Page 42 of Clive Cussler The Iron Storm
Perhaps not a lost cause after all.
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Liam Holmes had been eatingprison rations for the better part of a week, so no sooner had the tray been set on the table, he’d popped one of the peeled eggs into his mouth and chewed as if in ecstasy. Though only in German hands for less than twenty-four hours, Bell was overjoyed to help himself to a slice of bread slathered in tart apple butter.
“Tell me, Mr. Rath, what is it you want from us exactly?” Holmes said with a hunk of cheese in his hand that was ready to follow the egg.
“There is a railway yard here in occupied Belgium. Eighty percent of all German supplies to the northern section of the front lines pass through it. It is too large for us to attack on the ground, but aerial bombs would make a mess of it.”
“One plane wouldn’t make a difference if the facility is as large as it sounds,” Holmes said, and Bell nodded. “You’d need a fleet of aircraft to do any real damage.”
“This is where you are wrong. One aircraft is enough, and we have access to it thanks to a sympathizer in the German air force. It is a Zeppelin.”
Bell and Holmes exchanged a bewildered look. Holmes laughed and said, “A Zeppelin? As in an airship? Mate, you’ve lost the plot. I’ve never seen one, let alone know how to fly it.”
“Besides, it takes a crew of a dozen or more men to fly one of those floating gasbags,” Bell added.
“No, no, no. You misunderstand. I am talking about a four-engine bomber built by the Zeppelin company. That you can fly, yes?”
Holmes and Bell looked at each other once again. Though they hadn’t ever laid eyes on such an aircraft, both were confident enough in their abilities that they felt they could fly it.
“More than likely, yes.”
Karl Rath beamed at the idea that his plan was going to work. “Excellent. And the best part is there will be no artillery or machine guns firing up at you. The entire mission is so far behind the German lines that there is no antiaircraft defenses.”
“When would you have us make this raid?” Holmes asked.
“Tonight,” Rath said. “That is why we went to break you out of Falkennest. The moon is full and my man at the airfield tells me the rest of his comrades are attending a special dinner with theirKommandantat a beer hall. Upon your return, I will turn you and your comrades over to a different group of partisans who will smuggle you across the border into neutral Holland. From there a ship can take you back to England.”
“You make it all sound rather easy,” Holmes remarked as he pushed away his empty plate.
“Is easy,” Rath said. He lit a cigarette. Upon seeing it, Holmes asked if he could have one as well. The partisan handed his pack anda book of printed matches to Bell, who passed them along to the Englishman. Rath continued after Bell returned the pack. “I send one of my men with you on the plane to help find the railyard. He worked for railroad before war and knows which lines to follow.”
Holmes asked Bell, “What do you think?”
“I hate to admit that I don’t know the geography of the area well enough to have much of an opinion,” Bell answered. “How far away is the target and what’s the plane’s range?”
Rath said, “My man at the base said the plane can carry two thousand kilos of bombs and fly eight hundred kilometers.”
“Five hundred miles,” Holmes converted for Bell’s sake. “We’ve more than enough range and that’s almost two and a quarter tons of bombs. More than enough in that department, too, I would say.”
Bell rubbed his chin. “So in a war I have no business fighting, I’ve defended a trench against attack, shot down an observation balloon, been involved in a dogfight with the Red Baron, and escaped a POW camp in a stolen tank. Hell, I might as well bomb Belgium to complete my grand European tour.”
“Is good,” Rath said.
Bell had little doubt what would have happened to them had he and Holmes refused to fly the mission. Rath had an edge to him, a ruthlessness that he didn’t bother to hide. He recalled the pistol-whipping of his own man the night before at the ambush site. Rath hadn’t hesitated for even a moment before scarring one of his men for life.
The partisan added, “The planes are usually based at a big airfield near Ghent. Several were flown to a much-smaller field near here two weeks ago. It is that which gave me idea to rescue pilots and bomb railyard. I say this so you know they are common in skies over Belgium, and you will not be attacked on return flight.”
Holmes wasn’t impressed by this last comment. “Not unless the Germans are on the ball, which my experience tells me they are, and alert their antiaircraft batteries about us bombing their choo choo. We’ll have the cover of night on the flight there, but on the way back we might be the target of a good old-fashioned turkey shoot.”
“You have those in England?” Bell asked.
“We mostly shoot pheasants. I said turkey for your sake.”
“Appreciate it,” Bell said with a wry grin. He became serious again when addressing Rath. “Listen, breakfast was great and all, but we need some shut-eye before tonight, and I’m sure Captain Holmes would like to check in on his men, especially the wounded flyer, Fox.”
“Of course, of course,” Rath said, getting to his feet and crushing out his cigarette in an overflowing glass ashtray.
