"Yes, Commandos!" he barked at the Field Marshal. "With a job to do, one way or the other. Which way is up to you. Dave! There're two of these beggars we don't need. This Captain and the young pilot Lieutenant. Take care of them, will you, while I keep an eye on the others?"
Freddy didn't look at Dave as he quietly spoke the words in English. But he didn't have to. Dave knew exactly what was needed of him. And whether it made sense didn't matter. It was still Freddy Farmer's party, and he had gone through too many war experiences with his English pal to bother asking questions until afterward. And so, careful not to get into Freddy's line of fire, he quickly circled about the room to the German Captain. The Nazi's eyes were glazed with terror, and then they were closing shut as he folded silently to the floor. Dave's swift, neat clip behind the ear with the barrel of his gun would have brought words of praise from any Commando. But Dave wasn't expecting praise, or even thinking about it. He took another step and repeated the little maneuver on the Luftwaffe Lieutenant. As he pulled wire and gags from his pocket, and started to bend down, Freddy stopped him.
"We might need that chap's tunic, Dave. Strip it off, first."
Dave did that little thing. And then, in less time than it takes to tell about it, he bound and gagged both unconscious Germans, and rolled them over against the wall.
"Who's next, Doctor?" he asked, straightening up and grinning at Freddy. "What next?"
The English youth didn't answer. His gaze was riveted on the two German high rankers, and the youthful Luftwaffe Captain. The latter seemed on the point of dropping into a dead faint. Freddy Farmer's little Commando knife trick had obviously drained every drop of courage from his body. It was not so, however, with von Staube and von Gault. True, they were not moving a single muscle, and there was a marked trace of fear in their eyes. Just the same they were trained and seasoned soldiers. They were not completely cowards in the face of death. As Dave snapped a glance their way, his heart turned over, and his mouth went a bit bone dry. The two high rankers seemed to be silently gauging their chances. They seemed to be deciding just what move to make first. Dave gripped his gun tighter, and beat back the revolting thoughts that tried to crowd into his brain. If it was to be cold-blooded murder, then so be it. He and Freddy were Commandos now. And Commandos give no quarter, and ask none. The job is the thing. The method of performing it is secondary!
"You will not leave here alive! You realize that, don't you, you swine Commandos?"
It was von Staube who spoke, but Dave instantly noticed that the Nazi high ranker was careful not to speak in his natural booming voice. He wanted to be brave, but he wanted less—to die.
"Of course we realize it!" Freddy Farmer told him quietly. "We realized that before we even started across tonight. But let me point out something, Herr Field Marshal, and Herr Luftwaffe Marshal. You are both seasoned soldiers, so you will understand about men obeying orders. We were ordered to capture you two, and deliver you to our commanding officer who waits not half a mile from this spot. We were ordered to capture and deliver you, or—or to deliver evidence that you would no longer be of any use to your Fuehrer!"
Silence settled over the room as Freddy finished. The muscles of each German's face twitched, but Dave was quick to see that they weren't quite completely impressed. He saw a part he could play, and he was quick to take advantage of it while the two Nazi Marshals were on the uneasy seat. He stepped forward quickly, and whipped down with his Commando knife. It twanged into the desk top between the third and fourth fingers of von Gault's left hand that happened to be resting motionless on the desk. The Luftwaffe Marshal gasped, but swallowed the cry of fright as Dave's gun came within ten inches of his thin, hawkish nose.