Taylor removed a revolver from the prisoner's clothing and tossed it to Masters.
"It's Norden, all right," Masters said, scrutinizing the captive. "I'd know that jaw in a million. What are you doing here, fellah?"
"I'm blowing the factory to hell!" Norden said between his teeth. "You can't stop me. Everything's fixed. In a minute a bomb'll go off. You, I, everyone will be smashed to atoms. And I'm glad. For the fatherland."
"We know why you're doing it," Taylor said. "Come on, Masters. Get your short-wave working. Notify the factory office. Where's the bomb, Norden? Come on, speak up, or I'll pull you to pieces!"
Norden said nothing. Masters was calling the office. He turned to the captain:
"I can't raise anyone."
"We'll go to the gate." Taylor prodded the prisoner ahead on the run.
"You can't make it in time," Norden panted.
"We'll die trying!"
A floodlight turned the area in front of the gate into a patch of daylight. An armed sentry challenged from a small building. The captain answered.