Magical Mechanications (5 page)

The woman, from the looks of her uniform, was an officer, but that was all Elsa could tell at the moment. Her long black boots were polished to a flawless sheen while the silver buttons in her waistcoat and cloak twinkled in the light of her lantern.
The woman’s eyes were as black as her hair, pulled back into a tight bun.
Elsa’s gaze followed the cigar from the intruder’s ruby red lips to the small saucer she recognized from her own cupboard. Right next to the small plate lay a pistol, its handle turned towards the stranger.

“Where are my manners?” the mysterious woman asked as she removed her cap and placed it across her lap. “Hauptmann Maximiliane Adolphina Vogelberg von Wolff
.”

“Elsa Katzer.”

“Yes, I know. The tea trolley lady.” Her smile did little to put Elsa at ease. “I know a great deal about you.”

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

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

Und so endet es,
Elsa thought to herself.

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

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

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

Four

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

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

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

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

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

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

She really needed work on her landing in this plane.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

From upstairs Scarlett heard coughing.

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

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

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

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

“Are you sick, Grandmother?” Scarlett asked.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“The better to—”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“I’m so sorry,” Scarlett whispered.

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

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