The plane was coming up now. “Report to Tojo, will you?” she hissed. “Perhaps you’ll report to that other big man who was killed in an airplane months ago.”
Her finger was crooked around the trigger, her gun aimed. She might have to change the aim a bit,—not much though. These little brown men had one-track minds. She had seen the course he took before. “He won’t change,” she told herself.
Gale was right. He did not change, but she did. A sudden dizziness took possession of her. Was it the fumes she had been breathing, or the knock on her head when she fell? The reason did not matter. All that mattered now was that everything went dim before her eyes.
Like Samson, she prayed,—“God, give me my sight.”
As if by a miracle, her sight was restored.
And now, here was the plane. It was close, very close. Three seconds now.
“One, two, three,” she counted. Then her gun spoke in a long, rasping chatter. She didn’t want to look but she had to. Perhaps she had missed. Perhaps he did carry a bomb.
She saw the look of pained surprise on the pilot’s face. His engine was half shot away. She changed her aim a little and fired another volley. After that she did not look. It wasn’t necessary. Half a minute later the sound of an explosion came up from below.
“Yes,” she whispered, “He did have another bomb.”
She stood up. She was trembling like a leaf.