Page 106 of The Number of Love
“And while I’m doing that,” she said, squeezing his arm, “go and get your sister.”
“Keep your eyes peeled. He said he’d signal me to proceed after I drop the codebook, so he’ll be nearby.” Drake jammed Hall’s car into Park in a shadowy stretch of road.
Red jumped out of the opposite door, and Camden piled out of theback. They’d used the forty-minute drive toward Woolwich to try to guess at what Regnitz meant to do. To anticipate what would change when the bombs didn’t fall on their target. To determine how to find him and apprehend him.
Because he wouldn’t be at the factory—not unless he meant to die tonight. And somehow, Drake couldn’t imagine that was his goal. But he’d want to be close. Close enough to retrieve the codebook, yes, but he’d also want to see Drake walk into the factory. He’d want to see the building go up in flames. He’d want to make certain he didn’t escape.
They had decided to assume he’d be armed, possibly with a long-range rifle, hence why they all stuck to the shadows. Red, who had apparently done a fair bit of scouting in France before he’d been sent home minus a foot, took the lead, motioning them forward with hand signals.
For once, Camden had apparently decided to be civil. He’d simply ignored Red, rather than insulting him, while they drove. And now he fell in without any complaints, without any posturing. A soldier, when it came down to it.
At least for a few minutes. But then he stopped while Red was still advancing and grabbed him by the arm to halt him. Drake, bringing up the rear, halted too. “What is it?” he whispered.
“Planes.” Camden set his eyes on the heavens, scanning from horizon to horizon.
Red leaned close. “Ours or theirs? Can you tell?”
It took another moment for Drake to even make out the drone of the engines over the sounds of city life. Certainly he couldn’t discern whether they belonged to Camels or Gothas.
But if the curse he bit off was any indication, Camden could. And it was the wrong answer. “Hurry!”
Sirens blared. First from a distance, but that seemed to trigger others, and soon the night was filled with the angry warning sound. From somewhere far off, an unmistakableboomshattered the night still more. The antiaircraft guns, stationed around London.
Red took off at a run, and Drake and Camden followed. If theGothas were here, it meant one of two things—either they hadn’t received Margot’s revisions to their plan in time and this factory would soon be targeted, or they’d soon be dropping their loads on the abandoned warehouse on the other side of the river, and Regnitz would realize he’d been foiled. Either way, they’d probably be safe from any sniping he might have planned right now ... but not for long.
They stopped at the first of the two locations the agent had given them, where a metal rubbish bin slouched forlorn in the mouth of an alley. Into this Drake slid the false code. And then straightened, looking about, wondering what sort of signal Regnitz would offer.
He had his answer when a bullet bit off a chunk of brick a foot above his head. It had likely come from across the street, but he didn’t have time to investigate. He motioned Red and Camden onward.
No more bullets whizzed by them as they made their way, but the drone of the planes was growing louder now, and the sirens continued to scream. “It isn’t midnight yet!” Drake shouted as they gained the side door of the factory and, upon testing it, found it unlocked.
Convenient. And probably thanks to Dieter Regnitz, who wanted them to gain entrance.
Let Dot be here, Lord. Helpus find her. Help us get her out. Only byyour grace, Father.
“They must have caught a tailwind and made it across the Channel faster than anticipated—those that made it. Some would have dropped off, they always do.” Camden bent in half long enough to suck in a breath. “You definitely owe me now, Elton.”
Flying him to France and home in one day and then following him to a known bombing target? He’d owe him for the rest of his life.Lord, let it be long enough to repay him. “I’ll send you a tin of biscuits.”
“I see something, chaps. Over there.” Red indicated the corner of the factory floor.
Drake followed his finger to where a figure was slumped—too long to be Dot. Too wide to be Regnitz. “A guard?”
“I’ll see.” Movingly quickly, Red took off.
Drake surveyed the factory floor. This room had no machines, no equipment. Just enormous shells, lined up like rows of wheat, from this wall as far as he could see toward the opposite. Support beams stretched up to the ceiling every few yards, and walkways intersected each other in a grid.
Almost, nearly, like a game board. But where were the players?
Anotherboomsounded from outside. A whole series of them, along with an explosion of a different tenor.
“Bomb. Hurry.”
“Dot!” Stealth was no longer really going to prove helpful, so Drake took off down the nearest aisle at a run. Praying with every footfall that none of those bombs crashed through this ceiling. “Dorothea!”
“Dot!”
“Dotty!”
