Blackbirds (7 page)

“Are you absolutely sure?”

Sharon looked again. “Yes.”

“Let's see if you're right.” Linda sipped her coffee and crossed one ankle over the other.

They watched the approaching aircraft, heard the pilot throttle back, and saw the flaps drop above the inverted U of its fixed undercarriage. The radial engine and dragonfly wings confirmed Sharon's identification.

After the Lysander landed and began to taxi toward the hangar, Linda said, “You're absolutely right, of course. You have remarkable vision. It's a good thing Jerry's vision wasn't as good as yours, because we might not be having this conversation if it was.” She put her coffee down, stood, and walked toward the hangar.

Sharon followed. She watched the Lysander's propeller slow, stutter, and stop.
Why is the aircraft painted black?

A silver-on-black Bentley saloon car poked its long nose out from the far side of the hangar. It parked next to the Lysander.

The morning light painted the scene in shadow. The pilot slid the forward canopy back. The rear canopy opened.

The driver of the Bentley opened his door. “What made you decide to land here?”

The pilot pulled off his flying helmet, revealing scarred, mottled skin on the left side of his face. “Tangmere is fogged in. In fact, the entire south coast is socked in. My orders were to proceed here as a secondary airfield.” He pointed his thumb at his passenger. “They want him in London right away. And White Waltham is close by.”

The man in the rear cockpit stood up and lifted his legs over the side. He was dressed in a black coat and baggy black pants. Sharon thought,
He looks like he's from France
.

Linda gave a start.

Sharon sensed Linda's attention focusing on the passenger, who was sliding down the side of the Lysander to stand on the tarmac.

The passenger door of the Bentley opened. “Come on, get your finger out! We haven't got all day!”

Linda stepped forward.

The Frenchman approached the men in the car.
He's kind of handsomely
familiar.

“Michael!” Linda said.

The Frenchman turned in her direction. He stood still as he recognized her.

“You bastard!” Linda moved forward.

Sharon heard a metallic click.

Michael turned to face the beefy men standing next to the Bentley. One of them stepped forward with his hand inside his coat. “For Christ's sake, put that away!” Michael moved toward Linda. He was a head taller, with strawberry blonde hair and blue eyes.

She ran at him and struck him just under the ribs with her closed fist. “We thought you were dead! Why didn't you send word?”

Michael was a windless kite crumpling to the ground as his knees failed him.

One of the bodyguards grabbed Linda's arms and pulled her back. She promptly crushed his instep with her heel. He howled and released her.

The other bodyguard reached for Linda. Sharon kicked him in the kneecap. He folded.

“That's quite enough, ladies.” Linda and Sharon looked at the pilot, who was leveling a revolver at them. The pilot kept his eyes on Linda while pointing the pistol at the bodyguards. “I take it you're either a Nazi spy or a relative.”

Michael managed to gasp out, “She's my sister.”

“Ah, siblings.” The pilot uncocked the revolver and slipped it back into its holster. “A family reunion, then.” He rubbed at a phantom left ear with the back of his hand. All that was left was scar tissue and a hole in the side of his head. “Who do I need to kill for a cup of coffee?”

“I couldn't send word. Not even to Father. The continent is a shambles.” Michael rubbed his belly as he stood.

“I could use another cup of coffee,” Sharon said.

“That's your justification?” Linda asked.

“You're Canadian, then?” the pilot asked.

“Look around you. Put it together, Linda! No one is supposed to know I'm alive,” Michael said.

“That's right, the prairies.” Sharon tried to follow two conversations at once.

“Will you shut up? I'm talking to my brother!” Linda said to the pilot and Sharon before turning back to Michael. “You're a spy? Then Father would have to know about it!”

The pilot moved closer to Sharon. “They're going to be a while, and I need you to show me where the coffee is. It's all I've thought about since leaving France. By the way, my name is Richard.” He took Sharon by the elbow.

“Just a moment, young lady,” one of the beefy men said. “You've assaulted representatives of His Majesty. You're under arrest.”

Richard laughed. “Like hell she is! If you do that, I'll make sure the entire service finds out that all it took was a pair of schoolgirls in flight suits to take care of a couple of England's so-called commandos!”

Michael put his arm around Linda's shoulder.

She pushed him away.

He persisted. “I'm sorry.”

Linda began to weep.

Sharon said, “Linda will need a cup, too.”

The mood of the commandos didn't improve even after Richard handed each a cup of coffee. They insisted that Michael and Linda remain out of sight in the back seat of the Bentley. The driver checked his watch every thirty seconds, then glared at Sharon.

Sharon glanced at the scars on Richard's face as he leaned against the Bentley's bonnet.

He said, “It happened a year before the war started. I got out of the wreckage a moment late and was burned on the one side. There's a new hospital being started up at East Grinstead for survivors like me. Whoever designed Hurricanes and Spitfires decided the best place for the fuel tank was right in front of the cockpit. The surgeons at East Grinstead will be expecting lots of customers like me with their faces and hands burned.”

“Sorry. I didn't mean to stare.” Sharon watched as Linda leaned against her brother's shoulder in the back seat of the Bentley.

“Don't be sorry. I'm still alive. A few of my friends have died already. I feel quite fortunate, to tell you the truth.” Richard took a sip of coffee.

The driver opened the door of the car. “Time to go!”

The other commando flipped the remains of his coffee onto the grass and opened Linda's door. “We're off.”

Linda stepped out of the car. She wrapped her arms around her shoulders and tucked her chin to her chest.

Sharon hugged her friend.

“Fucking war!” Linda wiped her nose on the sleeve of her flying suit. “Fucking war takes everything away. My own brother can't even tell us he's alive.” She looked at Sharon. “Then you have to deal with what happens when someone else dies so that you can survive.”

“Where did you learn to defend yourself?” Richard asked.

Linda smiled. “My brother taught me.”

Richard turned to Sharon. “And you?”

“My mother.”

Linda said, “Those two bastards stole our coffee cups!”

Now's not a good time to ask her about Michael,
Sharon thought.

“Quick, before he changes his mind.
We've got a late delivery to Leeds, and a car will be waiting for us when we get there to take us to Ilkley. Our ride back is at ten o'clock tomorrow morning. Hurry!” Linda threw a change of clothes into her shoulder bag.

Sharon stood up and stuffed her feet into her flying boots. “I've done five deliveries already today.”

“Look, you stay here if you like. I have to talk with my mother. She has to know Michael is alive. He told me I couldn't tell her over the phone or by letter. He neglected to say anything about telling her face to face. I'll be damned if I'll keep all of the secrets my parents have kept the same way their parents did.” Linda stepped into the hallway and out the front door.

What the hell does that mean?
“Hang on!” Sharon took the time to lock the front door, then worked her arms into her Irvin jacket. Her boots scrubbed over the gravel. She looked at the horizon and estimated they had ninety minutes of sunlight remaining.

When they reached the airfield, Sharon saw an oversized humpbacked white biplane parked near a hangar. She scanned the rest of the airfield for other aircraft. “What is it?”

Linda stepped up onto the bottom wing. “Swordfish.”

“What fish?”

Linda wheeled around and pointed. “Swordfish! We complete the first leg of its delivery to Scapa Flow. Thank God we don't have to fly it all the way up there. Come on, I've got the chit in my pocket.”

This thing looks like it was built for the last war
, Sharon thought as she completed the walk around. “It looks like a school bus with wings!” The plane smelled of oil, gasoline and dope — a flammable concoction. She had a flashback of Richard's scarred face. “And where is Scapa Flow?”

Linda sat in the cockpit and began reading the page on the Swordfish. “It's a naval base on an island north of Scotland.”

Sharon climbed into the middle cockpit.

“Clear!” Linda started the engine and throttled back. When she was settled in, Sharon tapped Linda's shoulder.

Three minutes later, they were airborne and headed northeast.

Sharon was glad she brought her goggles. Engine exhaust and oil blew back into her face.

The landing lights were on at Leeds when they touched down.

The driver was waiting for them. For the next hour and a half, Linda slept on one side of the Rolls with Sharon napping on the other.

Sharon awoke with the driver saying, “Madam,” and shaking her shoulder. She opened her eyes to her grandmother's estate. There were lights in every window, automobiles parked all along the drive, and a sky speckled with stars. They climbed out of the back seat.

Their boots crunched over the gravel. Linda said, “Come on around the back. Mum often helps in the kitchen when your grandmother has one of her soirées.”

Sharon followed Linda into the shadow alongside the house. A stone path led to the back. Light and the smell of food seeped out into the back garden.
I'm starved!

Linda walked through the doorway. Sharon followed.

“Linda! What a grand surprise!” The woman behind the voice was a pound or two under one hundred and her silver hair was tied back into a tight bun. She wrapped her arms around Linda and held her cheek against Linda's neck.

“Hello, Anne,” Linda said.

“Linda?” Honeysuckle carried a stacked tray of dirty dinner plates that she set down with a clatter on the counter. She too hugged Linda. “And you brought Sharon with you!”

“Mother, we need to talk,” Linda said.

Sharon stopped, and all noise and motion in the room ceased while Linda led her mother outside.

Sharon hung her jacket on the back of a chair. “Where can I wash up?”

“Over there.” Anne pointed to a sink on Sharon's left.

Sharon rolled up her sleeves. She scrubbed her hands and made a quick check in the mirror.
I look like an owl!
She worked at removing the oil and exhaust residue from her face.

Anne said, “Oi! Hand us one of the pies from the storeroom!”

Sharon looked at Anne, who was pointing at a closed door on the left-hand side of the kitchen. As she turned, she saw a pair of polished black shoes coming down the stairs into the kitchen.

She went to the storeroom door, opened it, and searched for a light switch. It was hidden inside a shelf just to her right. After she turned on the light, she looked around at the shelves of canned goods, jars, and sacks of food on either side of the narrow room.
There you
are
. The pies were at the end of the room. She walked toward them and felt the cooler air touching the wet strands of hair framing her face.

The door closed.

The light went off.

Sharon turned.

There was the sound of leather-soled shoes on the stone floor.

“You're new here,” a man's voice said.

“Who are you?” Sharon caught the scent of pipe smoke and gin.

“The man of the house.” His hands touched her shoulders.

“What are you doing?” Sharon felt a knee jammed into her crotch. She tried to hit him, but he was too close.

He grabbed her wrists and held them together with one of his hands. With the other, he probed between her legs.

Sharon tried to breathe, but he had her pushed up against the shelves. “Don't. Please don't.” Fear made it hard to think.
Just wait.
When you get the chance, bite his ear off
.

The light flicked on.

Sharon looked to the open door. Honeysuckle stood there. Linda stood behind her.

“Marmaduke. I was hoping I would have the chance to introduce you to your niece,” Honeysuckle said.

Marmaduke backed away from Sharon. “Very nice to finally meet you. Mother has told me that you were in England.” He smiled and held out his hand.

Stunned, Sharon shook it. She saw that he had a hooked nose and slicked-back brown hair, and was wearing a black tuxedo with tails.