The Time Pirate (17 page)

“The only shooting I did was with the camera. You haven't yet taught me how to use those twin Vickers, remember? Or, you can bet I would have.”

“That's tomorrow, soon as I get this wing repaired. Any other damage?”

“Prop felt a wee bit off on the way home. I think a bullet may have nicked it.”

“Did indeed. Right here. I can patch that up easily enough.”

“Gunner, flying home I saw masses of Heinkel bombers headed for Guernsey. And troop ships just off the beaches. I snapped off a few shots of the the minelayer, then I decided I'd better get home. About fifteen minutes ago, I saw smoke rising from the harbor.”

“Aye, it's begun all right. Apparently they've bombed the harbor at Saint Peter Port, bloody buggers.”

“So, our islands are finally at war.”

“I'd say so.”

“They'll be coming to Greybeard sooner or later, Gunner, German soldiers.”

“No doubt.”

“Are many here evacuating?”

“I saw about ten families at the ferry dock this morning, all their belongings, waiting for the weekly packet boat over to Weymouth.”

“My father and mother have decided we're staying,” Nick said, with some pride.

“I would have guessed as much.”

“And you?”

“When I leave this island, Nick, it will be in a boat with a hole in it or a long pine box.”

“Me, too. We'll stay and we'll fight, won't we, Gunner? Right to the end.”

“That's the spirit, boy.”

“Remember the night Churchill came to the island? After Kate and Hobbes had captured the U-boat? And he spoke after dinner at Hawke Castle?”

“Remember it? I'll never forget it.”

“I saw something in Winston Churchill's eyes that night, and I've pinned all my hopes on him ever since.”

“What did you see, Nick?”

“I saw victory, Gunner. Victory, no matter how long in coming, no matter how great the cost.”

Gunner pulled the boy to him and enfolded him in his huge arms. “We'll get through it, lad. We'll get through it. Don't you worry.”

After a moment, Gunner let him go, and Nick ducked under the fuselage. He was most eager to inspect the camera for damage. By some miracle, it appeared completely intact. He removed the metal film cartridge, confirmed that no bullets had struck the camera body or the lens, and climbed out from under his plane.

“I've got to get this film to Commander Hobbes straightaway, Gunner. Do you need my help tugging the old girl into the barn?”

“No, I can tow her in by myself. Do it all the time. I'm going to start work on this wing right away, so don't let me keep you.”

But Nick was already halfway down the airstrip, headed full tilt for Hawke Castle.

H
obbes was waiting at the castle entrance when Nick arrived, slightly winded. He had the film canister clutched in both hands and a broad smile on his face.

“I've brought you a wee present, Commander!” Nick said, handing it to Hobbes.

“I've just come from the tower, Nick. Saint Peter Port has been bombed. You missed that action, I hope.”

“Yes, sir, I was returning from the coast of France.”

“You seem to have encountered a bit of difficulty with your right wing.”

“If not for your lead shield, I'd not be standing here, sir.”

“His Lordship and I were still up in the tower, watching your somewhat shaky approach, when you managed to clear the tower by an inch or two, Nick. You certainly got our attention.”

“Sorry if I frightened anyone. I—I really had no choice.”

“Don't ever tell Lord Hawke what I'm about to reveal. This is in strictest confidence. Is that a sacred promise?”

“Of course.”

“We both dove under His Lordship's desk when we saw you coming straight for the tower!”

Nick laughed and said, “Precision flying, they call that. Only a few very stupid pilots would attempt a stunt like that, with only one wing keeping them aloft.”

“Quite a stunt you pulled there at the end, going into that steep climb.”

“Well, you see I was determined not to ditch her, sir. No matter what. We're going to need that airplane.”

“Frankly, we were both quite amazed you made it to the ground in one piece,” Hobbes said, laughing and clapping the boy on the back. “Can't wait to get a look at these pictures.”

“Oh, I don't think you'll be disappointed, sir.”

“Lord Hawke is waiting for you in the tower study. I'll take this film down to the cellar darkroom straightaway and start developing it. See you shortly with your first recon pictures in hand.”

“Can you teach me, later? How to develop my own pictures? Photo recon, I mean?”

“Of course. I could even set up a darkroom for you in the barn, if you'd like.”

“Ideal, sir. Thank you.”

Hobbes trotted off to a staircase at a run, and Nick headed down the long windowed corridor that led to Hawke's study at the very top of the tower. The castle was a massive, drafty old place, but it held many surprises and secrets. Like the fireman's pole in the tower, which allowed one to slide all the way down from Lord Hawke's study to the laboratory in the cellar.

Hawke looked up from his desk and smiled as the boy entered the circular, glassed-in room. The views of the Channel
in all directions were spectacular, and it was Nick's favorite place on earth.

“A-ha! The boy daredevil himself! Quite an exciting landing, I dare say,” Hawke cried, getting to his feet and letting his newspapers slide to the floor. Nick saw many wooden crates, filled to overflowing with Hawke's books and scientific instruments, standing around the room.

“I'm so sorry if I gave you a fright, sir. I'm afraid that landing left much to be desired.”

“Nick, don't be ridiculous. I saw what condition your right wing was in. I'm amazed you even made it home alive!”

“I have to admit I'm happy to be standing here and not bobbing around somewhere in that cold channel water, sir. It looks like you're packing up to leave, sir.”

“We've got to clear out of here in a hurry, I'm afraid. This castle is a secret British military installation, as you well know. Chock full of military secrets. The Royal Navy has a cutter en route to help us get everything we don't want the Germans to find off the island.”

“But where will you go, sir?”

“Nick, the Prime Minister has summoned Hobbes and me to London. It seems we're to be posted to DNI for the duration.”

“DNI?”

“Department of Naval Intelligence.”

“What kind of work, sir?”

“As you well know, Hobbes and I, undercover, of course, have been working for Churchill for years. I imagine we'll continue. And apparently the PM is considering forming a special new Commando Unit. I'm to head the thing up. And Hobbes will remain with me, designing some new weapons
systems for our squad. We'll be operating behind enemy lines, gathering intelligence, sabotage, that sort of thing.”

“Congratulations, Your Lordship. Sounds like fun.”

“Fun? I don't think so, Nick. The Germans have a huge head start on England in this war. It's going to be hell catching up, well nigh impossible, to be honest.”

“England's in good hands now, sir. Mr. Churchill will see us through.”

“I couldn't agree more. If anyone can do it, Winston can.”

“When do you leave, sir?”

“A few days. As I said, a Royal Navy cutter will be arriving in the lagoon to pick up all the sensitive documents and hardware down in the laboratory. Then the entire castle will be entirely secured against intruders. Every possible entrance will be booby-trapped. You're aware of the electrified dock in the lagoon?”

“Of course.”

“Never go near it. It will be fully operational as soon as we depart. Ten thousand volts. But, Nick, if you or your father ever need access to the castle, I will show you a way. A secret passage built centuries ago.”

“Where is it?”

“In the lagoon. About ten feet below the surface. You have to dive down and swim through the opening in the rock. When you surface, you'll find Satan's Staircase, an ancient stone stairway leading up to the cellar. I'll show you the exact location before we leave.”

“Thank you, sir. That may well come in handy.”

“Now, listen, Nick. Hobbes and I are off to London tomorrow for a short meeting, returning here immediately afterward. We've been asked to provide detailed explanations of
what's going on here in the Channel Islands. Hobbes and I wondered if we might convince you to come along?”

“I—I would be most honored, your lordship. If you think I might be of some help.”

“I was hoping you'd say that. I took the liberty of ringing up your parents at the lighthouse and asking their permission. Both have consented, as long as I promise to bring you home safely in my seaplane. I can drop you off at Lighthouse Harbor tomorrow afternoon when we return from the mainland.”

“What time are we leaving, sir?”

“First thing in the morning.”

“Dark-thirty, sir?” Nick asked, smiling.

“Yes, we'll take off before sunup,” Hawke said, tousling Nick's hair.

“I was wondering—where are little Alex and Annabel?”

“Already at Hawkesmoor, my family country house in Gloucestershire. And I plan for them to remain there for the duration.”

Hobbes came rushing into the library with a sheaf of freshly developed prints.

“Nick, my word! These photographs are outstanding, to say the very least. The close-ups of that new German Hertz mine design are invaluable. London intelligence analysts will fall off their stools. Have a look, Your Lordship.”

Hawke looked through the prints, a wide smile on his face.

“Well done, Nick, and obviously at great peril to yourself. These will be invaluable at our meeting in London.”

“How did you come to spot that minelayer, Nick?” Hobbes asked.

“I got lucky, Hobbes. I drifted off course and ended up halfway to France on my way home. That's when I spotted the minelayer and those new mines.”

“Who's thirsty?” Lord Hawke said, pouring a tumbler of whiskey for himself.

“I'd dearly love a cup of tea,” Nick said, suddenly realizing how hungry and thirsty he was, not having eaten in hours. “And maybe a sandwich?”

“Coming right up,” Hobbes said, heading for the small lift and down to the pantry.

“Nick, come over and take a peek through this telescope, would you?”

“Certainly, sir,” Nick said and climbed atop a small stool so his eyes could reach the black rubber eyepieces. Hawke showed him how to adjust the focus rings.

“What do you see?” Hawke asked.

“A lovely old manor house, covered with ivy, sitting high atop Saint George's Peak.”

“Yes, quite right. Hobbes and I are going over to Guernsey this evening to a small dinner party at that very house. It's called Fordwych Manor. And it's the home of an old friend of mine. Founder of the Guernsey chapter of the Birdwatchers Society. She's someone I want you to know.”

“Why, sir?”

“Her name is Fleur de Villiers, code-named Flower, and she is a very important member in our little secret society. Baroness de Villiers collects all the weekly intelligence on Guernsey and passes it along to me. I in turn make sure that the information reaches the Prime Minister. But there's a problem. Once I'm gone, she'll need a contact here on Greybeard to forward the packets on to No. 10 Downing. I think you're the logical chap to take my place. My thought was, you might use the Sopwith. Fly night flights and deliver them over to Portsmouth once a week. A motorcycle courier would be standing by to speed them up to London.”

“Well, of course, anything you say, sir. I want to help in any way I can.”

“Excellent. I knew I could count on you.”

“Sir, if I may, isn't Guernsey a bit dangerous for you and Hobbes, now that the island is crawling with German soldiers? I know that you're both wanted in Berlin for espionage.”

“Oh, they'll come looking for us all right. As soon as they've set up their Guernsey headquarters and the Gestapo arrives. But tonight there shouldn't be any problems. Mass confusion over there, one assumes.”

Hobbes came in with a small tray.

“Oh, there you are, Hobbes. After his tea, I thought we might take Nick down to the laboratory and show him some of those gadgets you've been working on for him all week.”

“Gadgets?” Nick said, wolfing down his sandwich.

“Come along, you'll see!” Hobbes said.

The threesome descended to the cellar in the lift and stepped out into the laboratory. Nick had been there many times and was long accustomed to the amazing array of scientific equipment that filled the room.

“Over here,” Hobbes said. “I've laid out everything on this table.”