Stan and Allison exchanged quick glances. Both managed to hide their surprise at this news. Stan faced the officer. He had no idea what had happened to O’Malley. What he wanted to find out was the fate awaiting Allison and himself.
“You plan to intern us?” he asked.
“We do not intern mercenary fliers who hire out to the enemy.” The Jap smiled sarcastically. “We are not so soft and so foolish. We shoot them. That is the better way.”
Allison’s lips pulled into a sardonic smile. “So nice of you,” he said softly.
“You will march over to the woods,” the officer ordered. “Before we dispose of you, we have some questions to ask you.”
“Glad to oblige with any information you want,” Allison replied, hoping to stall for time.
With bayonets at their backs, they walked to a shady spot under a vine-choked tree.
“You may sit, please,” the officer said.
Stan and Allison sat down and waited for the questions. The former planted himself with his back against a tree. That took the threat of a bayonet thrust in the back out of the picture. Allison did the same.
“How many pilots do you have in your mercenary group?” the officer demanded. He had a pad and pencil in hand, ready to jot down their answers.