"You will come with me," he said in halting English. "Please remember I have this Luger here at my belt. It may help you to remember that if I tell you I am one of the best shots in the German army. You understand?"
"A man would be a fool to go out there," Freddy said quietly, and pointed toward the desert.
"A first class screw-ball," Dave, grunted, and watched the German colonel cram things into the brief case.
The senior officer heard him and looked up sharply.
"So you are not English, eh?" he asked with a frown. "You are an American."
Dave didn't say anything. He simply returned the man's stare.
"An American?" the colonel repeated as though he were rolling the word around in his brain and observing it from all angles. "So you left your country and came over here to fight for the British? That is interesting. That is very interesting, indeed!"
A sly smile that curled the German's lips, and a sudden odd gleam that showed in his half closed eyes, made Dave's heart grow chilly and cold, and caused the back of his neck to tingle with that all too familiar warning sensation. He shrugged it off after a moment and obeyed the major's order to fall into step with Freddy and be marched away.