Chapter 10:
London

"I hate England. If the weather ain't soggier than a wet dog or cold as a witch's titty, everyone talks like they're a drunk Irish preacher and to top it all off, their beers warm."

Vin Tanner dug his gloved hands into his coat and noted the tendrils of cold swirling around his face as he and Ezra walked down the footpath running along Westminster Bridge, so JD could take pictures of Big Ben while they were taking a break in London, waiting for the Millie to get refuelled. After a seventeen hour flight, they needed to stretch their legs and feel ground beneath their feet before resuming their journey to Egypt.

The kid had yet to be jaded by all the exotic locations they often travelled to and one of the first things he'd bought himself was a Beau Brownie camera which he took with him everywhere they went. Since joining them, JD had developed a pretty impressive pictorial record of their travels and the kid had a real eye for it because Josiah often said some of JD's photographs deserved to be in Life Magazine.

JD was oblivious to all this as he continued to snap images of Big Ben and Westminster Abbey, craning over the stone edge of the bridge, leaving Ezra to take the brunt of Vin's tirade. The normally unflappable sharpshooter was never good when he was taken out of his environment and England in particular, seemed to push all his buttons. JD suspected it had to do with the number of people crammed into such a small area. He had been the same in New York.

"Worse yet, Alex wants a souvenir. When I ask her what she wants she says 'surprise me'. What the hell does that mean? I don't know what to get for a girl, other than flowers and chocolates."

Ezra suppressed an amused smile at the younger man's dilemma. From the boy he had been on the Front, Vin had evolved into Chris Larabee's undisputed second. In Chris's absence, Vin was a quick-thinking natural leader who could track prey across concrete and pin a fly between the eyes from a thousand yards away, so it was quite eye-opening to see this bundle of nerves in front of him.

"Never fear Mr Tanner," Ezra said kindly, "we shall go to Knightsbridge."

"What's there?" Vin eyed him suspiciously.

"Harrods."

"What's a Harrods?"

"A big store," JD said helpfully as he walked past the two of them to get a better angle of the House of Commons.

"A store?" Ezra stared at him with reproach. "For shame Mr Dunne, Harrods is not merely a store, it is an institution. The modern version of the Grand Bazaar of Istanbul, the Agora of Athens or the Thirteen Factories of Canton."

"Can I just get her a postcard or something?"

Vin would rather face a tribe of cannibal savages than wander through a huge department store with all those people brushing past him, chattering in his ears like a bunch of quacking ducks.

"Postcards are something you give a lady when you visit Niagara Falls. When one comes to England, one ought to aim for something a little more ambitious."

Vin was muttering unhappily to himself when suddenly, he lifted his head and saw two men approaching JD. The kid had yet to notice them approaching him but Vin sized them up quickly. Both stood tall over their youngest member, wearing nondescript grey suits and Fedoras pulled way down low as if they were trying not to be noticed. However, it was the way their coats shifted against their upper body that made the sharpshooter really pay attention.

They were armed.

"Ezra," Vin stepped forward, all traces of the anxious suitor vanishing to be replaced by the former Texas Ranger.

When Ezra looked up, Vin was already on his way to JD with the team's procurer a few steps behind. However, it was not the two torpedoes Ezra was so concerned with. It was the grey Humber that was driving up to them. The car was coming to a gradual stop and the look of the men behind the windscreen bore a striking likeness to the stone-faced duo closing in on JD.

JD lowered his Brownie and saw Vin approach and puzzled at the serious expression on the sharpshooter's face when suddenly JD felt cold steel pressing against his back. He knew immediately what it was and stiffened at the mouth of the barrel planted firmly at the base of his spine. One wrong move and he'd never walk again if the bullet didn't kill him first.

Vin saw the shift in JD's expression and knew he hadn't gotten to the kid in time. The two men behind him had clearly drawn and even though Vin was carrying, he was reluctant to go for his gun. There were too many people around and any gun battle was going to end up with innocent bystanders getting shot.

"What do you want?"

"You will come with us," the man standing directly behind JD spoke. He looked a head taller than the kid, had a passing resemblance to a brick outhouse if the things came with blond hair and watery coloured blue eyes. As he said the words, the grey Humber came to a stop directly next to Vin and Ezra. The man in the passenger's seat was pointing a gun at them through the wound down window. "You will come with us, or we will put a bullet through the boy's back."

"Who you calling boy?" JD glared looked over his shoulder in annoyance only to have the barrel shoved harder in his back, silencing him.

"You seem to have us at a disadvantage," Ezra frowned and met Vin's gaze. If they went for their guns, they'd get JD killed, there was no doubt in their mind of this. As much as either of them might be loathed submitting to the demands made by these thugs, there appeared to be little choice at present. With JD firmly in their power, Ezra sighed in resignation and opened the back door of the car and got in.

Leaving behind the private airstrip at Croydon Airport, Chris strode through the crowded terminal towards the nearest counter selling airline tickets. He had every intention of buying Mary a ticket back to the States and physically strapping her into her seat on the plane to make sure it took off with her on it. Behind him, Mary hurried after Chris, brushing past other travellers, still trying to talk him into letting her stay while Chris, who had her leather backpack, (a rather sensible bit of luggage he thought but would never admit it to her), continued to ignore her.

As they neared the Imperial Airlines ticket counter, Mary was starting to realise her efforts to convince him to let her remain on the Millie was dwindling and with that vanishing hope came her anger at being so easily dismissed. Glaring at the back of his black duster, she finally stopped walking and decided she was not moving one step further.

"Chris Larabee, I will not have you put me on a plane like I'm some badly behaved child!"

Her outburst made him freeze in midstep to turn around. A few eyes paused to stare at her before his glare in their direction sent them scurrying. "Well, you sure behave like you could use a paddling."

Mary scowled at him, "You wish."

Chris's jaw tensed, not at all liking her insinuation that he was hot for her, He was, but that was beside the point. "Don't flatter yourself, I'm not the one who stowed away in a crate."

Mary's eyes widened with indignation and she protested hotly. "I was chasing a story!"

"Sure you were," he uttered those words as if butter wouldn't melt in his mouth and then added, "that's what all you dames say before you beg me to take you home."

Mary's jaw dropped open before she sputtered in fury. "Why you arrogant son of a bit..."

"Mr Larabee, you will come with us now."

Both Mary and Chris fell immediately silent and turned their gaze sideways to see a familiar but unwelcomed face. It seemed while he and Mary were bickering, the Kraut that had tried to run him over in New Mexico had managed to get the drop on them with several goons in tow. In a sea of bodies, they stood out like unmovable boulders, enclosing Chris and Mary in a ring of stone.

"Aw hell, see what you did!" He swore as he threw the accusation at Mary after giving the Kraut a quick glance.

"Me?" Mary stared at him in astonishment. "How is this my fault?"

"You're distracting!"

"Just because you can't keep your mind focus on anything but how I'm getting to you, don't blame me!" Mary spat back, forgetting for a moment they were surrounded by armed German agents about to spirit them away.

"You've been dogging my heels since I met you!" Chris retaliated when a rather large and formidable matron wearing a red cloche hat and carrying an umbrella ambled past them. Without warning, Chris grabbed her and shoved her directly into the lead Kraut and his gun. The woman uttered an angry howl before all two hundred pounds of her went down, taking the man with her. For a brief instance, Chris had the absurd image of a bowling ball knocking down pins flashing in his head. As she screamed indignantly and while all eyes turned to her and the other Krauts rushing to the aid of their downed leader, Chris grabbed Mary's hand and started running.

"Come on!"

Mary was still shocked by the sudden shift of events but recovered quickly enough when she realised Chris's display had been an effort to distract the Germans so they could get away. At least it had better be. Feeling her arm almost yanked out of her sockets, Chris was dragging her through the crowded terminal, shoving other travellers and airline workers out of their path as they sought to put more distance between themselves and the enemy.

Chris's intent was to get back to the Millie and cursed Mary being with him. He had no problem falling into the Krauts' hand if it could not be avoided but there was no way he was going to let that happen to Mary. He simply wouldn't have it. Glancing over his shoulder, he saw them recovering from his bit of distraction, although he took some satisfaction seeing the matron he had used as his proverbial bowling ball putting that umbrella to good use by clubbing one of the Krauts with it. The others, however, were spreading out, trying to cut them off before they reached the exit leading out of the terminal and towards the private airstrip were the Millie was berthed.

Just as they were about to reach it, three more Kraut stepped through the doorway, scanning the terminal and locking eyes immediately on the two of them. Chris paused in his tracks and searched for another route, knowing he was not about to confront them when they were armed and he was not. Scanning the terminal quickly, he searched for another way out and found it just as he saw them closing in.

Not explaining, he headed towards the small chute in the wall where the baggage handlers were distributing passenger luggage, with Mary's wrist still gripped tightly in his palm. The Krauts had not thought to keep watch on that route allowing them an avenue of escape as Chris shoved and dodged the handlers and the passengers filing past them. Then as if things could not get any worse, someone open fired, turning the entire place into chaos.

One of the Germans had been stupid enough to draw his Luger, firing over the crowd in an effort to clear their path. All this resulted in doing was creating pandemonium as Chris and Mary clambered through the chute, climbing up the ramp. He had to give Mary credit since she was able to keep up with him as they scrambled clumsily up the smooth surface, avoiding pieces of luggage on the way down. As the noise levels rose behind them, a clear indication of what a single gunshot could do in a crowded environment, Chris climbed through the chute to be greeted by baggage handlers. They were unloading a cart holding the belongings of a newly landed craft and stared at him with puzzlement and surprise.

"Don't you have a gun?"

Helping her through the opening, he knew it wouldn't take long for the Krauts to find them again and he needed a fast way back to the Millie. Unfortunately, he could see no sign of any vehicle they could 'borrow' to escape. Hearing her yap in his ear, he turned back to her and remarked with a growl.

"I try not to be armed when you're around."

"This is hardly the time to be funny!"

"Oh," Chris said as he heard decidedly German chatter coming through the chute. "I think it's a good a time as any."

Without giving her warning, they were off running again and Chris saw that their pursuers had converged into half a dozen men ready to take them to whatever purpose they intended. Whatever it was, Chris had no intention of finding out. Running out of the baggage handling area, he could see open sky outsight and the shrill rumble of airplanes taking out across the field. Suddenly, he spotted something that was a way out, if he didn't get himself and her killed first.

"What are we going to do?" Mary asked, not about to lie that she was a little frightened. While her journalistic nose did sometimes land her in trouble, (mostly with her editor), actual physical danger was new. Although in the fleeting seconds she had to consider the subject in between catching her breath, these occasions seemed to coincide with her proximity with Chris Larabee. The man was simply a magnet for trouble.

"I can't fight them off with you around, so we need to make ourselves scarce. "

Now that they were in the open, the Krauts were no longer holding back and the next thing they knew, gunfire erupted again. This time, there were no warning shots into the sky, but bullets aimed at them. Mary uttered a squeal as she saw one of the metal posts spark after a bullet struck the column of its faded paint. Leading them was the German in the trenchcoat, hollering orders to his soldiers to surround them and cut them off.

"Where are we going?"

"There," Chris gestured ahead.

Mary stared at him. "Are you out of your mind?"

"Nope," Chris brushed aside her concerns, "that's our exit."

The small Boeing 40 sat in the middle of one of the smaller runways, a construct of wood and fabric, capable of reaching altitude with a single engine. Judging by the markings on its fuselage, the craft was used to ferry mail. It was a two-seater, although Chris very much doubted the pilot ever had need of passengers. They raced towards it, weaving across the grass and tarmac, trying to evade their pursuers who were firing at them on mass. Judging by the trajectory of the shots, Chris suspected the purpose was not to kill them but to wound them enough for collection. Whatever it was they needed from him, they needed him alive. He was not so certain that Mary would get similar consideration.

"Get in!" Chris said when they reached the craft.

The Krauts seeing where they were headed were now firing at the plane and one of the bullets tore through the side, leaving a hole in the material. They had to take off before the gunfire did enough damage to prevent it altogether. Without asking permission, he dropped his hands to her waist and lifted her up to the rear pilot's seat. Mary blushed at the contact and if there were time for it, Chris might have made a comment but they were less than a minute away from being caught.

"Can you even fly?" She asked as she climbed into the craft and hastily strapped herself in.

Chris was in the process of doing the same when he tossed her a look. "I don't know," he grinned. "Let's find out."

Mary's eyes widened. "Let's find out? WHAT DO YOU MEAN LET'S FIND OUT!"

Chris didn't answer, strapping himself into the seat before pressing the starter. The propellers started to beat to life, gaining momentum with their familiar whump whump whump sound. Mary saw the Nazis hastening their pace, shooting more bullets. One of them struck a support strut, sending splinters at her. She uttered a cry and kept her head down as she felt the plane beginning to move.

"Oh my God," she whimpered to herself. "We're going to die."

Truth be told, but not to her because Chris was deriving some perverse pleasure in hearing her frightened muttering behind him, he did know how to fly. While he would not even begin to pilot something like the Millie, almost thirty years of friendship with Buck Wilmington had taught him how to acquire the skills necessary to handle a small plane like this. This old biplane was not that different from driving a car. The crash was just a lot worse.

Once the engine was started, the plane lurched forward. Bullets continued to riddle the body and Chris knew if he did not get into the air, they would do serious damage to the craft and he and Mary would be going nowhere. The plane moved briskly across the tarmac, prompting the Nazis to increase their speed in the effort to catch up. Mary had ducked down low, keeping her head down as the glass in front of her cracked with another bullet.

"Will you move this thing already!"

Chris ignored her and kept taxiing down the small airstrip, the mini Boeing picking up speed the further and further they drew away from the terminal and became lost among its newer, larger counterparts at Croydon. Bullets continued to chase them down the tarmac, their pursuers still determined to catch up. Finally, he'd achieved enough velocity and gradually pulled the throttle lifting the nose of the small craft aloft. The front wheel bounced once or twice against the runaway before it followed suit and with a final burst of shrill sound, the engines settled into a more comforting drone.

Behind him, Mary squealed as the gunfire dissipated and the rush of air enveloped there.

"You okay back there?"

"No, I'm not!"Mary shouted over the roar of the wind. "I'm on a plane with an idiot."

Chris managed a smirk. "At least you're not in a crate."

"Oh, you're just loving this aren't you?"Mary glared at him, clutching the sides of the seat so hard, her knuckles were white. "Where are we going?"

"We're going to circle around a bit until I'm sure they're gone," Chris hollered back. "Then I'm going to land this thing near the Millie."

Below them, the landscape was tilting at an angle as Chris steered the plane to continue his flyover of Croydon Airport. London's busy sprawl had given away to the loveliness of the English countryside, full of lush green colours. If one could forget the circumstances forcing them aloft, the whole situation could have been quite pleasant.

"Well do it fast," Mary glared at him, hating to be seen as weak but unable to ignore the queasiness of her stomach. Her idea of air travel was limited to luxurious airplanes with metal fuselage and stewardesses who brought you drinks with ice and shot of vodka. "A camping tent is sturdier than this thing!"

"This won us a war," Chris grinned, enjoying her discomfort very much because she needed taking down a peg or two after her ludicrous stunt of stowing away on the Millie. Besides, Buck would have considered this craft a beauty and in the absence of his old friend, felt the need to defend their instrument of deliverance.

"Whatever," she grumbled, her cheeks red from the cool air and her eyes filled with apprehension.

Suddenly the engine cut out.

Tendrils of smoke began to flow from one of the bullet holes in the fuselage. Its abrupt stop was soon followed by the gradual slowing of the propellers.

"What just happened?" Mary demanded.

Chris winced as he considered what to do next and was struck with one thought as Mary's questions about their situation intensified.

Oh, she was not going to be happy.