Her pinched face appeared over the edge, and she let him half-drag, half-swing her over. She landed hard on her knees, and barely managed to claw herself to her feet, using the fuselage on one side and his hand on the other.

Keeping the Jenny between them and Zlo’s men, he backed toward the engine room door in the far corner. “We’ll shut the dawsedometer off. It’s just around the corner. It’ll be all right.”

She managed a nod and staggered after him.

Except it wasn’t all right.

The door to the engine room swung open, and half a dozen men burst out, all of them packing Webley revolvers. One look at the plane in their cargo bay and their eyes got big and their mouths fell open.

Hitch faced them and fired another shot.

The bullet caught one of the men in the side, and he spun around in a spray of blood. The others started shooting back. Fortunately, none of them were very good at it. Bullets splatted and zinged against the ceiling and the walls. A rope holding a wooden crate near the ceiling snapped and spilled its load of potatoes all over the floor.

Jael tugged his hand, pulling him in the opposite direction. “This way!”

They ran to the back of the plane. Lashed by wind from the gaping bay doors, he vaulted over the fuselage behind the rear cockpit. He popped a warning shot at the thugs in the corner, then reached back to haul Jael after him.

She landed in a heap on the floor but started crawling even before he pulled her back to her feet.

She crashed into a door in the wall, fumbled with the latch a second, then shoved it open. “Hurry!”

The men rushed across the room, all of them shouting.

Hitch backed through the doorway and blasted off his last shot. Then he grabbed for the edge of the door and hurled it shut. “Please tell me this thing’s got a lock?”

She struggled to lift a wooden crossbar. “Here!”

Footsteps pounded outside the door. The men roared garbled words. Several shots smacked into the heavy wood, then the doorknob started to turn.

Hitch grabbed the crossbar and slammed it into place. The door opened just enough to bang into the bar before his own momentum knocked it shut again.

Panting, he surveyed the crossbar, then turned back to Jael. “Now where?”

She headed down the corridor, pulling herself along with one hand on the wall. Lamps, fixed at intervals in brackets near the ceiling, offered a dim, flickering light. The place smelled of ozone, mixed with dust and grease and some kind of spicy incense.

He jogged after her, reloading out of his pocket as he went. “You all right?”

“I will be.” The way she gasped her words didn’t offer much conviction. “As soon as we turn off dawsedometer.”

Which, at the moment, they were running away from.

He clenched his teeth. “Right.”

Halfway down the corridor, she reeled to a stop and raised her head.

He clicked the revolver’s cylinder back into place and looked around. “What?”

“I hear…” She drew in a sharp breath. “They’re coming. Through other door!” She pointed to the far end of the corridor.

“Oh, great.” They would be like tin ducks in a shooting gallery. He looked around. “Get behind me.” He’d have to get on his knees, try to pick off Zlo’s men as they came through the door. At least there’d be a bottleneck.

She caught his hand and pulled him forward. “No, wait! We can get out here!” She slid her hand against the wall, and suddenly there was no wall. Just that same howling darkness. “It is observatory deck!” She ducked outside.

He followed before he had time to think about it. They banged the door shut, just as the other door burst open.

Darkness engulfed his vision. Icy wind shrilled all around him. He leaned back and bumped into a waist-high iron railing. “Now what?”

Her teeth chattered. “Wa-a-a-it?”

“Yeah, until they realize where we are—and then we’re really stuck.” He looked around. “I don’t suppose there’s any other way out of here?”

Through the storm, something whispered.

He cocked his head and concentrated. There it was again. “Do you hear that? It sounds like…”

Her hand slapped out through the darkness and caught his sleeve. “Dog! It is dog!”

“What?”

“Maybe it is Taos!” She jerked his arm. “Look!”

He looked up.

About ten feet overhead, a light shone against the darkness.

Their guiding star. It had to be.

The light blinked out for a second, and then something hit him in the face. He slammed back into the railing once more. The thing hit him again, soft and tickly and snake-like.

He reached for it. “A rope.”

“It is Walter!”

He jerked another look up.

The silhouette of a small, dark head gleamed against the backdrop of the light. Then a dog’s head appeared beside it—a dog with one floppy ear.

A wave of dizziness washed over him. “Walter. Are you hurt?”

The boy shook his head.

In the corridor, footsteps stomped.

Wouldn’t take more than a minute for those mugs to check this door.

“Okay.” He tried to make his brain work again. He tied the rope around Jael’s waist. “I’ll climb up, then pull you up after me.”

“Yes,” she said.

“Please tell me you think you can hang on.”

She didn’t respond.

“Where’s your scarf?” He found it in her pocket and looped it under her arms, then used it to tie the rope snugly against her chest. “That’ll help, but you’ve got to hang on, you hear me?”

“I am hearing you.”

“Good.”

He took hold of the rope, climbed atop the railing, and started over-handing himself up the thing. The wind tore at him, and his numb fingers burned like match-struck gasoline all the way up.

He’d tell himself not to look down, but there was nothing to see down there anyway. It was not thinking about what was down there that was the trick. His dislike of heights swarmed him, rolling his stomach over and over. Funny that it would bother him out here, but not in a plane. Pretend he was in a plane, that’s all he had to do. He gritted his teeth. Easy as pie.

Finally, he reached the light, framed in a porthole. Walter caught his elbow and helped him over the top. The room was tiny, a storage closet from the looks of the tarp-covered boxes and bits of machinery stacked all around. A lantern sat near the windowsill.

Somehow he couldn’t quite make himself look at the boy. Like if he looked too hard, it’d all turn out to be a dream.

“We’ve got to pull Jael up,” he managed.

Together, they hauled her up and over.

She landed on the floor with a thump and lay there for a second, gasping.

Then she looked up at Walter, and a grin broke through the pain on her face. “Walter.” She pried her fingers from the rope and, still lying on her side, held out an arm for him. “You are in safety. I am so happy you are in safety.”

Walter dropped to his knees and folded himself into her arm. With both hands, he helped her sit up, and the two of them clung to each other for a second. He snuck a look, out of the corner of his eye, at Hitch.

Hitch stood back. His hands seemed to be entirely in the way. They didn’t want to hang at his sides, fit in his pockets, or wedge under his elbows. His jaw cramped, and his tongue stuck to the roof of his mouth.

He needed to say something. Anything. Tell the boy he’d never been gladder to see anyone in his entire life. Tell him he was sorry. Tell him he was never going to let him out of his sight again.