The Hidden Man: A Phineas Starblower Adventure (Phineas Starblower Adventures) (67 page)

“Where is the base of the ladder Captain?” Gopal inquired equally softly.

“Twenty feet beyond if I recall.” Jerard whispered back and continued toward the bridge access ramp.

Jerard peered around the bulkhead to look down on the bridge ramp. The French gaurd t the door gasped at the sudden appearance of a stranger. With an oath he snapped up his pistol and fired. Phillips reacted instantly by diving forward as the Frenchman’s round tore through the space where his belly had been only an instant before.

Gopal surged forward and pointed his own revolver down through the guardrail. His hasty shot blew a gouge out of the floor at the Frenchman’s feet and forced him back under the bridge door lintel. Undaunted the man fired back from his now covered position. One shot went wide while the other creased Gopal’s sleeve. Gopal sought his own cover by stepping back the way they had come.

Jerard scrambled forwards on his hands and knees, knowing to stay still was to invite a shot in the back. Ahead of him he could just make out movement. The fellow at the foot of the ladder was coming after him now.

“Go on Captain!” Gopal shouted. “I will keep this one busy!” True to his word the Indian again traded shots with the trapped gaurd below.

Still on his hands and knees Jerard gained the small safety of the access corridor past the bridge. He snapped a shot off at the figure a the base of the ladder. The man pitched back as the ball round took him in the chest. “Gotcha!” he snarled in satisfaction.

LeBlanc looked back from the door to the bomb bay as the gunfire broke out behind him. The door's padlock lay discarded on the floor, but despite his repeated efforts the hatchway had failed to open. Forgetting about the stubborn door he returned to the ladder well just in time to see his comrade gunned down by the accursed English Captain.

“Good shot Captain Phillips. It will be your last.” He drawled and unslung his rifle from his shoulder.

Seeing the treacherous Wright, appear Phillips realized a rifle round wouldn’t be stopped by any of the lightweight metal of the corridor where he crouched. Dropping his pistol, he launched himself up and at the man before he could lower the longer gun. The half aimed shot blasted past him ripping through the walls and out the side of the airship. But it was not enough to slow Phillips down. He grabbed the outstretched gun barrel driving Wright backwards and slamming the pair of them into the ladder.  Maintaining his grip on the barrel Jerard struggled to get hold of the gun stock.  Suddenly Wright raised the gun over his head and vicisouly slammed his forhead into Phillip's face.  Stunned for a second his tenuous hold slipped from the stock of the gun. Jerard reflexiely tightened his grip on the rifle barrel and tried to clear the stars from his eyesight.  Closing his mind to the pain Phillips drove his left hand as hard as he could into the spy’s midriff. Wright twisted away with an “oof!” of expelled air. 

Jerard finally wrestled the gun away from the winded Frenchman. Staring at his foe in utter disgust he dashed the weapon against the far wall. 
“Right you brute, you are in for the thrashing of your life Sir!” He declared furiously, bunching up his gloved fists in front of him.

Yves LeBlanc drew in a ragged breath and looked at the sight of his erstwhile Captain posing before him. “You English always so fair, so noble. But aren't you supposed to slap me with your glove first?” He laughed.

“Thats for a gentleman's challenge Froggy!” Phillips spat back “You fail to qualify!”

Wright/LeBlanc simply sneered back and swing with his right fist at Phillip's head. Ducking Jerard replied with a pair of swift left jabs. Not really to cause damage but to see where the man's reach and reflexes were.

Apparently they were fine. The Frenchmen dodged left then right then dropped his hand down to aim a body blow to Jerards solar plexus. Shifting his stance at the last moment Jerard took the blow on his tensed stomach muscles instead. It stung but was hardly debilitating. Instead it left him ready to deliver an uppercut of shattering force that pitched LeBlanc back over and onto the deck.

The man lay there weakened and groggy, Jerard stood over him wanting to beat the living daylights out of somebody over all the days of frustrating pursuit and for the deception played on them all. But he had a duty to perform, personal satisfaction would have to wait. “Where is Miss Smythe-Harris sirrah, and where are you keeping Dr. Nordstrom!” He demanded.

LeBlanc mumbled something, and Jerard half stooped to hear the man's befuddled words. “She, they, are locked in the hold, I have the key..” he made out.

“Hand it over Sir before I give you what you truly deserve!” Phillips thundered holding out one hand to receive the key.

LeBlanc’s hand reached into his breast pocket slowly and groggily, but something in the man's manner warned Jerard in time. He danced back out of reach as the hastily drawn knife flashed across where his wrist had been a second before!

LeBlanc rolled to his feet as Jerard backpedaled looking for his discarded pistol. But the Frenchman was too quick; if he stooped to grab it he’d be knifed in the back before he could take aim.

“I concede you the boxing m’sieur Philipps.” LeBlanc began, “But you see I am from Marseille,” he flourished the knife in a figure eight, “this is more my area of hand to hand combat!”

Jerard drew his own utility knife. Its edge somewhat dulled from prising apart some of the Amerie's struts. “Hurmmph Sir a cosh on the back of the head while no one was looking is your area of hand to hand combat by all accounts!” He looked at the heavy knife in his hand then at the sliver of sharpened steel in Wright's. It was a battle of a needle against a pair of shears.

“Whatever works Captain Phillips.” LeBlanc shot back. “I will do whatever I must for my country.”

“At the cost of your own honour and dignity as a man I see.” Jerard replied thinking of D’Arcey lying injured aboard the Discretion, because he would not descend to such barbarism. “France would be better off without your kind of service I think m’sieur!”

“Come cut my service short then Englishman! To the death!”

Phillips slowly raised his knife to his face as if it was a sabre in salute, to his surprise LeBlanc did the same and then he gave the man a surprise of his own. Snapping the heavy knife out he threw the thick blade into LeBlancs chest where it sank inches deep into the man's ribs.

His eyes wide with shock LeBlanc sank to the deck his free hand grasping at the cold steel embedded in his chest. His eyes looking at Phillips with a mute question in them.

Jerard watched the dying man coldly. “I believe you weren't paying attention old chap.” He stated flatly as he retrieved his pistol. “I told you weren’t qualified for an honorable duel and I believe it was
you
that said ‘whatever works’ just a moment ago
n’est pas?
”

LeBlanc made a hideous gurgle and slumped back. Placing a boot on the dead man's chest Jerard retrieved his knife then went through his pockets for the set of keys.

“Nicely done Sah!” Jeremy Landover’s voice called from behind him.

“All’s fair in love and war Mr. Landover. What's the situation?”

“Gopal and I forced the fellow back further down the bridge corridor Sir but its another choke point. No sign of my brother and Mr. Randal, and most distressingly Sir, no sign of Miss Tash.”

Jerard looked down the hall way aft. “He said that they had her and the Doctor in the bomb bay. Here, take these” he stated as he passed the keys to Landover. “Take a look, I want to check on Gopal.”

Leaving Mr. Landover Phillips hurried back the way he had come. Near the top of the ramp crouched Gopal peering through his gunsights down towards the Amerie’s bridge. “What luck Gopal?” he asked laying a hand on the man's shoulder as he knelt next to him.

“We forced him back further into the corridor Captain. Then the door opened and he was pulled inside. The bridge door seems more resistant than the walls to my shots and I would not fire blind in case Tash is within.”

“This is a war ship Gopal if anywhere is armoured it will be the control room; safest place in the ship.  I think our first guess was...” Jerard was interrupted.

“I see you Phillips. I suppose you think you have won this game as well!” Gaspe snarled from behind a peephole in the door.

“Jean Phillipe, how kind of you to notice us.” Jerard replied dryly. “Are you ready to surrender yet, or should I just disable the engines and let the Discretion tow us back to England...” he paused for effect. “Or perhaps Germany, I am certain the Prussians would be fascinated to hear your accounts of this plot Sirrah!”

“I doubt they would have the wit to take in its complexities Jerard. But I am not yet ready to surrender. In fact I suggest you surrender now or I shall be forced to drop the lovely Mademoiselle into the ocean!”

“Great Scott!” Phillips exclaimed, at once
 realizing the madman’s intent . “To the bomb bay Gopal!”

The pair of them dashed along the narrow corridor as an ominous humming began to grow from ahead of them. Dashing through the door the wind struck them fully in the face as the partially opened bomb doors lay before them.

Below the catwalk Tash lay cradling the unconscious Dr. Nordstrom. Fred Randal desperately hauled on her belt holding the pair of them inside, as the curved bomb doors slowly inched further open.

“What happened Landover!” Phillips demanded as he surveyed the situation.

It was Roger that replied. “Apparently Mr. Dortsmorn was rendered unconscious sometime during the boarding sir. As soon as we were secure Miss Tash and Mr. Randal went to see to him. A moment ago the bay doors started to open.”

“Get some rope and haul them in!” Phillips ordered.

“There’s more sir” Roger continued as his brother dashed off to find some rope. “As we secured the rear engine we saw the Discretion had cast off the line, we’re cut off from the ship Sir.”

“That doesn’t matter Sir. I never planned for us to try and haul Miss Tash back along the landing line. But that caitiff Gaspe is holed up in the bridge like a toad under a rock, getting him out without wrecking the controls will be very costly!”

“Captain!” Fred called from below. “Don’t mean to hurry you but the slope's getting pretty sharp down here!”

“Wheres that rope!”

“None to be had Sir.” Landover reported back, “Place is stripped out.”

As Phillips cast around for an idea Tash called out from below. “We’re coming up on land Captain. We’re in Prussia!”

“Roger, Jeremy, you two and Gopal form a human chain and anchor them to the catwalk. I’ll get some rope!”

Without waiting for an answer Jerard dashed across the catwalk till he was opposite the cargo net still part filled with Gaspe’s rations and mission supplies. Taking a flying leap he landed on the woven rope bag. Swinging crazily back and forth as the ship careened scarcely a hundred feet above the edge of the Prussian Baltic Jerard looked for a way to free a strand of the net. Hacking at the net he let the supplies spill out and through the now half open doors. Trying his damnedest to get a long strand of rope free of the ruined net he twisted around as he laboured. In flashes he saw the Landovers spread full length over the catwalk. Gopal, being held by his feet as he strained towards Fred’s outstretched hand.

“Wait, we have a chance!” Tash cried. Abruptly she and Fred let go and slid down and out of the open bomb doors.

A scream of denial caught in Jerard’s throat as they dropped out of sight. Suddenly the blue green of the ocean gave way to sand and scrub grasses a hundred feet below them as the ship passed over the coast. And Jerard hung his head as he knew they must have perished on the land below.

“Sir!” Roger called up from below him “Sir you need to jump now!” the man cried entreatingly.

Phillips’ raised tear reddened eyes to the grief stricken crewman below him, thinking the man had lost his mind. But as he raised his eyes he just saw Gopal dropping out of the doors as well! The Dunes and scrub grasses below them had been replaced with a calm green blue of a saltwater lake!

“I must be dreaming” he said to himself as he released the net and followed his mad employer once more...

“Jones, get me the engine room!” Lance Nichols demanded as he regained the bridge.

The speaking grill crackled to life a moment later as Edward Collins’ weary voice replied. 
“We’re in one piece down here Mr. Nichols, number two has all but seized up but she held through that little maneuver just barely. I have had to disengage its clutch but if I stop the engine now I doubt it’ll ever spin up again.”

“So we’re down to three props, very well. Let number two cool at idle speed then cut it completely.” Lance replied regretfully. There would be no catching up to the French airship now regardless. “Well done Ed, it was all we could have expected. We can still maneuver and thats the main thing.” Closing the speaking grill he looked up to where Wallace was standing straight backed and sweating at the helm controls. “Where are they now William” he said softly half dreading the answer.

“Skimmin’ the treetops at eighty knots, quarter mile ahead at least they would be if there wuz any trees here aboots Sirr”

“And we couldn't make even 50 knots now I’d guess, with the boost gone and number two fit to burst.” Nichols shook his head. They had come so close, all they could do now is hope that Phillips’ desperate scheme to capture the French ship bore fruit and swiftly.

“Coast is directly ahead Mr. Nichols.” Jones stated from the the navigators station. “Hohwacht port almost directly ahead.” He finished glancing at the map under the glass of Randal’s desk.

“Does it matter what its called?” Nichols snapped back. Steady old man, not his fault, he cautioned himself. “Sorry Aneurin is that where they’re headed? Couldn’t be can it?” he added without much hope. It would be senseless to abandon an airship for a water vessel at this point.

“Not likely, Sir.” Jones replied stiffly. “Based on what we got from D’Arcey and the flight path so far they’ll press right on to Hamburg.”