Charlie Steele and the Menace In the Mountains

- A Thrilling "Hollywood Knights" Adventure! -

By Nancy Berman with Noah Dudley

Chapter Five: Mayhem at Midnight

Charlie Steele strode into the war room at the Ravens' "secret base"—a Hughes Aviation testing field that had been cleared for their sole use. Norm and her "secret squadron" of new recruits were waiting for her.

"We're all set for tonight, boys," she said. "How's our 'fierce pirate band' shaping up?"

"Well, the planes are painted, and the zep is almost ready to go," Norm replied. "C'mon, lemme give you a tour."

Norm led Charlie to the 20,000-square-foot hangar behind the war room. What she saw took her breath away.

The refurbished pirate zeppelin hung serenely in place, looking like a sleek diamondback rattler with a realistically-mottled envelope. Her nose was graced with a pair of fangs—two wicked machine guns. Twin .70-caliber guns were mounted on top of the turret at her tail. The zeppelin's tail fins had been modified to enhance her reptilian appearance.

"Charlie, up here." Terry Potter (or "Devonshire" depending on the disguise expert's mood) called to her from the gondola. She scrambled up the metal stairs and into the plush six-seater cabin. Whoever had owned the zep before the pirates grabbed her had clearly spent a bundle outfitting her. "Nothin' but the best, eh?" Potter crowed.

The seats were covered in a glove-soft buff colored leather. The instrument panel gleamed as if every gauge and dial was new. There was even a small wet bar in the galley area.

Charlie smiled appreciatively at the Brit and asked, "Can she fly?"

Norm responded. "With a few more modifications here 'n there, we figure she can handle just about anything they throw at her. That lizard skin isn't just for camouflage; she can take a cannon shot if need be. And she can dish out punishment, which is more important. We added some additional firepower to the fore and aft weaponry, and we decided to go with magnesium rounds, just in case we need a little extra punch."

Jimbo Hale chimed in. "She ceilings at 10,000 feet, which should be plenty for what we need."

The squadron members were grinning, eager for a chance to take their prize into the heart of pirate territory, and into battle.

"This refurb must have cost us a pretty penny," she commented.

Norm put on what she called his "inscrutable" face and said, "Our patron was, as always, plenty generous." Charlie nodded. This wasn't even a dent in Mr. Hughes' wallet.

"You've all done a fantastic job," she said, picking up her coat and moving to the door. "I'm off to host our little party for the Knights. Don't be late, boys."

The celebration with the Marauders was just getting underway at the Hollywood Knights' airfield. Charlie had arranged a lavish spread, complete with imported caviar and the fine champagne, and everyone turned out in style. Her invitation had indicated casual dress and they had taken her at her word, although casual for this crowd looked more like formal wear for the average Joe.

Steve "Glamour Boy" Gardner put his arm around his hostess and raised a crystal champagne flute in a toast. "Here's to the toughest—and the prettiest—commander in the skies!"

She raised her glass in a return salute and sipped as the cheers and claps around her subsided into chit-chat and laughter.

She checked her watch anxiously. Five more minutes.

As the Marauders poured themselves fresh glasses of champagne, the alert klaxon sounded throughout the hangar.

"What gives, Charlie?" asked "Greasepaint" Jolson. "This is supposed to be a party."

"Not anymore, Irv," Charlie replied, her face and manner grave. "The party's over. Spotter stations have reported a big pirate zep on the way, with escorts. Time to go to work."

Champagne glasses were dropped and flight jackets zipped up over tuxedos and gowns. Well, Charlie thought. They can still hustle when they have to.

She started shouting commands. "Gardner: get the squad up there. We need a better idea of what we're dealing with. The spotters couldn't tell us what kind of birds the pirates are flying, so get me some facts, fast."

In minutes, the night was filled with the sound of revving engines, and the Hollywood Knights, Metro Marauders squadron, was airborne in a loose formation.

Charlie met Norm's gaze.

"Showtime, Norm."

"Damn it!" Charlie shouted over the radio from the cockpit of her customized Bloodhawk. "Knights, this is Knight Leader: I've got a problem!"

"What's the matter, Charlie?" Gardner's reply crackled through her radio headset.

Charlie felt a twinge of remorse at lying to her squadron-mate—her friend. He sounded like a hunting hound straining at the leash to join the rest of the pack.

"Some kind of magneto failure. My plane is dead." She paused for a moment, trying to put controlled frustration into her voice. "Steve, you're Lead now. I'll coordinate from here."

"Uh, roger that, Charlie." Gardner sounded nervous; he had never led a defensive action before.

Charlie slipped out of her "grounded" plane and ran to the radio shack. Norm had everything set up and slapped a pair of headphones into her hand as soon as she sat down.

"I'm heading up, Charlie. You gonna be okay down here?" he asked, concern evident on his lined and weathered face.

"Sure, Norm. I'll have the best pilot in the business as an extra pair of eyes." She tossed a tired smile at her mentor. "Get up there…and be careful."

Charlie positioned herself so that she could keep her powerful binoculars trained on the sky while managing the radio. This would be tricky, but she and Norm had practiced rapid radio frequency switching until her fingers had ached. If she was going to pull this off, she couldn't afford a fumble at the controls.

A quick survey of the situation showed the two squads—the Metro Marauders and the "Death Ravens," her secret confederates—about to do battle in the starlit midnight skies.

The attack on Champion Field a few days prior had conveniently left the Ravens a few Devastators richer, so re-creating a convincing "pirate" band hadn't been too difficult. The Death Ravens brought four escort planes to the fray, along with the refurbished zep. The Marauders were up in their regular aircraft: Steve "Glamour Boy" Gardner in his Bloodhawk, Irv "Greasepaint" Jolson and his wingman Brandy "Wine" Noonan in the Firebrands, and Carmen "Killer" Flores and wingman Karl "Wrong-way" Gruner in the Furies.

Charlie murmured as she flipped to the Knights' frequency.

"What do you see up there, Knight Leader?" she asked.

Gardner's voice came over the crackling line. "Looks like some tough stuff, Charlie. These bandits have Devastators, and they're loaded for bear. We're gonna have to take 'em out from a distance."

"Roger that, Leader. Keep our people together. The bad guys are gonna do everything they can to protect Big Mama." The Ravens wouldn't fire directly on the Marauders, Charlie knew, but that wasn't her problem; the problem was keeping the Knights from ripping into the Ravens and their zep.

She twirled the radio knobs until she reached Terry "Hamlet" Potter's frequency.

"Time to take the stage, Terry," she said. "Just tease them a little. I think I can keep them from taking any serious shots at you."

"That's comforting, Charlie," came Potter's dry reply, spotted with static and the drone of the zeppelin's engines.

"Hey, Hamlet—remember, its in a good cause!"

"But of course it is, my dear girl. Your check cleared. 'Raven Leader' out."

She turned her attention from the action overhead, grabbed the phone and placed a call to police headquarters. All by the book, she thought.

"This is Charlie Steele at the Metro Marauders' hangar. We're under pirate attack. It doesn't appear to be too serious, but you'd better send a couple of patrol cars in case we take prisoners," she said.

She hung up the phone without waiting for a response; the Hollywood police would respond in roughly fifteen minutes. Time enough, she hoped, to finish the mission and allow the Death Ravens to escape into the night. And, with any luck, the ubiquitous reporter who just happened to be filing a report at Police HQ would tag along.

She switched back to Gardner. "Knight Leader: what's the situation?"

"Don't worry, Charlie," responded the always-confident "Glamour Boy." "By the time we're done with this little tango, there won't be a pirate in the sky."

She answered quickly. "Negative, Steve! Do not, repeat, do not engage unless fired upon. We need to get our hands on a live pirate...and preferably that zep!"

She could almost see his look of frustration. "You're kidding, right?"

"I mean it! Let's wait a few more minutes." She realized that she couldn't push this too long before her squad got suspicious about her uncharacteristically passive attitude about the invaders.

"Affirmative," came the grudging reply.

She radioed Norm. "How're we doing, Norm? I can't hold Gardner back much longer."

"Hale is in position now, Charlie. Potter's scheduled to go...now."

Charlie adjusted the radio yet again, ignoring the tension and ache in her fingers. "Knight Leader: I'm getting an incoming message from our guests. Piping it through to you now..."

Potter's voice—layered with a thick Slavic accent—hissed from the speakers.

"—ttention Hollywood militia forces: pull back now, or ze Death Ravens vill begin bombing civilian targets. Zis is your only varning."

Charlie held her breath, hoping that Gardner would take the challenge seriously. She quickly dialed in Potter's frequency:

"Hamlet, let Jimbo start his run, and tell him to try not to hit me," Charlie called, before switching back to the Knights' channel.

"—on't even think about hitting a civilian target, pirate," Gardner growled—exactly as Charlie had expected. "Back off now before we pop that oversize balloon and you with it."

Perfect. Gardner was seconds away from disregarding his orders and attacking the pirates.

She flipped over to Hale: "Hit it, Jimbo!"

"Affirmative," Hale said, cool as ice.

His Devastator screamed out of the sky, leveling off and rocketing above the tarmac. His guns roared, strafing parked planes. He pulled up at the end of his run, releasing a bomb.

The bomb arced towards a collection of fuel tanks that Charlie had made sure were strategically positioned along Hale's projected line of approach.

The explosion was spectacular, as fuel drums burst and rocketed skyward on columns of flame.

"Nice work, Jimbo," Charlie said. "Watch your back, though; they're gonna come after you."

"I'm ready," he replied.

She quickly switched back to the Knights' frequency. "—lie! Charlie! Are you alright down there?" Gardner sounded like he was about to have a heart attack.

She coughed a little for effect. "Yeah, I'm fine. The fire doesn't look too bad, so just let him go for now and keep your eye on the zep."

"Forget it," Gardner snapped. "We've got enough guns up here to babysit the zep and nail that pirate's coffin shut."

Gardner immediately began issuing commands to the squadron. "All right, Knights: we're gonna show our new friends who really owns the skies of Hollywood. Jolson and Noonan, form on me! We're going after that bomber!"

Flores and Gruner held back to keep an eye on the zep and the Death Ravens' Devastators, while the Firebrands fell into formation behind Gardner.

Charlie could see that Hale was pretty far out of range at this point, but she knew that once Gardner started tracking his prey, it would be damn hard to talk him down.

Switching back to the Raven's frequency, she radioed: "Jimbo, be careful! Gardner's heading in your direction and he's out for blood. Watch it!"

"Roger, Charlie. I'll make sure none of that blood is mine."

Charlie switched frequencies again. "Gardner's moving in as planned, Norm. Are you ready?"

"Affirmative, Charlie. One 'wounded bird' ready to go."

"Be careful, Norm," she muttered. Here's where it all comes together...or goes down in flames.

Flores and Gruner circled the zeppelin and her "pirate escorts." Norm Houston's plane, a Fury, moved into position with them. "Thought y'all could use a hand," he drawled.

Without warning, the two Death Raven Devastators fell away from the zeppelin, moving south. "Norm, you keep an eye on the zep. We're goin' huntin'," Flores radioed.

"Flores, our orders are to stay on the zep," Norm replied.

"Negative, Norm. You can handle it, right?"

Charlie smiled. "Killer, you are just so predictable," she said to herself. She switched to Norm's private frequency and said: "Okay, Norm...here we go."

After a long chase, Steve Gardner finally caught up with the Devastator.

The rest of the squad was behind him, but now he could see the Death Raven dead ahead. The enemy pilot was good, but there was no way he was going to escape from a Bloodhawk piloted by "Glamour Boy" Gardner. No way. As the Devastator banked and rolled, Glamour Boy lined him up in his sights and began to squeeze the trigger.

Suddenly the cockpit was filled with Norm Houston's voice, yelling: "I've got two Devastators coming in fast! I need help back at the zep! Where the hell is everybody?"

Steve cursed as he swung away from his target. "We're on our way, Norm. Just sit tight."

Carmen chimed in, "Where the hell could they have come from? We were only gone for a minute—"

As the two groups of Hollywood Knights screamed back towards the zep's position, they searched the sky for any sign of the airship, her escort fighters or Norm's Fury.

Nothing.

They were gone.

"I've been hit! Mayday! Mayday!" Norm Houston's normally calm, laconic voice had been replaced by urgency and near-panic. With sinking hearts, the Knights watched Norm's plane trailing smoke and hurtling towards the earth. The plane slammed into the ground, sending smoke, fire and metal debris raining across the area. A moment later, the engine exploded in a brilliant ball of flame.

"Did he get clear? Where is he?" Gardner yelled.

In the darkness and the smoke, it was impossible to tell whether Norm had managed to get clear of the plane in time. In the stunned silence, Steve said, "Okay, folks. Show's over up here. Let's go home."

By the time the Marauders were on the ground, the police had arrived, lights flashing, and—as expected—a reporter was pressing Charlie for information.

"So what happened, Miss Steele?" The reporter was frantically scribbling in a small notebook, hanging on her every word.

Charlie wiped the back of her hand across her forehead. "I'm not sure. We were having a private party when the attack came. These 'Death Ravens' hit us very hard."

"Death Ravens, huh?" The reporter chewed his pencil thoughtfully. "Never heard of 'em, but they must have had some serious firepower to down a Hollywood Knight. Is Mr. Houston hurt?"

"Yeah, how is he, Charlie?" Brandy Noonan asked as she and the other members of the squadron—minus Norm—joined them, haggard, sweaty and dispirited.

"He's fine," said Charlie, and there was a collective sigh of relief from the team. "Norm bailed out in time. He's going to be all right."

Gardner ushered the reporter away, his normally carefree demeanor forgotten. He turned to Charlie, stricken. "I'm sorry, Charlie. We were lucky. We performed like amateurs out there.

"I'm going home," he concluded. "I'll be here tomorrow, Charlie, early. I think we've got a lot of work to do." The others murmured in agreement, and walked off, their heads hanging.

Charlie ached for them, but she knew in her heart that this was what they needed, and that they would be a much stronger unit after tonight. They needed the discipline and focus that loss brought—like Jimmy Vega's death had brought her. This way, at least, nobody actually died.

She headed off to her car, struggling to conceal her mounting elation. By morning, the papers would establish the Ravens as a pirate crew to be reckoned with and the Knights would be back on track.

"Next stop," she murmured, "Sky Haven."