Harry gets Her Wings (Iron Pegasus Book 3) Read online

  She headed for the main gate first. She knew the Germans were not stupid. They would have mounted a guard on her baby. So she headed straight for it. It took less than a minute for her to negotiate the woods and come out on the track leading to the main gate.

  “Halt!”

  She almost smiled and dodged to the side back into the trees, heading away from the gate and the guard. He had now successfully scared her off and that was what he would tell his friends when they arrived.

  But the main gate was not the only way in. She made her way through the undergrowth following paths that she and Sellie had made over the years, though mostly overgrown now. And then she found the tree that had grown up overhanging the wall.

  With her newly freed legs she was up it in no time. It had been years since she had climbed it but her arms and legs remembered it. She balanced along the branch—though it was thinner than she recalled—and came to the drop-off. She knelt down on the branch, grabbed it with both hands, and swung down.

  It was a further drop of three feet but that was nothing. She had done the same trick when she was half her current height. She brushed off her hands. The last part might be tricky.

  An outbuilding stood between her and the yard in which her air-plane stood. She took a deep breath and stepped round the corner of the brick wall. The Pegasus was exactly where they had left it. Smoke rose in a thin column from the stack above the furnace.

  A roar of diesel engines grew filling the air, and with no clear source. Harry did not glance up; if anything the sound would mask any accidental noise she might make. She strode across the yard towards the open hatch of the plane. She glanced to her left. The guard was at his post, looking away from her.

  “Look behind you!”

  A small group of soldiers, the ones that had been chasing her, emerged through the trees.

  And she was in plain view to them. They were pointing at her past the guard.

  She hitched up her skirt and sprinted as the guard turned. “Halt!”

  She did not halt, nor did she look. He would no doubt be raising his gun in her direction.

  He was unlikely to try to kill her on the first shot. He would want to scare her.

  The gunshot echoed round the yard and the bullet careened off the flagstone at her feet.

  Her blood ran cold. He was successful. She was scared. But the Pegasus was only a couple of steps away. Harry flung herself into the air, twisted and landed heavily inside the cabin on her side.

  She whirled to grab the rope that held the steps. She yanked on it and pulled them up. A bullet ricocheted off the fuselage near her head. She reached out and grabbed the hatch. It resisted her before swinging closed. The guard was aiming directly at her. Would he really shoot a girl?

  She did not know whether he hesitated or simply took too long but the door slammed shut before the next bullet struck the fuselage. She was uncertain what to do next, she might have some steam but that would be exhausted quickly so stoking the furnace should come first. But there were soldiers directly outside and they could cause trouble.

  A shadow passed across the sun. She glanced up through the glass. The Zeppelin was gliding past at about five hundred feet. They were unlikely to open fire with their soldiers so close, in which case it would be better if the men on the ground stayed nearby.

  Furnace first.

  Harry hurried into the back. She snatched up the shovel and used it to unhook the latch on the furnace door and pull it open. Heat streamed out like the beam of a searchlight.

  As fast as she could, Harry shovelled. It was exhausting work,

  A couple of bullets hit the fuselage but the Pegasus was tough. Then came the banging.

  Harry hoped they would not try to damage the Faraday.

  There was no time to do everything. Harry slammed the furnace door shut and the latch engaged automatically. She flicked the switch that activated the forced airflow pump. Sellie had rigged an air-blowing device after she had read about them being used in the furnaces on the big ships to achieve higher temperatures. Hers was not as powerful and drained the battery but Harry needed all the steam she could get as fast as possible.

  The banging had stopped, and that worried Harry. She hurried to the pilot’s seat. She gave a long whistle without even thinking about it and flipped the Faraday switch.

  There was a cry from up top as they went light. The whole squad of soldiers were in the yard, maybe ten of them including the one who had climbed up onto the plane.

  They were looking at her through the glass; some were grinning. Harry took a gentle hold of the wing controls and glanced at the steam pressure gauge. Not enough for flight yet but it was moving in the right direction.

  This was not a time for messing around, Harry decided. She rested her thumb on the button that Sellie had installed for the Maxim and pressed it. The Pegasus vibrated with the thudding of the machine gun.

  That wiped the grins off their faces, she thought. Every one of them had hit the deck as the machine gun’s bullets flashed over their heads. With the Pegasus on the ground the gun’s angle meant there was no chance she would hit them.

  It did not take them long to realise and within a few moments there were a dozen rifles pointing straight at her through the glass.

  x

  Harry glanced once more at the steam pressure. It was nearly enough. She felt the urge to just fight. Those times when the Pegasus became an extension of herself were when she felt powerful.

  But if she did that now, she might not have the steam to rescue Mrs Hemingway.

  She needed to delay them until the pressure was up. Two minutes would be sufficient.

  She raised her hands so that they did not shoot. She wasn’t sure the glass could take multiple rifle shots. One in the wrong place would shatter a pane; then the jig would be up.

  One of the soldiers stepped forward; he was a sergeant according to his stripes. He continued to point his gun at her and then gestured with it towards the hatch.

  She acted dumb.

  He stopped pointing the gun and used his hands. He pointed at her and then at the hatch. He gestured for her to leave the ship.

  Harry scrunched up her eyes as if she was crying, buried her face in her hands swayed as if she was sobbing.

  Everything she knew about men told her this would provide an excellent delay. With her face hidden she could no longer see them so their gestures were useless. But they would assume a crying female just needed to be waited out, and that she would stop eventually.

  She counted each breath. When she reached fifty-three, the banging on the hatch started again followed by something metal hitting the glass in front of her. She pretended she was crying even more heavily, though she wanted to shout angrily at the person damaging her baby.

  Ninety-seven. She lifted her face from her hands but kept the saddest expression she could muster on her face. The sergeant was directly in front of the ship, holding his rifle as if he were about to strike the glass with the butt.

  Ninety-eight. Harry let her hands fall to the controls; she shifted forward a little in the seat as if she were intending to get up. The sergeant took a deep breath and suppressed the anger that leaked out in the form of his frown and clenched teeth. He took a step back.

  Ninety-nine. Harry placed her fingers around the control sticks. She looked the sergeant in the eye and grinned. His face changed to one of alarm, and he shouted something to his men.

  One hundred.

  Harry engaged the propeller, pushing it to its highest gearing. It screamed into life. Harry lifted her wings, and gave a powerful stroke. The Pegasus shifted a little, but Harry’s intention had been to scare the soldiers.

  Those to the sides were knocked to the floor by the strength of the air blast while the ones in front ran for cover. The sergeant did not move but reversed his gun and took aim.

  Harry could tell by the pitch of the propeller that she was ready to fly. She beat down hard with the wings once. The Pegasus leapt up; th
e sergeant became inconsequential.

  She was above the tree-tops in moments. A cloud of what she thought at first was smoke but then realised was dust rose from where her home had once stood. Only the two ends remained standing and even those were crumbling.

  The Zeppelin was close to Mrs Hemingway’s rooms although they were still moving round the house. As she watched, the sash window of Mrs Hemingway’s lounge opened and she saw Sellie lean out and look up. Harry was so relieved she almost cried out with joy.

  She reduced the power to the propeller and used the wings to hop the short distance in mere seconds. Sellie waved as she approached, pointed down and then disappeared back inside.

  Harry knew what Sellie was thinking but this was going to be tight; the Germans would be on them as soon as she touched down. However, it was the only way.

  * * *

  Mary Odette Francesca Hemingway clung to the lighting sconce in terror. The house she had lived in for the past twelve years had crumbled away, leaving her and the damned black girl high and dry.

  She could see the collapsed ruin of the house along its entire length. Only the corners at the other end and, she supposed, the extension still remained standing. Except for their corner.

  Where the door and the passageway had been she could see across the lawns. Her employer, Mr Edgbaston, and his guests with various of the servants were surrounded by soldiers. Her room still had a roof but tiles rained down continually.

  The whole world had gone mad.

  “Come on, Mrs Hemingway. Our ride is here.”

  She turned to look; the black had gone insane and was grinning. Mrs Hemingway hated the way the girl’s white teeth were in such sharp contrast to her black skin. It gave her an almost unreal appearance.

  The girl walked across to her, casually grabbing the window frame and another light fitting so she did not overbalance.

  “Don’t be so ignorant. Someone must bring a ladder, and no one can bring a ladder with these soldiers.”

  The black girl’s smile faded and she regarded her. “I know that if you had a means of escape you would leave me without a second thought,” said the girl. “But I do not have that luxury.”

  “Of course not, I am your superior.”

  The black girl caught her by her wrist. “That being the case,” she said, “allow me to assist you to the window.”

  “Is there a ladder?”

  “Oh yes, there’s a ladder.”

  Mrs Hemingway allowed herself to be led to the window. She leaned on the girl who was quite inordinately strong. No proper woman would be like that.

  They reached the window. “After you,” said the girl.

  Mrs Hemingway looked out to see there was no ladder. The traitorous girl had lied! She turned to give her a good dressing down. Before she had a chance, the girl pressed her hand against Mrs Hemingway’s stomach and shoved her out of the window.

  xi

  Harry watched Mrs Hemingway fall backwards from the window and float slowly down—tumbling over and over like Alice down the rabbit hole—under the influence of the Pegasus’s Faraday field. Sellie did a hand-stand on the windowsill and pushed off with her legs from the window frame. She rocketed down, shooting past the gently rotating Mrs Hemingway.

  Sellie twisted in midair, but misjudged her trajectory. Her dress billowed up and she landed on her behind with her skirts draped across the cockpit window, blocking out the sunlight.

  “Elegant landing, Sellie,” said Harry as she jumped to the hatch and unlocked it. She heard Mrs Hemingway’s whimpering cry as she came in to a landing on the top of the fuselage.

  Harry grabbed Mrs Hemingway’s legs when they appeared over the edge and managed to pull her inside as she fell off the roof. It wasn’t elegant.

  Harry saw soldiers approaching round the remains of the house and jumped back into the pilot’s chair. She heard Khuwelsa land on the deck, followed quickly by the slamming and locking of the hatch.

  “We need steam, Sellie.”

  “Aye, aye, skipper.”

  Harry felt the strain go out of her. She almost laughed out loud as she used her wings to walk the Pegasus backwards away from the wall. A couple of bullets hit the fuselage. She powered up the propeller and turned the Pegasus’s back to the oncoming soldiers. In the rear-facing mirror she watched the glass shards lift in the airflow, stream away in a cloud and pepper the soldiers.

  They retreated in disorder.

  With two powerful wing beats they were airborne. The devastation of her home flashed past at increasing speed. She would mourn later. Right now she had a score to settle.

  By the time the Pegasus had reached the far end of the building she had accelerated to the speed that no longer required the wings for lift. Harry glanced in the mirror.

  The Zeppelin was putting down an anchor. It was not coming after her, nor were its guns firing. She growled and glanced at the steam pressure. It was climbing; Sellie was on her post.

  Harry gave one long and two short whistles, and paused for a moment before snapping the wings into braking position and bringing the nose up. The Pegasus stalled and flipped over on one wing. There was a scream from behind her.

  Mrs Hemingway. Drat the woman, she did not know their whistle codes. Well, it was too late to worry now.

  The propeller was still at full power and, as they dived, they picked up speed, but now facing in the other direction and heading back towards the Zeppelin.

  Mrs Hemingway whimpered as the ground came at them very fast. Harry pulled back gently and skimmed the grass.

  She throttled back and pulled the nose up a second time. She back-winged hard, bringing them up to a position above the Zeppelin ready to rain molten tar on its envelope and send it crashing to the ground.

  The Pegasus might not be able to hover but with the propeller cranked to full thrust, the wings beating, and the nose up, she could get the velocity down to a few miles per hour. She worked the wings hard, driving them with her anger.

  “Stop!” shrieked Mrs Hemingway. “You can’t.”

  Harry was not listening. Two short whistles. When Harry did it, it was a question: Weapon ready?

  Four short from Sellie. Prepare for landing.

  “What?” shouted Harry. “Get the tar ready, Sellie! We’ll take it down.”

  “No, Harry.”

  Harry was getting out of position. “Sellie! Now!”

  “No, Harry,” said Sellie beside her. “They’ve got Dad.”

  Harry let the nose drop and curved away to the right. The Pegasus accelerated under the propeller’s thrust but Harry reduced the power and they glided smoothly round in a tight arc.

  “We had them Sellie, we could have taken them. It’s only one!”

  “Stop it, Harry,” said Sellie.

  As the ship came around they could see the German soldiers with their guns raised, surrounding the military guests and Jonathan Edgbaston in the middle of them.

  “You must land and give yourself up,” said Mrs Hemingway. “Your behaviour has provoked an international incident. To do anything else could incite war and, Lord knows, we do not want that. Do we?”

  Harry felt numb. Her anger was like the core of a banked furnace. Raging with heat but unable to flame. Without even thinking about it she brought the Pegasus down to a gentle landing on the lawn a hundred yards from the group.

  “Good,” said Mrs Hemingway. “I’m glad to see you have at least some sense. Even if it requires putting your father at risk to show it.”

  “Shut up.”

  “I beg your pardon, young lady?”

  “As you have so often pointed out, Mrs Hemingway, I am very far from being a lady, and I am telling you to shut up.”

  “Really!” But if she intended to say anything further the words did not come.

  Harry watched the unfolding scene. A young officer—she did not recognise his insignia—flanked by two guards and using a walking stick limped across the grass towards them. Her father was separated from
the herd and brought forward as well but kept a little further back.

  The officer stopped about ten yards from the Pegasus out of the line of fire of her machine gun. He made a slicing move across his neck. He wanted her to cut the power to the propeller.

  Harry did not move.

  “What are you doing, Harry?” asked her sister quietly.

  The officer waited a short time before making the signal again, more vehemently.

  Harry still did nothing.

  “Miss Edgbaston, I strongly suggest you follow his instructions.”

  “And I strongly suggest you shut up, as previously mentioned. This is my ship, I am in charge.” Harry did not turn around but kept her eyes fixed on the German officer.

  The man took a few steps back and pointed at her father, who was dragged forward and pushed to his knees.

  “Bastards,” said Sellie in Harry’s ear.

  “Quite,” said Harry. “I’ve had as much of this as I’m going to stand for.”

  She pushed the propeller to full power.

  “We’re leaving.”

  Either the shock of Harry’s action was too much for both Khuwelsa and Mrs Hemingway, rendering them speechless, or their voices were drowned out by the sudden roar.

  Harry stroked the wings and the Pegasus lifted. The soldiers ducked as she rocketed over them. They had barely enough space to gain sufficient altitude. Harry steered for the collapsed house and flew between the parts that remained standing then shot away across the grass.

  “What have you done, Harry?” Sellie’s voice cracked with tears.

  “Well, you’ve certainly shown your true colours, Harriet Edgbaston, just like your mother.”

  Harry’s anger rose up hotter than before. She gritted her teeth. She wished that she could force the Pegasus to fly faster but she had reached maximum speed. She did not bother gaining more height but assuaged her anger by flying low. Dangerously low, barely clearing the tops of the trees.