Day of the Assassins (8 page)

Jack screamed up to the observer who appeared just above him in the basket, “Please… help!”

The observer stretched down, leaning out dangerously as he did so, but Jack was still too far down on the rope ladder for the observer to reach him. Paralysed by fear, he was unable to move further up the rope ladder so instead, he wrapped his limbs around its rungs as the balloon powered upwards.

“One step at a time, young man!” the observer shouted. “Don’t look down!”

Only with a supreme effort was Jack able to cage his fear sufficiently to take a single unsteady step from one rung to the next, then unclench one hand and slide it up to the rung above.

“Very good!” the observer shouted encouragingly. “You can do it!”

Jack gritted his teeth, and repeated the manoeuvre. Finally, the observer was in reach and he grabbed the shoulder straps of Jack’s rucksack.

“One more step my friend!” he called.

Jack swallowed hard and pushed up once more. Using this momentum, the man leaned down precariously and, placing a hand under each armpit, gave Jack an almighty heave and he finally slithered into the basket. Jack stood up but had to quickly grab the side of the basket as it swayed in the air.

“Well done my friend!” the observer said giving him a hearty slap on the back.

Jack peered down nervously – he couldn’t believe how far up they had already travelled. Maybe fifty metres, and the wind had already taken them way aft of
Dreadnought
, which already looked like a toy ship. He could make out the specks of the crew, and all the features of the ship – the guns still pointing starboard in the direction of the targets – and the wide white wake. The unfortunate seaman who had fallen from his tether pole was bobbing around in the water like a champagne cork. He had been thrown a lifebelt – but would have a job to swim to it.

Jack slumped back down onto the bottom of the basket. He was panting, and reached into his pocket for his puffer. He glanced up at the balloon observer standing over him. He wore a full-length, weather-beaten, brown leather coat with a high collar. His neck was wrapped in a bright red scarf. The leather skullcap was placed on his head at a slight angle. He pushed up his aviator’s goggles onto his forehead and peered curiously at Jack with piercing blue eyes, as if examining some sort of botanical specimen.

Then, he smiled warmly, thrust out his hand and, in a surprisingly high somewhat accented voice, said, “Professor August Pinckard-Schnell… delighted to meet you.”

J
ack said the first thing that came into his head, “Are we going to die?”

“Well, we may die or we may not. But one thing is for sure, there is nothing that either of us can do about it,” the professor paused, “so we might as well enjoy the ride.”

“Great,” Jack said sarcastically.

“I shouldn’t worry. We will soon be over land and hopefully we will be able to come down safely. Of course, if I am wrong we may plummet like a stone and our bodies will disintegrate as we hit the earth at terminal velocity. Our guts will be spread around Germany or Holland like cow manure…” he paused again, thinking to himself, “or alternatively we may hit woodland, in which case, assuming a good wind, we will be ripped from the basket and dismembered limb from limb as we crash through the canopy…” he shrugged. “Or maybe we will hit a town and be slammed into the side of a tall church just as a family wedding is taking place below. Or…”

“Stop!” Jack pleaded.

The professor paused, still enthusiastically contemplating the apparently limitless scenarios by which they might meet their demise. “Indeed, that is what makes it so very interesting, all these possibilities.”

“Fantastic…”

He stared back at Jack for a moment and then guffawed loudly. It was a high-pitched intermittent wheezing – quite unlike any laugh Jack had heard before. “Very good. Very good. I never tire of the English sense of humour. Most excellent…” But suddenly his voice trailed off self-consciously as he realised that, judging from Jack’s pale
face and trembling hands, he did not share his own blasé nonchalance about their predicament. “I apologise, my friend. One forgets that it can be quite frightening the first time… but I assure you, we are reasonably safe. I speak from experience. Please… allow me to show you.” And with that, the professor confidently stepped over to Jack’s corner of the basket, placed his hand sympathetically on Jack’s arm and encouraged him to get up.

“It takes a little bit of getting used to, and it’s no good if you are afraid of heights… but tell me, where else on earth would you get a view like that…?”

The professor opened both arms, preacher like, out into the sky. Jack rose gingerly to his feet and, gripping the side of the basket tightly, reluctantly peered into the void.

“Look. We are over the North Sea and there ahead is the Dutch coast.”

The view was breathtaking. Below, the English Channel merged into the broad blue-grey of a calm North Sea twinkling in the strong afternoon sun. There was no roar in his ears – they were travelling with the wind. In fact it was very peaceful.

The professor smiled at the look of wonder on Jack’s face. “Beautiful, don’t you think?”

“… bit scary.”

The professor grinned broadly and slapped him on the back, “Well, let’s see if we can’t find something to make you feel better.”

He moved over to his bags. He seemed very well equipped and soon had Jack wrapped up in a thick woollen blanket in one corner of the basket. Next, he produced a large flask of steaming coffee and then some hard, bitter chocolate, which crumbled dryly in Jack’s mouth.

“Main course later… we might need to ration ourselves a little…” The professor’s English was perfect, but he had quite a strong accent. Jack began to warm up… and he felt a little more confident.

“Are you from England?” he asked.

The professor looked back at him from his own corner of the basket as he cupped a tin mug brimming with coffee. He pretended to be offended, “Certainly not. I’m German. Well, by nationality
anyway. I’m a scientist. Or more an inventor, really.”

“How does a German get to be aboard a British battleship? Particularly when war is about to break out.”

The professor looked puzzled. “War? I don’t think so.” He frowned. “The European powers certainly have their differences, but war – I doubt it… Our diplomacy is too good. Many crises have been averted over the last few years – Agadir, the Balkans. Surely nobody wants war – certainly not between Germany and England.”

“Even so, how does a German get to be aboard a British battleship?”

The professor shrugged. “As I said, I’m a scientist.” Jack was none the wiser. “This,” he gestured proudly to the huge balloon above their heads, “is my invention. The navy are interested in using it for spotting at sea. We were about to conduct a test, but then something went wrong with the winding gear.”

“You can say that again.”

“It’s very exciting.”

“What is?”

“Well… obviously the navy is paying me for my new design, but I had planned that, once perfected, I might use the balloon to set a world record. Your navy and I are helping each other, if you like.”

This was getting better and better, Jack thought. “A world record for what?”

“Distance travelled by air – of course.”

Jack’s heart sank. “Oh no. And now you think you might have a chance?”

“I admit not quite in the circumstances I expected…” the professor peered out over the basket, “but, I must say, the conditions look most favourable.”

“Why would the British employ a German scientist on one of their most important battleships?”

“Well, of course
Dreadnought
is not as state of the art as she once was… and I have helped the navy out on various bits and pieces. Anyway, they know my politics.”

“Politics?”

“I have none. Well… I’m a pacifist. Don’t approve of politics.”
He shrugged. “But if you need your research funded or your balloon tested, there are limited options.” He gave another apologetic shrug and there was a pause before he looked across at Jack curiously, “Well I have given you my story,” he said, “perhaps you should tell me how you come to be here…” Jack started to feel nervous as the professor’s blue eyes drilled into him. “You seem maybe a bit young to be a regular sailor in the king’s navy. And the escapade back down there might suggest that you are maybe, shall we say… in trouble?”

Jack weighed up his options. Should he tell the truth? He said the first thing that came into his head.

“Oh that’s easy. I’m Jack Christie. I’m a time traveller from the future – and I’m being chased by time police who want to kill me.”

For a moment, there was silence as the balloon cut through the sky. Then the professor shook as he let out a second wheezy, high-pitched laugh, “Excellent, excellent!” he cried. “Jack Christie – you and I are going to get along very well. Very well indeed…” He then scrabbled inside his bags again, chortling to himself, long after Jack’s remark ceased to be remotely funny.

“More chocolate?”

Professor August Pinckard-Schnell might be as mad as a March hare – but at least he was making Jack feel better.

“Thanks professor.”

Soon, the professor became distracted. He rose once more from his position, sniffed the air, looked about and then moved around the basket from one corner to the next. “Now, we need to make sure we prepare ourselves properly… it is all about optimising our chances.” He checked the burner, which had not yet been used, and ensured that all the gas cylinders were properly secured. He looked up towards the gas bag above, which completely overshadowed them, inspecting it carefully. He glanced several times at the afternoon sun, narrowing his eyes, and then scribbled in a scruffy notebook. This went on for a full ten minutes while Jack hunkered down in his corner of the basket.

When the professor finished he announced, “We seem to be
maintaining our height. Still going east, or more south east, really. Fast, we are travelling fast. Maybe eighty kilometres an hour. Although it does not feel that fast.” He pondered what all this might mean, “If we keep going at this rate, well…” he grinned, “a world record! Easily. A world record for manned flight!”

“I’m very happy for you.”

“We should maybe try to increase our height a little… what do you say, Jack? Would you like to try the burner?”

Jack was not quite sure what he meant, but then the professor pointed at the large metal burner in the middle of the basket.

“It’s easy, quite safe,” the professor said. “You just do this.” He pulled a lever and there was an ear-splitting whoosh as a large flame licked up towards the aperture underneath the balloon, way above their heads. The professor smiled reassuringly and gestured for Jack to have a go. Jack put his hand on the lever and repeated the procedure. Again, there was a roar as the flame from the burner shot skywards. He jumped back and watched as the flame receded, soon replaced by the silent sky as they sailed on. Reassured that the procedure had not resulted in the balloon going up in a ball of flames, Jack gained a little more confidence, and took a second opportunity to inspect the breathtaking view from their vantage point. Soon his remaining fear melted away – replaced by a surging exhilaration. The air was like crystal and you could see a hundred and sixty kilometres in every direction.

“Funny,” Jack remarked. “No vapour trails.”

The professor looked at him oddly, “No what?”

“You know, vapour trails. I was just thinking, professor, it’s funny that you can’t see any vapour trails from all the jets… there’s usually loads…” Jack suddenly realised what he had said and his voice trailed off self-consciously, “even where I live…”

The professor looked puzzled. “‘Jet’, ‘vapour trail’ – these are English expressions I have not heard before…”

Jack grimaced, “Sorry professor, doesn’t matter, it’s just where I come from… we have some funny words for stuff – there’s a bunch more I probably need to teach you as well, like ‘Google’, ‘iPod’, and
‘Global Warming’. That kind of thing.” He shrugged, “But you won’t need to worry about any of them.”

The professor frowned, “I see… oh well… you must, er, tell me what they mean… sometime.” He put his notebook back in his bag and began to busy himself with retrieving some more provisions. Soon he had laid out quite a feast. Sausages were produced, bread and some cheese.

“I hope this is OK…” the professor said airily.

They ate and the professor probed again.

“So, come Jack – the truth now… what were you really doing aboard the ship… Had you stowed away? Maybe trouble with your family – at home? Maybe I can help?”

Jack considered his options again. It was going to be difficult to brush off the truth, however unbelievable. And his earlier blunder about there being no aeroplanes in the sky could easily be repeated. More importantly, he knew he was still in danger – he had escaped Tony and Gordon once – but with all the technology they seemed to have at their disposal, they could easily turn up again. Maybe the bizarre Professor August Pinckard-Schnell was right and he could help in some way. He seemed kind, if eccentric. Honesty, however unbelievable, was probably the best policy. He glanced at the professor, toying with a piece of cheese, took a deep breath and launched into the incredible events of the last few hours. As he did so, the professor studied him with a look of amused scepticism.

After he had finished, the professor put his hand over his mouth to hide a doubting smile, “Well it’s an impressive story, Jack, but I’m not sure it is quite believable…” He clearly thought that the strange waif he had inadvertently rescued either had an over-active imagination or had escaped from the local lunatic asylum. To be fair, Jack could see his point.

Then he had a brainwave. He reached inside his rucksack. It was still there: the history book. In triumph, he tossed it over to the professor and it landed at his crossed feet on the other side of the basket. It blew open and the crisp white pages ruffled provocatively in the breeze.

“Well – if you don’t believe me – take a look at that.”

The professor took the book gingerly in his hands and leafed slowly through the pages. As he did so, the expression on his face changed.

Jack looked at him smugly, “It might be difficult for me to make all that up. Published in the year 2006 for a start… a few years from now I think you’ll find. It would be hard for me to create the detail in there – the whole history of the war… all the horror… the pictures…”

The professor’s amused scepticism evaporated and after a while he raised his head and looked at Jack with ashen-faced incredulity. He tried to say something, making a couple of false starts in the process, “But…”, “How did…?” and finally, he muttered, “So this war of yours, this ‘Great War’, it really happens?”

“Oh yes, Professor, it happens alright.”

“It’s incredible. It cannot be true.”

“Incredible. And true. Either that, or it’s a complete nightmare. And I’ve fallen asleep in Pendelshape’s class…”

The professor was concentrating intensely, his brow deeply furrowed, as he thumbed the book with increasing fervour. He began to speak to himself in a quick-fire stream of German as his brain tried to come to terms with Jack’s revelations. “Well, I suppose, the new physics; of course I am familiar with this. Einstein, Planck – relativity, quantum mechanics. The new physics has incredible conceptual leaps. Few understand it, and probably none can comprehend the implications. But nothing like this, surely… surely not…”

The professor shook his head in awe as the enormity of it all started to sink in.