‘Just getting rid of these soldiers won’t be enough,’ Aubrey said as they jogged south toward Hollenbruck, the direction from which he’d heard noise. The sun was setting behind the hills. ‘Something more must be done.’
‘You say that as if getting rid of the soldiers is a simple thing.’ George was munching on an apple even as they ran. ‘I counted two hundred of them, with nine officers including that colonel. I don’t think two fellows with pistols and brave hearts are going to worry them much.’
Aubrey vaulted over a rotting stump. ‘True. So what we lack in numbers, we have to make up for with magic and outright trickery.’
‘I love trickery.’ Then George sighed. ‘I wish Sophie were here. She’d be helpful in the magic department.’
‘I’d be glad of any help.’
‘She’s been learning magic at a great rate, old man. She’s like a sponge, and she’s come on in leaps and bounds.’ He caught himself. ‘Not that I think of her as a leaping and bounding sponge, mind you.’
‘I suggest you keep that one to yourself, George.’
‘I shall.’
The distant rumbling Aubrey had been keeping track of was noticeably nearer. He picked up the pace as they moved through the trees. He was careful to keep the road in sight at all times, even though this was difficult as the light faded. When they were a mile from the village, he stopped where the road curved around a large boulder so they were hidden from the road.
‘I’m afraid of reprisals,’ Aubrey said as they caught their breath. The warmth of the sun was still leaching from the stone and it felt good as he leaned against it. ‘If we remove the troops, what’s to stop the Holmland command sending more?’
‘I could answer that question better if I knew what the troops were doing there in the first place.’
‘True, but let’s put that aside for the moment.’ Aubrey lifted his head. The lorries he’d heard were definitely closer. ‘What if we take this in two stages? Firstly, we remove the troops. You can call me squeamish, but I’d rather not kill any of them if we can help it.’
‘You’ll get no argument from me on that score.’
‘Secondly, we hide the village.’
‘That sounds perfect. How are you going to do it?’
‘I’m not quite sure yet. That’s why it’s the second step rather than the first.’
George slapped him on the shoulder. ‘I have confidence in you, old man. Put that brain box to work.’
‘Don’t worry – it’s going full bore.’
‘What about the first part of the plan? Removing the soldiers?’
‘For that, we need to get close, which is why I’ve been waiting for this lorry. Quickly, take off your jacket.’
George didn’t argue, simply unbuttoning the garment and handing it to Aubrey. ‘Is that all? Are you sure you don’t want my trousers as well?’
To George’s palpable horror, Aubrey paused a moment before shaking his head. ‘Jacket is enough, George, but if you can spare that cap I’d be grateful.’
George handed it over without a word.
Aubrey scurried out into the middle of the road with the jacket and cap. He arranged them hastily and then dived back behind the boulder.
‘That won’t trick anybody, old man.’
‘I’m not done yet.’ Aubrey had the spell ready, a variation of one he’d used an age ago, when trapped in the late Professor Hepworth’s workshop with its murderous magical guardian. He spoke quickly, conscious of the approaching lights, and was relieved when the clothing began to fill out as if being inflated. Within seconds, in the gloom, it was easy to see a large man lying face down in the middle of the road.
George snapped off the safety of his pistol, reminding Aubrey to do the same, just as the lorry came into view, heaving itself up over a shallow crest before setting out on the long slope that would bring it near the boulder behind which Aubrey and George were hiding.
Aubrey grew tense. Crouched as he was, his leg muscles were threatening to cramp at the most inconvenient moment. He wiped his brow with the back of his hand and was conscious that he hadn’t sweated as much during the day when it had been much hotter.
As the lorry neared, its headlights caught the prone shape. The lorry slowed, approached, slowed again, then stopped with brakes that noisily indicated their lack of maintenance.
‘Wait until they get out,’ Aubrey whispered to George.
The driver’s door was flung back, groaning with the same complaint as the brakes, but instead of booted feet touching the macadamised road, a fierce electrical light stabbed out. Before Aubrey could move it swept across the road and pinned him against the boulder. He heard the unmistakeable sound of five, then six, rifle bolts, then he lost count, which didn’t really matter because half a dozen was probably enough.
‘Ah, Fitzwilliam! We thought we’d find you hereabouts! Care for a lift?’
Aubrey’s jelly legs almost betrayed him as he rose, with George at his side. He plucked at a remark he’d prepared earlier, one that he felt useful whenever surprised and wanting to appear unfazed. ‘What kept you, Hugo?’
‘What kept me, Fitzwilliam? Your Miss Hepworth and your Miss Delroy, that’s what kept me. They’re in the back of the lorry.’