The Ghost Rebellion (32 page)

His smile melted away. “I see you wore yours.”

She motioned to the line of hooks running down the front of her reinforced undergarment. “It’s standard procedure—but you will notice, this shouldn’t be such a chore to get me out of.”

Wellington flipped the top hook of her corset with a single finger, revealing the inner curves of Eliza’s breasts. She let out a little gasp as he undid the second and third hooks.

“
Yes,” Wellington said, releasing the final hook, “hardly a bother at all.”

Feeling his fingers on her skin brought a delightful rush to Eliza. She tipped her head back and leaned into his warm, delicate touch. There was always a struggle with how she enjoyed her Wellington. Did she want him to ravish her, leap upon him herself, or enjoy each other slowly, savouring one another like a fine wine or cognac?

Always a dilemma.

She bent down to kiss him again, a wildfire rippling through her flesh as her naked breasts touched Wellington’s chest. His hands pushed away the creation of fabric, leather, and steel from her, and their kissing grew hungrier on feeling their bodies press harder into each other. He descended lower along her torso, taking her breast into his mouth and teasing her nipple with his tongue. Eliza was always pleasantly surprised at how knowledgeable he was at certain pleasure points. He was a learned man, a graduate from university, and by profession an archivist. He utilised all that knowledge on how the body worked to figure how she would react to certain stimuli.

He continued to move his tongue uninhibited, tasting all of her, savouring what her body yielded to him. Her cries. His fingertips digging deep into her skin. The delicious tremble they shared against each other. She craved his touch, and drew a sweet satisfaction from feeding his pleasure.

“
Do have a care, Eliza,” he gasped suddenly. They were sitting up, facing one another, and Eliza had no recollection how they got to this position, not that she minded. “We might disturb the other berths in this car, and the cars connected to us, and possibly trains passing by.”

She could feel his hands on the backs of her thighs. Both of them were still wearing trousers. They had to remedy this. Quickly.

“
Actually, Wellington,” Eliza whispered, as she reached between them and started to unbuckle his trousers, “I wish to be so improper and inappropriate that we risk exile from the Empire.”

He wiggled his eyebrows. “Tallyho, then.”

Her mouth was on his again, her tongue probing and desperate. That was exactly how she liked it.

Interlude

In Which the Thunder from Down Under Rages against the Russian Storm

Ryfka’s eyes went to each of them. She was a reflection of Brandon, who was also looking between her and him. Once again, Bruce found himself on the unpopular end of an argument.

“
Are you mad?” Brandon asked.

Are you mad
?
Ryfka signed quickly, her face completely flabbergasted.

“
Look, I didn’t say this was going to be an easy operation. Worst case, the extraction team gets you out of Łódź,” Bruce said, sliding the body of the perimeter guard to a far corner of the foyer. They were probably both expecting to make a hasty retreat after Ryfka’s latest kill, but now he had to convince both new-ally sniper and long-time partner that he was not tempting fate. “We need to get the Firebird feathers back to the Fat Man. That’s our priority.” After throwing a tarp over the poor bastard, Bruce turned to the wardrobe where he had left the Firebird feathers hidden. As he had hoped, they were still there. Sliding them free, Bruce passed the crate to Brandon. “Once we send the signal, we have forty-eight hours to get to the extraction, right? Ryfka and I are gonna take part of that forty-eight hours to make things difficult for Mama Bear.”

Ryfka rapped Bruce hard against his arm.
We do not have the resources to take down this factory,
she signed.

I know that, Ryfka,
he replied.
That’s not what we should do. We’re going to slow things down here.
 

“
Ryfka was expecting a demolition squad,” Brandon said. “You’re wanting to accomplish the same thing with the two of you?”

“
What I’m saying is if we can slow down operations here, we have time to debrief the Ministry.”

“
But then Mama Bear will just pack up and move once we get a proper operation together.”

“
That’s a possibility,” he admitted, “but regardless of how this plays out, you’ve seen the operation here.”

For the first time since their rendezvous with Ryfka, Brandon smiled. “It’s a stalemate for Usher. Stay here, take the chance of a strike team. Or attempt to move all operations elsewhere which, judging by what’s here, would take months. That’s bloody brilliant.” He fixed his gaze with Bruce and the smile disappeared. “Still bonkers, but brilliant.”

Ryfka stomped her foot.
Exactly how are you planning to cripple operations?
 

Bruce shrugged.
Making this up as I go,
he signed in reply.

“
You’re not making this up as you go, are you?” Brandon asked.

“
Nah, mate,” Bruce said with a snort, “why would you think that?” Brandon went to reply, but Bruce pushed him towards the door. “You just focus on getting those feathers to the extraction point. We will cover your exit and you send the signal first chance you get. Right, then?”

Brandon threw the box of Firebird feathers over his shoulder and shook his head. “Doesn’t seem like you are giving me much of a choice.”

“
I’m not, mate. I’m trying to have my cake and eat it, too.” Bruce clapped his partner’s shoulder. “I’ll see you in Łódź.”

“
I’m going to hold you to that.” Brandon opened the door, revealing the dull glow of fresh snow against pitch darkness. The star-filled sky just visible through the forest canopy revealed a virtual road map for his partner. He knew Brandon’s tracking skills were top notch, even on days when a thunderstorm raged. A night like this more than guaranteed Brandon a clear direction. “Two days.”

“
First pint is on me.”

With a quick nod to Ryfka, Brandon glanced outside, then slipped into the dark, appearing only for a brief moment under the illumination of a perimeter light before disappearing completely.

Ryfka tapped Bruce on the shoulder.
What about any additional guards? Won’t Mama Bear be on high alert?
 

Bruce shook his head.
They’re focusing on making tanks. Additional guards are only going to draw attention to this facility.
He motioned to the dead Houseboy, then continued to sign.
This kill, though, I’m worried it’s going to make things difficult. There’s going to be a check-in soon. We’ve got to move quick.

Signalling her to follow, Bruce re-treaded his steps back to the centre of the factory. They came to stop at the door where he and Brandon discovered the Cave.

Now what?

Push the oven to critical?

Grab a tank and take out a few of the other units?

 
Or, if he could find the munitions...

The tapping on his shoulder made him jump a bit. Ryfka was looking at him somewhat incredulously.
So, this was about as far as your plan reached?
 

A muscle in Bruce’s jaw twitched. Reluctantly, he signed in reply,
Noticed that, did you?
 

We have plenty of options.

He stared at the door.
Going this way doesn’t feel quite right. It would simply put us on a perch in plain sight. What do you think? Something subtle,
he signed with a slight grin,
or something a bit more direct?
 

It was the first time he had seen the sniper smile, and it suited her quite nicely.
You seem to be a more direct gentleman. I can take a spot above you, provide cover.
She gently patted on her sniper rifle.

On the other side of this door is a gangplank. If my distraction is enough, you should be out of sight. I will rendezvous with you at the east entry point.

We will have to make this fast,
she returned.

Agreed.
He glanced at his watch.
Ten minutes, then move into place.
 

Bruce slipped past Ryfka and found a stairwell leading down to the lower levels of the factory. He cracked the door open and saw only a few Houseboys milling about. The majority of crew for this overnight shift apparently were focusing attention on the forge and construction of two more Bears. Flipping up the coat’s collar and tucking his chin close to his chest, Bruce made his way deeper into the Cave. Up close, Usher’s monstrous tanks were even more imposing.

Then he heard her just up ahead. Mama Bear. She was speaking in Russian, but he recognized the cold efficiency in her voice. She would spot him in a moment.

Bruce ducked into one of the bays, countering the sound of her voice by moving along the tank’s length. He was on the back end of the Bear when he suddenly heard the babushka switch to English as the small party stopped by his hiding place.

“
Exactly what does your Mr Fox want of me?” the old woman asked.

Bruce ducked behind the back leg of the Bear, but leaned around its spherical form to see if he could catch a glimpse of who Mama Bear was talking to.

“
We want results.” The bloke was an Englishman. Had to be a Houseboy high in the ranks. Bruce was guessing this tosser went with a bald look to appear more intimidating. It wasn’t working with Mama Bear, from the sounds of things.  “We’ve reviewed your preliminary findings and everything looks promising, save for the omission of Element X. We’re not pleased with that whatsoever.”

“
When you say Element X you mean Firebird feathers, yes?”

“
Legend tells of the Firebird feathers granting strength to those who possess it. The idea that we could break down the feathers and smelt them into the same metal armour for the Bears—”

“
Do you hear yourself, Brother Streeper?” the old woman scoffed. “You speak of legend. We work in science. Da, Firebird feathers are a marvel. Apart from glowing they have no place in Bear. We must make sure Bear works better than prototype. After Bear succeeds, then we try magic feathers.”

“
The House of Usher respects the supernatural. If these models pass the next trials, I strongly suggest your next phase includes the Firebird enhancement. We need to know if we can make these creations of yours indestructible.”

“
We only have five feathers to work with,” she stated.

“
Five?” This Houseboy Streeper now looked annoyed. “I will need to see them. Based on their quality, we may want to consider other ways of employing them into Ragnarök.”

“
If Mr Fox wants Firebird feathers so badly,” she said, “Mama Bear will give them to you as gift.”

“
I think he would consider that quite the peace offering.”

“
Let me take you to them then.” The party resumed their walk.

Bruce had hoped for thirty minutes. He would be most fortunate now if he had fifteen.

“
Time to make an interruption,” he muttered to himself as he climbed up the tank’s back leg.

The “body” of the Bear was not so much a sphere as it was shaped like a giant black egg. The “head” was nothing more than another sphere cut in half. Obviously, that would be where he would need to end up. Directly underneath him was a hatch, a handgrip just above it that probably unlocked it. Bruce gave the grip a twist, and the hatch split in two. He jumped into the beast, and found a corresponding hand-lock inside which shut the hatch with a soft hiss.

 
Lights flickered to life inside the Bear. Easily this machine needed to be manned by a crew of four. An engineer to check boilers, make sure systems were running properly. Two gunners, for obvious reasons. And finally, a pilot. Bruce hunched lower as he walked towards the cockpit, which was hardly what he expected. Whomever piloted this behemoth had to lie flat on their stomach. While the larger cannons were the responsibility of the gunners, the pilot operated the front-mounted Maxims. That would help in their escape, but as far as inflicting damage on the factory, he would have to be nimble in such tight quarters.

Bruce wiggled into the pilot’s space and opened up valves overhead. Gauges jumped from red to green and in his body he could feel a rumble. The Bear was waking up.

His hands gripped the control sticks, each of them capped at their ends by a button. Instincts assured him that if there were buttons within reach of his thumb, then they had to be firing mechanisms of some fashion for the machine guns mounted on either side of him. His feet, snug in what felt remarkably like horse’s stirrups, must have a say in the legs and how they operate.

“
All right then,” he whispered to himself. “Probably like driving a lorry. How hard can it be?”

Bruce flexed his right foot forward, and the Bear lurched backward, slamming into the bay’s retaining wall. The impact rattled his teeth, and caught the attention of the Cave’s personnel.

“
So, not quite a lorry then,” he said, pointing his right foot downward. The Bear heaved again, this time forward. He repeated the gesture, this time on the left, and the left side of the tank also moved forward. To make this thing move, he would have to mimic a belly crawl.

The shouts at his Bear sounded soft, muffled; but from the looks of the ground crew, mallets and spanners held over their heads as if they were pitchforks and torches, Bruce was not making any friends.

Fine. That made pushing forward without caution just that much easier.

His Bear lumbered free of its bay and, with a twist of the bars and leaning left, turned a corner that brought the forge into view.

Something landed on top of his Bear. Whatever it was, it was well over ten stone. A heartbeat later, whatever had landed on the tank collapsed and then slid free. Through his viewport, Bruce saw the workers running in a wild panic. Another thump came from the outside, followed close by the sound of a body falling against the Bear.