The Forbidden Territory (26 page)

They were rising again rapidly, the searchlights had been left behind. “How is our supply of petrol?” asked the Duke.

“Pretty good. I guess these ’planes are raiders meant to cover long distances—fighting escorts for the big bombers—got to have juice to carry ’em the same distance, but much faster in manoeuvre. They stay behind to keep the enemy ’planes down while the big boys quit for home when they’ve dropped their eggs. We’ll be good for a thousand miles, anyhow—after that, may the Lord provide.”

“Sixteen hundred miles to the frontier,” the Duke bawled. “If the petrol lasts, do you think you can do it?”

“Be no ordinary performance if I do,” Rex grunted. “We’re flying against the world spin, remember; that makes it darn near equivalent to two thousand coming the other way. Still, it wouldn’t be a record if we made it, and I’ll say this bus is one of the finest things I’ve ever been in—I take my hat off to the Bolshie who designed it. What was the bonfire after we left?”

De Richleau explained about the petrol.

“Say,” Rex grinned, “that was a great idea. Talk about singeing the King of Spain’s beard! That fella Drake had nothing on you. Mighty dangerous, all the same—a back flash might have sent us all to heaven!”

Talking was a considerable strain, since to make themselves heard each had to yell in the ear of the other. For a long time they sat silent; the moon came up and lit the landscape of the endless forest stretching unbroken below.

After a long time, as it seemed, the moon passed behind a great bank of drifting clouds; a sprinkling of lights became visible directly in their course.

“Sverdlovsk,” called the Duke. “Bear to the left, Rex; we must avoid flying over towns. They will hear our engine, and I expect the wireless at Romanovsk has been busy.”

Rex banked steeply, leaving the lights away to the north. “How’s time?” he asked.

“A little after one,” De Richleau replied, glancing at his watch. “We have made splendid going.”

They were rising all the time now. The moon came out again and they could see that the ground ran sharply up in spurs and curves; the forest grew thinner, and for the next hour they were passing over the Urals. A gorgeous panorama was spread out below them. A world of white, made the more brilliant by the dark shadows of beetling crags with great rents and gashes in the glistening rock, seemingly fathomless pits of impenetrable blackness against the dazzling whiteness of the snow. A cold, hard, black and silver world, having something of unreality about it—the utter silence suggested death and desolation. Seen thus, the Urals might well have been the veritable mountains of the moon—a place where man had never been, could never go, where only evil lurked in the baleful, unrelenting light.

When they sank again to the foothills and forests on the other side De Richleau said: “I think I shall try to sleep for a little now. Wake me at once if you need me.”

“I certainly will, but I don’t figure I’ll have to. She’s going fine; the cold’s the only thing that gets me.”

De Richleau buried his head in his big fur collar, and wriggled down into a more comfortable position. The even hum of the engines soothed him, and he soon dropped off. The ’plane sped on, ever westward.

The Duke was awake again before six and peering out into the half-light. By glancing at his watch he realised that they must have come many degrees to the south during the night for the dawn to be so early. At first he feared that they had swerved off their course. He turned to Rex.

Rex saw him move, and yawned sleepily. “Thank God you’ve come to life. I’ve been terrified I’d drop off to sleep with no one to talk to.”

“Where are we? Do you know?”

“Haven’t the faintest, but we’ve kept on the dotted line all right. I’m sick of the sight of this compass and nothing else to look at.” Rex yawned again.

De Richleau got out the map and began to search for landmarks by the aid of the increasing light. He had not long to wait before he found one about which there could be no possible mistake. Far below them lay a great broad river; it curved in an enormous horseshoe, extending over many miles, and on its southern bend straggled a dark patch of clustering houses. As they came nearer, it became clear that it was a city of some considerable size.

“Samara,” said the Duke, with conviction; “and the river is the mighty Volga. Look at it well, my friend; who knows if you will ever see it again.”

“Thanks,” said Rex briefly. “You can keep the Volga for me. I’d rather take a look at a plate of my favourite breakfast food.”

“Tomorrow, if our luck holds, you may!” De Richleau studied the map again. “Do you know that we are already half-way—we have done over eight hundred miles!”

“That a fact?” Rex brightened. “If so, we’ll make it; we haven’t used half the petrol yet.”

The Duke was overjoyed. He went into the cabin to tell the others the good news. The morning light had just awakened them.

Simon, who had slept well and was looking considerably better, was surprised that it was so early, but De Richleau explained that they were now far to the south of Moscow—somewhere about the latitude of Birmingham, perhaps—by noon they might be as far south as the Channel Islands.

Poor Marie Lou looked very woebegone; she was shockingly pale, with great dark circles under her eyes. During the earlier part of the night she had been terribly airsick. De Richleau insisted that she should sit out in the rear cockpit with Simon—she would feel better in the air. When he had installed them he returned to Rex and said:

“Would it not be possible for me to take over for a little? You seem to sit there doing nothing!”

“Just what I was thinking,” Rex nodded. “A kid can fly an aeroplane these days once it’s off the ground. I’ll take her up another couple of thousand; then, if you do slip a thousand there’s no harm done.” He began to climb sharply.

The Duke settled himself comfortably at the second set of controls. “I was watching you last night,” he said. “I think I understand the principle of the thing.”

Rex laughed. “I wouldn’t have let you handle her over mountains; there’s air-pockets and every kind of snag, due to the uneven ground—but you’ll not get that here. Looks as though this plain goes on for ever—it should be dead easy.”

When they were well over five thousand feet Rex took his hand off the controls. “All you’ve got to do,” he shouted, “is to keep her steady, keep your eye on the indicator, and look at the compass needle now and again.”

For some minutes he sat watching the Duke’s first efforts as a pilot. They bumped a little owing to De Richleau’s eagerness to correct their altitude too quickly, but his long sensitive fingers soon found the right touch.

“You’ll do,” said Rex, yawning again. “If the ground gets broken, wake me; if anything goes wrong, you’re not the sort of man I’d insult by telling not to panic—but for God’s sake take your hands off the controls. Just give me one kick and drop ’em. Don’t attempt to right her; leave that to me. I’ll have her under control again long before we could crash at this height, even if she’s in a falling spin.” Next moment he was asleep.

The distant plain stretched out interminably. With practice the Duke soon grew more proficient. He would have liked to have tried a few experiments, but would not allow himself to be tempted into taking any risks.

The morning wore on, the ground below changed to long rolling slopes of grassland, the seemingly endless
steppes of Russia. At a little after eleven they passed another great river, which De Richleau thought to be the Don. He woke Rex in order to make certain.

Rex, still yawning, but much fresher, took over the controls again, and the Duke consulted his map. Yes, it was the Don—their progress had been wonderful. They were now about three hundred miles south of Moscow, another four hundred and fifty miles would bring them to the frontier of Roumania, it really seemed that they might get through in this one tremendous headlong flight. All of them, except Marie Lou, felt in urgent need of food—the lockers in the cabin had been searched and found to contain nothing edible.

Just after midday they left a city that the Duke declared to be Kursk on their right. Their hopes rose more strongly than ever, for far below them lay the frontier of the Ukraine; at least, they were out of Russia proper.

The ’plane bored on to the west through the sharp, crisp air. With perfect rhythm the engines droned on over their heads. Rex was enchanted with the machine. For some time he had been puzzling about the mechanism of the helicopter. It was unlike any that he had ever seen, having two blades only instead of four. At last he solved the problem to his satisfaction and turned to the Duke.

“Cute dodge, that helicopter. When it’s not in action it forms another ’plane above our heads, both blades in alignment with the wings. They answer, too, at the same time to the controls. If you’re going to use it on its own, the right-hand blade turns completely over, so that the thin edge of both spins in the same direction when it revolves. Guess I’ll patent that when I get home!”

De Richleau looked up—it was true. Instead of four blades at an angle impeding the flying speed, and useless except for going up or coming down, the helicopter formed a small but perfect extra ’plane which helped to carry the weight of the machine. As he looked, the Duke’s eyes narrowed, and his mouth set in a grim
line. He had seen something in addition to the helicopter. Above, and to the right, hovered six ’planes flying in formation. He nudged Rex and pointed.

“Holy Mike,” Rex groaned. “D’you reckon those birds are after us?”

“I fear so. Every air-park in the country must have been warned of our exploit at Romanovsk.”

Rex had already banked, and was heading away from the enemy flight towards the south when Simon touched him on the shoulder. He had crawled through the cabin. “Not that way, man,” he shouted. “Look below to the left—head north, Rex.”

Rex looked and swore—five hundred feet below him another flight were sailing. He tilted the ’plane sharply, to gain additional height, hoping to pass over them. That they were spotted was evident—the northern flight had wheeled swiftly and was climbing too.

“Hell’s luck,” Rex exclaimed. “Another couple of hundred miles and we’d have been safe home.”

“Do you think you can get through?” asked the Duke.

Rex shook his head. “You bet we’ll try, but there’s not a scrap of cloud to get lost in. Aw, hell! there’s another lot.”

Even as he spoke the Duke had seen them, too; a third formation, only specks in the distance, but in front, and flying high.

“They’ve been sent up on purpose to intercept us,” he shouted. “We shall never get through this!”

Rat—tat—tat came the sudden warning note of a machine-gun in their rear.

Simon was at their side again. “No ammunition in the guns behind,” he said. “Got any in front?”

De Richleau shook his head. “None—I looked just after we started—but it would be useless in any case, we could not hope to fight a dozen ’planes, and there are more ahead. Rex, we must come down before we are shot down,” he added, as there came another burst of machine-gun fire.

Rex nodded. “Cursed luck; still, ‘while there’s life’. Let’s get out of the way of the rude man with the squirt.”
The machine dived suddenly, and it was none too soon; the quick stutter had started again, and the first three bullets pinged through the wing.

Marie Lou was sitting in the cabin where Simon had pulled her when he had first sighted the enemy ’planes. He spoke to her now, quickly, urgently: “Look here, nobody knows you’re with us—it’s us they’re after, not you. When we land you must run for it.”

“Where can I go?” she protested. “It is terrible, this—that we should all be caught at last.”

“Anywhere’s better than prison,” Simon insisted, “and I want you to go to Moscow, as fast as you can that is, if you get away. Here, take this.” While he was talking he had unbuttoned his coat and torn the ikon that Valeria Petrovna had given him from his neck. He thrust it into her hand and struggled along to the front of the cabin again. “Where shall we be near when we land?” he asked the Duke.

“Kiev,” said De Richleau, promptly. “I can see the spires in the distance and the two great rivers.”

“Right—give me your money, quick.”

“Why?” asked the astonished Duke.

“Give it to me; they’d take it off us, anyhow.” As he spoke Simon peered out. The tiny squares of the fields below them were increasing in size every moment—the earth seemed to be rushing up to meet them. He shouted in Rex’s ear: “Land near that village to the right—near the trees, if you can.”

Rex shook his head. “Bad landing; the fields’ll suit us best.”

“Do as I say,” cried Simon sharply, taking the Duke’s wallet. He handed both that and his own to Marie Lou. “Here’s money,” he said, breathlessly. “Get to Moscow, if you can; see Valeria Petrovna Karkoff, she’s the famous actress—anyone will tell you where she lives. Give her this locket and tell her we’re prisoners in Kiev—understand?”

Marie Lou nodded. “Valeria Petrovna,” she repeated. Yes.”

The ‘plane began to wheel in great circles at a steep
angle. Simon peered out again. He leant over Rex’s shoulder.

“Think you can make the orchard?” he cried.

“I guess you’re nuts,” said Rex, not understanding what was going on. “There’s a couple of police cars following us on the road—they’re in touch with the ’planes by wireless, you bet—we haven’t a hope in hell of running for it. Still, I’ll do as you say.”

The roofs of the village seemed to be dashing towards them at a terrific speed. They skimmed the thatch of a big barn, and a moment later were bumping along a meadow at fifty miles an hour. With a sudden turn Rex ran the ’plane through a wooden paling, and they brought up with a mild crash against the first trees of an orchard.

“Splendid,” cried Simon, as the engine ceased to throb after its seventeen-hour journey. “Couldn’t have been better.” He was already helping Marie Lou to climb out at the back. “Run,” he shouted, as she dropped to earth.

“My bundle,” she cried; “throw me my bundle.”

“Never mind that,” yelled Simon. “Run!”

She shook her head. “Please—give it to me—I must have it.”