Day of Vengeance (3 page)

“No. For the time, the technology they developed was incredible. But it also drained resources from the production of more ordinary, but better tried and tested weapons. Although the V-1s and V-2s were very scary, they could not be produced in sufficient numbers to really have much of an impact.”

“So the V-2 was like a proper rocket – like a missile?”

“Yes. In fact, after the war, the Americans and other countries recruited many of the best German scientists to help on their own weapons programmes. It was quite a scandal. Many worked on the Apollo space programme – you know that put people on the
moon. The design of the moon rockets isn’t so different from a V-2 – just a lot bigger.”

“There are loads more newspaper cuttings and pictures here,” Angus said, working his way through the box, “That’s Hitler, isn’t it?”

“Certainly is. He’s standing in front of the Eiffel Tower in June 1940. The only time he visited Paris… I think you can see the old film footage of his visit on the Internet. Apparently, when that photo was taken, Hitler is supposed to have said to the photographer, ‘Take one of me here, take the next one in front of Buckingham Palace and then the one after that in front of the skyscrapers in New York.’”

“What a nutter!” Angus said.

They were interrupted by Mrs Jud. “We’ll have to go now, dear. Lads – there’s some soup left over if you want it…”

“I nearly forgot…” Mr Jud said.

“What?”

“Mum and I, we’re driving up to Edinburgh. We’ll be gone over night.”

“Oh yeah, the show, what is it again?”

“
The Sound of Music
, the son of one of Mum’s friends is in it – Peter. He’s playing Friedrich. They’re touring all round the country,” Mr Jud put his mouth behind his hand and whispered sarcastically, “Can’t wait.”

Mrs Jud shouted from the kitchen, “Are you ready, dear?”

Mr Jud was already up the stairs. “I’ll meet you at the car.”

Mrs Jud popped her head round the door. “Where is he?”

“He’s just coming, Mum.”

Adolf Hitler, accompanied by his chief architect Albert Speer (left) and sculptor Arno Breker, near the Eiffel Tower. Hitler reportedly said to his photographer, Heinrich Hoffmann, “Take this one, Hoffmann; then the next one in Buckingham Palace and the next in front of the skyscrapers.”

“So you two will be OK?”

“Yes, Mum.”

“There is more in the fridge and that’s Mark’s number if you need any help with the animals. You’re sure you’ll be OK?”

“Yes, Mum. Go. Have fun.”

Mrs Jud checked her make-up in the hall mirror one final time and shouted up the stairs. “I’m going. Now!”

Finally, Mr and Mrs Jud left the house and a few minutes later the boys watched the old Subaru kicking up dust from its back wheels as it disappeared up the farm track to the main road.

Angus rubbed his hands. “OK – lunch. And then we can go and have another shot on the Flight Simulator…” Angus smiled mischievously. “Or we can always take the bikes out…”

“I’ll give that one a miss, thanks.”

Soon they were sitting around the big wooden farm table digging into the soup.

“I’m going to sort out some toast. Want some?”

“OK,” Jack said. “So how long do you think it will take to restore the plane?”

“Maybe it can’t be done – you know, finding or remaking some of the parts… There’s a lot missing. It’s really expensive. To be honest, I think Dad might have overdone it this time.”

“So you reckon you’ll have your private pilot’s licence before then?”

“For sure. I’ve only another few training hours to go. Paying for it is another matter, though.”

“I’m sure VIGIL will loan you some cash, you know, for services rendered,” Jack said, smiling.

Angus looked up and waved his spoon in the air. “You know what, that is a VERY good idea. We
should
be paid. After all, VIGIL can’t possibly have any problem with cash…”

“No problem at all… if they get a bit short, they can just time travel to the vaults of the Bank of England and pick up a gold bar or two…”

Angus gazed into space, contemplating the exciting possibilities that time travel might offer for financial remuneration. “Imagine that… sometimes I think our Revisionist friends might have the right idea…”

“Sadly, I don’t think they’re in it for money… they have other reasons… like changing the world.”

Angus turned back from the toast, sat down and started to slurp his soup.

“That’s gross by the way,” Jack said.

“Efficient though. Mind you, I’ll tell you something,” Angus wiped his mouth. “I like how VIGIL keep coming up with cool stuff…”

“They haven’t got a choice… the Revisionists are still out there… they never found Pendelshape. In theory they could strike again. VIGIL need to keep on their toes; keep innovating.”

“Right.” Angus did not seem interested in Jack’s point. “Like, have you checked out the new iPhone thing they’ve dished out to us all?” Angus pulled an iPhone from his pocket and started to slide his finger around on the screen. “So it looks like a normal iPhone and it’s a mobile with apps and stuff, but then you put in the special code and it turns all VIGIL and you can access all these cool VIGIL apps…”

Jack rolled his eyes, “Yes – I was in the same training session… and remember, it’s not just for cool apps, it’s for VIGIL to keep an eye on us – security, tracking where we are – and for access to the history archives. It has an amazing amount of detail – even technical stuff on inventions…” Jack pulled out his own VIGIL iPhone. “See – here’s mine…”

“Oh God – the toast!” Angus exclaimed.

Smoke billowed from the toaster by the window. Angus raced over to mount a rescue attempt… but all that was left were two lumps of charcoal.

“Great.”

“Hello, what’s this?”

Jack was peering at his iPhone screen. “I’ve got a message.”

“First time for everything, Jack.”

“Funny. Probably Mum hassling me.”

Jack tapped the screen.

But it wasn’t his mum and Jack’s heart missed a beat when he read the message:

Big Air

Jack nudged Angus and flashed the text in front of him. The colour drained from Angus’s face. Jack looked up from the iPhone and it was right at that point that he noticed something strange in the smoky kitchen air. A thin beam of red light traced a line from the window to the wall at the back of the kitchen. It was only visible where it caught the smoke in the air. Jack’s eye followed the beam of light to where it formed a tiny red dot which danced on the wall opposite.

“Look. What’s…?”

But Angus had already grabbed him and was manhandling him to the floor. “Down!”

Jack and Angus hit the ground just as the first round from the sniper rifle shattered the kitchen window and embedded itself in the wall opposite.

“Someone’s
shooting
at us from the woods…”

“I’ve got another message.”

Angus held up his phone.

“I’ve got the same one. We might be without security…”

“That means trouble.”

Suddenly, a second piece of mortar dislodged from the wall. They hadn’t even heard the shot.

“It’s coming from over there. Maybe if we can go out through the side door… to the outhouses.”

“But maybe there are others, maybe they have us surrounded.”

“Well we can’t just wait here for them to come and get us. If we can get to the outhouse, we have a chance. We keep the bikes there.”

They raced from the kitchen and through the house to the side door. Angus pushed it ajar and sneaked a look.

“Can’t see anything. Who are these guys?”

“Got to be some sort of Revisionist assault. They’re taking a big risk.”

“Why would they do that? Everyone knows VIGIL is impregnable.”

“Maybe they’re targeting VIGIL personnel. We have to get out of here. Look – the door to the outhouse is just over there. We can make it.”

They burst from the door and sprinted to the outhouse. Shots rang out and plumes of dirt spat up from the ground. They tumbled through the outhouse door, sprawling onto the dusty floor beyond. The outhouse adjoined the garage which housed Mr Jud’s Land Rover. Next to it were the bikes they used on the farm, including Angus’s old two-stroke 125 Husqvarna. Next to this was his dad’s big new KTM XC 450.

“We’ll take the KTM – Dad will forgive me,” Angus panted.

“We have to get to Soonhope and link up with VIGIL. God knows what’s going on. There’s no sign of our VIGIL security guys. Maybe they’ve been caught? If we stay here, we’re toast,” Jack said.

“I reckon they’ll have the main track down to the road covered and the back way too.” Angus mounted the KTM, fired the engine and twisted the throttle. The engine gave a low, torquey growl. “We’ll have to go cross-country…”

Jack reluctantly clambered onto the back of the bike.

Angus half turned, “Ready?”

“No…”

“Hold tight, I’m not hanging around.”

Without warning, the garage doors in front of them flew open. Two men stood there. They were carrying assault rifles.

Angus did not hesitate. He pulled in the clutch lever, kicked down to select first gear, and twisted the throttle. The engine wailed. But instead of aiming for the open garage door, he released the clutch, threw the bike round and the spinning back wheel spewed gravel and muck up into the eyes of the two men, who jumped back in surprise. The bike now pointed towards the back of the outhouse. A point of exit was not obvious. The bike shot forward and Jack shut his eyes, waiting for the impact with the rear wall. But Angus had other plans. They raced up a wooden ramp built into the wall on the inside of the building. It led to an upper floor – a sort of mezzanine level. It was surprisingly large and they slalomed through old hay bales and bits of rusting farm equipment. Jack opened his eyes. Then, when he realised what was about to happen, he closed them again. Dead ahead there was a large open doorway built into the back wall – a large access hatch
from the upper floor. Angus pointed the bike straight at it and two seconds later they were airborne. The bike, Angus and Jack flew from the second storey hatchway out into the open. Jack braced himself. The bike hit the ground with an almighty crunch; the front forks compressed fully and then recoiled violently as the bike bounced. Incredibly, they remained upright.

Angus yelled in exhilaration. He redlined the engine as they powered on towards the farm track that led up Goat Law. Jack snatched a look behind and nudged Angus.

“They’re on to us – they’ve got quad bikes.”

It looked like they had a clear run to the hill track. But suddenly another man emerged from the woods just ahead on their right. He stared straight at the bike bearing down on him and fumbled for his weapon. Angus dropped a gear and the front wheel of the bike popped into the air. Standing proud on the footrests, with Jack clinging desperately to his torso, Angus pulled an impressive wheelie straight at the man, who dived for cover. The front wheel touched down again, and they started to weave up the track to the crest of the hill. Jack looked behind again.

“They’re still coming.”

Two quad bikes were following them up the track in hot pursuit, plumes of dust spraying up from behind them.

“We’ll have to head up to the old drove road and down over the Grey Mare’s Tail,” Angus shouted. “Five miles at most.”

He gunned the KTM and it pounded upwards. They crested the hill in under a minute. They were already six hundred metres up and there was a light breeze. Beyond them, were only the endless rolling, bare hills of the Border country. Two parallel dry
stone dykes, about fifty metres apart, marked the course of the old drove road. In times past it was used to drive sheep to market. It made a natural thoroughfare, like a giant heather and grass motorway that went directly over the hills and, more importantly, led directly to the uplands above the Soonhope High School estate – VIGIL HQ. The only trouble was, there was little cover on the hilltops and they would easily be spotted by the pursuing quad bikes.

They raced on and in only fifteen minutes they could see the village of Soonhope way below, its windows glinting in the midday sun. Jack turned. The quad bikes were still there – now only five hundred metres behind and closing. A rough track led down from the old drove road to Soonhope, hugging the steep-sided valley. Nearby was the Grey Mare’s Tail – a series of cascades that drained a small loch that nestled between the summits of the surrounding hills. The waterfall’s biggest drop was over thirty metres high and in winter it grew to an impressive torrent. Now, though, the water was low and the stream traced a silver thread down the granite outcrops of the hillside.

The track down from the old drove road followed the waterfall most of the way, giving the occasional hiker stunning views of Soonhope Valley below. At certain points, the track would contort into a series of steep hairpins, in order to regulate the descent. As they went down, Angus expertly worked his way up and down the gears to maximise speed and control. The KTM handled superbly, but it was no use, the pursing four-wheeled quad bikes had better grip and stability on the steep track and the distance between them was narrowing steadily.

Jack pummelled Angus on the back.

“They’re closing… we’ve had it.”

Angus pulled the bike up onto a rocky outcrop that overlooked a spectacular section of the waterfall. A crude wooden bench sat on top of the outcrop. It allowed Sunday walkers a chance to rest and enjoy the view. Directly in front of it, there was a dilapidated fence that, in theory anyway, prevented you from getting too close to the edge. Nearby, a sign gave thoughtful health and safety advice:

DANGER – CLIFF

To help those challenged with written English, there was a picture of a man tumbling upside down over the edge, surrounded by an avalanche of rocks. The man’s survival looked to be in some doubt.

Although steep and craggy, the waterfall was only about ten metres across at this point. On the other side of the waterfall, but some way below the outcrop, the track re-appeared and crossed the stream over a narrow bridge.

Angus looked round. He powered the bike a few metres back up the track from where they had just come. As he revved the engine, the two quad bikes came round the last hairpin. Their pursuers had finally caught up. The quad bikes pulled up and Jack saw the men getting down and reaching for their weapons.

“Hold on!” Angus said.

He twisted the throttle and the engine screamed. The KTM shot down the track and back onto the rocky outcrop, it passed the bench and the warning sign, smashed through the wooden fence and soared at an angle across the waterfall. Jack’s feet flew off the footrests and he found himself in midair clinging to Angus’s
torso, twenty metres above the waterfall. For some strange reason, a helpful motivational tip that Angus had once given to him on riding a motorbike floated through his mind:

Remember – when you’re in the air, it doesn’t hurt…

Jack had no time to be frightened. With an almighty crunch the rear wheel hit the track on the opposite side of the waterfall. Then the front wheel touched down. They had made it. Angus hit the front brake and then the rear a split second later. As he did so both tyres lost grip on the loose surface. Suddenly, the bike, Jack and Angus were sliding horizontally along the ground. They came to rest twenty metres on, when their forward momentum was finally interrupted by a giant slab of rock that rose up beside the track. Jack had been thrown free, but Angus was stuck under the heavy bike. Jumping to his feet, Jack rushed over to Angus. He reached down and tried to heave up the machine. With difficulty, he managed to pull the bike aside and he peered down at Angus’s mud-caked body. The side of his face was badly scratched from where it had scraped along the track.

Angus was not moving.