Suddenly, though, as if a completely different person had sat down in Field Marshal von Staube's chair, the red rage faded from the German's face. He picked up the scattered papers and gave them another look. He scowled, tugged at his lower lip, and ma.s.saged his fat chin a little.

Then he raised his eyes to von Gault's face.

"Perhaps it will not alter things much," he said. "Von Alder is not one to depend on, anyway. We will use the Sixth, Tenth, and Fourteenth, instead. All seasoned troops. They will probably do the job much better, anyway. But that von Alder. That one! How he will hear of this!"

The German Field Marshal checked himself as though suddenly realizing that Dave and Freddy were still standing there. He turned and gave them a curt nod.

"Return to your regiment!" he growled.

Dave started to salute and turn to leave, suddenly thankful of the chance to get out of there, and fast. But he didn't go all the way around. First he saw Freddy Farmer still standing at stiff attention.

And next he saw the n.a.z.i Captain's black eyes fixed steadfastly and questioningly on the English youth. It was then Dave remembered Freddy's crazy remark to the Captain. His heart stood still, and he impulsively moved his hand a little so that he could get at his pocketed gun that much quicker. Was this the show-down? Was Freddy going to make this the show-down? Would both of them have to blaze away in cold murder--n.a.z.i style?

It seemed to Dave that he lived a thousand years standing there half turned to go out the door. Then von Staube's booming voice exploded through the silence.

"Didn't you hear my orders?" he thundered at the motionless Freddy.

"Return to your regiment!"

"Your pardon, _Herr_ Field Marshal," the English youth spoke up bold as bra.s.s, while ice formed about Dave's heart. "I have a report of my own.

It has nothing to do with this other thing. May I ask, _Herr_ Field Marshal, if your _pilots_ have reported to you?"

Stunned silence spread over the room like a thick heavy blanket. Both von Staube and von Gault stiffened. So did the black-eyed Captain. As a matter of fact, so did Dave Dawson. And he was suddenly filled with the wild desire to catch up Freddy, and sling him over his shoulder, and make a dash for it. Freddy had gone nuts! Maybe a blow on the head when he had taken care of that n.a.z.i soldier back by the sh.e.l.led church. But Freddy was definitely off his trolley! What in the world did he think he was saying?

"My pilots reported to us?" Field Marshal von Staube echoed. "Of course.

Why? Why do you want to know?"

For a second or so Freddy just looked at the German, then switched his gaze to von Gault.

"You know them all personally, _Herr_ Luftwaffe Marshal?" he shot out the question. "You selected them, perhaps?"

The Luftwaffe Marshal looked angry, baffled, and just a little scared.

He wet his lips a couple of times before he spoke. And when he did his voice was high and strained, as though it were an effort to get the words out.

"_Herr_ Captain Kohle and _Leutnant_ von Stebbins have been the two stationed here for weeks," he replied. "Of course I know them! Of course I appointed them as Headquarters pilots. What is the meaning of this?"

"A precaution," Freddy answered quietly. "_Der Fuehrer's_ orders, at _Herr_ Himmler's request. It is the Gestapo's eternal job to safeguard the lives of Germans valuable to the Third Reich!"

"_Gestapo?_" Field Marshal von Staube practically blew up with wrath.

"_This_ is a war zone. This is _Army_ Headquarters. It is for the cursed Gestapo to--!"

The German stumbled to a stop, and just sat glaring at Freddy Farmer, and drumming his fingertips on the desk. For a split second Dave almost wanted to laugh out loud. If all this wasn't so deadly serious, it would be funny. The German Army Staff and Himmler's Gestapo were like two tomcats on a back yard fence. They hated each other, but each knew that the other was very necessary to the German Reich. But of the two it was the German Army Staff who feared the most. Himmler had the inside track with Hitler. He had the _Fuehrer's_ ear. And more than one German Staff head had gone rolling into the basket because that high ranker had tried to freeze out _Herr_ Himmler. No, the German Army Staff didn't like the Gestapo one bit, but there was little they could do about it, yet. Just as long as _Herr_ Himmler held Adolf Hitler's trust and confidence, it was well for the generals to watch their step!

And so Field Marshal von Staube choked off what he would like to have said, and just glowered and glared at Freddy.

"So, Gestapo, eh?" he suddenly blurted out with a sneer he couldn't hold back. "I suppose you suspect that spies are members of my Staff, eh?"

But Freddy didn't walk into the trap. He knew perfectly well that a Gestapo member as young as he looked wouldn't know _too_ much.

"_I_ suspect no one, _Herr_ Field Marshal," he said with stiff respectfulness. "I have only been given my orders to carry out. If you wish to complain to _Herr_ Himmler? There is the phone. He is in his Berlin Headquarters now."

Dave held his breath. Was Freddy begging for death? He must be mad. He _was_ mad! What in thunderation was he trying to pull off? What did Freddy think all this insane business was going to get them? Dave didn't have the ghost of an idea. But whatever it was, it was all Freddy's party now. Dave didn't dare speak a word, or do anything. But when he glanced at his pal and saw the typical cold haughtiness of the Gestapo that seemed to surround the English youth, a wild thrill raced through him. Perhaps--just perhaps--Freddy wasn't out of his mind. Maybe he did have something by the tail.

At any rate, the bluff worked. Field Marshal von Staube made no move to reach for one of the many phones. And Dave felt a little as though he had been reborn. No, not reborn. More like a condemned man who has received a stay of execution.

"I will make my complaints at the right time, and in the right places!"

the German Field Marshal suddenly boomed. "Well? What _is_ your mission here, anyway? What about _Herr_ Luftwaffe Marshal von Gault's pilots?

What about them?"

Freddy Farmer made as though to reach into his upper left tunic pocket, but seemed to change his mind.

"Perhaps nothing, _Herr_ Field Marshal," he said evenly. "However, there are one or two questions I should like to ask _Herr_ Captain Kohle and _Herr Leutnant_ von Stebbins. In your presence, of course, sir. And yours, too, _Herr_ Luftwaffe Marshal von Gault. This much I can say. If they speak the truth, their answers to my questions may be very interesting, and enlightening."

Von Staube scowled still more deeply, drummed his fingers on the desk some more, and then looked across at von Gault. He seemed to see something in the other's eyes, though von Gault didn't nod or shake his head.

"_Herr_ Captain!" von Staube suddenly roared at the black-eyed officer.

"Go find the two officers mentioned, and bring them here at once. Just that, mind you! Bring them here, and keep your mouth shut!"

"At once, _Herr_ Field Marshal!" the Captain gasped, and went out the door as though he had been kicked.

CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

_Steel Nerves_

When the German Captain slammed shut the door behind him, and there were sounds of his footsteps along the hall outside, Dave slowly let locked air from his lungs and stole another glance at Freddy Farmer. The English-born air ace still stood at rigid attention, but there was not even a flicker of fear in his face. His expression was one of perfect coolness and calmness. It was as though he went through this sort of thing every day in the week, and doing it again were just a wee bit boring.

The two German high rankers stared at Freddy in sullen anger. But it was plain to see that neither of them had the desire to exert their supreme authority at the moment. In fact, it was a perfect picture of the n.a.z.i system. The Army Staff vs the Gestapo. And the Gestapo was holding the whip hand because of events which had taken place in the past. Perhaps some day, when the Army Staff was sitting in the saddle, and was Adolf Hitler's favorite for the moment, Gestapo heads would drop like apples shaken from the tree. Right now, though, the Gestapo was the so-called power behind the throne. And so von Staube and von Gault were feeling their way--cautiously.

However, nuts to the German Army Staff! And likewise, nuts to the Gestapo! What was Freddy Farmer's game? What crazy insane goal did he think he was shooting at, anyway? Darn him for not giving out a single hint, or a tip-off. The least Freddy could do would be to shoot him a quick look that would tell him a little something. But, no! Freddy was acting as though he didn't know that Dave existed.

Worry and anger boiled around in the Yank-born air ace. Past friendship and experience told him, or at least tried to tell him, that Freddy hadn't suddenly blown his top; that he wasn't crazy, and knew exactly what he was doing. But if Dave only had some idea, then he would know how to play his part. But this waiting, this nerve-tingling silence!

Dave wondered a little if he weren't going crazy himself. He swallowed and pressed his wrist comfortingly against the small gun in his pocket.

And he pressed the upper half of his other arm against the hardness of his sheathed Commando knife hanging from his shoulder under his German tunic. If worse came to worse, he--

At that moment Freddy Farmer suddenly had a fit of coughing. He bent over a little and put one hand to his mouth. The two Germans looked at him in a sort of cold delight. But Dave didn't notice their looks. His gaze was fixed on Freddy. And suddenly his heart gave a great leap, and tingling warmth shot through him. Freddy had turned his head slightly, and for the fraction of a second their eyes met. But it was long enough for Dave to catch the quick half wink; to see the second and third fingers of Freddy's other hand quickly cross and uncross.

True, it told Dave nothing of his pal's game. But that didn't matter too much, now. At least he knew for sure that Freddy was playing a wild game, and that he was not completely crazy. There was method in his apparent madness, and he had signalled to Dave to be ready for anything, and to pray hard for a bit of luck.

Freddy had gained control of his coughing when the door opened and the Captain came in with the two Luftwaffe pilots. They were both young, and not bad-looking--for Germans. They clicked their heels and practically jerked themselves apart saluting von Staube and von Gault.

The n.a.z.i Field Marshal simply answered with a grunt, and then fixed his angry eyes on Freddy's face.

"Captain Kohle, and Lieutenant von Stebbins," he said in a voice that was mostly a snarl. "Ask them your questions, but be quick about it. We _soldiers_ have still a battle to fight!"

Freddy nodded stiffly, then backed up a few steps to a point where he could get a better look at the two new arrivals. As a matter of fact, he backed up to a point where he commanded an un.o.bstructed view of the entire room. And _also_ a point that put him not two feet from Dave's side.

"Ready, Dave! Gun and knife!"