The Paris Spy (Maggie Hope Mystery #7)(88)

“May I ask what happened to the original pilot?” Gus ventured.

“We knocked him out.”

“Ah. And we did this—why?”

“Because our pilot turned out to be a slimy, two-faced, traitorous, Nazi-loving Frog. Who was planning to take us back to Paris and the Gestapo when we found out what the bastard was up to.”

“Righty-o, then,” Gus ventured. “Probably a good decision to take over the plane after all.”

“We thought so.”

As they finally left the cloud, Maggie spotted a gray-blue stripe below, shimmering in the moonlight. “Is that the Channel?”

“It is.”

“Oh!” Her heart leapt for joy; they were crossing back to England. “Hello there, Blighty!” Home. Normality. Laughing with David. Having tea and toast with Chuck. The sweet fragrance of baby Griffin’s downy head. K’s purr. These are the things that matter, she thought. Love is what matters.

Gus wiped at his eyes with a fist. “I’m not crying.”

“No, of course not. I have something in my eye, too.” Then, “How long until we get to Tangmere?”

“A bit. The base is on the south coast, near West Sussex.”

“I’ve been there,” Maggie told him. “But only as a passenger.” RAF Tangmere, about four miles east of Chichester, was often used as a base during the moon periods because the airfields were so much nearer to their target areas in France than those at Tempsford.

“Well, I hate to tell you…but it’s not flying that’s hard, it’s landing. And from what I’ve heard the boys say, these Hudsons can go up in flames if they’re not brought down gently.”

“Gus,” Maggie said tightly, “if you’re trying to reassure me, it’s not working.”

“Swear all you want if it helps.”

She let out a dazzlingly creative string of profanities, making the Englishman blush. “You’re right, that does help!”

He looked both horrified and impressed. “Do you, er, know what all of those words actually mean?”

“Most of them.” Maggie peered through the cockpit window at England in the silvery light right before dawn. Below her was a patchwork quilt of farmers’ fields, copses of trees, rivers, lakes, and ponds. Despite her fear of the task ahead, she had an unmistakable urge to sing “Rule, Britannia.”

Finally, Gus pointed. “That’s Tangmere, there—do you see? Look for the lines of runways and the control tower.”

“I see it. Should we let them know we’re coming? Use the radio?”

Gus tapped the instrument panel. “No radio.”

There’s no radio? “Let me guess—to make the plane lighter?”

He didn’t reply.

Maggie took a shaky breath. “Right then. Let’s land this thing.”

“There.” He pointed to a runway slicing through the center of the airbase. “Go for that one. Runway heading is two hundred and sixty-three degrees. Drop your flaps and landing gear when you get below a hundred twenty-five knots.”

Maggie pulled the lever back, and, as the engines’ roar eased, the plane began to descend. Her heart was trip-hammering.

“Don’t overdo it—nice gentle descent,” Gus instructed.

“Easy for you to say,” Maggie muttered.

“Now drop the gear and flaps. Aim for the runway.” It seemed they were almost touching the ground. The airfield fence line flashed past, and they were skimming the airstrip.

“You’ve got to bring her down now,” Gus said. “Or we’re going to hit the tower.”

“Bloody hell.”

“Cut the engines back the rest of the way to idle.” There was a long moment that seemed to stretch forever—then a bump as the wheels finally made contact with the earth. The plane bounced up again instantly, then crashed back to the runway. But at least they were on the ground and rolling.

“Brakes!”

Maggie screamed, “Where?”

“Pull on the Johnson bar in the center console!”

“This?”

“No!”

“This?”

“Yes!”

The rolling aircraft slowed with a shudder and a louder roar than any they’d heard in the sky. As it finally came to a stop, Maggie couldn’t help herself. She burst into tears.

“You did it!” Gus exclaimed.

“We did it!” But before she could undo her safety belt, he’d passed out.





Chapter Twenty-one




Dawn was breaking at RAF Tangmere, the sun turning the high, silvery clouds pink. From the cockpit window, Maggie could see two men in dark suits and two Coldstream Guards. She stepped past Gus with a “sorry” and ran for the door. Together, she and Sarah managed to open it.

“Here!” Maggie yelled. “We have an injured man in the cockpit!” As soon as the gangplank was extended, the guards boarded the plane. She watched them place Gus on the stretcher and carry him out. As Sarah stood over Jacques with the wrench, Maggie called out the Hudson’s door to the other two men in dark suits. “And we have a prisoner.”

She led Jacques out, his hands still tied behind his back. Sarah followed, holding the dance bag in both arms.