“You have had some success?”
“I don’t know,” Stan said innocently. “I’ll have to try it out on the ship.”
“Certainly,” Domber agreed. “Of course. When will you wish to try it out?”
“Tomorrow afternoon,” Stan said.
“If you worked tonight you could try it out in the morning?” Domber suggested with a leer.
“Yes, I guess so,” Stan said.
“Fine. I know you won’t mind working tonight.”
“Of course not,” Stan said and felt an itch to lay his fist against Herr Domber’s receding chin.
“You will honor me by having dinner with me tonight?”
“Certainly,” Stan said and laughed. He might as well live high while he could live.
As they went out to enter Domber’s car, Stan asked, “Why do you go to all of this fuss? I can’t understand you Germans. There was a lot of fuss in planning to let us escape. Now you are putting on a big show for me. You could get results without it.”
“We have much humor,” Domber said. “I have my own little jokes and enjoy them.” He smiled at Stan.
Stan thought about the R.A.F. flier who had been poisoned after he revealed what Domber wanted to know. He decided Herr Domber was a bit of a maniac as well as an enemy and a traitor to Holland.
After an excellent dinner Stan was taken back to the job. Herr Domber was in high spirits. Hans was waiting at the bench. Stan saw at once that the mechanic had been trying to fit the machinery together. With a grin he fished several parts out of his coverall pocket and set to work.
As he worked he began to plan. If he was to be poisoned, it likely would be done shortly before the tryout. He would have to watch closely. He would drink nothing and he would eat nothing. And he would keep two vitally important parts hidden until he had to put them into place. He also would be very careful no one bumped into him and jabbed him with a hypodermic needle. The last method of poisoning did not seem to fit in with the character of Herr Domber. His method would be cunning and crafty, and it would be done with a lot of showmanship.
Nobody but Herr Domber, Stan decided, would have thought up such a crazy method of saving a few days time, and of making away with a prisoner of war. If he was called to face charges after the war, he could claim Stan Wilson had turned traitor to his country and disclosed secrets before meeting an accidental death.
Stan looked at the machine on the bench. He was taking chances with valuable secrets, but if he escaped he would be able to stop a mass slaughter of British and American planes and men, perhaps even a gas attack upon England. He decided it was worth the risk.
“You work very slow,” Hans complained.
“You’re here to take orders,” Stan snapped.
Hans jumped and scowled at Stan. He was so used to being snapped at that he reacted without thought. Stan laughed.
“You jump like monkeys when they yell at you, don’t you?” he said.
“Pig,” Hans muttered under his breath.
Stan went to work again. At twelve o’clock he took off his coveralls and slipped several parts into his coat pocket.
“Tell the boss I’m ready to go to bed,” he said.
Hans made off and while he was gone Stan did a few things to the supercharger. Hans came back quickly.
“Herr Domber will call for you,” he said, then seated himself and lighted a cigarette.
Domber appeared a half-hour later, dressed in evening clothes. He was beaming.
“You have everything ready for a tryout in the morning?” he asked.
“Everything,” Stan assured him.
“I must have a look at the machine,” Domber said. He walked to the bench and spent a half-hour studying the supercharger. Finally he turned to Stan. “How much testing will be required to adjust it?”
“It can only be adjusted by running the motor,” Stan said and did not smile. “I should say the plane could be ready for flight by afternoon.”
“You will run it that long?”
“It may take even longer,” Stan said. “This is a delicate bit of machinery and I am not too familiar with it. I have only had a general course in its construction.”
“In that case we will have the tanks connected and filled with gasoline.” Domber smiled broadly.
“That will save time, and I understand that’s what you are interested in,” Stan said.
“Time, yes, we have to work fast.”
Stan grinned. He knew that Herman Goering’s Air Ministry was wild with fear and grasping at every straw of help they could get for their fighter planes. They had to have something that would stop the Fortresses and Liberators, or their cities would be destroyed, and they had to have it quick.
“Haven’t you ever thought that I might sabotage this job?” he asked.
“I think not,” Domber said. “I am a student of the human mind. When I have studied a man I know just about what he will do. I know you do not wish to be turned over to the Gestapo and given the treatment they use to get information.”
“No, I guess I’m not that much of a hero,” Stan said.
CHAPTER XII
ZERO HOUR
As Stan worked on the supercharger he went over his plans carefully. With everything about ready to make tests, he was beginning to wonder if the story Swen had told him was not just the wild fancy of a scared kid. He even thought of the possibility that Swen had been planted to get him off on the wrong track. There had been so many crazy things happening that he could not afford to overlook any angle.
He had three mechanics helping him, with Hans giving his orders to the two who spoke no English. As he worked he began to wonder if he had not been neatly tricked. He was sure that at least one of the men hanging around watching him was a Luftwaffe pilot. No one interfered with his work or tried to tell him what to do. He was having as free a hand as though he had been working in a shop of the Eighth Air Force. Some of the men scowled at him, but most of them just watched with interest and with something else. Stan guessed they were eagerly waiting for the trap to spring. Then they could have a big laugh on the dumb Yank.
The supercharger parts were about installed in the ship. Stan checked the gasoline supply. There was just enough to fly him out over the channel if he took off before he used too much. Once out over the channel he might be able to water-crash the P-51 near a British patrol or pick-up boat. The trouble was that the instant the engine began to work the trap would be sprung on him. He had to figure that one out fast.
Swen showed up and hung around watching along with the other mechanics. He grinned at Stan once and shook his head. Stan winked at him. Herr Domber showed up in a sports outfit. His white spats gleamed and his yellow tie shone. Domber was in a very genial mood.
“You are progressing?” he asked.
“I’m getting the thing together, but I don’t know whether it will work,” Stan said.
“We will have lunch at a cafe downtown today,” Herr Domber said without the flicker of an eye. “I have a special cafe in mind where the sea food is excellent and the wine very choice.”
“That will be fine,” Stan said and grinned as he hoisted himself up into the ship.
He lay inside the fuselage and looked at the supercharger. There was one valve which he had not fitted. He was afraid that if he fitted that valve into place the Mustang would purr like a cat. He was now convinced that the Germans had had all of their trouble with the air mixture and the pressure intake. His instructions on the new machine had been very detailed on these points. They were the secrets of the new supercharger.
Stan plugged the valve opening with a wad of cotton waste and tucked the valve into his pocket. Of one thing he was sure, the Mustang’s engine had to be hot if he expected to snap her out of that hangar. And in getting her hot he did not dare let her show signs of running smoothly. Climbing out of the fuselage, he called to Hans:
“We’ll turn her up.” He wiped sweat from his forehead. The air in the hangar was hot, kept that way to make
