Magical Mechanications Read online

  “And we intend,” Hemsworth said, pointing into the hangar, “to make sure you have what you need to face the Big Bad Wolf without fear.”

  The sight of the plane nearly made her faint. It looked as if it were a Sopwith Camel, but with slight differences in the design. The wings, instead of reaching straight out, were angled back by five degrees or so. Underneath the fuselage, there was mounted a fat cylinder that appeared to be directly connected to the plane’s powerful engine. The twin machine guns mounted on the fuselage was thrilling to see, but also equally thrilling were the small turrets mounted on either side of the tail section.

  “Lieutenant Quinn,” Barnswallow said, “this is the Sopwith Hornet, a prototype of our own. The engine is based on the electric motor with range extender that the Avro Five-ten-As utilized in their service.”

  “The armament is similar to the Camel in that you have two synchronized Vickers in a fixed, forward-firing position,” Hemsworth offered, “but you also have the two defensive measures on the tail of the Hornet.”

  “Defensive measures?” Scarlett asked.

  “It looks like a smoke screen of some description,” Tink called from the plane. Of course she was already going over the beastie, looking to see where she could make her own improvements. “The other canon, I’ve not quite figured out what they fire.”

  “Flares,” Hemsworth said. “They are intended to distract or even blind your opponents. One time use only, though.”

  Scarlett shook her head. “With all these additions and that”—her head cut back and forth along the wing—“whatever this is, will it get in the air?”

  “I assure you, Lieutenant,” Hemsworth said, his smile wide and proud, “this will not only stay in the air but it will make quick work of anything that tries to take you out of the air.”

  Scarlett turned around to face the two officers. “Including the Big Bad Wolf?”

  “That is the problem we are facing at present,” Barnswallow said. “We have hard intelligence and your testimony corroborating it. In the Hornet, you have a fighting chance against the Big Bad Wolf, but the Fokker prototype we are led to believe is the superior aircraft. It’s going to be your skills against hers.”

  “Get into Germany, meet your operative, come back with the plans of this Fokker aircraft. Just like that?”

  “Just like that,” Hemsworth said. “We can give you a few days to get used to her before taking her behind enemy lines.”

  “No time like the present, Red!” Tink called. “Let’s fire her up!”

  Scarlett could feel someone standing next to her. It was Hemsworth, and she suddenly realized how tall the major was. He looked down at her with a mischievous grin plastered across his face.

  “This nickname of yours,” he said, looking down at her, “it suits you.”

  “Does it now?”

  “Quite,” and then he winked. Scarlett did not care for how her knees suddenly felt uncertain. “Little Red.”

  Height jokes? This mission was getting better and better by the second.

  Entr'acte

  This was not the Halle she grew up in. This was not the Germany she knew. She did not want to die in such a place so sad, so barren. Outside her cottage windows, Elsa once saw the Hallerbos standing along her village borders, tall and imposing as old, wizened guardians assuring her hamlet they were all safe from harm.

  Now whenever she looked out them, all that remained was a barren field, save for the factory where she worked. A giant structure housing machines of destruction, and a long strip of packed earth that served as an airfield.

  No, this was not Elsa’s Halle. Had not been so for a long, long time.

  Perhaps that was why, in the dim lighting of this inn, no one took notice of her sitting alone. She was a crone enjoying her porridge, the mug of beer beside her perhaps warming her old bones against the winter’s chill. She was invisible, and that was a very good thing to be in this world. This new Germany that would stand against the oppression of self-appointed masters. “England tightens the belt of humiliation around our loins, condemning us to the abyss! We have marched blindly towards calamity for too long. Hold out and triumph!” as the posters told her throughout the town.

  Tonight, however, she had to be invisible. She would need it to survive in this new world.

  “Gutentag,” the young man said, a small tray in his hands with a meal identical to her own on it. His German was polished, perfect. “Might I sit with you? I would love to chat with someone while I eat.”

  Es beginnt also, she thought.

  “I am afraid I am not one for idle talk,” she replied, as she was instructed to.

  “Then, perhaps we can talk politics?” he returned politely.

  She nodded. As he sat down, Elsa whispered to him in English, “You should be careful whom you speak with in Halle.”

  The spy blinked. “You speak English?”

  “I’ve not always been an old country woman. I was fortunate to have lived a very comfortable life. I traveled when I could. The wonders of science made the world an easier place to see.” She patted him on his hand. “Your German is flawless. Not a hint of the local accent. That will be your undoing, I fear.”

  He took a sip of his beer. “Any advice then?”

  “Keep your conversations short. One or two word sentences.” She bobbed her head back and forth, then added, “If you have to engage in conversation, slur some of your words together, as if you have drunk too much. And speak slower.”

  “You know, if you are looking to leave Germany, I have no doubt your knowledge would be most welcome back at the London offices.”

  She cast a wary glance around her. Conversations continued, beers were shared, and still her invisibility held. “You make it sound as if I have a choice. I have lived for so long in this country and you think I could leave it so easily? Without a thought? Why? Because this is not a Germany I no longer believe in? Considering my age, it would not be such a great loss if I were to pack what few things I own that I treasure, take what savings I still have, and purchase a train ticket. Go somewhere close to Teutoburger Wald.”

  “A forest? You want to see a forest?”

  “Not a forest. Teutoburger Wald. This is a forest that holds history, possesses such beauty as would make you weep. I could go there, accept the eternal embrace of the forest, lose myself within the wood, and gently fade into nothingness.”

  Such a death, Elsa knew, was not noble, nor graceful, nor elegant. It was surrender. Weak. Cowardly. To wander into a forest and die like a stray dog, alone. This new, bold Germany threatened to take everything away from her, starting with the trees.

  “Forgive me for being presumptuous, Miss Katzer, but you always have options. I dare say you know that better than anyone.”

  Her eyes narrowed on the young man now tucking into his stew. The English were being promoted as many things, but “shrewd” was not one of the words the government had used.

  From the looks on his face, he was impressed with the beef stew served here. The man needed to see more of the world. “Did you get the plans?”

  “I did,” she said. “Safe at home.”

  “Very good, Miss Katzer. Are you certain I cannot entice you to take advantage of our offer for safe passage?”

  “Nein,” she replied without a moment’s hesitation. “I will not leave my home.”

  The man’s brow furrowed. “But you just said you no longer believe in Germany.”

  “This Germany,” she clarified pointedly. “I do not believe in those who rule over it at present. Particularly, those who believe a weapon such as this would return things to normal, to the way things were before this supposed Great War began. This Schwarzer Geist is the kind of weapon that would not be content with a victory over the Allies.”

  “Schwarzer Geist>” the Englishman asked. “The Black Ghost?”

  Elsa nodded. “With the sweetness of victory upon their lips, would you believe our leaders capable of merely dismantling t
heir Black Ghost and allowing peace to rule?” She laughed bitterly before taking a drink. “These men and women would make Europe bleed by pushing their boundaries further. Perhaps even rule, for a change, over your precious United Kingdom.”

  The spy raised an eyebrow. “The Kaiser can certainly try, but I think he will find our lion quite difficult to tame.”

  Her eyes narrowed on him. “It is arrogance like that which brings countries to war.”

  For a few moments, they remained silent as they ate. Elsa was not particularly hungry, but that was what this was all about. Wasn’t it? Deception. Espionage. Treason.

  Finally, the Englishman spoke. “Your contact will meet you tomorrow afternoon. 2:00 p.m. If she doesn’t show by 2:05 p.m. I suggest you buy a ticket for that forest you so desperately want to see.”

  “How will I know her?”

  “She’ll call you ‘Grandmother’ as she’s traveling under the guise of your granddaughter.”

  Elsa paused. “That is my code name?”

  “Yes.”

  “Delightful,” she huffed. “And my reply?”

  “Whatever you like, so long as you call her ‘Little Red’ somewhere in there.”

  Elsa polished off her beer and began to bundle herself up. “Then I shall see your contact at 2 p.m.” She stood but then leaned over the table to whisper to him. “If I’m not home for any reason, tell your contact to help herself to a blanket. It can get chilly in Halle.”

  “Thank you, Miss Katzer…”

  Her whisper turned harsh, pointed. “Listen to me, boy—tell Little Red to help herself to a blanket. It can get very, very cold. Tell her that. Word for word.”

  His brow knotted as he stammered, “I will.”

  With a curt nod, she said. “Good night then.”

  “You have no idea the difference you are making.”

  “I will believe it when this Great War is done,” and she eased away from the table, her body suddenly in need of her bed and a good night’s sleep.

  Perhaps Elsa should not have been so brusque with the young man. He was only trying to reassure her she was doing the right thing, but the spy’s gesture only reminded her of the war machine her country had become. The men in their sharp uniforms had come to her door, complete strangers believing themselves to be close acquaintances with Elsa. “We are Germany, and we must do our part for the Empire,” they had told her cheerily. Her part—small as it was—in keeping the brave men and women safe on the Western Front involved manning a trolley of simple nibbles and drinks for the factory. This would be her part in the greater war machine. She was a modest cog turning the gears that kept larger parts moving. The others—engineers, designers, and line operators—would provide the newest and most innovative weapons for the troops, for the greater glory of their country, a country no longer answering to the English.

  “The difference you will make will not be seen,” the nice young man in the sharp dress uniform told her, “but it will be appreciated.”

  This menial task at the factory was nothing significant, but it did brighten the mornings and afternoons of those who worked there. To some, she was invisible. Hardly a bother to her as it meant more distance between her and this brave, new Germany. This would be the Germany where she would die, like it or not. It was not the surrender she had once contemplated, but merely a gentle resignation. At least the Germany she knew and loved would remain in her heart.

  Then Elsa discovered some advantages about her invisibility at the factory. She could access places deemed “Verboten” to others. No matter the job or the duty, or the security clearance, people needed their tea and biscuits, or perhaps a cup of coffee to pick up their spirits and keep them alert. This included the men and women that dreamt up such astounding creations as that new plane. The Schwarzer Geist. Silent as the grave, black as pitch. This was the sort of modern marvel, the sort of weapon, that could end the war but to what purpose and what end?

  On watching its maiden flight, watching it soar like a dark eagle over Halle, Elsa knew the Germany she loved so dearly was done. In its place would be this war machine, committed on having the world on bended knee, subservient.

  She remembered that night at the inn, openly weeping at her table as she ate her porridge. It was unusual for her to eat at the local inn, but she wanted to be around people that night. She didn’t want to feel so alone.

  That was when Johann, the local baker and a friend, took a seat across from her, took her hand, and asked what troubled her so. She told him and he listened. He nodded. His hand squeezed hers gently. When Elsa was done, she waited for her friend to reply, possibly with propaganda-inspired words of comfort.

  What Johann proposed to Elsa stopped her tears. All it would take would be one action on her part. One action that could change everything.

  When an evening shift presented itself, Elsa was to do her part for Germany. Attend on those working late into the night. Nothing out of the ordinary. As was her way, she pushed her tea and coffee trolley along the hallways, offering a cheery smile and a cup of warmth against the cold weather. The guards were still omnipresent, but perhaps less attentive. She was, after all, the kindly old lady that served tea, coffee, and delightful pastries that cured hunger pangs arriving in the early morning hours. Elsa was, at least, that “kindly old lady” to those who noticed. Her invisibility would be more than just the distance she preferred, but on this particular night it would be her advantage.

  Her trolley trundled past security guards engrossed in their own conversations. Some of the smaller offices were occupied, but only one of the scientists looked up from their work only to return to it with no interest of a late night treat. Eventually, she reached the main workroom of this floor. Before her stretched long tables that she recognized under the light of day, usually occupied by engineers and designers working on their latest designs, always looking for ways to improve what rumbled across the earth, sliced through the ocean, or soared high in the air.

  Elsa pushed her cart to the back of the office, back to where the filing cabinets stood. When she stopped at the long, wide blueprint cabinet, Elsa held her breath. She could hear a soft thumping in her ears. Her heartbeat was running faster than rabbits in the meadow. Apart from that she was alone.

  Her eyes ran across the small plates until she found the drawer dedicated for aviation. Gingerly, Elsa pulled the drawer open. Her hands then fumbled in her apron pocket for the small torch she had brought with her. She twisted the small cylinder that flared to life in her hands. Again, she held her breath as her gaze went back to the hallways outside.

  Still nothing. Not a sound. All alone.

  The fingers of her free hand continued to flip back blueprint after blueprint until finally she saw the precise renderings of the triple-winged plane. Slipping it out of the pile, the plan fluttered lightly in the air before settling on the wide desk before her. Elsa looked up again to the door as she snuffed the electric light out of her hand. Confident she was alone, Elsa gingerly folded the plan once, then again, and one final time, assuring it would be a size that would fit inconspicuously in a tray reserved for small scones. Normally, this tray would be connected to a warming element of some description, but on this particular night she had disconnected any wires leading to it. This bottom drawer, and the one above it, were cold. She wanted to make certain that the plan was in no danger of being damaged.

  She could still remember the sky’s hue that early morning as she bid the guards at the main gate a pleasant farewell. It was a dappling of purple and blue against the heavy darkness, now receding as the sun slowly rose. A new day, in so many ways. As Johann instructed her, she was now to return to the inn and wait to meet the baker’s friend. The spy. She was now part of the underground network working against the German Empire.

  “Are you certain I cannot entice you to take advantage of our offer for safe passage?”

  The gesture from her English contact was tempting, in case of capture; but why risk everything only to
run from the place she called home? It would be as ridiculous as starting a garden in April only to tend to it in September. No, if she were caught, she would die in her country, content in her actions. In doing what was right.

  Elsa walked into the warmth of her humble cottage, the cold now making her more than ready for that good night’s rest. The tick-tock-tick-tock of her cuckoo clock was drowned out by the call of the clock’s bird. It was far later than she preferred it to be, but she desperately needed something to warm up her old bones. Perhaps back at the inn she should have ordered the stew. It did look rather hearty.

  “Guten Abend, alte Frau,” came the silky female voice from behind her.

  Elsa’s hand lightly slapped against her chest as she spun around to the darkened corner of the cottage.

  The long match hissed and flared to life, and then the bright flame reached into the lantern which cast a warm glow around the stranger in her home. She then took the match, its wood now curling on itself as the flame grew, and lit the thin cigar trapped between her lips. Two drags later, the sweet smell of the tobacco lifted into the air around them both.

  “Been aching to enjoy this,” the stranger said, contemplating the small cigar between her fingers. “Having it lit when you walked in though would possibly have alarmed you terribly.”

  The woman, from the looks of her uniform, was an officer, but that was all Elsa could tell at the moment. Her long black boots were polished to a flawless sheen while the silver buttons in her waistcoat and cloak twinkled in the light of her lantern. The woman’s eyes were as black as her hair, pulled back into a tight bun. Elsa’s gaze followed the cigar from the intruder’s ruby red lips to the small saucer she recognized from her own cupboard. Right next to the small plate lay a pistol, its handle turned towards the stranger.

  “Where are my manners?” the mysterious woman asked as she removed her cap and placed it across her lap. “Hauptmann Maximiliane Adolphina Vogelberg von Wolff.”

  “Elsa Katzer.”

  “Yes, I know. The tea trolley lady.” Her smile did little to put Elsa at ease. “I know a great deal about you.”