“Sure, an’ did I hear someone say I didn’t set that Hawk down on a carrier?” O’Malley growled. His glare traveled from Farrell to Garrett and fastened there. Garret shrank back in his chair.
The pair moved into the room. Allison’s face was white and thin but his eyes were snapping. The Wing Commander frowned.
“This is an intrusion. Remember, gentlemen, you are junior officers.” Farrell fixed O’Malley with a cold glare as the Irishman pulled forward a chair for Allison.
“We felt it of great importance, sir,” Allison said as he sank into the chair. “I am sure you will agree when I explain.” He took a thick envelope from his pocket and laid it on the desk before the O.C. “These papers will be of interest to you, sir, I am sure.”
The Wing Commander opened the envelope and spread a sheaf of papers on his desk. He bent over them, reading deliberately.
After laying aside the last report he looked up. His eyes were on Garret.
“It seems, Lieutenant, that you have made a jackass out of yourself and out of me. These reports are from the American Federal Bureau of Investigation, and from the British Intelligence. Both departments give Lieutenant Wilson a clean slate. Both report he was, as he says, ‘framed.’” He turned to Stan.
“With these reports you could join the United States Army Air Corps any time you wished. After the treatment you have received here I feel it my duty to offer you a release so that you may do so.”
The sudden turn of affairs had Stan groggy; however, the realization that he was at last freed of the smear that had blackened his name started a surge of warmth and elation through him. He turned to Allison.
“You knew it all the time,” he accused.