'To the left it is.'
Caroline danced along an inclined beam then used a heavy metal pipe to lever aside a mass of splintered plywood that towered head high. Aubrey joined her and leant his weight to the pipe. They forced the plywood aside and there, only yards away, were the giant hangar doors, open to the night and fresh air.
Caroline gripped the pipe. 'Quickly. You first.'
Aubrey shook his head. More arms fire sounded, but it seemed to be moving away from them. 'No. You go.'
Caroline grinned. 'Right,' she said, and she was off.
Aubrey blinked. He'd been expecting an argument.
Then, without Caroline's weight, the pipe jerked upwards. Aubrey realised he was on the wrong end of the lever, with hundreds of pounds of timber on the other end. He let go just in time to stop it snapping upwards and breaking his jaw. The plywood crashed to the ground, sending dust flying.
Hoarse shouts responded and suddenly the gunfire was definitely aimed in his direction. Crouching as best he could, Aubrey scrambled over the top of the plywood, the whole jumble shifting and moving underneath him as he went. For one sickening instant he thought it was going to give way and he'd be trapped, but he skated the last few yards and rolled off just as the sheets collapsed, collapsing with a crunch that made Aubrey flinch.
He came to his feet to see Caroline waiting at the door. 'What took you so long?'
Aubrey jerked a thumb over his shoulder. 'I wanted to make sure it'd be hard to follow.'
'I see.' Caroline frowned. 'You're bleeding.'
Aubrey stared stupidly at his hand. A line of red dripped from the base of his thumb. 'I must have sliced it on the timber.'
'No time to worry about that now,' Caroline said. She took his other hand and pulled him through the doorway.
A lorry was waiting for them at the hangar door, motor turning over. 'All aboard,' George called. 'If you'd like a lift, that is.'
Caroline leapt into the cabin. Aubrey followed. 'George, you're a lifesaver.'
'One of my many talents.' The wheels spun and the lorry shot forward. 'Now, where to?'
'Somewhere a long way from bears, fanatics and exploding airships,' Caroline said, but her eyes were bright with excitement.
'Seconded,' Aubrey said fervently and the lorry hurtled toward the gate.
George was driving without headlights. He squinted, concentrating on the gravel road. 'They have many bears in Lutetia, do they, Aubrey?' he shouted over the screaming motor.
'Not that I know of. Caroline?'
'I've never heard of any.'
George grunted and changed gear. 'Didn't think so.' The lorry skidded on gravel as they rounded a shed and headed for the gate. 'That'll be another mystery then.'
Aubrey didn't answer. He saw a figure sprinting toward them from between two sheds. He didn't have time to cry out a warning before the man threw himself at the lorry. With a thump, he struck the door right next to Aubrey and clung, holding the mirror, scrambling until his feet found the running board. Aubrey was about to shove the stranger away when he recognised the frightened, angry face.
'Von Stralick!' Aubrey cried. 'What are you doing here?'
'Drive! Drive!' The Holmlander was pale. 'They have rifles. They tried to kill you – and me.'
It was enough for George. He accelerated, ignoring potholes, and aimed straight for the gate.
'Who tried to kill you?' Aubrey shouted above the protesting of the lorry. 'The Sons of Victor?'
Von Stralick gripped the window and the mirror, squinting through the wind, his shoulders hunched – fearing a marksman, Aubrey guessed. 'No! Holmlanders!'
Aubrey stared at the flaming ruins of the hangar. Holmlanders trying to kill Holmlanders? Sabotage? He shook his head. What had begun as a tangle had grown into a mess – and it had every indication of becoming an all-encompassing nightmare.
Ahead, the lights of Lutetia burned sullenly, making the city look brooding and fretful in the night.
Ten
THEY REACHED THE STREETS OF LUTETIA IN THE SMALL hours of the day. A few cabs were edging their way through the darkness, hooves making hollow echoes on the cobblestones. The city was sleeping, but Aubrey imagined that the dreams were uneasy, filled with a sense of loss and longing.
Aubrey was worried to see a distinctive series of posters slapped onto buildings. They stood out from those advertising cabarets and wines. Crudely done, with slashes of red and black, all were promising doom: 'We are Lost!', 'Prepare for the End!', 'There is no Hope!'. Aubrey saw dozens of them, all insisting that disaster was just around the corner for Lutetia.
Despite the lack of traffic, George drove the lorry slowly, taking care because of the noisy motor. They trundled through the boulevards and wide thoroughfares, worming their way through the suburbs. Von Stralick huddled in the back of the lorry, having found it more comfortable than clinging to the side of the vehicle.
He'd given Aubrey much to think about. The Holmlander's revelation that his countrymen had been responsible for the shooting in the hangar made little sense. If they were Holmlanders, why had they been shooting at von Stralick? If they weren't, what sort of a double-game was he playing, blaming the shooting on his compatriots?
Aubrey sat in the cabin of the lorry, brooding, even after Caroline had helped him bind a handkerchief around the slash on his thumb, which bled steadily.
On top of the possible Holmland link, Aubrey could add a soul-stealing photographer, a mysterious ornithologist, a rampaging bear, unknown Marchmainers wanting his grandmother's letters, a missing artefact that possibly held the fate of the Gallian nation, and hordes of villains, troublemakers and blackguards who were busy stirring up mischief to ensure the Giraud government would fall.
A meal fit for a king, he thought sourly, and winced when he remembered he should add Bertie's quest to the menu. Of course, if he were being selfish, he could also include the puzzle of his own condition and how best to restore it.
They drew close to the centre of the city, crossing St Cyr Bridge. A thump came on the cabin roof. 'Stop here!' von Stralick said. George rolled the lorry to a halt under a street light, but left the motor running.
Aubrey's sense of smell that told him where they were. 'The fish market? Why do you want to stop here? And don't you have some explanations for us?'
A squat red-brick façade stood in front of them. The sculptures of two jaunty-looking halibut loomed over the wide doorway, but the entrance was shut. However, a steady stream of rubber-booted and macintoshed men made its way to the rear of the building. Most of them were carrying boxes of shining fish.
Von Stralick leapt from the back of the lorry. 'No time for that. I must go. But beware of Holmlanders in Lutetia. Some very bad men are here.'
With that counsel, he was away and down the alley.
Caroline leaned out of the window of the lorry and watched the spy's progress. 'Do you want me to see where he goes?'