“You must have been mistaken,” insisted Vendra. “Your papers are in perfect order.”
“I was not mistaken,” said Blatz, clearly and decisively. “Every precaution must be taken or I will find myself in an American military prison.”
“I agree that you must be careful,” admitted Vendra, “but His Excellency is most anxious that the Goliath be destroyed at once. In his latest communication he especially stressed this point. This air monster must never become the king of the skies!”
The words came to Blatz through a mist of memories. He could see the silver sides of the Goliath as the great ship lay in its hangar, hear the tap of hammers and cries of the workmen as they rushed it to completion, see the pride and joy in Andy’s eyes as the young engineer looked at the great skycraft he had helped to create. And his job was to destroy all this. The airman in him rebelled and Vendra, sensing the emotional conflict, moved closer.
“Remember,” he warned. “You are a Rubanian, a member of the Gerka, who is pledged to duty even unto death!”
Blatz nodded dismally. There was no getting away from the facts. He would have to destroy the Goliath.
“You may inform His Excellency,” he said, “that I will do my best.”
He was about to leave when a buzzer rang sharply. Vendra seized the telephone and a look of alarm came over his face.
“There’s trouble down at the entrance,” he said. “The watchman just found a man prowling around. He knocked him out and is bringing him up here.”
Andy’s pursuit of the German observer had not been successful for his driver had finally lost the cab in the maze of quick turns Blatz’s driver had made after being ordered to shake off pursuit.