Dennis Wheatley - The Forbidden Territory

“Thanks,” said Rex briefly. “You can keep the Volga for me. I’d rather take a look at a plate of my favourite breakfast food.”

“Tomorrow, if our luck holds, you may!” De Richleau studied the map again. “Do you know that we are already half-way — we have done over eight hundred miles!”

“That a fact?” Rex brightened. “If so, we’ll make it; we haven’t used half the petrol yet”

The Duke was overjoyed. He went into the cabin to tell the others the good news. The morning light had just awakened them.

Simon, who had slept well and was looking considerably better, was surprised that it was so early, but De Richleau explained that they were now far to the south of Moscow — somewhere about the latitude of Birmingham, perhaps — by noon they might be as far south as the Channel Islands.

Poor Marie Lou looked very woebegone; she was shockingly pale, with great dark circles under her eyes. During the earlier part of the night she had been terribly airsick. De Richleau insisted that she should sit out in the rear cockpit with Simon — she would feel better in the air. When he had installed them he returned to Rex and said:

“Would it not be possible for me to take over for a little? You seem to sit there doing nothing!”

“Just what I was thinking,” Rex nodded. “A kid can fly an aeroplane these days once it’s off the ground. I’ll take her up another couple of thousand; then, if you do slip a thousand there’s no harm done.” He began to climb sharply.

The Duke settled himself comfortably at the second set of controls. “I was watching you last night,” he said. “I think I understand the principle of the thing.”

Rex laughed. “I wouldn’t have let you handle her over mountains; there’s air-pockets and every kind of snag, due to the uneven ground — but you’ll not get that here. Looks as though this plain goes on for ever — it should be dead easy.”

When they were well over five thousand feet Rex took his hand off the controls. “All you’ve got to do,” he shouted, “is to keep her steady, keep your eye on the indicator, and look at the compass needle now and again.”

For some minutes he sat watching the Duke’s first efforts as a pilot. They bumped a little owing to De Richleau’s eagerness to correct their altitude too quickly, but his long sensitive fingers soon found the right touch.

“You’ll do,” said Rex, yawning again. “If the ground gets broken, wake me; if anything goes wrong, you’re not the sort of man I’d insult by telling not to panic — but for God’s sake take your hands off the controls. Just give me one kick and drop ’em. Don’t attempt to right her; leave that to me. I’ll have her under control again long before we could crash at this height, even if she’s in a falling spin.” Next moment he was asleep.

The distant plain stretched out interminably. With practice the Duke soon grew more proficient. He would have liked to have tried a few experiments, but would not allow himself to be tempted into taking any risks.

The morning wore on, the ground below changed to long rolling slopes of grassland, the seemingly endless steppes of Russia. At a little after eleven they passed another great river, which De Richleau thought to be the Don. He woke Rex in order to make certain.

Rex, still yawning, but much fresher, took over the controls again, and the Duke consulted his map. Yes, it was the Don — their progress had been wonderful. They were now about three hundred miles south of Moscow, another four hundred and fifty miles would bring them to the frontier of Roumania, it really seemed that they might get through in this one tremendous headlong flight. All of them, except Marie Lou, felt in urgent need of food — the lockers in the cabin had been searched and found to contain nothing edible.

Just after midday they left a city that the Duke declared to be Kursk on their right. Their hopes rose more strongly than ever, for far below them lay the frontier of the Ukraine; at least, they were out of Russia proper.

The ’plane bored on to the west through the sharp, crisp air. With perfect rhythm the engines droned on over their heads. Rex was enchanted with the machine. For some time he had been puzzling about the mechanism of the helicopter. It was unlike any that he had ever seen, having two blades only instead of four. At last he solved the problem to his satisfaction and turned to the Duke.

“Cute dodge, that helicopter. When it’s not in action it forms another ’plane above our heads, both blades in alignment with the wings. They answer, too, at the same time to the controls. If you’re going to use it on its own, the right-hand blade turns completely over, so that the thin edge of both spins in the same direction when it revolves. Guess I’ll patent that when I get home!”

De Richleau looked up — it was true. Instead of four blades at an angle impeding the flying speed, and useless except for going up or coming down, the helicopter formed a small but perfect extra ’plane which helped to carry the weight of the machine. As he looked, the Duke’s eyes narrowed, and his mouth set in a grim line. He had seen something in addition to the helicopter. Above, and to the right, hovered six ’planes flying in formation. He nudged Rex and pointed.

“Holy Mike,” Rex groaned. “D’you reckon those birds are after us?”

“I fear so. Every air-park in the country must have been warned of our exploit at Romanovsk.”

Rex had already banked, and was heading away from the enemy flight towards the south when Simon touched him on the shoulder. He had crawled through the cabin. “Not that way, man,” he shouted. “Look below to the left — head north, Rex.”

Rex looked and swore — five hundred feet below him another flight was sailing. He tilted the ’plane sharply, to gain additional height, hoping to pass over them. That they were spotted was evident — the northern flight had wheeled swiftly and was climbing too.

“Hell’s luck,” Rex exclaimed. “Another couple of hundred miles and we’d have been safe home.”

“Do you think you can get through?” asked the Duke.

Rex shook his head. “You bet we’ll try, but there’s not a scrap of cloud to get lost in. Aw, hell! there’s another lot.”

Even as he spoke the Duke had seen them, too; a third formation, only specks in the distance, but in front, and flying high.

, “They’ve been sent up on purpose to intercept us,” he shouted. “We shall never get through this!”

Rat — tat — tat came the sudden warning note of a machine-gun in their rear.

Simon was at their side again. “No ammunition in the guns behind,” he said. “Got any in front?”

De Richleau shook his head. “None — I looked just after we started — but it would be useless in any case, we could not hope to fight a dozen ’planes, and there are more ahead. Rex, we must come down before we are shot down,” he added, as there came another burst of machine-gun fire.

Rex nodded. “Cursed luck; still, ‘while there’s life’. Let’s get out of the way of the rude man with the squirt.” The machine dived suddenly, and it was none too soon; the quick stutter had started again, and the first three bullets pinged through the wing.

Marie Lou was sitting in the cabin where Simon had pulled her when he had first sighted the enemy ’planes. He spoke to her now, quickly, urgently: “Look here, nobody knows you’re with us — it’s us they’re after, not you. When we land you must run for it.”

“Where can I go?” she protested. “It is terrible, this — that we should all be caught at last.”

“Anywhere’s better than prison,” Simon insisted, “and I want you to go to Moscow, as fast as you can — that is, if you get away. Here, take this.” While he was talking he had unbuttoned his coat and torn the ikon that Valeria Petrovna had given him from his neck. He thrust it into her hand and struggled along to the front of the cabin again. “Where shall we be near when we land?” he asked the Duke.