Chapter 98 - A Different Kind of “Protection”

Chapter 98 - A Different Kind of "Protection"

Charles didn't notice anything out of the ordinary at first—just that the guards around the airfield had multiplied. This seemed reasonable enough, as people, knowing Charles was now overseeing the airbase, had surged to the gates in droves, pressing in layer upon layer until even the runways were packed. At this rate, getting a plane up to defend the city, let alone eating or sleeping, would be impossible.

Fortunately, soldiers soon arrived to manage the crowds, pushing them back and securing the airfield. That night, Charles stayed at the officers' quarters on-site. The battle wasn't over yet, and he had to remain at his post. The entire city was counting on his "flying artillery" to stave off the Germans and claim ultimate victory.

Strangely, though, the guards were also "protecting" the planes. What exactly were they worried about? That the pilots would sabotage their own aircraft? Everything had been fine without them, so was this really necessary?

But Charles dismissed the thought and, after a quick wash, went to bed.

Under a clear autumn night sky, a horse-drawn carriage made its way slowly toward the airfield gates. It halted as it reached the guards, who examined the presented papers, glanced briefly inside, and waved it through. The guards failed to notice the deep ruts left by the carriage's weight, suggesting more passengers than met the eye.

The carriage stopped outside the officers' quarters, and a uniformed figure stepped down, adjusted his hat, and made his way to Charles' door. The guards posted nearby glanced over, but after a brief look, resumed their pacing. As soon as they turned away, several more figures emerged quietly from the shadows of the carriage.

A half-asleep Charles was awakened by a knock at the door. Groggily, he reached for the lantern and glanced at the clock—it was 11:30. Who could be visiting at this hour?

"Who is it?" Charles asked, instinctively cautious since the kidnapping attempt in Lavaz. Extra security or not, he trusted no one.

"It's me, Winter," replied the voice of General Winter.

Charles rubbed his eyes and opened the door to find the general, face strangely tense, standing there in full uniform.

"Apologies for disturbing you so late, Lieutenant," said Winter, removing his cap and stepping inside. "We're very curious about how you mounted the cannon on the plane. Could you tell me more?"

So that's what this is about, thought Charles, stifling a yawn. Couldn't this wait until morning? One look at the Congreve rockets would explain everything…

Winter handed him a folded note, making a subtle gesture as he continued, "Forgive our impatience, Lieutenant. They're eager to learn. You know, this weapon could make a decisive difference, so they believe every moment counts."

Charles unfolded the note, which read:

"You must leave immediately. General Ghys and certain parliament members are planning to hand you over to the Germans, believing this would end the war."

Charles immediately understood. He'd anticipated this dilemma, but he hadn't expected it to escalate so quickly.

"But…" he hesitated, glancing at the guards surrounding the planes outside. Surely those were Ghys' men. How could he escape?

Winter handed him another note, all the while continuing his act: "I hope this doesn't trouble you too much, Lieutenant. If there's an issue with industrial rights, we're prepared to purchase them outright if you're willing…"

Charles opened the second note, which read: "We've dealt with the guards on the planes and roused Eric. Go alone to the hangar."

Charles nodded. He moved toward the bed to retrieve his uniform, but Winter seized his arm, giving him a fierce look as if to say, This is no time for that.

Charles sighed, grabbed a pillow instead, and crouched low as he crept out.

The pillow was for warmth. From his last trip, he knew that the open cockpit could freeze him to the bone. Even in full uniform, flying had been chilly enough; wearing only pajamas, he'd be frozen solid by the time they reached Paris.

As soon as Charles was outside, a British soldier was waiting to guide him through the shadows. They moved in starts and stops, hiding in doorways and corners whenever a patrol passed by.

Meanwhile, Winter kept up his charade, speaking to the empty room as he argued, "Apologies, but we can't accept that price. It's beyond our budget. Perhaps if you lowered it by a couple of points…"

At last, they reached the hangar, where two Belgian guards lay bound and gagged in a corner. Eric was already seated in the cockpit, still a bit confused about what was going on. As soon as he spotted Charles, he whispered, "Hey, kid, whose side are we on here?"

Charles climbed aboard, muttering, "Doesn't matter. Just get us to Paris."

He added, "You can fly us back safely, right? Even in the dark?"

"Of course!" Eric replied, then grumbled, "But they wouldn't let me bring any liquor. So…we'll see."

Charles sighed. To Eric, it seemed alcohol was as crucial as fuel.

The engine roared to life, and two British soldiers slid open the hangar doors, saluting smartly as if to say, It's an honor to serve. Hearing the engine's hum, Belgian guards outside began shouting and running toward them, one even blowing a whistle. But it was too late—the plane was already speeding down the runway, leaving the guards in its wake.

As the plane lifted off, Charles glanced back. He thought he heard Winter shouting, "These soldiers are traitors! They want to hand Charles over to the Germans! They're nothing but treasonous scum!"

The airfield erupted in chaos. Led by Major Fischer, the airport staff charged at the guards, with gunshots ringing out here and there.

Eric circled the plane around the airfield once, peering down at the brawling soldiers below. Shaking his head, he muttered, "Ugly politics, eh, kid?"

Charles replied, "You don't need to understand it. Just remember to sell me your aircraft factory."

Eric's heart warmed. What a thoughtful kid—he'd worried Charles might forget, but here he was, still thinking of it!

(End of Chapter)

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