008. Crossroads

Andres Ramos sat on the front porch of his small property, slumped in a worn wicker chair. He was smiling at two men seated in a black Ford Tudor across the road from him. The Ford was fitted with government plates – Benavides rarely pulled his punches – and the two men had not moved from their present location in over a fortnight. Ramos had not seen them so much as eat in the time they had been observing him. He felt as if his flippant attitude to be watched and constant smiling was slowly wearing them down. He heard his Morse set crackle into life. Looking genuinely surprised, be left his chair and entered the house. Who would be contacting him? Surely not Rexton? Ramos produced a pencil and paper and began scribbling down this latest message, transcribing it from Morse into plain English as he went. It was a mess:

110 IN TRUBLE NAPED BY GERRY CANT GET WHYTHALL ALONE ND CORNED ADVICE

Ramos re-read the message, chuckled to himself and interpreted it as it was meant to be read:

RB110 is in trouble. Kidnapped by the Germans. Unable to contact Whitehall. I'm alone and cornered. Advise please.

Ramos tapped a message back. He kept it short and succinct, as he was innately aware that its recipient had but a tenuous grasp of English. Satisfied, he switched the Morse set off and returned to his comfortable seat on the porch.

============

Mohsen sat on the floor of Rexton's bunker, an oversized pair of headphones resting atop his head. He was desperately scribbling out the message Andres Ramos had sent back to him after his desperate plea for help:

MO

GOT YOUR MESSAGE PERIOD ASKING NEVILLE TO COME TO TEA PERIOD WILL MEET YOU AT THE LODGE PERIOD TAKE CARE YOUNG FELLOW PERIOD

ANDY

Mohsen understood most if not all of the message. 'Neville' was Andres' codeword for the British Army, and possibly the Royal Air Force too. 'The Lodge' was code for a dirt landing strip the U.S. Army Air Corps had built in the 1920s, in a failed attempt to establish an airbase in South America. Mohsen was familiar with the location. All that was left to him now was to evade the Luftwaffe – and Guerrero's Los hombres – long enough for Ramos to arrive. Gathering what little belongings he had, Mohsen left the bunker for the last time.

============

A loud crackling sound woke the driver of the government-owned Ford sedan. He noticed that his colleague had vacated the vehicle and was presently running towards the home of Andres Ramos. The driver now understood why: an Albatros B.II biplane had materialised out of thin air and could be seen taxiing down the beach, an unknown pilot at the controls. The other man followed suit and ran after his partner.

Andres Ramos laughed victoriously and punched his fist in the air as, with his free hand, he pushed the ageing Albatros' throttle into the fully forward position. A few seconds later, the aircraft's tailskid left the ground and Ramos gently eased back on the stick. The B.II rose gently into the air, in turn generating a massive sandblast that knocked the two pursuing spies to the ground. Ramos circled overhead before turning his plane towards the wilds of the Amazon jungle, knowing that he would not be followed.

============

For what was the third week in a row, Special Branch operative Regenweald Rexton was dragged from his tiny cell and into a room marked Aufbesserung, for his daily "treatment". It was, and continued to be, one of the most unpleasant experiences of his life. Everything from electroshock therapy to acid rubs was used, not to mention the numerous acts committed against his body using various surgical implements. The pain was enormous. His will to fight back had left him long ago; and he swore the staff was enjoying themselves.

'I trust you are being well looked after, Herr Rexton?' a painfully familiar voice asked.

Rex moaned weakly.

'What is that?' Baader sneered, 'Not even the briefest of witticisms? Neither a quip nor a jibe at myself, my country or my staff? My, my. You must be under the weather.'

'Enough.' Rex whimpered.

Baader laughed viciously, 'You have had enough, eh, Regenweald? The pain has become too much for you and your weak English sensibilities?'

Baader grabbed him by the collar, 'Not even death will spare you from my wrath, Rexton. You are the antithesis to all that I honour and believe in. I despise you.'

The Generaloberst turned his attention to his staff.

'Again,' he barked 'You will not stop until he is unconscious.'

His staff saluted as Baader left the room. The sound of Rex screams followed him out into the courtyard.

============

From the rear cockpit of one of Guerrero's newly acquired DH.4s, Caroline Carol instructed the first of many nervous new pilots she had taken under her wing. She was patient and yet firm, as her flying instructors had been with her when she had been learning to fly. She gently guided the young man – more a boy than a man, she thought – down to the ground and to a somewhat uneven landing on the airstrip Guerrero had built for just this purpose. Disembarking the aircraft, she noticed John Brady watching her from a distance. She gave him a quick nod, which he returned. She forced a smile.

'Who's next?' she asked.

TO BE CONTINUED...