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Monday, January 11, 2010

Le Saboteur: VII.

Chapter VII.
Un Sinistre Gredin

“Do you know anything about chemistry?” asked Renhard.
Allison shook his head.
“Then you don’t know what happens when you mix pyric and sulfuric acid?”
“No.”
“They react violently—combust, in fact.
“This,” he said, taking a hollow metal tube from his pocket, “is made of lead, the size of an ordinary cigar. It is separated into two chambers by a thin copper disc. You put the pyric acid in one chamber and the sulfuric in the other and plug up the ends with wax. The acid corrodes the copper until a hole is eaten in it. When the chemicals mix they combust, instantly melting the lead casing. Very neat, eh?”
“A firebomb!” said Allison in admiration.
“Exactly. A time bomb too, for the thickness of the copper disc regulates how long it will take for the bomb to go off. This one will last approximately forty-eight hours.”
“What are you going to do with it?”
“Blow up the ammunition train that goes through here in four days.”
“And how do you intend to get it aboard?”
“Ah ha!” said Renhard. “That’s where it gets fun. Kearns is due for leave, you know. He’ll get a letter from his brother—forged, actually—saying he’s in hospital and wants Kearns to visit him. So far so good. Kearns will be put on that train as it’s the only one going in that direction.”
“Tapping telephone wires pays off, eh?” asked Allison.
“To continue. Kearns will have with him a box of cigars—you follow me?”
“The only thing I don’t understand is where I come into all of this.”
“I need you to guard the barrack-bedroom door while I put the bomb together.”
“Why do it in the barracks? Why not here in the armory? Nobody ever comes here, so you wouldn’t need a guard.”
“The armory, eh?” asked Renhard. “It’s a firebomb, you know. One slip with those chemicals with all this ammunition about and Pouf!”
“Well, what about the bathroom? You could lock yourself in there without making anybody suspicious.”
“It’s a delicate process—takes at least twenty minutes to get it put together. I don’t want to be shut in the bathroom all that time.”
“Oh, I suppose not,” said Allison.
“You see, I’ve already done all the thinking so you don’t need to do any of your own. All I need for you to do is keep an eye out while I’m about the dirty work.”
“Well, after we blow up the train, then what? Won’t they be after us?”
“Oh, of course, but it will take them a while to trace it back to our squadron. We’ll be long gone by then.”
“Where do we go? Germany?”
“Or Holland or Switzerland or some neutral country.”
“I don’t suppose we’ll ever be safe in America again?”
“No, but who cares? What is there for you in America? Unless you want to go into cattle farming.”
Allison looked up in surprise.
“How did you know about that?” he asked.
“I was listening at the door,” replied Renhard unblushingly.
“Berthold, you snoop!” said Allison.

Conscience is a difficult thing to hide. When it has an ugly mark on it, it will show if you do not take the proper precautions and even these are not always to be relied upon. Every word, every action, every expression of the face, every thought even, must pass through the filter of “will this give me away?”, requiring constant vigilance on the part of the wrongdoer. One slip and all is lost—or seems to the tortured sensibilities to be so. Pity then, Allison’s condition, albeit brought on himself. Renhard as a professional spy had managed to eradicate his conscience almost entirely, however Allison had not reached that level of expertise and found the easiest way to escape detection was to hide himself along with his offending secret away from the other men.
“Oh, there you are, Allison, I’ve been looking all over for you,” said Randolph coming across him in one of the hangars the next morning.
“You have?” asked Allison, startled. “Why?”
“I’ve a letter for you. Thought it might be something important.”
“Oh.” Allison took the letter. “No, it’s just back taxes. I never get letters.”
He put it in his pocket.
“Well, I just wanted to remind you, we’re going out again at two—balloon job.”
“OK, OK,” said Allison.
“Um, Allison,” said Randolph. “You know we’re rather short of men just now. If you have any trouble, don’t hesitate—get back to the airdrome if you can. A balloon isn’t worth losing your life over.”
“I guess I can take care of myself,” said Allison.
“All the same, just be careful, will you? Can’t afford to lose you!”
“Huh.”
“How’s the old Hispano-Suiza look?” asked Randolph, running his hand over the fuselage. Allison glanced up at him.
“It’s all right; I’ve gone over it once already.”
“Want me to look over it again for you—just in case?”
I don’t care.”
“All right, then.”
Randolph opened up the engine and tried the pressure on some of the valves.
“Looks like you could use some valve work,” he said, but when he turned around Allison was gone.
The afternoon arrived with bright, clear July weather. The guns opened up at a quarter to two in an endeavor to keep the Bosches’ heads down while the ‘planes went for the balloons. There were three in that area.
Randolph had gotten his down already and came around just in time to see Allison plunging at another. At that moment two German Fokkers—there were always some about, protecting the observation balloons—materialized out of the air over Randolph’s head and flashed down on Allison’s tail. Their victim was too intent on the delicate business of pulling out of his dive directly after firing a burst of incendiary into the gasbag and immediately before colliding with it to notice the peril he was in. Randolph saw only too clearly.
“ALLISON!!!” he shouted, but the cry was futile for his voice was drowned out by the roar of the engine and Allison was too far away to hear anyhow.
In an instant Randolph could see the German ‘planes firing bright incendiary ammunition into Allison’s helpless machine, and Randolph suddenly realized how much he thought of his fellow pilot.
“Villains!” he muttered and pulled open his throttle.
Allison was at last aware of the danger and pulled up under the balloon to put it between him and his attackers. But they were back on his tail again in an instant and now the anti-aircraft guns were popping away at him on all sides. Allison dove, shot up again, banked—tried every trick he knew and could execute with his machine, but still the two German ‘planes held their positions just to the rear and above him, firing lead into him mercilessly. One of their bullets exploded and a piece of it struck him in the hand.
Suddenly one of the enemy ‘planes spun out of control and crashed into a gun emplacement on the ground. Allison twisted his neck around to see the cause and saw a SPAD pulling out of a dive and turning for a go at the other machine. Another Allied ‘plane appeared—Allison could tell by the streamers on its struts that it was the captain’s—and fixed itself on the tail of the same Hun ‘plane. Allison tried to help, but his hand was too hurt to work his machine gun. He turned and sped for his lines.
The men all arrived back safely somehow. Randolph and Hayes helped Allison out of his airplane and bandaged his wound.
“Good thing the bullet only grazed your hand,” said Hayes. “You were that close to being invalided home.”
“It’s not a bad wound,” said Randolph, hoping to console him. “You’ll be able to fight again in a day or two, I’d say.”
“Thanks a lot,” said Allison ungraciously and went off without a word of thanks to Randolph for saving his life. Randolph thought he’d gone off in rather a hurry, almost as if he were afraid to be near them.
“At least he won’t be doing anymore scrapping with the other men,” remarked Hayes.

Randolph found himself wondering what had gotten into Allison. He was no crosser than usual, but he seemed more silent and preoccupied. Stranger still, he avoided Randolph’s company. Now Randolph was not vain, but he had thought that Allison liked him—if only just a little. He had always seemed to prefer his company to that of the other men’s and an understanding had arisen between them since their conversation in chapter V. However he was not one to force his society on anybody, so he left Allison to himself and instead worried about the fellow from a distance.
He did not get to speak Allison again until the next day as he was walking around the airdrome with Woodward and having a rather one-sided conversation. He came across Allison sitting on a biscuit crate beside the barracks with Renhard standing by his side, leaning against the wall.
“Did you see the chaps with the cinematograph?” asked Renhard as they passed.
“Yes, we were just over there, in fact,” replied Randolph.
“Well, what are they up to?”
“They’re taking pictures of ‘A’ flight taking off.”
“What for?”
“Oh, I expect they’ll show them for the folks back home. Here comes one of them now, only he has an ordinary camera.
“Here, you two,” said the fellow, “care to get your picture taken?”
“What about it?” Randolph asked Woodward.
“If you like.”
“Get all four of us,” said Randolph. “For that matter, let me get a couple of other fellows while we’re at it.”
“OK,” said the cameraman (a true American).
“Here; Kearns! Hayes!” called Randolph, spying the two friends over watching the cinematographers. “Come over here; we want you for a minute.”
“What’s the order?” asked Kearns.
“We’re going to sit for a photograph.”
“All right,” said Hayes amiably.
Allison got up, muttering something about “camera fiends” but Hayes caught him by his belt.
“No you don’t,” he said.
“Let go!” said Allison.
“Getting a picture taken never hurt anybody,” said Woodward quietly.
“Just look at me,” said Renhard. “I always look awful in pictures but I’m not complaining.”
“If that’s what you object to,” said Randolph, “Frank and I never look good in pictures either, so you won’t be alone.”
Hayes and Kearns looked smug. They belonged to that fortunate class of people that always look well in photographs.
Randolph pushed Allison onto a biscuit crate.
“Come on, now,” he said, “’smile, smile, smile,’ and all that, you know,” and he set an example.
“OK,” said the cameraman. “More towards the center, now. That’s it. OK, all done now. It’ll be ready in two or three days.”
“Much obliged,” said Randolph, polite as always.
The men split up and wandered off.