Turning back he noted that several of the mechanics had moved in close. A quick glance showed bulges under their coveralls which looked a lot like army pistols or automatics. The water boy moved toward Stan. Looking past the boy Stan saw Swen. Swen began shaking his head as Stan looked at the water pail. Stan pretended not to see him, though Swen was squarely in front of him.
Reaching down he took the tin cup, filled it, and drank deeply. He had a second drink, then tossed the cup to the boy. As he did so, he shot a side glance at Herr Domber and almost burst out laughing. Domber’s face was red and his mouth was screwed into a snarl. Suddenly Stan felt sorry for Swen. He nodded to Hans as he climbed up.
Looking down he saw the mechanics with their bulging coveralls crowding in close. Several of them had ripped their suits open and had their hands inside. Stan eased back against the shock pad. The left brake was the one to kick down hard. He had shoved the chock out from under the right wheel. He had a momentary feeling that the builders of the Mustang should have extended the armor plate further forward. The men on the ground would have a clean shot at him. They were well forward now and watching him like cats at a rat hole.
Hans kicked the engine over to prime her. Stan got set and eased on the switch. She turned over slowly, fired twice, idled, then fired again. Sweat broke out over Stan’s forehead. Below him the faces of Domber and his men blurred. The engine kept on rumbling and sputtering. Stan relaxed as he pretended to be working on the gas adjustment.
He gave the valve a turn and the Allison smoothed considerably. Leaving it that way he looked down at Hans, a deep frown on his face. He shook his head and motioned to the mechanic. Hans did not know what he wanted, but he moved around to the side of the ship. Stan was sorry to have to use Hans as a shield but he knew, now, that a quarter turn more on the valve would set the Allison roaring. What he needed was a bit more heat on his temperature gauge, and he wanted to keep Hans in line.
Bending over he bellowed at Hans, making his words jumble together. Hans looked blank and shook his head. Stan scowled at him. Then he got a bright idea. He looked over at Domber and beckoned to him. Domber came over. He was shorter than Hans. Stan reached down and bellowed:
“Get up and I’ll show you how to adjust this type of supercharger!”
He even gave Herr Domber a hand up on the step. Domber leaned into the cockpit. Stan pointed to the valve. His fingers closed over it and began to turn it. Then his right arm shot out. His fingers gripped Domber’s yellow tie. The Dutch Quisling’s eyes bulged and he pulled back.
In that instant the Allison surged into full, smooth power. Stan kicked down on one brake and snapped her around. Like a falcon launching out from a limb, the Mustang shot toward the opening ahead. Stan held Domber over the edge of the open hatch until the ship was out in the sunshine, then he gave the little Quisling a shove.
Hoiking the tail of the Mustang, he hopped her suddenly. It was a trick he had depended upon to save him from the guns. As she shot upward he saw flame and fire rip the runway. The blast was so close to his belly that it sheared away most of the landing gear. Stan banked and dropped back down toward the roofs of the city. As he laid over he saw the withering fire on the runway lift. Amid the ripped up slabs of cement he saw a man lying sprawled on his face. He was half covered by a slab of concrete.