Post by Lorpius Prime on Apr 22, 2007 1:25:52 GMT -5
Jay stared at the object Jack had just placed in his hand with equal parts horror and fascination. It was heavier than it looked, and the gray steel was cold against his palm.
“Jack, I—I don’t think I can…”
“Don’t worry, it’s simple. Just make sure you have a firm grip to deactivate the safety. It’s already loaded and chambered, so don’t worry about that. Sight down the top, squeeze the trigger—“
“No,” Jay shook his head. “No, that’s not what I mean.” It was the gun Farragut had nearly shot him with yesterday. “I don’t think, I don’t think I can use it.” He looked at Jack, pleading.
Jack shut his mouth and nodded, understanding, “You probably won’t have to. They won’t even know we were there. Just put it in your coat pocket and follow me.”
Jay swallowed down his nerves and did as Jack said, his hand shaking only a little. They were at the edge of the forest looking at the eastern side of the little base, a dozen or so buildings behind a low wall spread out before them. The sun had just set in the distance. Jay took a few deep breaths, trying to gather up his confidence.
Jack stepped first out into the open.
Martin Bozeman Holland accomplished very little that day. He was just considering traveling back to the Exeter office to demand that he be updated when he was cornered by the Lady Blake, who insisted that he be present for dinner.
Martin wasn’t keen on the idea, but he didn’t have a good excuse to refuse. He still needed the Blakes’ trust too much to dismiss with his own courteous façade. Damn the director for putting him here and damn that fool Farragut for creating this whole mess in the first place. Fuming, Martin burned through a cigarette too quickly to enjoy it.
He saw the two young women return from their ride. Martin wondered what Baron Blake thought of his daughter, from a distance you couldn’t tell she was even a woman, the way she dressed. He went inside before he would have to speak to them again.
Baron Blake, it turned out, was just inside in his drawing room, smoking a pipe and looking out the window toward the stables. He turned to Martin.
“Any news?”
Martin tried to cover up his impatience, “None yet, sir. I have given instructions so that I will be notified immediately as soon as any new information is received.”
The Baron sighed loudly, and nodded, “Sorry, Colonel, I know you’re trying. It’s just hard for a parent.”
“Yes sir. We’ll let you know.” Martin was not eager to have that conversation, but he wished it would come all the same. The sooner he was over and done with this, the better.
Blake nodded again, “Lily says you’re joining us for dinner. I think you’ll be pleased; Maurice is roasting some Guinea Fowl. I don’t know what’s wrong with ordinary chicken, but the women seem to like them.”
“I look forward to it,” responded Martin, who wasn’t looking forward to anything but his own retirement.
Jack had said that people tended to see what they expected to see. That made confidence the most important part of disguise. So far it seemed to be working; they’d made it through the stone fence and were crossing the grounds towards the barracks building they’d slept in the night before last.
Jay hoped their success to this point wasn’t just because there was hardly anybody outside to see them. He tried to keep his breathing steady and contain the urge to glance around nervously every few seconds.
The two men reached the barracks without being noticed. Jay allowed himself to turn and look across the base while Jack opened the door, he didn’t see anyone. Jack tapped him on the shoulder, and Jay followed the Australian into the building.
The hallway was dark, there was no sun to shine through the windows in the ceiling, and the single gaslight above the door cast only a weak light beyond a few feet. Jack and Jay walked carefully towards the room where Jay had left his suitcase, trying to keep their footsteps as silent as possible.
It was the seventh door on the left; Jack leaned against the outside and turned the knob.
The soft meat separated nicely between Martin’s teeth, and he chewed slowly, savoring the taste. This would probably be the only time he would eat a meal like this. It was wastefully extravagant, but it wasn’t his expense, and so long as it was there, Martin planned to enjoy himself.
“So, Colonel Holland,” began Lady Blake, speaking a little too loudly in order to call attention, “tell us about yourself. You must do fascinating work.”
Martin swallowed and patted his lips with a napkin, which he understood was proper. “Actually, it’s mostly rather boring. But I’m afraid I’m not allowed to talk about my job, National Secrets.”
Baron Blake gave his wife a critical look, she frowned, “Nothing at all?”
He would have much rather gone on eating the roast fowl in silence rather than allow it to go cold for conversation, but he wasn’t being given the option. “Well, Madam, as you know I work for the Secret Service Bureau. My department, that’s the Security Service, is responsible for maintaining the Empire’s security against foreign threats here at home. We guard against spies and traitors and protect those National Secrets,” he couldn’t resist adding in that last bit. “My own work follows in regard to these duties.”
“But, Mr. Holland,” Margaret inquired with a falsely sweet voice, “if your jurisdiction is over home affairs, shouldn’t it be the Intelligence Service handling the matter of Jay Thomson’s disappearance?”
Martin winced, but recovered quickly. “Well, as I’ve said I can’t discuss any details of your brother’s case. Our two departments are cooperating,” which was true insofar as his director had sent the boys at Century House a memo, “and as there are still some uncertainties about the full nature of the case, the proper jurisdictions aren’t entirely clear. So here I am.”
So near as Jay could tell, the room was as they’d left it. Jack stood close to the door while Jay retrieved his suitcase. It was still tucked under the small bed, which was still unmade. Jay was a little surprised that the room hadn’t been cleaned in the past two days, but he supposed a military base didn’t have hotel service.
He pulled out his suitcase and dropped it on the bed. Jack turned to look over his shoulder for a moment, then returned his attention to the door. Jay unfastened the suitcase and swung it open. The brown envelope he’d received from John Mills was right there, one corner buried beneath a white undershirt. It didn’t seem to have been tampered with.
“It’s still here,” Jay announced. He closed the suitcase and began refastening it.
Jack turned around, looking irritated. “Don’t take the whole thing!” he hissed. “We just need the papers.”
Jay was incredulous, “I’m not leaving all my stuff!” He pulled the last belt tight and hefted the case by its handle.
Jack opened his mouth to argue, but just shook his head and sighed impatiently. “Come on!” he waved.
They were back into the hall, and nearly to the outside again when the barracks door opened in front of them. A soldier walked in, whistling.
Jack just kept walking, tipping his hat to the uniformed man in perfectly polite acknowledgement.
Jay, however, missed a step and stumbled. It was the same lieutenant that had showed him to the mess hall two days ago.
He recovered his footing, and laughed nervously, “Evening.” Jay put a finger to his hat as well, in imitation of Jack.
The German slowed and followed them with his head, a contemplative tongue in his cheek. As Jay passed by, he nodded, “Guten Abend.”
And then they were out the door and back into the night.
Martin was distracted from his last bite of peas by an outbreak of giggling across the table. Miss Blake and her friend had been talking quietly with their heads together, but had now dropped their silverware to laugh over their plates.
Lady Blake stopped in the middle of her sentence and gave the two young women a harsh look. The hostess had already been displeased when her daughter decided to disregard the place card which would have seated Margaret on Martin’s right, and chose to sit by her friend across the table instead.
Noticing the looks they were getting, both women put their hands over their mouths and stifled their laughs.
Margaret cleared her throat, “Er, excuse me, Colonel Holland. Stephanie and I were, ah, wondering what your opinion was of the Portuguese Empire.”
Miss Wilkinson snorted and tried to cover the noise with a cough.
Martin noticed Baron Blake raise an eyebrow and he paused for a moment to finish chewing and swallow his food, “Pardon?”
The Blake daughter glanced to her left towards the Baron before turning back to Martin, “Father thinks we should be supporting the Angolan rebels against the Portuguese.”
Now it was Martin’s turn to raise an eyebrow as he looked to the Baron, “Does he now?”
Blake bristled, “The King’s treatment of the natives is absolutely atrocious. We have a responsibility to the primitive peoples of this world. Next year’s the anniversary of our assumption of that responsibility, and I think it’s about time we started living up to it again.” He shifted in his seat and tried to look defiant.
Martin couldn’t help but smile. Edward Blake was clearly an idealist, and that made it all the easier for him to shove aside any sympathy he might have felt for the man.
“You disagree, Colonel?” Margaret prodded him again.
“Oh, not at all,” Martin shook his head. “We should do everything we can to provide the poor Angolans with the means to fight back against their oppressors.”
Blake nodded his head in vindication and smiled.
Martin bared his own teeth in reply, “And then we should declare our full support for King Duarte’s efforts to crush the rebellion and secure his colonies.”
“Halt!”
Damnit! Jay’s curse was silent. Jack’s obscenities were not.
Looking over his shoulder, Jay could see one of the base soldiers, hand raised, walking quickly after the two intruders. Immediately, Jay could feel the sweat pouring down his forehead.
Jack jabbed a finger at him, “Keep walking, let me handle them. Go!” He didn’t wait for a response before turning towards the sentry.
Jay gulped and obeyed, the part in the little wall was only about thirty yards away. He watched Jack as the Australian walked towards the soldiers, waving his arm and shouting incoherent French. Jay supposed Jack was trying to keep the man confused and off guard. Jay hoped that was a good idea; he would have preferred to agitate an armed man as little as possible. But he quickened his pace towards the forest all the same.
He was about ten feet away from the wall when another soldier spotted him and shouted for Jay to halt. The man-shaped shadow slid over the stone barrier and hurried over to plant himself in Jay’s path. Jay stopped, and showed his free left hand, open-palmed. The soldier frowned, and kept a hand on the sidearm at his hip.
Behind them, Jack and the other soldier were still shouting at each other. The man in front of Jay barked something in German, but Jay only shook his head, uncomprehending. The soldier’s frown got deeper.
Jay looked over his shoulder at his companion, and saw Jack do the same. Jay had never seen Jack look worried before, but the Australian did now, and Jay felt his own confidence diminish even further. To make things worse, there were now three more soldiers running towards the scene from the other side of the base, all of them carrying rifles.
“I’m sorry, I don’t understand!” Jay said to the soldier who was still growling unintelligible commands. Giving up on verbal communication, the man put out an arm and shoved Jay in the shoulder.
Jay spun around, in time to see Jack—whose shouting had become all the more frantic—reach for the pistol in his belt.
There was a sound like the world being split in two.
Martin chuckled at the silence, and took the opportunity to enjoy another bite of the deliciously roasted Guinea Fowl on his plate. Everyone else at the table was staring at him, even the Lady Blake seemed like she was reconsidering her opinion of her guest.
It was the Baron who finally spoke, “What kind of mad policy is that?”
Martin looked at his host as he might look at a child, and Blake might as well have been one. “Portugal is weak. We can easily afford to assist the rebels; the Army has warehouses full of old surplus weapons.”
He took a sip of wine before continuing, “The Angolans’ renewed strength will force Duarte to lean heavily on Brazil to maintain control in Brazil. Our public declaration for Lisbon will frustrate any notions the Kingdom may have of accepting the rebels’ demands.”
Blake rolled his eyes, “And you don’t think they’ll see right through such a duality?”
Martin gave a sympathetic smile, “I think it won’t matter. Opinion in Portugal will be inflamed against the rebels. But as Brazil sees its own wealth and men siphoned off to war, its own nationalists will find their cause winning more converts, Duarte will find that his Empire is slipping through his fingers. And when the revolution erupts in Rio de Janeiro, then we commit fully to the cause of independence, as we did for the Spanish colonies. Portugal will be broken and your Africans can have their freedom, Baron Blake.”
He was grateful for their stunned expressions. Martin picked up his knife in his right hand and returned his attention to his meal.
Jay didn’t know if Jack had actually intended to attack the soldiers, or just make a scene like at the Paris air station. But the Australian had frozen mid-motion, his fingers still curled around the ivory handle of the gun some long-dead adventurer had given him.
The crack of rifle fire rang out twice more.
Jack bent oddly at the hip and fell sideways onto the ground. Jay sucked in a shallow breath and bit his lower lip hard enough to draw blood.
The soldier behind Jay shouted again, and he felt a hand pushing him forward again. Jay stumbled forward a step, then gripped the handle of his suitcase with both hands.
He didn’t really think about it, no plan at all. Jay swung the suitcase around with all his might. He yelled wildly and slammed it into the German soldier at his back.
It struck the man square on the side and took him off his feet; he tumbled with only a tiny grunt. Jay, eyes already going wide at the enormity of his action, was dragged along for another quarter turn by the inertia.
When he recovered, he tucked the bag under his arm like a rugby ball and started running as fast as he could. There was more gunfire behind him, and Jay whimpered at the sound, but he didn’t think anything hit him. Jay had never been shot; he didn’t know how it felt.
He tripped when he dove over the wall. It took him a couple of seconds to untangle himself from his thick clothing and get to his feet with the suitcase again. When he stood, Jay could see two soldiers standing over Jack; one looked like he was prodding the fallen man with the barrel of his rifle. Two more had just made it to the man Jay had knocked down, and who had still not gotten up either. One of them seemed to be hesitating in choosing to stay with his comrade or chase after Jay.
Jay didn’t wait for him to make up his mind, he turned and ran. He was almost to the trees.
Book One, Chapter:
-1-2-3-4-5-6-7-8-9-10-11-12-13-14-15-16-17-18-19-20-21-
-22-23-24-25-26-27-28-29-30-31-32-33-34-35-36-37-38-39-40-41-42-
-43-44-45-46-47-48-49-50-51-52-53-54-55-56-57-58-59-60-61-62-
Appendix: -A-B-C-
“Jack, I—I don’t think I can…”
“Don’t worry, it’s simple. Just make sure you have a firm grip to deactivate the safety. It’s already loaded and chambered, so don’t worry about that. Sight down the top, squeeze the trigger—“
“No,” Jay shook his head. “No, that’s not what I mean.” It was the gun Farragut had nearly shot him with yesterday. “I don’t think, I don’t think I can use it.” He looked at Jack, pleading.
Jack shut his mouth and nodded, understanding, “You probably won’t have to. They won’t even know we were there. Just put it in your coat pocket and follow me.”
Jay swallowed down his nerves and did as Jack said, his hand shaking only a little. They were at the edge of the forest looking at the eastern side of the little base, a dozen or so buildings behind a low wall spread out before them. The sun had just set in the distance. Jay took a few deep breaths, trying to gather up his confidence.
Jack stepped first out into the open.
* * *
Martin Bozeman Holland accomplished very little that day. He was just considering traveling back to the Exeter office to demand that he be updated when he was cornered by the Lady Blake, who insisted that he be present for dinner.
Martin wasn’t keen on the idea, but he didn’t have a good excuse to refuse. He still needed the Blakes’ trust too much to dismiss with his own courteous façade. Damn the director for putting him here and damn that fool Farragut for creating this whole mess in the first place. Fuming, Martin burned through a cigarette too quickly to enjoy it.
He saw the two young women return from their ride. Martin wondered what Baron Blake thought of his daughter, from a distance you couldn’t tell she was even a woman, the way she dressed. He went inside before he would have to speak to them again.
Baron Blake, it turned out, was just inside in his drawing room, smoking a pipe and looking out the window toward the stables. He turned to Martin.
“Any news?”
Martin tried to cover up his impatience, “None yet, sir. I have given instructions so that I will be notified immediately as soon as any new information is received.”
The Baron sighed loudly, and nodded, “Sorry, Colonel, I know you’re trying. It’s just hard for a parent.”
“Yes sir. We’ll let you know.” Martin was not eager to have that conversation, but he wished it would come all the same. The sooner he was over and done with this, the better.
Blake nodded again, “Lily says you’re joining us for dinner. I think you’ll be pleased; Maurice is roasting some Guinea Fowl. I don’t know what’s wrong with ordinary chicken, but the women seem to like them.”
“I look forward to it,” responded Martin, who wasn’t looking forward to anything but his own retirement.
* * *
Jack had said that people tended to see what they expected to see. That made confidence the most important part of disguise. So far it seemed to be working; they’d made it through the stone fence and were crossing the grounds towards the barracks building they’d slept in the night before last.
Jay hoped their success to this point wasn’t just because there was hardly anybody outside to see them. He tried to keep his breathing steady and contain the urge to glance around nervously every few seconds.
The two men reached the barracks without being noticed. Jay allowed himself to turn and look across the base while Jack opened the door, he didn’t see anyone. Jack tapped him on the shoulder, and Jay followed the Australian into the building.
The hallway was dark, there was no sun to shine through the windows in the ceiling, and the single gaslight above the door cast only a weak light beyond a few feet. Jack and Jay walked carefully towards the room where Jay had left his suitcase, trying to keep their footsteps as silent as possible.
It was the seventh door on the left; Jack leaned against the outside and turned the knob.
* * *
The soft meat separated nicely between Martin’s teeth, and he chewed slowly, savoring the taste. This would probably be the only time he would eat a meal like this. It was wastefully extravagant, but it wasn’t his expense, and so long as it was there, Martin planned to enjoy himself.
“So, Colonel Holland,” began Lady Blake, speaking a little too loudly in order to call attention, “tell us about yourself. You must do fascinating work.”
Martin swallowed and patted his lips with a napkin, which he understood was proper. “Actually, it’s mostly rather boring. But I’m afraid I’m not allowed to talk about my job, National Secrets.”
Baron Blake gave his wife a critical look, she frowned, “Nothing at all?”
He would have much rather gone on eating the roast fowl in silence rather than allow it to go cold for conversation, but he wasn’t being given the option. “Well, Madam, as you know I work for the Secret Service Bureau. My department, that’s the Security Service, is responsible for maintaining the Empire’s security against foreign threats here at home. We guard against spies and traitors and protect those National Secrets,” he couldn’t resist adding in that last bit. “My own work follows in regard to these duties.”
“But, Mr. Holland,” Margaret inquired with a falsely sweet voice, “if your jurisdiction is over home affairs, shouldn’t it be the Intelligence Service handling the matter of Jay Thomson’s disappearance?”
Martin winced, but recovered quickly. “Well, as I’ve said I can’t discuss any details of your brother’s case. Our two departments are cooperating,” which was true insofar as his director had sent the boys at Century House a memo, “and as there are still some uncertainties about the full nature of the case, the proper jurisdictions aren’t entirely clear. So here I am.”
* * *
So near as Jay could tell, the room was as they’d left it. Jack stood close to the door while Jay retrieved his suitcase. It was still tucked under the small bed, which was still unmade. Jay was a little surprised that the room hadn’t been cleaned in the past two days, but he supposed a military base didn’t have hotel service.
He pulled out his suitcase and dropped it on the bed. Jack turned to look over his shoulder for a moment, then returned his attention to the door. Jay unfastened the suitcase and swung it open. The brown envelope he’d received from John Mills was right there, one corner buried beneath a white undershirt. It didn’t seem to have been tampered with.
“It’s still here,” Jay announced. He closed the suitcase and began refastening it.
Jack turned around, looking irritated. “Don’t take the whole thing!” he hissed. “We just need the papers.”
Jay was incredulous, “I’m not leaving all my stuff!” He pulled the last belt tight and hefted the case by its handle.
Jack opened his mouth to argue, but just shook his head and sighed impatiently. “Come on!” he waved.
They were back into the hall, and nearly to the outside again when the barracks door opened in front of them. A soldier walked in, whistling.
Jack just kept walking, tipping his hat to the uniformed man in perfectly polite acknowledgement.
Jay, however, missed a step and stumbled. It was the same lieutenant that had showed him to the mess hall two days ago.
He recovered his footing, and laughed nervously, “Evening.” Jay put a finger to his hat as well, in imitation of Jack.
The German slowed and followed them with his head, a contemplative tongue in his cheek. As Jay passed by, he nodded, “Guten Abend.”
And then they were out the door and back into the night.
* * *
Martin was distracted from his last bite of peas by an outbreak of giggling across the table. Miss Blake and her friend had been talking quietly with their heads together, but had now dropped their silverware to laugh over their plates.
Lady Blake stopped in the middle of her sentence and gave the two young women a harsh look. The hostess had already been displeased when her daughter decided to disregard the place card which would have seated Margaret on Martin’s right, and chose to sit by her friend across the table instead.
Noticing the looks they were getting, both women put their hands over their mouths and stifled their laughs.
Margaret cleared her throat, “Er, excuse me, Colonel Holland. Stephanie and I were, ah, wondering what your opinion was of the Portuguese Empire.”
Miss Wilkinson snorted and tried to cover the noise with a cough.
Martin noticed Baron Blake raise an eyebrow and he paused for a moment to finish chewing and swallow his food, “Pardon?”
The Blake daughter glanced to her left towards the Baron before turning back to Martin, “Father thinks we should be supporting the Angolan rebels against the Portuguese.”
Now it was Martin’s turn to raise an eyebrow as he looked to the Baron, “Does he now?”
Blake bristled, “The King’s treatment of the natives is absolutely atrocious. We have a responsibility to the primitive peoples of this world. Next year’s the anniversary of our assumption of that responsibility, and I think it’s about time we started living up to it again.” He shifted in his seat and tried to look defiant.
Martin couldn’t help but smile. Edward Blake was clearly an idealist, and that made it all the easier for him to shove aside any sympathy he might have felt for the man.
“You disagree, Colonel?” Margaret prodded him again.
“Oh, not at all,” Martin shook his head. “We should do everything we can to provide the poor Angolans with the means to fight back against their oppressors.”
Blake nodded his head in vindication and smiled.
Martin bared his own teeth in reply, “And then we should declare our full support for King Duarte’s efforts to crush the rebellion and secure his colonies.”
* * *
“Halt!”
Damnit! Jay’s curse was silent. Jack’s obscenities were not.
Looking over his shoulder, Jay could see one of the base soldiers, hand raised, walking quickly after the two intruders. Immediately, Jay could feel the sweat pouring down his forehead.
Jack jabbed a finger at him, “Keep walking, let me handle them. Go!” He didn’t wait for a response before turning towards the sentry.
Jay gulped and obeyed, the part in the little wall was only about thirty yards away. He watched Jack as the Australian walked towards the soldiers, waving his arm and shouting incoherent French. Jay supposed Jack was trying to keep the man confused and off guard. Jay hoped that was a good idea; he would have preferred to agitate an armed man as little as possible. But he quickened his pace towards the forest all the same.
He was about ten feet away from the wall when another soldier spotted him and shouted for Jay to halt. The man-shaped shadow slid over the stone barrier and hurried over to plant himself in Jay’s path. Jay stopped, and showed his free left hand, open-palmed. The soldier frowned, and kept a hand on the sidearm at his hip.
Behind them, Jack and the other soldier were still shouting at each other. The man in front of Jay barked something in German, but Jay only shook his head, uncomprehending. The soldier’s frown got deeper.
Jay looked over his shoulder at his companion, and saw Jack do the same. Jay had never seen Jack look worried before, but the Australian did now, and Jay felt his own confidence diminish even further. To make things worse, there were now three more soldiers running towards the scene from the other side of the base, all of them carrying rifles.
“I’m sorry, I don’t understand!” Jay said to the soldier who was still growling unintelligible commands. Giving up on verbal communication, the man put out an arm and shoved Jay in the shoulder.
Jay spun around, in time to see Jack—whose shouting had become all the more frantic—reach for the pistol in his belt.
There was a sound like the world being split in two.
* * *
Martin chuckled at the silence, and took the opportunity to enjoy another bite of the deliciously roasted Guinea Fowl on his plate. Everyone else at the table was staring at him, even the Lady Blake seemed like she was reconsidering her opinion of her guest.
It was the Baron who finally spoke, “What kind of mad policy is that?”
Martin looked at his host as he might look at a child, and Blake might as well have been one. “Portugal is weak. We can easily afford to assist the rebels; the Army has warehouses full of old surplus weapons.”
He took a sip of wine before continuing, “The Angolans’ renewed strength will force Duarte to lean heavily on Brazil to maintain control in Brazil. Our public declaration for Lisbon will frustrate any notions the Kingdom may have of accepting the rebels’ demands.”
Blake rolled his eyes, “And you don’t think they’ll see right through such a duality?”
Martin gave a sympathetic smile, “I think it won’t matter. Opinion in Portugal will be inflamed against the rebels. But as Brazil sees its own wealth and men siphoned off to war, its own nationalists will find their cause winning more converts, Duarte will find that his Empire is slipping through his fingers. And when the revolution erupts in Rio de Janeiro, then we commit fully to the cause of independence, as we did for the Spanish colonies. Portugal will be broken and your Africans can have their freedom, Baron Blake.”
He was grateful for their stunned expressions. Martin picked up his knife in his right hand and returned his attention to his meal.
* * *
Jay didn’t know if Jack had actually intended to attack the soldiers, or just make a scene like at the Paris air station. But the Australian had frozen mid-motion, his fingers still curled around the ivory handle of the gun some long-dead adventurer had given him.
The crack of rifle fire rang out twice more.
Jack bent oddly at the hip and fell sideways onto the ground. Jay sucked in a shallow breath and bit his lower lip hard enough to draw blood.
The soldier behind Jay shouted again, and he felt a hand pushing him forward again. Jay stumbled forward a step, then gripped the handle of his suitcase with both hands.
He didn’t really think about it, no plan at all. Jay swung the suitcase around with all his might. He yelled wildly and slammed it into the German soldier at his back.
It struck the man square on the side and took him off his feet; he tumbled with only a tiny grunt. Jay, eyes already going wide at the enormity of his action, was dragged along for another quarter turn by the inertia.
When he recovered, he tucked the bag under his arm like a rugby ball and started running as fast as he could. There was more gunfire behind him, and Jay whimpered at the sound, but he didn’t think anything hit him. Jay had never been shot; he didn’t know how it felt.
He tripped when he dove over the wall. It took him a couple of seconds to untangle himself from his thick clothing and get to his feet with the suitcase again. When he stood, Jay could see two soldiers standing over Jack; one looked like he was prodding the fallen man with the barrel of his rifle. Two more had just made it to the man Jay had knocked down, and who had still not gotten up either. One of them seemed to be hesitating in choosing to stay with his comrade or chase after Jay.
Jay didn’t wait for him to make up his mind, he turned and ran. He was almost to the trees.
Book One, Chapter:
-1-2-3-4-5-6-7-8-9-10-11-12-13-14-15-16-17-18-19-20-21-
-22-23-24-25-26-27-28-29-30-31-32-33-34-35-36-37-38-39-40-41-42-
-43-44-45-46-47-48-49-50-51-52-53-54-55-56-57-58-59-60-61-62-
Appendix: -A-B-C-