Magical Mechanications (3 page)

Scarlett dropped the photo back on the file in front of them and sat back in her chair. She tried to will herself to drink the cup of coffee, but she wanted something stronger. “The plane was black. There was the outline of the Iron Cross near the tail section, but nothing out of the ordinary.”

“What about the plane itself?” Hemsworth asked. “How did it fly?”

“It was silent. Quite mad, but that’s how it was,” Scarlett said, lightly pulling at her bottom lip and she ran through her memory of the flight. “I remember seeing from the engine compartment flashes of blue and white. Was not quite sure what to make of that.” She looked up, catching Barnswallow and Hemsworth exchanging a look. “You know something about this?”

“How’s your avionics history, lieutenant?” Hemsworth asked.

“I do what I can to know planes of the past and present.”

“Just before the turn of century, we had aeroflyers like the Avro Five-tens. But there was an experimental Five-ten-A, a rather clever idea from Nikola Tesla which introduced electric engines as the power source.”

“The Five-ten-A’s were in action with private companies like White Star Line,” Barnswallow said. “They were use to fend off airship pirates, and proved quite effective.”

Hemsworth nodded. “Diesel technology supplanted steam, and the notion of an electric-diesel aeroflyer, while bandied about, never really took hold,”

“But this was silent,” Scarlett insisted. “It made no sound whatsoever.”

Barnswallow took another sip of tea, then took in a long slow breath. His scowl, not directed to anyone in particular, deepened. “While we have a hold over the oceans, I would dare say it is Jerry who owns the skies. Their understanding of aviation engineering is not only commendable, it is inspiring.”

Scarlett exchanged looks with the men, and then she saw the plane clearly in her head again. “This Fokker plane is electric.
Completely
electric?”

“Electric cars were all the rage at the turn of the century,” Hemsworth said. “A decade ago, they were averaging a hundred miles on a full cell. When you think of how far and how fast air travel has developed, it is not a stretch to think of how far battery technology has progressed as well.”

“Jerry must have also cracked the problem with cold temperatures and the toll it takes on a battery’s charge,” Barnswallow added.

“Is there anything else you noticed about this plane?”

“I think I’ve told you everything,” Scarlett said, but then she paused. “No, wait, there was something else painted on the plane. It was in German so I’m not sure exactly what it says.”

“Stationed this close to the Front and you don’t know the language?” Barnswallow huffed.

“Considering I am usually in the air, no, I thought it more necessary to know French in order to blend in.” Scarlett pinched the bridge of her nose, closed her eyes, and tried to recall what she had caught a glimpse of. “Grover Bosser Wolf, I think. I do remember ‘Wolf’ being the only word I remotely recognized.”

“Was it
Großer Böser Wolf?” Hemsworth asked.

“Yes, that was it. Grobber…Grubber…eh, what you said.”

Hemsworth, tapping his fingers together, glanced over to Barnswallow, then looked back to Scarlett. “Something we were afraid of.”

“You know who this fellow is, don’t you?”

Barnswallow fidgeted in the corner of his couch while Hemsworth finished his coffee, and then appeared to gather up his courage. “Maximiliane Adolphina Vogelberg von Wolff. She’s also known as the Big Bad Wolf.”

“The Aces of Aces,” Scarlett whispered. “She…let me go. She could have added me to her kills and she let me go. Why?”

“Again, this is why there was such a debate as to whom would take jurisdiction over this case.”

“As much as I loathe to repeat myself,” grumbled Barnswallow, “Cumming was adamant. About many things.”

“What do you mean by that?” Scarlett asked.

The door flying open could not have been timed better, even if it were on stage with the best skilled actors.
“Red, you won’t believe what we got in the hangar!”

“Red?” chuckled Hemsworth.

Just. Lovely. As if the nickname wasn’t bad enough, Tink had to use it in mixed company. “Gentlemen, this is my mechanic, Tina Keller.”

“American?” barked Barnswallow. “And here I thought the Yanks wanted nothing to do with our merry little war.”

“Tink is originally from the United States, Colonel, but she emigrated here a few years ago. She’s managed to keep the Scout flying for the past two years.”

“So no, I’m not here representing a country that doesn’t want me, sir,” Tink said, her gaze brazenly fixed with Barnswallow’s, “I’m representing a country that were a bit more welcoming. The place I now call home.”

“I see you set a shining example to your support staff,” Barnswallow noted.

“Wait a moment,” Hemsworth said. He was visibly distracted. “You’re flying a Scout? A Bristol Scout?”

“Only plane they’d give us dainty little ladies,” and then Tink’s scowl turned into an incredibly bright smile, “until today!”

Now it was Scarlett who found herself off-kilter. “I—what?”

“Lieutenant, the Foreign Office and the RAC are working together on this mission,” Hemsworth began, pulling out a dossier from underneath the pile of photographs in front of him. “We need you back in the sky and over enemy territory. We have a mission for you. We’re ready to equip you with whatever you need.”

“Reconnaissance?”

“Not this time.” He presented her with the sealed orders. “All the details are there, but we need you to make contact with an agent deep undercover in Halle. You are to meet with this operative who will give you the schematics to this experimental fighter plane.”

Scarlett looked at Tink. She could only assume her shock was just as visible as her mechanic’s. “Gentlemen, you have me at a loss. This is not what I do. I do aerial reconnaissance. You’re asking me to engage in espionage across enemy lines? Don’t you have spies that are better trained for this sort of operation?”

“Lieutenant,” Barnswallow said, “this is where we need your particular skills as a pilot. We’re asking you to fly into enemy territory and fly out without detection.”

“And if you are detected,” Hemsworth said, “we need a pilot skilled enough to either evade or take down the Big Bad Wolf.”

“Take down the Big Bad Wolf?” Scarlett’s laugh was harsh, grating. “I didn’t outfly her. She let me go.”

“Perhaps Captain Wolff saw something in you. Perhaps she recognized a raw talent in your skills. She could have shown a moment’s compassion as your Scout was hardly worth...” His voice trailed off. Apparently, he heard himself clearly.

“You’re suggesting the Big Bad Wolf took pity on me?”

Hemsworth went to answer, but he appeared to be searching for what to say. He looked to Barnswallow who simply shrugged in silent reply. “Well,” Hemsworth stammered, “I wouldn’t have put it that way…”

“Lieutenant, perhaps you could come with us to your hangar. We are offering you an opportunity that I believe will be to your liking.”

Scarlett had so many questions on her tongue, she could taste them. They all tasted bitter, and the longer they lingered on her tongue, the angrier she grew. They were going to bribe her with, from the looks of Tink bouncing on the balls of her feet, an upgrade to the Scout of some kind.

“Fine, I will hear you out,” Scarlett huffed as she rose to her feet, “so long as you feel this little trip south of Calais wasn’t a colossal waste of time.”

“I can’t wait for you to see this,” Tink squealed with delight.

Then she sprinted ahead of the three of them. Scarlett and the two officers took long strides to the hangar but were not necessarily making a mad dash of it.

“So you have an operative in enemy territory?” Scarlett asked. This was not an acknowledgement nor was it an agreement.
I am just curious,
she told herself.  “Why has no one else made contact? Why hasn’t anyone from the Bureau bothered to get these plans out before now.”

“Lieutenant, the amount of bad information we receive from field reports is alarming,” Hemsworth said. “We are tired of chasing leads and believing intelligence that only cost lives in the end.”

“You mean, like the Gallipoli Campaign?” Scarlett asked.

She heard the footsteps behind her abruptly stop. She turned to face both officers, Barnswallow’s face beet root red as he looked upon her.

“This is why you are being so careful, are you?” Scarlett pressed before resuming their walk to the barn. “I am a backwater, remote operation. Resources so threadbare they are a right joke. I have a team that is the best at what they do, and they make certain our intelligence is consistently trustworthy. This mission you want me to undertake, is one of those missions like Gallipoli. You are less than optimistic about the outcome, but you want to make certain whomever you send in knows what they are signing up for.”

“You lost friends at Gallipoli?” Hemsworth asked.

“Very perceptive, Major.”

“As are you, Lieutenant. You are exactly right. We did not want to risk another operation based purely on intelligence we could not confirm. Then, two weeks ago—as luck would have it—you did.”

“We will lose this war if we do not take control of the skies,” Barnswallow said, his color a bit closer to normal but his dander still up. “This Fokker could tip the scales in favor of Jerry, and we cannot have that.”

“And we intend,” Hemsworth said, pointing into the hangar, “to make sure you have what you need to face the Big Bad Wolf without fear.”

The sight of the plane nearly made her faint. It looked as if it were a Sopwith Camel, but with slight differences in the design. The wings, instead of reaching straight out, were angled back by five degrees or so. Underneath the fuselage, there was mounted a fat cylinder that appeared to be directly connected to the plane’s powerful engine. The twin machine guns mounted on the fuselage was thrilling to see, but also equally thrilling were the small turrets mounted on either side of the tail section.

“Lieutenant Quinn,” Barnswallow said, “this is the Sopwith Hornet, a prototype of our own. The engine is based on the electric motor with range extender that the
Avro Five-ten-As utilized in their service.”

“The armament is similar to the Camel in that you have two synchronized Vickers in a fixed, forward-firing position,” Hemsworth offered, “but you also have the two defensive measures on the tail of the Hornet.”

“Defensive measures?” Scarlett asked.

“It looks like a smoke screen of some description,” Tink called from the plane. Of course she was already going over the beastie, looking to see where she could make her own improvements. “The other canon, I’ve not quite figured out what they fire.”

“Flares,” Hemsworth said. “They are intended to distract or even blind your opponents. One time use only, though.”

Scarlett shook her head. “With all these additions and that”—her head cut back and forth along the wing—“whatever this is, will it get in the air?”

“I assure you, Lieutenant,” Hemsworth said, his smile wide and proud, “this will not only stay in the air but it will make quick work of anything that tries to take you out of the air.”

Scarlett turned around to face the two officers. “Including the Big Bad Wolf?”

“That is the problem we are facing at present,” Barnswallow said. “We have hard intelligence and your testimony corroborating it. In the Hornet, you have a fighting chance against the Big Bad Wolf, but the Fokker prototype we are led to believe is the superior aircraft. It’s going to be your skills against hers.”

“Get into Germany, meet your operative, come back with the plans of this Fokker aircraft. Just like that?”

“Just like that,” Hemsworth said. “We can give you a few days to get used to her before taking her behind enemy lines.”

“No time like the present, Red!” Tink called. “Let’s fire her up!” 

Scarlett could feel someone standing next to her. It was Hemsworth, and she suddenly realized how tall the major was. He looked down at her with a mischievous grin plastered across his face.

“This nickname of yours,” he said, looking down at her, “it suits you.”

“Does it now?”

“Quite,” and then he winked. Scarlett did not care for how her knees suddenly felt uncertain. “Little Red.”

Height jokes? This mission was getting better and better by the second.

Entr'acte

This was not the Halle she grew up in. This was not the Germany she knew. She did not want to die in such a place so sad, so barren. Outside her cottage windows, Elsa once saw the Hallerbos standing along her village borders, tall and imposing as old, wizened guardians assuring her hamlet they were all safe from harm.

Now whenever she looked out them, all that remained was a barren field, save for the factory where she worked. A giant structure housing machines of destruction, and a long strip of packed earth that served as an airfield.

No, this was not Elsa’s Halle. Had not been so for a long, long time.

Perhaps that was why, in the dim lighting of this inn, no one took notice of her sitting alone. She was a crone enjoying her porridge, the mug of beer beside her perhaps warming her old bones against the winter’s chill. She was invisible, and that was a very good thing to be in this world. This new Germany that would stand against the oppression of self-appointed masters.
“England tightens the belt of humiliation around our loins, condemning us to the abyss! We have marched blindly towards calamity for too long. Hold out and triumph!”
as the posters told her throughout the town.