogance. After all, it was mostly the rich who could afford to travel abroad these days. Then again, arrogance did not limit itself to the American aristocracy. The English could teach master classes in arrogant and snobby behaviour.
Still, no one was perfect, except the Irish.
“Almost five years.” Riley addressed Vin’s question after a moment. “Her father asked me to keep an eye on her. Sean had promised her mam that she’d be safe. It seems Ellie wasn’t all that convinced Julia entering the Service was the best idea.”
Vin raised a brow and was about to ask Riley who ‘Sean’ was when he realised Riley was talking about Julia’s stepfather, not Donald Avery who died when she was an infant. “That’s a big favour.”
“Aye,” Riley nodded. “But when a man saves your life more than a dozen times over, he gets to ask big favours. Sean and me served in Africa during the Boer Wars. He was my commander, and over time, we became good friends. When he joined Cummings at Vauxhall, he asked for me. I wasn’t settling well into civilian life with my dear darlin’ wife having just gone to heaven, so it was just what I needed to get on with things.”
“Sorry to hear about your wife,” Vin offered the obligatory remark as it was the proper thing to do. “But I can understand about favours like that. All of us here, except JD, we were on the Front.”
“Dirty place to be,” Riley nodded, having read the dossier on Chris Larabee’s group well before meeting them in person. “But a foxhole is the place where friendships are built or die. You were just a wee lad, weren’t you?”
Vin cracked a grin at his description. “Wee and scrawny but I didn’t have no place else to go. Didn’t like the idea of an orphanage much, so I signed up, pretending to be twelve or thirteen when I was really ten. Somehow manage to convince the recruiter I was just young looking for my age. Still, when I got to France, Chris was madder than spit. He was ready to send me home.”
Vin’s expression grew thoughtful, remembering Chris Larabee’s face the first time he realised Vin was one of his recruits. After the lieutenant had overcome his outrage, Chris looked him in the eye and without Vin needing to say a word, understood what he was sending Vin back to might be worse than the Front. All it had taken was one moment of connection and Vin knew there and then, whatever happened later in life, their two fates were bound together. At that instant, Vin knew where he was meant to be.
At Chris Larabee’s side.
“I’m guessing he didn’t,” Riley surmised, noting Vin’s pensive mask.
“Yeah,” Vin nodded slipping out of the past back into the present to make contact with Riley’s eyes again. “Chris, let me stay and assigned me to look after the horses. I wasn’t in the war as long as they were, but it was bad enough.”
Riley had no doubt of that.
He spent the war in the trenches, peering across the barren death of No Man’s land, through rows of barbed wire where flowers ought to be growing. He’d gone over the wall at Marne and at the Somme. Even now, he shuddered at the sight of a muddy field, revisited by images of faces half buried in the muck, the cold damp air left behind by the dense fog and the ground slick from rain and blood. So many friends had died, some he still mourned, others who were just faces but he remembered what they looked like when he saw their bodies.
“Can’t disagree with you there,” Riley stared into the amber depths of the whisky lolling about his glass, the memory forcing him to take another sip. Once the taste of malt burned down his throat, chasing away the past into the dark places of his soul, he decided a change of subject was needed. “Thankfully, I don’t have to do much running after Miss Pemberton. She can take care of herself, and she does quite well in this game. To look at her, you think she was one of those useless society ladies, but she’s smart and has a real knack for this kind of work.”
“Not to mention a hell of a shot,” Vin raised his glass at Riley in a toast to the absent lady.
“That she is.”
Suddenly, Vin sat bolt upright in his wing chair. Even though it was fired three floors down, Vin knew the sound of a gunshot in an instant. Almost reflex, his hand reached for the gun on the side table before standing up. Riley did the same, having missed the sound of the gunshot but not Vin’s reaction to it. The young man’s sudden shift was all the prompt the Irishman needed to retrieve the gun resting its holder beneath his coat.
When the second shot fired, both men heard it.
“Check the door,” Vin waved his gun at its direction, already on the move towards the bathroom door behind which JD was conducting his bit of photographic magic.
Riley nodded, taking the direction which was sound in his opinion. While there was a chance the shots might have nothing to do with their situation, he was nowhere that optimistic. It was more than likely Krauss and her dogs had tracked them down to Egypt and were causing mischief. Right now, they held all the cards, the Circlet of Amalthea and Kephalon’s mural. The Nazis getting their hands on just one of the Seven would undo all that. Short of going down to the Serapheum herself, it was easier for Krauss to snatch one of them to get the information instead.
“JD!” Vin thumped on the door loudly. “How far are you from being done?”
“I’m on the last one now! Were those gunshots?”
“I reckon. Finish up and then start packing. I got a feeling we’re gonna be missing our complimentary breakfast tomorrow.”
*****As the gunfire drew the understandable attention of everyone, Ezra’s quick examination of the gambling floor, saw croupiers waving in the hotel’s security in their direction. Men wearing uniforms and severe expressions scanned the room with hawkish eyes, and Ezra knew immediately, he had no desire to be interrogated by any of them. Quickly holstering the derringer into its place beneath his sleeve, he promptly fabricated the story he would tell when they got here.
“Mr Jackson,” Julia spoke up instead. “I think you ought to let Mr Larabee know the situation.”
“Oh if I know Chris, I think he’d be perfectly aware of the ‘situation’ without me needing to tell him. That pop gun of Ezra’s made a hell of a noise. He’d have heard it from the restaurant.”
“It is not a popgun...” Ezra started to protest when Julia cut him off.
“In any case, I think you ought to go tell Mr Larabee. It’s a good idea we leave Alexandria promptly. Mr Mahler was here, and he rarely travels anywhere alone.”
“Mahler,” Nathan threw a glance at the corridor the man used to escape. “That’s the one Ezra shot?”
“That’s right,” she moved away from them and stood over one of the dead bodies, just long enough to retrieve the corpse’s gun. “Come on,” she gestured to Ezra. “We don’t have much time.”
“For what?” Ezra stared at her blankly.
“To catch up to those men of course,” she gave him a look as if he were a dullard, before turning on her heels and hurrying down the same route Mahler had taken.
“The Nazis?!” Ezra and Nathan exclaimed in unison.
Julia did not answer because she had already covered the length of the corridor, skipping over the bodies of the dead goons Mahler had brought with him as if she were tiptoeing through the tulips. Armed with one of their guns, she had no intention of slowing down, sickened by these attacks on her expedition and was determined to give Chris and the others time to get ready to leave Marsa Matruh.
Realising she wasn’t about to stop to explain and unprepared to let her go anywhere by herself, especially if she intended to pursue her would-be abductors, Ezra uttered a groan of exasperation knowing he was going to have to go after her. “Nathan, tell Chris what we are doing. Once I catch up to our client, we join you at the Millie.”
“Ezra, you can’t go off on your own!” Nathan countered, unhappy about the idea but in retrospect, realised it might be a good idea if Ezra made himself scarce anyway. The man had just killed two people, and even if it was in defence of a lady, was going to have to explain himself to the authorities. Nathan would rather he not be present for that.
“Do not fret. I have no intention of having you exercise your questionable bedside manner on my person for any reason. Besides, the lady is our client, allowing her to embark on this foolishness alone would hardly do justice to our reputation, would it?”
Nathan wasn’t convinced but complied nonetheless. “Alright, take care, and we’ll see you back at the Millie. Don’t go doing nothing stupid.”
“I take umbrage....”
“Just go before you lose her!”
“Yes, of course,” Ezra nodded, remembering himself before running after trouble in the form of a titian hair spy.
A few seconds later, he emerged into the night air and scoured the area for Julia. It did not take him long to locate the woman. A dazzling redhead was not someone easily missed. Julia was surveying the street outside the hotel when Ezra reached her. A flare of headlights caught both their attention, followed by the sleek body of a black Mercedes sedan screeching off into the night, its crimson blinkers marking a trail through the darkness in its wake. Julia paused long enough to note Ezra’s presence before she started moving, searching the sidewalk running along the hotel for a vehicle she could ‘borrow’.
“Miss Pemberton, this is not exactly the wisest course,” Ezra warned as she moved at a brisk pace, still in search of a ride.
“We’ve been dogged by them since America,” Julia replied and then broke into a smile when she spotted the perfect vehicle for their pursuit. “I want to know if Krauss is here, and if she is, we need to slow her down.”
“Well I credit your enthusiasm,” Ezra called after her, suddenly struck with the premonition he would always be one step behind this woman. “Perhaps we should have gathered reinforcements before mounting such an expedition. Like Mr Riley, for instance?”
“Oh Riley is used to me going off on my own,” Julia stopped and turned to him. “Here, hold this.”
She thrust the Luger in her grip at him and then turned to a dark green Indian
parked along the pavement. Before he had any chance to stop her, she threw her leg over the seat and straddled the bike, her dress hiking up above her knees as she did so. Turning to him as she revved the engines, Julia asked with a little smile. “Coming?”
“You cannot be serious,” he gaped at her.
“Fine, stay behind,” she returned, and Ezra saw a hint of disappointment in her eyes at his apparent hesitation. “I’m going after them.”
Ezra uttered a string of curses that brought a smile to Julia’s face before he climbed onto the seat behind her.
“Why Mr Standish,” she smiled as she faced front again, her eyes fixed on the Mercedes diminishing headlights. “Language.”
*****Even though the sight of a gorgeous redhead and a sophisticated (in Ezra’s opinion) gentleman on an Indian should have drawn attention, Julia managed to maintain her pursuit of Mahler through the streets of Marsa Matruh without detection. Arms around her waist, with her hair flowing in his face, Ezra thought absurdly if there weren’t Nazis in front of them, this would be a rather pleasant evening out. He could smell the light whiff of t
perfume in her hair and wondered what sort of shampoo she used on those titian coloured locks.
“Where do you think they are going?”
His voice was barely audible over the sound of the motorcycle’s engines and the wind rushing past them. As they weaved in and out of traffic, Ezra had to admit this mode of travel would not be his first choice. They weren’t even wearing helmets! Traffic around them, was fortunately light even if he disliked being so close to some of the cars zooming past them. They had left the more fashionable areas of the town and were heading towards the outskirts if the rapidly thinning sprawl of building was any indication.
“There’s only one thing in this area,” she gestured to the ocean ahead.
Fast approaching the water, Ezra caught the distinct whiff of salt air mixed with diesel as the first of the ships docked along the harbour became visible. They were a motley collection of fishing boats and the kind of trawlers one would expect from a small town like this. It wasn’t until the warehouses and shipping offices surrounded them that Ezra sighted something else a few hundred feet away from the shore. The sight of it was enough to stun him into silence, and he stared at the thing, recalling how he thought the Maverick had been impressive. Compared to what he was looking at now, the yacht seemed like a rowboat.
“Oh my God.”
“Yes,” Julia’s eyes narrowed with calculation, knowing what it was immediately and broke off her pursuit of Mahler. Suddenly catching up to the Nazi was no longer her priority. Instead, she diverted the bike off the road, using the small alleys between the warehouses on the docks to make their approach to the water a little more discreet.
“That is what I think it is, is it not?” Ezra inquired as he studied the bullet shape craft lying half submerged in the waters along the coast, appearing like a leviathan bathing in the moon’s twilight glow. Instead of a mast, standing above the wave and foam deflector that also housed the primary hatch was the main and secondary periscopes. The crowning achievement of this construct was, of course, the familiar flag that Ezra suspected would chill the bone for the next decade. The swastika.
Julia killed the engines of the Indian when she brought the cycle to a stop next to a shipping office flanking the dock. A few sailors and dock workers were about, oblivious to the sight of the craft as if its appearance was commonplace. She wondered if the Germans had managed to keep the construction of these behemoths a secret because no one would expect it this far away from the Fatherland. Then again, they had been underestimating the Germans a great deal lately.
“It’s a U-Boat.”
“I thought they were bound by the Treaty of Versaille prohibiting them from constructing such weapons.”
Even as he said it, Ezra knew treaties meant nothing to unscrupulous men. For the first time, the war he feared might happen had become more than a discussion point. Suddenly, it felt uncomfortably real.
“We know they are arming,” Julia explained as she started moving towards the dock, using the shadow to make her advance. Ezra followed her, not about to let her go anywhere near that monstrosity alone, now he sighted it for himself. “However, the powers that be are terrified about another war, so they are doing everything they can to avoid it. At home, Churchill is the only one who believes it may not be possible.”
“Pacifism is the breeding ground of subjugation,” Ezra frowned, no longer questioning her on where she was going, only that he was sticking to her. Of course, if she intended to go anywhere near the submarine, he had every intention of putting her over his shoulder and carrying her back to the hotel. After all, even Ezra had to concede sometimes, Chris Larabee’s method of dealing with spirited women had its advantages.
As expected, once they got a clear line of sight of the docks and the submarine, using the shadows of the building to make their observations, they saw the Mercedes driven by Mahler parked haphazardly along the street running past the dock. The man was still holding his ear, his face etched in pain as he jogged down the wooden boards of the pier, toward a group of German soldiers who were obviously awaiting his return.
Although it was difficult to make out what they were saying, even if Ezra’s German was rusty, it was apparent Mahler was not happy. No doubt, he wanted his pound of flesh for the injury caused by Ezra’s derringer.
“I do not like the sound of that,” Ezra commented as he stood behind Julia watching the scene.
“I don’t blame you,” she agreed. “I’m certain Mahler's calling for reinforcements.”
“We need to leave the vicinity immediately,” he dropped a hand to her shoulder. “Come my dear. I think it is time we made our rendezvous with my associates and the Millie.”
Julia didn’t speak, choosing to examine the dock thoughtfully. “Not yet,” she said with a little smile when she spotted what she was after. “We need to slow them down first.”
“Slow them down? Ezra’s eyes widened. “My dear, that is not exactly a Buick. We cannot let the air out of its tires. What do you propose to do?”
Julia turned to Ezra and smiled. “Trust me.”
*****Ten minutes later, Ezra was convinced Julia Pemberton was insane.
Surrounded by the chugging of the small diesel powered tug bouncing across the soft swell of the coastline, he could see the lights along the shore beckoning him like a sensible wife trying to keep her husband from doing something stupid. On the small deck behind the flywheel, drums of fuel stood proudly like soldiers about to march into enemy fire. Not for the first time, Ezra wondered what the hell he was doing on board this craft, when marching into enemy fire was something he was painfully familiar with.
Ahead of them, the U-Boat loomed ominously close to them, the soldiers patrolling the length of the craft had yet to notice the danger bearing down at them at ten knots. Why would they? Who in their right mind would attempt to attack a U-boat less than a mile away from the shore? Facing front at the woman steering the craft, Ezra suspected his entire relationship with Julia, such as it was, was going to involve him running after her from one dangerous situation to another.
Shortly after uttering her enigmatic statement about trust, the lady led him to the docks where she paid a somewhat stunned tug boat owner for his craft with a pair of diamond earrings before casting off. The tug, most likely a rescue vehicle of some sort, kept a few drums of gasoline on hand to aid crafts stranded off the coast. As the Anemone headed towards the U-boat, those drums were going to be used for an action far from its original purpose.
“This is insane!”
“Of course it is,” Julia flashed him a radiant smile, noting despite his protestations (and there had been a few), Ezra Standish was still too gallant to let her embark on this action alone. In fact, she rather loved the idea he was willing to indulge her despite his obvious reservations. “They won’t see it coming.”
Ezra had to give her that.
In truth, however, they did see it coming. Once the tug’s lights reached the hull of the submarine, the soldiers on watch immediately began waving the craft away, shouting warnings it was on a collision course. The tug continued forward, chugging indifferently as it went to its fate, ignoring them like its captain was presently doing.
“Julia,” Ezra placed his hand around her arm. “I do believe it is time we were going.”
Especially when he could see the gap between the David and Goliath of sea craft narrowing.
Julia could not disagree with him on that point and forced the throttle to maximum, increasing the chug chug chug of the engines to a dull drone where the pistons were firing so rapidly, they were now one long rumble of sound. Even though they were seconds away from a collision, she did feel the need to do one thing.
Ezra’s eyes widened with mild surprise when she leaned over and planted a soft but passionate kiss on his lips. She tasted sweet and exotic all at the same time, feeling his head with visions of crazy adventures and the sensation of being caught in a whirlwind. Considering what he did for a living, this was a rather impressive feat. Before he could respond, she was on the move again.
“Come on!”
Grabbing his hand, Julia started running, prompting Ezra to keep pace with her as they ran along the length of the boat, jumping over the short rail at the edge of the craft when they reached it. Both of them plunged into the dark water, as the fever pitch of German voices and the sound of a siren screaming in warning became muted once they were submerged.
It took but a second for Ezra to break water, and when he did, he saw Julia swimming away and decided it was prudent to do the same. The tug boat reached the hull of the submarine a few seconds later, the ear-splitting sound of the impact ripping through the night followed by the inevitable explosion. The fireball illuminated the sea with its amber colour, and though there was no chance in hell the collision would destroy the sub, Ezra knew Julia’s intent was never that. It was to slow the craft down. However, the Nazis intended to maintain their pursuit, it would not be by sub, at least not for a few days.
Catching up to her, he saw Julia had paused once she swam far enough away to admire her handiwork.
“Miss Pemberton,” he said, watching the chaos on board the damaged sub ensue. “Is life with you always this interesting?”
“Mr Standish,” Julia winked. “We’re just getting started.”
Within the hour, the seven and their entourage were once again in mid-flight.
Leaving the hotel and Alexandria seemed the most prudent thing to do once it became clear their whereabouts were no longer a mystery to Isabella Krauss and her Nazi henchmen. Ezra and Julia made their soggy return to the Millie, docked at the airfields of Mersa Matruh, where their companions awaited them impatiently. Once Chris Larabee got through yelling at them, proving he cared little for the fact Julia was their client or a master spy, the plane took to the safety of the air. No matter what the financial arrangement, Chris tolerated no one risking themselves unnecessarily, least of all a woman, no matter how resourceful she might be.
To her credit, Julia listened patiently to Chris’s tirade nonplussed by any of it. Ezra suspected Julia sensed Chris’s concern for her safety extended beyond their business relationship and was somewhat touched misplaced as it was. Riley, whom Ezra thought might have objected to Chris reading the lady the riot act, made no comment and Ezra wondered if his silence was due to his agreement with Chris about Julia placing herself in danger. While he might have been accustomed to the peril his young partner courted, he was no way comfortable with it.
Once Chris learned there was a U-boat, even a damaged one, in play, Chris wanted them away from Mersa Matruh as soon as possible. The air was the safest place to be at the moment until they decided on a safe haven to determine their next move. Fortunately, Buck who made it his business to study the maps of the area suggested the Siwa Oasis.
Six hundred miles inland, the Oasis was as its name suggested, a fertile basis boasting several clear springs, surrounded by the Western Desert and was one of the most remote locations in Egypt. Peopled by an equally elusive race called the Berbers or Siwi, it was also home to the Temple of Amun-Ra. It was a good place for the Millie to set down so they could consider their next move without fear of pursuit. With a cargo hold containing additional caches of fuel, the detour was worth it to give JD the time he needed to study Kephalon’s mural in greater detail.
Two hours later, they set down in the Oasis of Amun-Ra, on a flat, stretch of desert surrounded by dunes and beyond the notice of the indigenous Siwi. Overhead, the canvas of stars was like diamond dust scattered across the sapphire silk sky. The air was balmy and in the distance, they could see the sway of leaves from the palm trees surrounding the oasis. If not for the enemy they were escaping, it would be a rather pretty place to visit.
“So what have you got for us JD?”
The question came from Buck who had emerged from the cockpit to take a seat in the main compartment, joining the rest of their rather large group. They were all scattered across the compartment, either on seats, crates or in Josiah’s case, his hammock, waiting for JD to take centre stage and reveal his findings of the mural some of them had risked their lives to reach.
Unaccustomed to being the centre of attention as he was, JD made a valiant effort to not look as nervous as he felt. A smile of encouragement from Josiah and a prompt from Chris by the way of a nod, forced JD to set aside his anxieties and get on with it. Besides, he knew what he was doing and was confident of what he uncovered in his examination of the mural.
As JD stood up in front of them, Chris couldn’t help but feel a surge of pride in the young man. He was no longer that awkward kid who joined them a year ago. He had solidified his place among them, making them wonder how they were ever whole without his presence in their lives.
“Okay,” JD dispelled the last of his nervousness with a loud exhale and began distributing the collection of photographs he managed to develop before their hasty departure from the hotel. “You all know these are the photographs I manage to take of Kephalon’s mural, down at the Serapheum. I think I managed to get enough information before we had to get out of there.”
“No kidding,” Vin drawled. “You almost got eaten by a fish, like that Jonah guy.”
“Do not remind me,” Ezra made a face, convinced he would be seeing the damn shark’s upside down clown’s grin in his nightmares for some time. “I may never go into the water again.”
“Go on JD,’ Chris prompted, wishing to hear what JD had found as he examined the photograph the scholar had distributed among them.
Studying the photograph in his hand, he was able to see in greater detail what he had only managed to glimpse fleetingly whilst in the Serapheum, before the shark made it necessary for them to leave the premises. Now that he had the opportunity, Chris was able to take in the details of Kephalon’s mural, given greater clarity thanks to the wonders the flash had done to the image taken.
“It does look striking,” Mary commented, leaning over his shoulder to get her own look of the mural.
“It certainly stood the test of time,” Josiah drawled, taking in the photograph he was holding.
Chris could disagree with neither of them. Despite the grainy quality of the image, it was still clear enough for Chris to see details in the mural he had missed when they were in the Serapheum. Taking a prominent position in the centre of the wall was the hero Perseus, immortalised in mosaic. The ancient slayer of Gorgons was astride his horse, the winged steed Pegasus soaring through the clouds, with the ocean beneath him and the stars above.
Protruding from the ocean behind him, were two rock formations, each carved with the face of a lion. Above Perseus, the details of the night sky had been degraded by time, but Chris saw the clusters of stars he was convinced was the constellation of Cassiopeia. The Aegis wielded by Perseus was unmistakable. While the photographs depicted the shield in black and white, Chris remembered the mythological shield had been gold when he saw the mural for himself. While its design was no different than any other shield of the Hellenistic period, what made it distinct was the Gorgon’s head emblazoned across its face.
Medusa’s terrible visage stared back at Chris, the snakes that made up her hair was spread out like a venomous crown and even in this limited depiction, she appeared rather ghastly. It was indeed a face that could turn a man to stone, Chris thought silently. Looking away from the shield, he noted Perseus was carrying a rather odd looking dagger. Not at all like the artistic creations of the day, this dagger was crude in its design. It resembled a jagged piece of rock, not the weapon of a demi-god. Framing the mural were words written in mosaic and it took a few seconds of study for Chris to realise the language was similar to the inscription on the Circlet of Amalthea.
As if resding Chris’s mind, JD began his explanation with the words Chris had been attempting to decipher.
“As you can see,” JD started speaking to his audience. “The writing captioning the mural is some form of proto-Koine. Initially, I thought it might be the narration of Perseus’s story, but studying this a little more, I think it’s an attempt to hide the location of the Aegis in plain sight. There are too many elements that might be construed as markers for where the Aegis landed for me to think anything else.”
“What about those two formations? They look like mountains,” Nathan remarked.
“I don’t think they are,” JD answered. “I think they might be a reference to the Pillars of Hercules. Back then, he was represented by lions a lot. After he killed the Nemean lion, it sort of became his sigil.”
“The Pillars of Hercules,” Chris sat up, having heard that reference to describe something else. Searching his mind, it came to him in a second and he looked sharply at JD. “The Straits of Gibraltar?”
Grinning at Chris’s speculation aligning with his own thoughts on the subject, JD nodded. “I think so, I think he was leaving behind the Straits of Gibraltar.”
“That’s a fair distance from the motherland,” Riley commented, “even with a flying steed.”
“Are we assuming Perseus actually crossed such vast distances on a winged horse?” Ezra asked, unable to keep the scepticism out of his voice.
“Hey, we’ve seen some pretty strange stuff the last year, whose to say whether all this is fake or not.”
Vin’s reminder immediately sent their minds back to the incident with the Children of Erran and the Tablet of Destiny. Even though the idea of a stone tablet being able to uncreate the world seemed preposterous, there was no denying the supernatural forces at work when the ritual to bring Tiamat was finally set in motion. Although Alex feigned ignorance when asked if she remembered what part she played in Tiamat’s resurrection, Vin knew what he had seen that day. Something powerful and dark almost claimed her soul, they all saw it. Such an experience made the sharpshooter a little more open-minded when it came to the fantastic.
“That’s true,” Mary nodded in agreement, singularly grateful she had avoided Alex’s ordeal since she was one of the two potential receptacles for Tiamat’s return to the world. “Although, this could all be symbolic right JD?”
“Yeah it could,” JD nodded, although, like VIn, he was not about to discount the possibility of the supernatural. “Anyway,” he got back to his explanation of Kephalon’s mural. “The text is a verse and....” he reached for the notebook on the chair next to him and leafed through the pages between the worn leather jacket, “It runs something like this.”
The shield of the God of Gods,
Crafted in Almathea’s honour,
Borne across mountain and sea,
Set deep beneath the world,
To be hidden from the sun,
Shiver at its name,
Pray that it is forgotten,
For Ceto’s daughter in death,
Still lives beyond release,
With sisters of her blood,
Beneath the Serpents Head,
Far beneath the sun.
“Well that doesn’t sound ominous at all,” Nathan broke the silence once JD finished his translation.
“Ceto’s daughter,” Chris mused. “It does relate to the Medusa which fits the mythology of the Aegis.”
“What about the sisters of her blood?” Julia asked JD.
JD scratched his chin contemplatively before replying. “Well depending on which text you read, Medusa is meant to have sisters. I mean you gotta remember, stories change from the telling. According to Ovid, Medusa got the way she was because she was raped by Poseidon and turned into a Gorgon by Athena who was outraged by the desecration of her temple.”
“Wonderful,” Mary frowned, wondering why all these stories always involved some hapless female being punished for a man’s rampant lust.
“Another story, this time by Hesiod,” JD continued, “has her being the daughter of Ceto and Phorcys, two primordial sea deities, though not true Oceanids born from Tethys and Oceanus. According to that legend, Hesiod, she was the oldest of three Gorgons, the others being Euryale and Stheno. So this verse might be referring to them.”
“What about the Serpent’s head,” Josiah spoke. “What does that mean?”
JD fell silent for a moment before venturing a guess. “I can’t say for certain but that could refer to a marker to where the Aegis actually is. I know in one of the texts, Kephalon’s belief the Circlet of Amalthea is necessary to reach the Aegis, the Serpent’s head could be a doorway or something.”
“Without a point of reference,” Chris frowned, “it doesn’t help us.”
“No,” JD agreed. “But I think the sky above Perseus might be an effort to give us a general location.”
“Our difficulty lies in the unfortunate reality the mural in its current state, is simply too degraded to give us accurate information,” Ezra pointed out. “While I laud Mr Dunne’s photographic mastery, we were fortunate to get a glimpse of what we are able to see as it is. Even when we down in the Serapheum itself, there was enough deterioration of the mural to ensure if Kephalon did indeed intend to point the way to the Aegis, the ravages of time saw to it his message was lost.”
Buck Wilmington had not spoken for a good few minutes, staring at the picture handed to him by Nathan once the healer was done studying it. While most of it was the usual ancient hooey they had to sift through during their expeditions, something about the image of Perseus caught his eye. Buck stared at the mosaic depiction of the Greek hero, standing proudly with the Aegis on hand, Pegasus beneath him but it was that damn dagger that caught his attention.
As a pilot, cartography was one subject that was vital for him to know in detail. The business of being able to navigate using only instrumentation meant the difference between life and death during the war. Considering some of the places they journeyed since embarking on this life, Buck’s own homework studying the region they were flying into was as vital as Chris and JD’s studies.
“JD, how good were the maps during Perseus’s day?”
All eyes stared at Buck because the question was completely out of character for their pilot and lovable rogue, especially when asked with such purpose. Buck’s expression was serious as he waited for his answer and Chris realised Buck had something on his mind.
“Uh, it’s tough to say Buck,” JD admitted honestly. “Perseus is one of the oldest Pan-Hellenic figures in mythology. We’re looking at least a thousand years before the start of the period at 350 BC. Why?”
“I want to know just how far their maps went. Did they get this far out?”
“If they did, they’d be extremely vague,” Chris added his voice, wondering where Buck was going with this. “What are you thinking Buck?”
“Okay,” Buck said standing up, “so let’s assume cartography wasn’t that great back then and even if it was, they might not have come out further than the immediate area surrounding Greece.”
“Well the Phoenicians were great sailors,” Chris countered. “They might have charted the areas beyond Asia Minor. There’s claim some of them even made it to North America.”
“Why do you ask Buck?” Vin prompted, wanting to hear Buck complete his thoughts because Vin had a feeling they were on the cusp of revelation.
“It’s this picture,” Buck handed the photograph to Chris and walked away from the group, disappearing into the cockpit for a second leaving the others staring at each other in puzzlement at what the big man meant by that elusive statement. The photograph looked no different to them, beyond JD’s explanation but each of them wondered what it was Buck was seeing that they couldn’t.
“What do you think he’s spotted?” Mary turned to Chris.
“I’m not sure,” Chris shook his head. “But he doesn’t get this excited over something unless it’s important.”
“Or has a great set of gams,” Josiah couldn’t help quip.
As he said those words, Buck returned with an unrolled map in his hands and Chris suddenly had the idea Buck might have cracked this mystery.
“Okay,” Buck looked up at them from the map he was scanning, half opened in front of him. “If JD is right and they didn’t have maps that far back, there’s no way they could have known what was in Perseus’s hand. “
“You mean the dagger?” Nathan looked at one of the photographs again.
“Is it a dagger?” Chris realised where Buck was going with this. “We think its a dagger but what if it’s something else?”
“Something else? Like what?” Vin asked, certain Buck already knew and had needed the map to confirm it.
Rolling the scroll across the nearest table wide enough for him to spread it out, they saw the map was one of Buck’s aeronautical charts the pilot used for their travels across the globe. This one showed the familiar lines of the North African coast, the North Atlantic ocean as well as the Mediterranean.
“Like this,” Buck produced the magnifying glass in his pocket and aimed it above a small speck in the middle of the ocean, off the coast of Morocco. “When I was searching for a place to land the Millie, I was trying to find someplace remote so we could lay low for a while. I was thinking maybe Funchal off the Portuguese coast, but then we were talking U-boats, so I figured an island might not be the best idea. Anyway, I saw this little place and didn’t pay it much mind, noticing it only because it looked to me like bird crap on a windshield.”
“Wonderful imagery there Buck,” Ezra winced. “There are ladies present you know.”
“My delicate feminine sensibilities will cope,” Julia smiled in amusement. “Please continue Mr Wilmington.”
“Yes,” Chris flashed Ezra a dark look for interrupting. “Go on.”
“Well look at it Chris,” Buck pivoted the angle of the map and handed the leader of their band the magnifying glass. “Don’t it look like that damn dagger?”
Chris didn’t answer for a moment, studying it carefully through the convexed lens of the glass before he raised his eyes to JD and indicated the young man come forward. JD took a step closer to the map to take a look for himself as he gripped the handle of the brass magnifier. Leaning down, JD lapsed into similar silence as he made his study.
“What do you think?” Chris prompted after a long pause, aware Buck and the rest of the group were hanging on in anticipation of his view point.
After a second, JD straightened up and exchange a glance with both Buck and Chris respectively. “I think he could be right. The detail is pretty exact.”
“I’m telling you,” Buck insisted. “That’s it. I know maps, and that ain’t no dagger, that’s this island here.”
“Is it possible?” Josiah asked the two experts in the room.
Chris shrugged, allowing JD to answer that question.
“It’s possible. According to legend, Perseus had travelled as far west as it was possible to go at that time after slaughtering the Medusa. He tried to find safe harbour on the way back to Seriphos to deliver the head to Polydectes and landed in Libya I think, where King Atlas lived. Atlas was the guy with the golden apples and was in fear of a prophecy that a son of Zeus was going to steal one of them.”
“Wasn’t that Hercules?” Vin piped up, remembering the stories Ezra used to tell him about that hero’s labours when he was a kid around the campfire on the Western Front.
“Yeah,” JD nodded. “Right prophecy, wrong son. Anyway, he was such a dick about it to Perseus, Perseus ended up showing him the Gorgon, turning him into the Atlas Mountains. If Perseus got out this far, it’s possible he could have happened along that island as well. He might have figured it was a good place to stash it once he was done with it.”
“So what is this place called and how soon are we leaving for it?” Ezra asked, now that it was becoming clear they had a destination to reach.
“The Desertas Islands,” Chris answered giving Buck a smile. “As soon as you’re ready Buck.”
“Hell I was born ready,” Buck grinned, pleased his hunch might have paid off. “Besides, I’m always ready when I’m thinking about meeting any lady with two sisters.”
“Oh lord,” Nathan rolled his eyes. “Buck, if these ladies are there, they’re gonna turn you into stone.”
“Never happen,” the rogue grinned happily as he headed back to the cockpit. “I’ll charm them with my animal magnetism.”
“Oh yeah,” Mary snorted. “That will work.”