Shadows Will Fall by Trey Garrison Read Free Book Online

okay? I mean . . .”
    Rucker nodded. “It’s a lot more painful than it looks.”
    â€œRight.”
    Bonhoeffer started pulling bundles out of the bag. When he finished unloading it, Rucker groaned at what he saw. Storm trooper uniforms.
    â€œNow we get to see if Chuy was right that I’d make a great Nazi,” he said.
    Ciampino Aerodrome
    Rome
    S omething wasn’t right and Chuy knew it. It had been two days since the last radio contact with Rucker. Something was up and he was anxious to get back in the air, but he was still cooling his heels in Rome at the Ciampino Aerodrome.
    Literally.
    He was sitting in a folding lounger on the starboard wing of the Raposa and had his bare feet propped up in front of a little portable fan. Today he was wearing a vented black bowler, a green velvet waistcoat, pin-stripped trousers rolled up to the knees, and a crimson blouse. His leather harness and belt matched the bowler, which also matched the boots he’d doffed.
    Chuy had watched at least a dozen airships of all sizes arrive and depart. He’d fiddled with the engines. He’d restocked the usual payload, food, medical supplies, and ammunition. He’d packed additional equipment that might come in handy in Romania, like climbing gear, considering the mountainous terrain on the border between Wallachia and Transylvania. He’d also packed wooden stakes, silver bullets, glass vials of concentrated wolfsbane and garlic powder, a rosary, and a supply of holy water straight from the Vatican. One couldn’t be too cautious. Of course, he always packed them on almost any job. Rucker had his ideas about being prepared by bringing lots of guns. Chuy had his own ideas on what being prepared meant. Rucker thought mostly in terms of earthly foes. Chuy knew there was more on earth and in heaven to deal with.
    Chuy wanted to take off, but he was still awaiting a priority delivery from Austin. From the Prometheus Society, to be precise.
    When he turned his gaze back to the main terminal, he saw a porter pulling a dolly bearing a wooden crate that was about eight feet to a side. He was heading straight toward the Raposa . The crate was marked fragile and THIS END UP !
    â€œFinally,” Chuy said, packing up his folding chair and fan, then leaping to the tarmac.
    Loading the crate would be tricky. But tricky was exactly what the Raposa was. While the porter pulled the crate around to the tail, Chuy fired up the plane’s generator and pulled a switch in the rear cargo bay.
    The porter stared in awe as the entire upper tail assembly rose upward and folded on hinges and a ramp extended from the open tail to the tarmac.
    â€œLoad her up,” Chuy said with a wink.
    He didn’t know what was in the crate, but he knew it was important. He’d expected written instructions from Lysander. But there was nothing. Just the crate.
    Grabbing a crowbar, he went to work where it said OPEN HERE. When he yanked the side panel it opened like a drawbridge.
    He was more than a little surprised at the contents.
    Inside the crate, a man sat in a padded lounging chair, writing notes by means of a battery powered lantern. He wore a wrinkled purple linen suit and a fanciful dress shirt with green trim on the collar. Despite the comfortable spring temperature, he wore an overly long and colorful scarf and a floppy wide-brimmed hat. He was writing something down on what looked like an old napkin.
    â€œAhem?” Chuy said.
    â€œOne second,” the man responded, finishing his note.
    The man looked up, saw Chuy and smiled.
    â€œLysander Benjamin, as I live and breathe,” Chuy said. “Welcome to Rome!”
    â€œI told you I considered the cargo the most valuable thing you’d ever carried.”
    Chuy noticed that Lysander wasn’t the only thing in the crate. There was something under a tarp behind him.
    â€œSorry for the roundabout and the scuttle-doo,” Lysander said. “I