‘That’s far enough,’ said a voice in English.
About twenty feet away, standing on the grilled floor of the axial corridor, was the tall, potbellied figure of Koch. ‘Don’t move.’ His arm was stiffly extended. He was aiming a handgun right at them.
Chapter Fifty-eight
Denham was next to Captain Lehmann at the back of the crowded bridge, out of the way of the helmsman, the elevator man, and the officers monitoring the gas pressure and engine telegraphs. Captain Pruss stood behind the first officer, who was in charge of the landing. Lehmann was keeping an eye on the light boards that monitored ballast and hydrogen, the nerves and nuclei of the most modern aircraft ever built. More than ever Denham wished that Tom was with him now.
On the sodden landing field hundreds of tiny figures were now assembling around the mooring tower. A heavy shower had fallen just before they’d arrived, and wide pools reflected the leaden sky.
‘Reverse engines,’ said Pruss, and the vast ship began to brake as it moved in from the west and slowly dropped lower. They were about six hundred feet from the ground. ‘Prepare to release port and starboard handling lines.’
K och’s thick grey hair was dishevelled; his forehead beaded with sweat. The long climb up the ladder after them must have got his heart racing.
‘Put the dossier on the floor,’ he said. There was a tremor to his voice, and he swayed very slightly, making Eleanor think that he’d been drinking.
‘What kind of idiot brings a firearm on board a hydrogen airship?’ she said. ‘Do you know what would happen if-’
‘Put the fucking dossier on the floor,’ he shouted.
The bracing wires creaked. The hum of the engines could be felt through the floor. A low, filtered light seeped through in places, but otherwise the area was in a gloaming of its own.
‘Do as he says, Eleanor,’ Hannah whispered.
‘I ’ve never seen this type of landing before,’ Denham said. ‘Normally we drift down and the ground crew walks us to the mast, don’t they?’
‘It’s a new technique called a “high landing,” ’ said Lehmann. ‘They pull us down by ropes and moor us. Requires fewer men, and saves us money.’
As Lehmann spoke, Denham’s attention was caught by the view on the right-hand side: a bank of low grey cloud was billowing towards them from the southwest. ‘Is that another storm front moving in?’
‘P ut the gun down,’ Eleanor said. Her eyes were locked on Koch’s. ‘We’re not armed.’
‘Not a step closer,’ he shouted. The barrel trembled in his hand. ‘Believe me, I will shoot you.’
‘You might,’ said Eleanor, ‘but you might miss and hit the hydrogen. Put the goddamned gun down.’
‘At this range? With this calibre?’ He gave a nervous, hissing laugh. ‘This is a Walther PPK semi-automatic. No, I will hit you. I will kill you.’ His face was sweating streams in the cold air. ‘Put the dossier on the floor.’
Eleanor was holding up the package as if it were a shield.
‘Eleanor,’ Hannah implored. ‘ Please put it down.’
I n the control car Denham could not take his eyes off the approaching storm, but the attention of Captain Pruss, the first officer, and the others was focused on the mooring mast, the ship’s altitude, and the speed of approach. Eckener, with his pathological obsession for safety, would not have allowed this, he thought. The old man would have delayed for as long as it took until the danger had passed. Out of the corner of his eye he glimpsed another blue flame wriggling along the metal fittings at the back of the room.
E leanor slowly put the package on the floor, but the gun stayed trained on her.
‘There,’ she said. ‘I’ve put it down. Now you put the gun down.’
Koch seemed to breathe a little easier, and he lowered the gun.
‘It’s yours to take back to Berlin,’ Eleanor said, retreating slowly.
‘I’m not taking it to Berlin,’ he said in a shaking voice, ‘I’m going to destroy it.’ His voice had an off, cracked note, sounding more than drunk; he sounded unhinged, as though something had snapped inside his head. ‘As soon as we land, I will burn it… as if it never existed.’
As he moved forwards to pick up the package from the floor, a shadow rose in the dim corridor behind him. Friedl was creeping up on Koch, holding a small length of rope between his hands. He’d removed his shoes. Hannah looked at him wide-eyed and gave a rapid shake of her head, but he didn’t notice; nor had he noticed the gun in Koch’s hand. He crouched as if to gather himself, then in a wide movement took a giant step and leapt onto Koch’s back, sending him crashing to the floor. Koch landed painfully on his side, with his gun arm sticking out horizontally. Friedl struggled to get the rope around his neck, with both men straining and groaning, and then he saw the gun.
The shot sounded like Dan!
Sparks cascaded, and a whooshing, whip-crack made the women duck and cover their heads. The bullet had nicked one of the thin bracing wires, snapping it and sending it singing through the air as its tension released. It quivered for a second like a kraken’s tentacle, then tore into the nearest gas cell, making a long gash high up in the fabric.
Hannah rushed to help Friedl, stamped her heel on Koch’s wrist, and pulled the gun away, sliding it back towards Eleanor.
But Eleanor was looking up, transfixed by the tear high up on the gas cell, near the very top of the ship.
Hydrogen was flowing freely from the gash, mixing with oxygen, causing rippling waves in the fabric of the cell, like a hot-water bottle emptying. The escaping flow pushed against the ship’s outer sheathing, making it flutter.
An unmistakable smell filled her nostrils. ‘Garlic,’ she whispered.
T he first officer turned to Pruss. ‘That’s odd,’ he said, pointing at the instruments. ‘We’re losing altitude in the stern. We’re about a thousand kilograms heavy.’
‘Release water ballast,’ said Pruss.
A ballast toggle was pulled, then another.
‘Still tail heavy,’ the first officer said, and picked up the telephone to order the crew members on duty in the lower tail fin to walk to the bow in order to correct the trim.
The ship was now about three hundred feet from the ground, hovering, and close enough for Pruss to wave to the commander of the Naval Air Station sitting in his jeep at the corner of the field.
‘Release starboard and port handling lines,’ he said.
From the bow hatch window the heavy mooring ropes fell and splattered on the ground where the mooring crew picked them up and tied them to a capstan. At that moment the evening sun came out, filling the control car with light, even as a light rain was falling from the weather front gathering from the southwest.
Denham turned to Lehmann. ‘Won’t that wet rope ground us? I mean, couldn’t it cause a spark?’ He could feel the static on his fingertips when he touched the sill, and in his hair.
‘There’s no danger,’ Lehmann said, clapping Denham’s shoulder. He nodded at the light board. ‘All cells are normal, and we have five experienced officers in here, including me.’
‘Cut engines,’ said Pruss. The four propeller engines died, and with that the great ship floated in silence, as if it were holding its breath.
‘W e’ve got to warn the bridge,’ Eleanor shouted. She forgot the dossier; she forgot the gun. They abandoned Koch on the narrow axial corridor, groaning and clutching his wrist. The package containing the dossier lay about ten feet away from him. Hannah ran back and snatched it from the floor.
In the distance along the endless axial corridor they saw the duty riggers moving.
They clambered down the long air duct ladder that led back to the keel. For three long minutes they descended, their feet slipping on the rungs. They reached the cargo hold and were about to reenter the passenger quarters when Eleanor, who was in the rear, heard a muffled detonation far above her, like the sound of someone lighting a gas stove.
‘D id you feel that?’ the first officer said, turning to Pruss.
