“But, Herr Naggel, I followed instructions. The O.C. ordered the three to return in the morning and that order was sent to you by Mickle,” Garret whined.
Stan made a note of the name Mickle. He had a hunch an orderly or a mechanic would be put on the spot once that name was traced to its owner.
“Now that the great blitzkrieg is set for an hour before daylight we cannot afford to take chances. You must do your part as planned.” Herr Naggel spread a map on the table. “Here we have the concentrations of planes in Belgium, in France and in Norway. One thousand planes will come over London. There will be no city left tomorrow night. We will walk out and join the refugees pouring out of London, and then make contact with the parachute troops and the men from the gliders.” He smiled wolfishly and licked his lips. “Those gliders are ready. You should see them. Three for each pilot plane and each will have its squad of men. At 20,000 feet the pilot plane will cut them loose and they will glide down upon England without a sound.” He laughed softly.
“They say there will always be an England. Bah. England is done.” He glared at Garret. “When the decoy bombers come over, you will lead your flight after them. Now that they have increased your squadron to twenty Spitfires, and the three American planes, they could do much damage. With early dawn light to fly by they might break up the whole plan.”
“I will take them on a chase that will lead them so far away they won’t get back. Send a big flight of Messerschmitts in after my squadron contacts the decoy bombers and have them start a dogfight. They never quit as long as there is anything left to fight. But you better send plenty of fighters.”
“That is planned,” Naggel said gruffly. “We cannot control the other flights that will go up, but yours is the key defense unit, the best they have, and it is most important in our plans.”
Stan bent forward and strained his eyes to see the markings on the map. He wanted to know where those three concentrations of invasion planes were. He was able to spot them because they were marked upon the map with red circles. He was pressing his face against the boards to see better when one foot slipped a little. His right boot scraped across the floor.
Naggel did not stop talking and none of the others seemed to have heard. One of the men beside Naggel lighted a cigarette and leaned back. The radioman turned a dial and began talking softly into the portable mike. Stan could not hear what he said.
Slowly Stan got to his feet. He had the information he wanted. The thing to do was to beat the Jerries to the punch. The Royal Air Force would blast every one of those air fields and get the enemy on the ground. But he had to get to headquarters at once, everything depended upon speed. Only a few hours remained for the job.
Stan slipped through the wrecked door and paused for a moment. As he started to move down the steps a dark shadow loomed behind him. Before he could leap aside a hard object crashed down upon his head. Red and white lights danced before his eyes and stabbing pains racked him. Then he slid slowly forward and fell on his face.