Cannon caught sight of Masaracchia through the windshield, holding on for dear life as Emma and the others jerkily pulled him toward the plane. The cab’s roof bowed inward as Burr mounted it, then popped back to normal as the … Continue reading
“Isea, you’re up.” Burr spun her machine pistol the right way around, sighted in on the pursuing British truck, and laid down a barrage of covering fire. “Jump when the lassie says go,” Iseabail told Masaracchia, “an’ we’ll haul ye … Continue reading
Hanging onto a framing member in the cargo hold, Emma plugged her headset into the intercom panel, and leaned out through the open cargo door into the slipstream. “Slower!” she shouted into the microphone. “Merde,” she heard in reply. Hydraulics … Continue reading
Lecocq spun his radio knob to ‘Intercom’ and said, “No time. Go to the cargo hold and be ready with the grappling hook. The captain will be alongside in twenty seconds. You will have to talk me close enough.” Emma’s … Continue reading
“Whiskey Two, I will soon be low and slow. Keep them away from me. Over.” Lecocq rolled into a gentle right-hand turn as his Albatross crossed the shoreline. The two Kestrels still in formation broke the other direction, wheeling to … Continue reading
The city fell away beneath the plane. Lecocq’s compass read 315 degrees, and directly ahead was the T-shaped peninsula jutting out into the deep blue of the Mediterranean. To its southwest, boats clustered in the harbor, behind a breakwater perhaps … Continue reading
“How are we doing?” Cannon shouted over his shoulder at the cab. “Halfway there!” Masaracchia called. “Another truck’s coming, skipper!” Burr raised her machine pistol and fired a short burst. Looking behind himself, Cannon saw his machine gun teetering on … Continue reading
Choufeng clicked his microphone and pulled past Hendersen, then led him in a knife-edge turn, lining up on a row of British fighters parked on the tarmac. Choufeng’s wing sprouted columns of white smoke as his rockets leaped off their … Continue reading
“That’s your idea of a plan?” Masaracchia said. “I don’t know whether this truck can even do ninety miles per hour.” “I’m more worried about the timing,” Cannon replied, voice raised over the roar of the engine and the rattle … Continue reading
Emma hunched over the Albatross’ radio console, pressing the headphones against her ear. “Whiskey One copies, skipper, but that’s really your plan? Over.” Lecocq glanced over his shoulder. “How crazy can it be, after that Soviet zeppelin?” Emma turned a … Continue reading
