“Where have you been all this time?” Allison’s drawl was cool and unruffled. “Get up here. Tom’s been hit and is down. I need help.”
Stan made his way forward. Tom Koo was slumped over with his head rolling forward and his neck twisted around. Stan got hold of him and dragged him back, then slid into his seat. Allison glanced across at him.
“I dropped off to sleep,” Stan said grimly.
“Nice time for a nap, sorry we had to wake you up,” Allison answered.
“Got another yellow rat!” The voice of O’Malley roared in over the phone. “’Tis a Spitfire I’d like to be flyin’ this minnit!”
“I just sawed off a wing! Nice hunting,” came the voice of Nick Munson.
Stan scowled and looked into the rear mirror. He saw a fighter swirling and tumbling, black smoke pouring out of its cowling. He could not be sure it was not the Jap O’Malley had potted. Still, it was back on the tail where Nick could have hit it.
The Hudson knifed into the clouds just as four Kariganes roared down for the kill. Allison leaned back and relaxed.
“They do a very nice job,” he said. “Slow but fast on the turn.”
“They come right in,” Stan admitted. “I’d better have a look at Tom and see if I can fix him up. We’re safe now.”