Rebel in Time

'Right. Come ahead. I'm pretty certain that all resistance here has been knocked out.'

There were two dead guards outside. Shaw stepped over the bodies and pushed the door wide, then handed in the saddlebags. 'How did it go?' Troy asked.

'Not good. The guards saw us, opened fire. We returned it, got them both, but it alerted the others inside. You know what happened after that.'

'I certainly do. I came in the back way. I was lucky.'

'We have two men dead. One wounded. And another man who's not hurt.'

'Go to him. Tell him to get the wounded man to John Brown. He is to report that we have secured the rifle works and all is well.'

'Right.'

Troy stood in silence, gun pointed and ready, until Shaw returned. 'Bolt the door,' he ordered. Shaw did so, looking around at the huddled bodies as he pushed the bar into place, then at Troy. He pointed.

'Is that the gun you told me about?'

'It is. You have seen what it can do. What do you think an army of rebels could do with guns like this?'

'Sweet Jesus,' Shaw breathed. 'Are we in time?'

'I think so. The weapon's existence is still being kept secret. The chances are that they might still be stored here. Let's look. You take this. Here.'

He handed over the submachinegun and Shaw took it reluctantly. 'I don't know anything about it,' he said.

Troy nodded grimly. 'You don't have to know, not with a gun like this. It's cocked now. Just point it and pull the trigger. It sprays death. Now cover me.'

Troy carefully reloaded his pistol before they began the search. Shaw stood ready with the Sten as they went through the building, room by room. There was no one else there. They were almost certain of this when they found the guard room; Troy pointed to the beds.

'Eight of them. And eight dead soldiers. I think we have them all. But I still don't want to take any chances.'

Half of the rifle works was made up of the machine shop. There were long-bedded drills for manufacturing the rifled barrels, as well as iron-framed presses for drawing the cartridges. To the rear were storerooms for bar metal and other supplies, as well as a sealed room that proved to be filled with barrels of gunpowder and boxes of fulminate caps. It was next to a bigger storeroom with an even heavier locked door. It took them a quarter of an hour, working with crowbars, to smash their way through it. When the door finally opened, Troy stepped in, holding the lantern high.

Boxes were stacked there, row after row of them, stretching from the floor almost up to the rafters. They walked to the nearest ones, still unsealed, and looked in.

The first one was filled with neatly packed brass boxes of bullets.

Submachineguns were in the next crate.

'Is this it?' Shaw asked. 'What you were looking for?'

'It is. The machinery to manufacture these weapons, and the guns and ammunition as well. All in one place. It's almost too much to expect. But we must make the most of the opportunity.' He looked slowly around. 'We better get started — we have plenty of work to finish before the night is out.'

'What are you going to do?'

'I thought it was obvious. Blow up the machinery. Burn this place down. Destroy it utterly. And when that is done we go after McCulloch. No more running away.

'I must find that man and kill him. This threat must be ended for ever.'

Chapter 33

'If you really want to prevent this factory from ever operating again,' Shaw said, 'you are going to have a most difficult job.'

'Why? Won't burning it down put it out of commission?'

'Only temporarily — if there are people who are really desperate to keep it running.' He slapped the frame of one of the big presses. 'These things are made of cast-iron and steel. I've seen them taken out of the burned ruins of a collapsed building, dusted off and greased — and put back to work within twenty-four hours.'

'Then what are we to do?' Troy asked.

'We are to do what our French cousins call sabotage, an act of botching. We shall botch these machines beyond repair. The drawing presses that form the cartridges would be the best for us to work our mischief upon. They are the most delicate — and practically irreplaceable. Specially made to order in Scotland. A charge of black powder for each one should do the job well enough.'

'All right. I'll make up the explosives and you can show me where to place them. We'll also lay black powder over the boxes of cartridges, make sure that they burn and explode. Which leaves only the guns themselves to worry about. They're rugged. Even if the boxes they are packed in are burned, we have no guarantee that they will be put out of commission. If they were cleaned up — and there is another store of cartridges someplace — this entire effort would be wasted.'

'Then it's into the river with them. A few days in the water and they will be completely unserviceable.'

'Right, Let's do it. But it's not going to be an easy job. There must be thousands of them in these boxes.'

'Then it is time we started, isn't it?' Shaw said, taking off his coat. 'We'll see how many we can give the deep six before dawn.'

It was an exhausting night's work. Once the charges had been placed on the machinery, they turned to the crates of submachineguns. Breaking them open and carrying the guns out the side entrance to the river bank. Hurling them out into the dark water. The work seemed endless and they still were not finished when the first light of dawn spread across the eastern sky. The rain had stopped, though the sky was still overcast. Troy dropped onto a box, gasping with exhaustion.

'Enough…' he said. 'We have to lay fuse trails, think of getting out of here.' He hesitated, looking at Shaw. 'We must be well away from here by dawn. I have sure knowledge that this rebellion is doomed. I tried to tell John Brown that — but he wouldn't listen. Everyone taking part in this raid, everyone who has not escaped, will be killed. Of that I am absolutely certain.'

'How do you know?'

'I can't tell you that now. Please, Robbie, take my word for it. We must get away. We'll use the rowboat since the land side of the building will surely be watched.'

They had been hearing sporadic gunfire for some time now: there was no escape back the way they had come.

'All right, let's do it. I have none of the love of certain death that possesses our friend Brown.'

Carefully, so as not to step on the grains of powder and cause a premature explosion, they trickled fine streams of gunpowder from the remaining barrels. Joining the trails together and leading a final trail out of the open door. The half-empty barrels were placed on the last crates of guns; then they were ready. When Troy put the lantern down he saw the outline of the building against the sky.

'It's time. We should be safe back against the base of the wall here when the charges explode. As soon as we are sure the place is burning well we'll take to the boat. I'm bringing this with us.' He placed the saddlebags and the loaded Sten-gun under the front seat of the boat. 'If we are seen we may have to defend ourselves. This gun will even the odds. If we are not attacked — it joins the others in the river. We still have our pistols. Ready?'

'Yes, do it.'

They pressed close to the dressed stone foundation of the building as Troy broke the glass globe of the lantern, then thrust the burning wick into the train of powder. With a soft burst of flame and smoke it caught and the crackling fire vanished through the door.

An instant later multiple explosions shook the wall against which they were leaning. Flame gouted through the windows as they exploded outwards with a crash of breaking glass. Smoke followed the flame, red-lit smoke showing that the combustibles had caught fire.

'That's done it!' Troy shouted over the roar of the blaze. 'Let's get out of here.'

They ran to the boat, jumped in and pushed it free. Troy seized up the single paddle and rowed hard, out into the fast-flowing river and away from the burning building. There was no one on the shore that they could see. Nevertheless he rowed on with all his strength, until they were well away from the island and invisible from the shore in the dim greyness of dawn.