“She’s a stinger. You’ll see something you never thought was in the bag. She’s tricky as a Navaho Indian.”
“Is that a Canadian tribe of wild men?” Allison drawled.
“Sure,” Stan came back. “Hudson’s Bay.”
Allison snorted.
“I’m with you,” O’Malley cut in. “Anything to get off this deadhead beat the muckle heads have us on. Mrs. O’Malley’s boy came down to London to see some action.”
“Good. I’ll get in touch with the O.C. at once.” Stan got to his feet.
“Really, old chap, you’re not going to rush off without my final answer. I’m in on this if I have to fly a kite,” Allison said with a wide smile.
Stan put on a cold expression. Allison hadn’t fooled him. He had known the lank Britisher would come in. Allison had that look in his eye he always got when something was up.
“Thanks, Allison.”
“You should thank me. I’m giving up a flight lieutenant’s job.”