that if the plane didn't reach takeoff speed soon, it would crash into the trees at the end of the airstrip. Austin willed himself to relax, letting the controls tell his hands and feet what to do. The plane straightened out and picked up speed. Austin gave the elevator a slight pull. The wheels left the ground and the plane began its climb, but it was still too low to clear the trees.
Austin willed a few more feet of lift from the wings. The doughty biplane must have heard his prayers because it seemed to rise slightly and grazed the treetops with its landing gear. The wings wagged from the impact, but the plane regained its even keel.
Austin kept the plane in a steady climb and glanced off to the left and right to get his bearings. The countryside was mostly in darkness except for Chateau Fauchard, whose sinister turrets were lit up by floodlights. He tried to draw a map in his mind using his recollections of the drive in from the main road. He could see the circular driveway with its odd fountain, and the lantern-lit drive leading down the hill into the long tree tunnel.
He banked the plane around to pick up the road through the vineyards, heading east at an altitude of about a thousand feet. He was bucking a slight breeze that kept the plane's speed down to a subsonic eighty miles per hour. Satisfied that he was on a course that would take them back to civilization, he picked up the microphone connected to Skye's cockpit.
'Sorry for the rough takeoff,' he shouted over the engine roar. 'Hope it didn't shake you up too much.'
'I'll be fine once I put my teeth back in my head.'
'Glad to hear that. You'll need your dentures when we have dinner.'
'Truly a man with a one-track mind. Do you have any idea where we're going?'
'We're headed in roughly the same direction we came in. Keep a sharp eye out for lights. I'll try to land on a road near a town and hope there isn't too much traffic this time of night. Sit back and enjoy the ride.'
Austin turned his attention to the task of getting them down safely. Despite his cavalier attitude, he had no illusions about the difficulties that lay ahead. He was flying essentially blind, over unknown territory, in an antique aircraft he had no business operating, despite his extensive county fair experience. At the same time, he was enjoying the simple reliability built into the old aircraft. This was true seat-of-, the-pants piloting. No cockpit bubble separated him from the cool wind. He was practically sitting on top of the engine and the noise was earsplitting. He had renewed respect for the men who'd flown these relics in combat.
He would have liked to wring a few more knots from the plane, which seemed to grind its way through the night sky. He was heartened when, after several minutes of flying, he began to see pinpoints of light in the distance. The plane was approaching the perimeter of Fauchard's vast holdings. His complacency was shattered by Skye's voice, shouting in his earphones.
At the same time he saw movement out of the corner of his eye and glanced to the left. The helicopter that had hunted for them in the maze had materialized about thirty feet away as if by magic. The cockpit lights were on, and he could see one of the Chateau Fauchard guards sitting in the passenger's seat. He had an automatic weapon on his lap, but he made no attempt to shoot the plane down, although it would have been an easy target.
A moment later, the now-familiar voice of Emil Fauchard crackled over the plane's radio.
'Good evening, Mr. Austin. How nice to see you again.' 'What a pleasant surprise, Emil. I don't see you in the helicopter.' 'That's because I'm in the chateau's security control center. I can see you quite clearly on the helicopter's camera.'
Austin glanced at the camera pod slung under the helicopter's belly and gave it a friendly wave.
'I thought you would still be in the dungeon with the rest of the rats.'
Emil ignored the insult. 'How do you like my Fokker Aviatik, Austin?'
'I'd have preferred an F-16 loaded with air-to-air missiles, but this will do for now. Nice of you to let me use it.'
'Not at all. We Fauchards are most generous when it comes to our guests. Now, I must ask you to turn around or you will be shot down.'
The man in the helicopter stirred and aimed what looked like an AK-47 through the cockpit opening.
'You've obviously been tracking us. Why didn't you shoot us down when you had the chance?'
'I would prefer to keep my plane intact.' 'Boys and their toys.' 'What?'
Austin let the biplane drift a few yards. The helicopter veered off to avoid a collision.
'Sorry,' Austin said. 'I'm not used to this plane.' 'Your childish maneuvers will get you nowhere. I'm intimately acquainted with the capabilities of the Aviatik. I would hate to lose it, but I'm willing to suffer the loss of the plane if necessary. Watch.' Emil must have given his pilot an order because the helicopter
rose above the Aviatik and dropped until its runners were a few feet above Austin's head. The biplane pitched and yawed dangerously under the powerful downdraft. Austin pushed the plane's nose down and the helicopter followed, staying with the aircraft to show that escape was impossible. After a few seconds, the helicopter pulled away and began to pace the plane again.
Emil's voice came over Austin's earphones. 'As you see, I can force you down anytime. Turn around or you and your lady friend will die.' 'I might not be of any use to you, but if she goes, the secret of the helmet goes with her.'
'It's a risk I'm willing to take.'
'Maybe you should ask your mother first,' Austin said. Emil cursed in French, and seconds later the helicopter appeared over the biplane. The runners came down hard on the Aviatik's wings above Austin's head and pushed the biplane down. The chopper lifted off and hammered the Aviatik again. Austin fought to keep control. It was an unequal contest. The fabrif-and-wood plane was no match for the faster and more maneuverable helicopter. Emil could pummel the plane until it crashed or fell apart.
Austin grabbed the mike. 'You win, Emil. What do you want me to do?'
'Head back to the landing strip. Don't try any tricks. I'll be waiting for you.'
I bet you'll be waiting, Austin thought.
Austin banked the plane and brought it around. Skye had been listening to the conversation on her earphones. 'Kurt, we can't go back,' she said over the intercom. 'He'll kill you.'
'If we don't go back, he'll kill both of us.'
'I don't want you doing this for me.'
'I'm not. I'm doing it for me.'
'Damnit, Austin. You're as stubborn as a Frenchman.'
'I'll take that as a compliment. But I draw the line at eating snails and frog's legs.'
'All right, I give up,' she said with exasperation. 'But I'm not going down without a fight.'
'Neither am I. Make sure your seat belt is tight.' He clicked the intercom off and concentrated on the ominous towers that marked the ancestral home of the man who wanted to kill him. As the biplane neared the chateau, Austin could see the twin lines of light that marked the airfield. He put the Aviatik in a banking turn as if he were heading toward the lights, but as he neared the chateau, he turned in the opposite direction and flew directly toward the nearest turret.
The helicopter kept pace. Emils voice came over the radio. He was shouting in French. Austin shrugged, turned down the radio and turned his full attention to the task ahead.
The helicopter peeled away just when it seemed the plane would smash into the tower. With a few yards to spare, Austin veered off, missing the turret by yards, and flew over the chateau itself, in a diagonal line toward the opposite tower. He put the plane in a tight circle around the tower and came back over the complex in a figure eight. Then he flew around the next tower and executed the same pattern. He could only imagine what Emil's reaction would be, but he didn't care. He was wagering that Fauchard wouldn't try to force him down as long as he stayed over the chateau.
Austin knew he couldn't run figure eights forever. Nor did he intend to. With each banking turn, his eyes had swept the grounds beyond the moat. He switched the radio back on. Then he rounded the tower and started another figure eight, but halfway through it he veered off, passed over the circular driveway with its bizarre fountain and headed toward the lights that marked the long drive.
The helicopter had been circling high above. Once Austin was clear of the walls, the helicopter swooped down until it was directly
over the Aviatik. Austin put the plane into a deep glide until the wheels were only a few yards over the pavement. Fauchard's pilot could have forced him down at any time, but he probably thought that Austin was going to land in the driveway so held off. The moment of indecision cost him dearly.
