“You are going to carry a submarine radio operator on an airship?” asked Blatz.
“Oh, no,” replied Bert quickly. He was about to explain that the Goliath and the Neptune were to meet at the North pole that summer but a warning glance from Andy silenced him, and he added, rather lamely.
“Harry and I were department of commerce operators and he’s down here helping me with the final assembly of the set for the Goliath.”
“Very fortunate. I’m sure,” said Blatz.
“You understand,” said Andy, “that there are certain construction secrets which I can not divulge?”
“Of course,” replied Blatz, “and I assure you that you need have no worry on that score.”
Andy suggested that they make a tour of the plant and Blatz readily assented for he was anxious to see the Goliath. He had received some idea of the size when he had flown over at sunset two days before and glimpsed the hangar. As they walked toward the huge structure, he wondered who had chased him in the red plane. He had been tired after the long flight across the Atlantic and had lost his way after striking the Atlantic coast. He had not intended coming as close to Bellevue but when he finally got his bearings he was less than a hundred miles away and he could not resist the temptation. But it had been a foolish move for a little red plane had darted out of the shadows below and pushed him hard before he had escaped into the coming night. Another hundred miles and he had slipped out of the cockpit of the Blenkko which had served him so faithfully in the long flight from Rubania, and had dropped through the night in his chute. He had clutched a suitcase with fresh clothes and his precious identification papers as Herman Blatz in his arms.
The landing had been easy and after washing the grime of the long flight off in a nearby creek, he had changed clothes; then burned his old clothes, the parachute and the suitcase. Into the fire had gone everything which would identify him as Lieut. Serge Larko of the Rubanian air force on special duty as an agent of the Gerka. Out of the timber and onto the highway had stepped Herman Blatz, who had hitch-hiked to the nearest town where he had rested for a day, bought a fresh wardrobe, and then continued by train and auto to Bellevue.
A suppressed excitement gripped his whole being He had done the seemingly impossible, flown the Atlantic and made his way into this carefully guarded dirigible plant, thanks to the clever subterfuge Reikoff must have used in getting permission for a civilian observer to visit Bellevue. He would get in touch with Boris Dubra, the mechanic who was a member of the Gerka, at the first opportunity.
They entered the hangar and Blatz stopped involuntarily. Andy had expected that reaction and it told him that the newcomer was a true airman for the majestic bulk of the Goliath usually struck those who were viewing it for the first time speechless.