Chapter Eleven: Castle in the Sky
As they raced across the East China Sea, Joe's thoughts were red with vengeance. This was no longer an investigation of a mysterious death, no longer a search for answers and solace. Joe now knew who the killer was and knew how to find him. Face it, he told himself. You're out for blood, pure and simple.
"Joe, I think I've got something." Polly was hunched over a data slate Jolly had given them before they left Nanjing, excitedly pecking away at its smooth glass surface. "Jolly's been watching Blackbeard for years with spies and operatives at the highest levels of his empire. She's recorded everything in here, Joe, and his actions makes the war look like child's play. Whatever his game is, I think she wanted a piece of it."
It was certainly her style, and he knew she could get vicious if she wanted something badly enough. Joe accepted that his intervention ultimately worked in her favor, but he didn't feel like a pawn in her machinations. Not yet anyway.
"For once Polly, you might be right. But we'll have to worry about that later, after we deal with Blackbeard." Smoothing out a crumpled navigation chart over his lap, Joe began scribbling flight paths over the paper with the nub of a charcoal pencil. "Polly, how's that global transponder beacon working?"
"Like a charm," she replied, tapping the data slate and projecting a glowing, three dimensional ghost image of the earth over the slate's glass display. Their position was marked on the map by a red pulsing dot that quickly converged on their destination, highlighted by a similar blue dot. "In fact, we should be seeing something soon."
Joe squinted into the dusky sunset. Nothing appeared out of the ordinary, nothing except…"There, on the horizon. Do you see the darkness?"
Polly pressed her face against the canopy and squinted.
"Yeah…kind of. A storm?"
"That's no storm," Joe growled, activating the plane's defense grid.
They were flying straight into an armada of airships that stretched across the sky like an enormous black claw. The balloon of each airship was wrapped in pure shadow, a sinister kind of black that devoured all light cast against it. Wretched steel antennae riddled the tops of some of the zeppelins, ribbons of deep blue lightning crackling and dancing up them before being shot off with a bang into the upper atmosphere.
The flagship was at the apex of the formation, a vast engine of war and destruction. By comparison, the P40 Warhawk looked like a mouse trying to topple a skyscraper. The base of the flagship resembled a nautical galleon with enormous rocket thrusters clinging to it on all sides like tarnished steel barnacles. Built atop the galleon, defying all logic, was an immense Gothic castle. Dense and baroque, the tall fortress was a testament to the macabre genius of its master, with legions of weapons mounted into its façade and on freestanding artillery decks. Every facet of its cold, stone exterior was designed with the utmost care to take the art of murder to genocidal levels.
Joe was so overwhelmed with the grandeur of Blackbeard's flagship that he barely heard the explosion that resounded from the warrior king's position. A solid wall of light appeared in front of the airships and scorched the sky as it intercepted the Warhawk.
"Tracer bullets" Joe gasped. There was no way to escape, no possible chance of evading that leaden wall of death.
"Joe, do something!" Polly cried, clutching his shoulder.
He took her hand in his own and squeezed it tightly.
"Brace for impact," he shouted above the din of the oncoming gunfire.
The P40 Warhawk exploded magnificently in the sky, much to King Blackbeard's delight.
Stay Tuned for Chapter Twelve: Belly of the Beast