The Corps of Discovery Trilogy Box Set: Books 1-3: A multiverse series of alternate history

by James S. Peet

  Drew thanked her, then turned back to Bellfont. “How soon do you think you can find anything out? I’d like to make sure I catch these bastards before they fly the coop.”

  Picking up the handset of the phone on his desk, Bellfont said, “Let me call the stevedore boss. He’ll get the word out, and if they’re around or they show up looking for a boat, we’ll know pretty fast.”

  Dialing a number, Bellfont began speaking after a short wait. He explained the situation and told whoever was on the other end of the line to call him back if he heard or saw anything.

  “Well, that’s about all we can do. You stayin’ anywhere we can reach you?”

  Drew shook his head. “Hadn’t planned that far. You got any suggestions?”

  “Might’s well stay at the Francis Marion Hotel. It’s nice, and they offer a government discount.”

  The Francis Marion Hotel was, indeed, nice. Not too ostentatious, but nice enough not to have to worry about drunken brawls in a parking lot.

  The three agents each got their own small room. The first thing Drew did was take a long, hot shower, followed by a long, cooling shower. When he got out, he rummaged around the small travel suitcase that ASAC Williams had provided, since his was missing. The clothes inside were nothing special, but at least they were the right size, and the underwear was still in the original packaging. Drew got dressed, then called the front desk to see about having his clothes washed. They said they’d send somebody up right away.

  He had just sat down and opened up a small bottle of Jack Daniel’s whiskey, which he elected to mix with air and ice, when there was a knock on his door.Expecting a bell boy, he opened the door and found Smith and Brown. Smith held up a bottle of bourbon. “Fancy a drink?”

  Drew waved them in, gesturing to the one remaining chair and the bed. “Fight between y’all on who sits where. I got this chair. Mind you, we’re still huntin’ these bastards, so limit yourself to one.”

  As Brown got a couple of glasses from the bathroom, the telephone rang, jarringly loud.

  Drew answered it as usual, “Peters here.”

  The voice on the other end was immediately recognizable as the harbormaster’s. “Agent Peters, I got some news on them guys y’all are huntin’, but it ain’t good.”

  Drew immediately became alert. Seeing him sit more upright and focused stopped the other two agents, Brown in the process of handing Smith a glass.

  “Turns out them boys were here, along with a buncha other folks, including a Brit. But they took off on a yacht, the Enigma, about two or three o’clock, about the time you boys rolled into town.”

  Drew recognized the name. It was the yacht he had watched motor away. With a sinking feeling in the pit of his stomach, he asked, “Where’d they go?”

  “As far as we can tell, they were chasing the Heinies. By now, they’re out on the high seas, outside the reach of the Confederacy.”

  Drew felt himself deflate. He knew the law. The Confederate States, like most other countries, had their territory extend twelve miles out to sea. Anything beyond that was unregulated, the mare liberum. Other than whatever country a vessel was flagged, or registered, no laws applied out there. His suspects were gone.

  “Thanks, Mr. Bellfont. I greatly appreciate your assistance in this matter.” A brief, desultory farewell and Drew hung up on the harbormaster.

  “Looks like our chase is over,” he said to the other two agents. Looking at his glass of bourbon on the rocks, he drained it in one gulp then held his glass out for Smith to refill it with whatever bourbon he had brought.

  “Guess that one drink limit don’t rightly matter, now.”

  74

  As night fell over the Atlantic and the Enigma, the discussion wound down and everyone, except for the captain, made their way to their bunks.

  Before dawn, Bill was up helping Ford and Matt prepare the Dixie Flyer for its first reconnaissance. Matt had borrowed one of the yacht’s powerful binoculars. They were clearly designed for military maritime use, being big, bulky, waterproof, and having a fifty-power magnification, far more than the thirty-power binoculars he was used to. The others were still asleep, and Bill was fine with that. It was going to be a long, busy twenty-four hours. They might as well get as much rest as possible. He was planning on taking a nap in the late afternoon, which he hoped would tide him over for the remainder of the night.

  Matt and Ford were both laden down with single-chute parachutes, no reserves, and inflatable Mae West type life vests, bright yellow to stand out in the darker seas.

  Beron stopped the vessel so Ford could take off safely. Within minutes of removing the tarp and straps, Ford had the car in the air and slowly, in a winding pattern above the Enigma, climbed to a mile above sea level. Bill could see the sun glint off the windshield and hoped that the Germans wouldn’t see it. He wasn’t too hopeful. On the positive side, the powder blue color of the car blended in well with the sky. Hmm. I wonder if we can pull off that windshield?

  While the car was in the air, Beron brought the yacht back up to speed. He would maintain headway, catching up to the Germans, until Ford needed to land or take-off.

  It wasn’t long before the car descended and Beron had to stop to allow it to land.

  Matt jumped out of the car, not even bothering to open the door, and reported to Bill that they had spotted a number of vessels, with several of them moving northward. “Any one of them could be our ship,” he said, shrugging. “There were a couple of ships barely on the horizon. I figure one of them was likely our guy.”

  Bill rubbed his chin, feeling the stubble of the night’s growth. Normally, he showered and shaved in the morning, but having showered the afternoon before, he considered it wasted time this morning. He would do it later in the day, before the action.

  “Were you able to make out any flags or names?”

  “Yeah, a couple of German ships, but most were heading toward us or southwest. I was focused on those heading north or northwest.”

  “How far could you make out the flag?”

  “Considering how big those things are, about twenty or so miles.”

  Ford joined the two men after sedately getting out of his side of the car.

  “Well, might as well get out of that gear. Guess we’ll try again around noon. If my calculations are right, that should put us about forty or so knots behind them then.”

  Part of the morning was spent cleaning guns and preparing to board the other vessel, if they ever caught up to it, that is. When Jordan was handed a couple of revolvers and his original pistol from when they first crossed over, the immediate reaction by Ford and Beron was one of shock. One did not just simply hand over weapons to Negroes! Everybody knew that! Jordan chose to ignore the cultural reaction, as did the other Explorers. It took a moment for the Confederates to finally accept the fact that Jordan was considered an equal by the others. Saying so is one thing, but arming a man is quite a different matter. It shows, deep down, that all are equal.

  Another part of the morning was spent removing the windshield from the Dixie Flyer. Upon hearing Bill’s comments about seeing its reflection in the rising sun’s light, Ford determined it was best to just remove it, rather than try to cover it up. “We ain’t gonna be going too fast at night, anyhow. Not with lights out, that is.”

  Fortunately, Ford was a crackerjack mechanic, so it was a relatively easy task for him, with the help of the others. Rather than try to store the long piece of glass, Ford elected to toss it overboard. “Don’t really matter much to me. This is only a demonstration car anyhow. Whatever flying apparatus design we decide on, I doubt that it’ll be a convertible car.”

  At noon, Ford and Matt made another recon. This one identified only a handful of vessels, of which a couple matched the description of the Kleine Sassnit, a small freighter with an Imperial German Merchant flag.

  “We saw several tankers and two small freighters making their way northeast.”

  “Any large red objects on deck?”
Bill asked.

  Matt just shook his head. “If it were a tanker, it might be on deck. Seein’ how we’re looking for a freighter, though, not likely. It’s probably buried in the hold, both to keep it out of sight and to protect it from the elements or getting washed overboard.”

  By three o’clock, Bill estimated they were only about fifteen knots from where they hoped their quarry was, and he had Ford and Matt do another recon. This time, though, the two didn’t go higher than one hundred fifty feet, and that for only a couple of seconds. Before Beron even had time to get Enigma back up to speed, the two were landing. They were both clearly excited.

  “It’s them,” Ford shouted.

  “You sure?” Bill asked.

  Matt nodded. “Yeah, pretty sure. It’s a freighter flying the German flag. I couldn’t quite make out the name on the stern, but I could see the first letter of each word, and they were K and S.”

  “Kleine Sassnit,” Bill said.

  “Yep, that’s our thinkin’ exactly,” Matt replied.

  Bill looked at his watch. “Another five hours or so to sunset, so we’ve got plenty of time. Somebody tell the captain we’re only twelve knots away and to slow down and match speed. Ideally, we should be able to just make out the tops of the derrick booms from the bridge. That way we’ll be able to follow them but they won’t see us. I’m gonna want another recon just before sunset. We roll at eleven.”

  It seemed forever before sunset came, but eventually, it did. Nobody was able to take a nap or get any meaningful rest, they were so keyed up.

  Bill recommended the flight crew head west before heading north and trying to close with the freighter. “I want to make sure this is the right vessel. If you’re low to the horizon with the sun behind you, it’s likely they won’t even see you. If you can read the name on the stern, that’s all we need.”

  It was a stressful half-hour waiting for the two to return. When they did, it was getting dark enough that had they been out another fifteen minutes, the captain would have had to turn on some lights for them to land. They had planned for this eventuality, regardless. To land at night, they would be using hooded red lamps directed away from the freighter. They didn’t want anyone on the freighter seeing the Enigma. Hopefully, whoever was flying, wouldn’t have their night vision destroyed.

  Matt was holding a thumb up when they landed. Getting out of the car in normal fashion, he said, “Definitely them. Sun lit up the stern nicely, and the flag and name were visible.”

  “Okay. We roll at eleven. Let’s make sure this thing’s charged sufficiently and the spare battery is stored up front. Also, the captain was nice enough to have his crew put this together for us,” Bill said, handing over an oversized treble-hook to Matt. The ends were covered with rubber and a rope extended from an eye-ring at the other end. “Grappling hook. He suggests we board mid-ship, where the lighting’s the worst and fewer people about. This’ll let us hook onto the ship’s railing and scramble aboard, rather than try and float down onto the deck. Stealthier that way.”

  Bill went up to the bridge and informed Beron about the boat.

  “Good,” the older man said, a cloud of smoke coming from a cigar clamped in his mouth. He hadn’t been smoking earlier. “Soon’s it’s dark, we can move in. I’ll run dark, so they won’t even know we’re here.”

  “How close do you think you’ll be able to get us?”

  “No lights, and going only about twelve, maybe fifteen knots max, ought to be able to pull within half a knot without them seeing us. Low profile and minimal wake helps. That close enough for y’all?”

  “It’ll do.”

  At eleven on the dot, the first load of air pirates, as they were now calling themselves, took off. Ford flew with Matt riding shotgun, literally. The weapon he carried was the shotgun Lane had retrieved from Agent Peters’s car just two nights prior. Rhodes rode uncomfortably in the hoodless trunk with Lane. The plan was to drop Matt, Lane, and Rhodes off and return for Bill and Jordan. While Ford was en-route back to Enigma, Matt, Lane, and Rhodes would hunt for the second Dixie Flyer, and if found, charge it.

  Bill tried to not fidget while waiting, but it was hard. Fortunately, holding a submachine gun makes it a bit difficult to fidget. The stars above were bright, and the lights of New York to their west cast a pale glow upon the horizon. Bill could see well enough, having spent the past three hours in the dark. Even those areas of the boat that were in the shadows of the stars were visible, barely. Jordan, sitting next to him, was mostly an outline with white eyes staring back at him.

  “You ready?” Bill asked Jordan in a low voice, trying to ensure the noise didn’t travel across the water to the Germans.

  Jordan slipped into his old standby John Wayne impersonation, also keeping his voice low. “Ready? I was born ready, Pilgrim.”

  “Here’s hoping this doesn’t turn into a Wild West shoot-out.”

  Jordan’s voice turned more serious. “If it does, you don’t waste time worrying about it. Them bastards already kidnapped one guy, tried to kill several more, and have put our lives in danger. Remember, I’m the one that’s gonna have to tell Meri if anything goes bad, and I’m really not into doing that.”

  Just then, they could make out the silhouette of the returning Dixie Flyer. The sole occupant was Ford. Facing aft, the two men turned on their red lamped flashlights, lighting up the portion of the deck where the car could land. Two other deckhands were nearby, but wouldn’t use their lights until the team returned with everyone.

  As soon as the car landed, both men turned off their lights. Bill climbed into the passenger seat while Jordan climbed into the trunk, mumbling something about making the colored folk ride in the back of the bus.

  Ford lifted the car off the deck, telling Bill that the other three successfully got on the freighter, and turned toward the lit-up freighter less than a half-mile away.

  Fortunately, the waves were small, so Ford was able to practically skim above them, keeping low to avoid being silhouetted against the horizon. Within minutes they were alongside the freighter, and Ford maneuvered the flying car to where the grappling rope was dangling. Bill slung his submachine gun over his shoulder, grabbed the rope when the boat was on its high point on a wave, and began climbing hand-over-hand up it. As he neared the edge, he slowly brought himself up so only the top of his head and his eyes were above the railing. Moving only his eyes, he looked in both directions but didn’t see anything. He then slowly turned his head, doing the same thing. Not seeing a soul, he eased himself over the rope and then unslung the submachine gun, ready for action.

  Jordan’s head then popped above the deck and Bill waved him forward. Jordan, more graceful than Bill, made his way over the deck. He didn’t have a sub-machine gun, but he did have his pistol, which he drew and kept ready with a two-handed grip.

  The two men made their way toward the rear of the freighter, staying in the shadows until they reached the rear deck. They could see that a deck hatch had been moved. A head popped up. It was Rhodes. Bill stepped out of the shadows for a second so Rhodes could see him, then stepped back. Fortunately, there was nobody on deck.

  Rhodes saw Bill and spoke in a conversational tone. “It’s here, ready to go. Matt and Lane’ll join you in a second.”

  Bill saw Matt climb out of the cargo hold, and, moving from shadow to shadow, joined him and Jordan. Then Lane, who was hiding in the shadows on the other side of the ship, joined them.

  Speaking in a low voice, Matt explained that they had found the car on the first try, and that while it appeared ready to go, they decided to give it an extra charge. “Every little bit counts.”

  Now they had to figure out where Einstein was being hidden. Beron had told them that there were usually a couple of staterooms on the first deck in the tower, under the bridge, so that’s where they would look. This was going to be the tricky part.

  Bill said, “Matt and I’ll go inside and check where Beron said to look. You two stand guard outside. That way
at least somebody’ll still have their night vision and can help us out.”

  The four made their way to a hatchway on the side of the tower, which easily opened. Fortunately, it must have been recently oiled or greased, as it didn’t squeal. Also fortunate for Bill and Matt, the lighting inside was rather subdued instead of the harsh lighting they’d expected. Lights were mounted high on the wall inside oval metal cages. It was still painfully bright, considering how little light they had been subjected to over the past several hours.

  Taking up a position on either side of the first door they came to, Bill, holding his submachine in his right hand, pointed to the floor, finger alongside the trigger guard, reached up with his left hand and rapped his knuckles on the door. Fortunately, it was a standard wood door, and not metal, so he didn’t have to rap too hard.

  “Ja?”

  “Herr Einstein?” Bill asked, loud enough to be heard inside the room, but not so loud as to be heard too far away.

  “Nein, er ist zwei Türen entfernt,” came the voice from inside, sounding a bit grumpy.

  “Danke,” Bill said, thanking the unseen man. That just made our life a whole lot easier.

  The two Explorers made for the room two doors down the hall and repeated the process.

  This time the door opened, revealing a man in his fifties, looking very much like a young Albert Einstein.

  Pulling himself upright, he asked, rather haughtily, “Ja? Kann ich dir helfen?”

  Stepping forward, practically forcing the man further inside his room, Bill spoke in English, keeping his voice low. “We’re here to free you. Can you leave right this second?”

  The look on the man’s face was one of incredulity. “Right now? Yes, of course, let me grab my notebook and we can leave.”

  Turning back to a small desk where an open notebook rested, Einstein grabbed the book, closing it, then turned back to Bill and Matt. “We go.”

  While Matt looked out the door to verify the hallway was still clear, Bill asked the German, “Do you know where the plans are?”