“I put an idea into the heads of those dumb fliers,” Munson said.
The grind of the Bendix gear in the starter blotted out the voice of Nick’s companion. The car engine started and the coupé began to move. Stan reached over and latched the lid. He pressed his ear to the steel sheet and waited.
The two men up ahead went on talking. They seemed to be in very good spirits, judging from the tone of their voices.
“It will take much more than putting an idea into their heads to get rid of that crowd.”
“I have plans,” Munson answered. “That was just a starter, something to set them thinking. And it would have knocked them over if it hadn’t been for a fellow from the Royal Air Corps. We’ll have to get him shot down or out of the way by some other means.”
“I could send two of my shadow men,” his companion suggested.
“You mean those dacoit fellows who use silk ropes and choke a man?” Munson asked.
“Indeed. They are as silent as shadows. There is never any struggle or blood. Your man simply vanishes.” The rasp-voiced man chuckled softly.
“We’ll plan it when we get back,” Munson said.
The two men lapsed into silence and Stan lifted the lid to try to see where they were going. He dropped it instantly. Two cars were directly behind the coupé, their headlights playing on the compartment. Stan wondered how he was going to get out of the car without being seen.