The Crystal Code (22 page)

Chapter 30

G
erald led the dash to the aero club hangar.

‘There must be a phone in here,' he said, skidding through the open door. He looked around in a panic. The inside was lost in shadow.

‘No sign of anything over here,' Felicity called from the far side of the building.

Sam raced up to Gerald and grabbed him by the shoulder. ‘What about that?' He pointed to a single-engine aeroplane at the rear of the hangar. ‘Would it have a radio or something?'

Gerald stared at the little Cessna. Compared with the majesty of the Archer corporate jet, it looked like a toy—a wind-up toy, with a rubber band for power.

But to Gerald, it was a lifeline.

He ran to the plane. ‘Come on,' he shouted back to Sam and Felicity. He ducked past the propeller and under the wing. He pulled open the door, clambered up into the pilot's seat and started flicking switches.

Sam appeared in the doorway. ‘You know how to work the radio on this?'

Gerald pulled a set of headphones over his ears and adjusted the microphone in front of his mouth. ‘This isn't like the chopper back in California,' he said. ‘Not only can I work the radio,' he broke into a manic grin, ‘but I reckon I can fly it too.'

Sam gaped at him. ‘You what?'

Gerald pressed a button on the steering control. ‘This is Oscar Kilo Echo India November, from Hadanka aero club. I need to report a kidnapping. A twin-engine aircraft has just left Hadanka airstrip with two men on board, destination unknown. They have kidnapped a girl: Ruby Valentine. Thirteen years old. Blonde. Please alert the Czech police immediately.'

Gerald released the button and waited. Sam went to speak but Gerald held up a hand as he listened to a voice over the headphones. ‘Affirmative,' Gerald replied into the microphone. Then a pause. ‘Uh, who am I?' He gave Sam and Felicity a panicked look. ‘An interested bystander. Out.'

Gerald tore off the headphones and climbed out of the plane, pushing past Sam and Felicity. ‘They're calling the police,' he said.

‘Who is?' Felicity asked.

‘I think it was the control tower at Prague Airport.' Gerald pulled a chock from a wheel under the left wing and ducked across to the other side.

‘They spoke English?' Sam said.

‘International language of flying,' Gerald said. ‘They could see Brahe on the radar. He's heading north.' He tugged on the other chock and sent it skating across the floor. ‘Take a side.' Gerald grabbed a strut under one wing; Sam and Felicity did the same on the opposite side. They pushed the plane towards the hangar doors.

‘How did you know all that radio stuff?' Sam asked. ‘You sounded like the real deal.'

Gerald nodded to the side of the plane, on which was painted in large black letters, OK-EIN. ‘That's the plane's call sign. Its tail number. You spell it out with the phonetic alphabet.'

The Cessna juddered out of the hangar and onto the apron, and rolled to a stop.

‘This is a Cessna 185. It's a classic tail dragger,' Gerald said. ‘This is exactly what we've been learning to fly in aero club at school.'

Sam stared at him in wonder. ‘I keep forgetting you go to Gazillionaire Grammar. You can really fly this?'

Gerald shifted the pilot's seat forward so Sam could get in the back. Sam hesitated.

Gerald gave him a reassuring pat on the shoulder. ‘I'm certain I can.'

Sam narrowed his eyes, then climbed into the back of the plane. Felicity hopped into the co-pilot's seat. Gerald settled in the pilot's seat and studied the array of switches and dials and gauges and indicators. ‘Almost certain of it.'

He toggled a knob.

The windshield wipers turned on.

Sam watched as the blades tracked back and forth. ‘Almost certain, huh?'

Gerald bit his lip and switched off the wipers. ‘Good,' he said. ‘Windscreen's clean. Now, we can get underway. Where's the checklist?'

Felicity handed him a clipboard from a pocket in her door. ‘Is this it?'

‘Thanks,' Gerald said, and started checking off items from the list. ‘We've got plenty of fuel. Batteries are charged. It's all good.'

‘Yeah, great,' Sam said, without enthusiasm. ‘Where exactly are we going?'

‘After Brahe,' Gerald said. ‘We can't just rely on the police tracking him on radar.'

‘But we don't know where he's going, apart from north.'

‘Do you remember Pugly, back in the barn?' Gerald said. ‘How he was saying something about the weather closing in?'

‘That's right,' Felicity said. ‘At some odd-sounding place. Scandinavian, maybe. What was it? Lansdrone?'

Gerald tapped at a small screen in the centre panel. ‘Landskrona,' he said. ‘In southern Sweden.'

‘How do you know that?' Sam asked.

‘Global Positioning System,' Gerald said. ‘Satellite navigation will get us there.' A tiny map of central Europe glowed on the screen. He entered the destination into its menu. ‘Are we ready?'

Sam closed his eyes. ‘Do we have an option?'

Gerald pulled his seat belt over his shoulders and fastened the clasp. ‘Not really.'

He turned the key and the engine sputtered into life. The propeller sliced the air. The little plane shunted forward on its skis and turned towards the airstrip. Gerald radioed the control tower to tell them Brahe could be heading to Sweden. He manoeuvred the Cessna to head straight down the runway.

‘Gerald?' Sam said from the back seat.

Gerald made final adjustments to the instruments. ‘Yep?'

‘How many times have you flown without an instructor in the plane?'

Gerald gripped the control column and took a deep breath. ‘Let's see. Including this flight,' he said, gunning the engine, ‘once.'

Sam's head flopped back. ‘I was afraid you were going to say that.'

They headed off, sliding across the hard-packed snow. The plane accelerated in a juddering howl.

The tail lifted.

Gerald pulled back on the control column.

The nose lifted.

The rattling stopped.

They were airborne.

Gerald tried to ignore Sam's heavy breathing to set his coordinates for Landskrona. They climbed steadily and after a few minutes Gerald flicked a button. He turned to face Sam, resting his arms on the back of his seat.

‘Hands!' Sam yelled, his eyes popping. ‘On the steering wheel!'

Gerald grinned. ‘Autopilot,' he said. ‘I shouldn't have to do much till we get closer to Sweden, in about seven hundred miles.'

Sam gripped his armrest with white-knuckled intensity. ‘I think I prefer the Archer jet.'

The engine droned as the little plane sliced its way through the night. The full moon had reached its peak and the landscape below was painted ghost white. Soon, the thrill of the chase subsided and the ache returned to Gerald's chest.

Ruby had sacrificed her safety to let them escape. She must have known that the fire in the barn would trap her with Brahe. And if Felicity was right—if she had translated the Latin correctly—Ruby was in real danger.

The heart of a girl? What sort of witch's brew was Brahe planning?

Gerald turned to look at Felicity. She was asleep, her head slumped forward onto her chest. Felicity obviously liked him—a lot. And Gerald liked her. But a gnawing doubt chewed in his gut. Gerald had never felt the sensations he'd experienced when he thought Ruby had perished in the fire. A total sense of loss. An emptiness that felt like he could never be made whole again.

Gerald suddenly felt so tired. He rubbed the heels of his hands into his eyes, setting off sparks that spun and coalesced into the shape of Ruby's face. He kept his eyelids closed, trying to preserve the image forever.

Gerald must have dozed off. He was jolted awake by Sam's voice cutting through the drone of the engine.

‘What does “Terrain Ahead” mean?'

Gerald sat upright, disorientated. ‘Huh? What did you say?'

‘On the GPS screen there,' Sam said, pointing. ‘The words “Terrain Ahead” are flashing.'

Gerald spun his head around to stare at the screen, his eyes bulging. ‘How long has that been there?'

‘A couple of minutes,' Sam said. ‘I would have told you sooner but you looked so peaceful, I didn't want to disturb you.'

Gerald grabbed hold of the control column and flicked some buttons on the panel.

‘Hold on everybody!' he called.

Felicity stirred and looked up, droopy-eyed. ‘What is it?'

Gerald worked the trim wheel by his right leg, furiously turning it. ‘I think we're about to fly into a hill.'

Sam's grip tore two chunks of foam clean off the armrests.

Chapter 31

T
he words were flashing on the screen.
Terrain Ahead. Terrain Ahead
.

Gerald hauled back on the control column.

‘What are you doing?' Sam asked from the back seat. His eyes were fixed on the window and the night outside.

‘Trying not to crash,' Gerald said through gritted teeth.

‘Anything I can do to help?'

‘Shutting up would be good.'

‘Right you are.'

An alarm sounded, beeping in time to the flashing message. Lights blinked red on the navigation display. Through the windscreen Gerald could see the brow of a hill, fast rising in front of them. They were flying straight towards the trees along the top of the ridge.

‘Oh, crud,' Gerald muttered.

He pushed the throttle to its limit and hauled back as hard as he could on the control column. The engine strained. The nose pulled up.

Gerald's hand reached for the radio button. He was ready to call in a mayday. The plane jostled in the turbulent air crossing the ridge, tossing the three occupants about in their seats. A sudden whooshing noise came from the tail.

Then the alarm fell silent. The flashing message disappeared from the screen. The cockpit returned to normal. And Gerald started breathing again.

There was a long pause. ‘Are we okay?' Sam asked.

Gerald swallowed. ‘Yeah. But we might need to clean some pinecones from the tailskid. I think we almost landed in a tree.'

Sam leaned back into his seat. Pieces of yellow foam littered his lap. His armrests were stripped bare.

Felicity gave Gerald a nervous glance. ‘Good work, Gerald,' she said. ‘I think.'

Gerald tapped on the GPS screen and looked at his watch. ‘Not far to go. We should be able to see something soon.'

‘Why is it suddenly so dark down there?' Felicity said. ‘Where have all the lights gone?'

‘We're flying over the Baltic Sea,' Gerald said. ‘Copenhagen will be coming up on the left, see?' He pointed to the little digital map. ‘And Landskrona is on the other side of this body of water.' His finger paused over a tiny dot in the middle of the Oresund Sound.

‘What is it?' Felicity said.

‘This island,' Gerald said. His eyes strained to make out the tiny lettering next to it. ‘Can you read that?'

Felicity leaned across to get a better view. ‘Is it…Ven?'

‘Ven?' Sam said. ‘Why does that sound familiar?'

‘Isn't that the other place that Brahe mentioned back in the barn?' Felicity said. ‘Something about not being able to land there because of the weather.'

‘You're right,' Gerald said. ‘That must be where they're heading. Jasper Mantle said something about Brahe having an observatory on an island in Sweden.' He adjusted some dials. ‘That's our new destination.'

Sam leaned over Gerald's shoulder to look at the map, then out the window into the darkness beneath them. ‘It looks very small,' he said. ‘What if we can't find it?'

Gerald chewed on the inside of his cheek. ‘Then we'll get as close as we can.'

Sam collapsed back into his seat and closed his eyes.

Ahead, the inky blanket beneath them gave way to a ribbon of lights as the Swedish coastline came into view. Gerald teased the plane a little to the left. He was desperate to know if the local police had been able to track Brahe on radar. But he didn't want to use the radio again in case Brahe was listening.

Wind buffeted the plane, tossing the little craft around in the sky. Gerald tried to concentrate but Sam's moaning was distracting.

Then, after another sudden gust, Gerald saw a tiny speck in the expanse of water.

The island of Ven.

He could just make out a few pinpricks of light in the darkness. The island was about four kilometres long and two kilometres wide—far smaller than Gerald's country estate near Glastonbury.

Gerald put the Cessna into a long arcing turn. ‘Now comes the fun part,' he said.

‘What's that?' Felicity asked.

‘Landing,' Gerald said. ‘And Sam, can you stop moaning? It's very off-putting.'

A meek ‘sorry' floated across from the back seat.

‘We'll only get one go at this,' Gerald said. ‘There's a fog bank rolling in from the north and I don't fancy putting this thing down in the dark and in a fog.'

The island grew larger. They could make out scattered farmhouses, boats moored in a small harbour and the outline of paddocks framed by windbreaks of tall trees. What they could not see was an airstrip.

‘Gerald?' Sam said.

‘Yes, Sam.'

‘Where are we going to land?'

‘On the ground.'

‘Okay.'

Gerald banked the aircraft, giving them a grandstand view of the island.

‘How about there?' Felicity said, pointing. ‘That paddock looks pretty long and flat.'

Gerald sized up the strip of land and gave a curt nod. Whatever usually grew there in the spring seemed to be buried under a lot of snow. ‘It'll do,' Gerald said. ‘And just as well.'

Sam raised his head from the back seat. ‘Why just as well?'

‘We're almost out of fuel.'

Sam slithered back into his hole. ‘I've got to stop asking questions.'

Wind buffeted the little Cessna as it made its approach. Gerald tightened his seatbelt and worked the wheel by his leg, trying to keep the plane in trim. Lower and lower it came. Its skis barely cleared the windbreak at one end of the paddock.

Five metres above ground.

Three metres.

The plane smacked down with a bump. Gerald cut the throttle and hauled the control column back to his stomach. He held on as they skidded to the left. A ski dug into a snow bank, throwing the tail violently around.

Inside the plane it was like the world had flown off its axis. The view through the window was a cartwheel of white, then black, then white and black again. There was a sharp wrenching of metal. Sam looked over his shoulder to see the tail section sheer away just behind his seat. The paddock wheeled around in an eye-popping panorama as what was left of the Cessna came to a stop. Gerald ripped his seat belt off and did the same for Felicity. He tried his door but it was jammed.

Sam crawled over the back of his seat and fell straight onto the snow. ‘Out this way!' he yelled. Felicity clambered into the back, with Gerald close behind. They got clear just as the first flame appeared from the engine cowl. A second later, the plane erupted in a fireball.

They watched the flames light the sky, their faces washed in orange and yellow. Gerald let out a loud breath. ‘Well, that was a good landing,' he said.

Sam dropped his mouth open. ‘How is that?' he asked.

Gerald put a hand on his friend's shoulder and started towards the end of the paddock, leaving the burning wreckage behind them. ‘We're walking, aren't we?'

They reached a line of trees and climbed a stile into the next paddock. Gerald stopped short. ‘Will you look at that,' he said.

On the far side of the field, shielded beneath the lower branches of a cluster of pine trees, was a squat building. Two large sliding doors stood apart. Just visible through the opening was the nose of a twin-engined aeroplane.

‘Is that Brahe's plane?' Felicity asked.

‘What else could it be?' Sam said.

‘It has to be,' Gerald said. ‘These paddocks are the only place on the island that you could land a plane. I bet under all this snow there's an airstrip.'

‘What do we do now?' Felicity asked.

It was seventy metres of open terrain between them and the hangar. Gerald weighed up the options. ‘Let's keep to the tree line and go the long way around,' he said.

‘You don't think a fiery crash landing in the neighbouring paddock might have tipped Brahe that he's got company?' Sam said.

Gerald set off, grim-faced. ‘My guess is he's concentrating on other things.'