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Updated: June 26, 2025


"Run along with Herman," Domber said. "I'll be having a brandy in the library." He turned away at once. Stan followed Herman up a wide stairway and into a large room. It was furnished in a luxurious manner. Herman bowed at the door. "You will wish me to draw hot water for a bath?" he asked. "Thank you, Herman, I will take a hot bath. See that there's plenty of soap." Stan grinned.

He grinned at Stan once and shook his head. Stan winked at him. Herr Domber showed up in a sports outfit. His white spats gleamed and his yellow tie shone. Domber was in a very genial mood. "You are progressing?" he asked. "I'm getting the thing together, but I don't know whether it will work," Stan said.

He knew that Herman Goering's Air Ministry was wild with fear and grasping at every straw of help they could get for their fighter planes. They had to have something that would stop the Fortresses and Liberators, or their cities would be destroyed, and they had to have it quick. "Haven't you ever thought that I might sabotage this job?" he asked. "I think not," Domber said.

"Just tell them everything I tell you when they question you tonight." "They will kill you," Swen said in a low voice. "Herr Domber poisoned the other one. He will do the same to you." "Tell me about it quickly. They won't be leaving us alone without a spotter very long," Stan said. "I do not know how it was done. I heard the Gestapo men laughing about it.

"Sorry to disturb your rest, Lieutenant Wilson." The man bowed stiffly. "I am Domber." He said it as though Stan ought to know him once he had mentioned his name. Stan nodded and remained seated on his cot. Domber rubbed his hands together and smiled. "You will go with me," he said. "We will have a nice long talk." Stan got to his feet. Domber stepped to the door.

"Don't get your hopes too high, I'm no expert," Stan said. "When one is sure to be turned over to Colonel Glotz as a spy, one is apt to be quite successful as a mechanic, what?" Domber beamed. "If I don't make good on this I'm to be shot?" Stan looked Domber squarely in the eye. "I'm afraid so. It would be very painful to me, I can assure you. I do not like to see men shot.

The common people of Germany might be eating poorly and tightening their belts, but Herr Domber's table gave no hint of lack of supplies. There was real coffee, strong and black, fruit, fish, fresh vegetables and a roast squab for each diner. Stan put aside all unpleasant thoughts and ate heartily. While they ate, Herr Domber kept up a steady conversation. He talked about fighter planes.

"Can't blame me for thinking about it, can you?" Stan asked. They walked over to the fighter. She had been patched up and looked airworthy enough. "Mind if I go up?" Stan asked. A dozen men working in the shop stood watching. "No, go ahead," Domber said. Stan climbed up and into the cockpit.

That accounted for the hated looks the people on the street had given Domber as he passed. He was a Dutch Quisling, a traitor to his own country. Domber seemed to read Stan's thoughts. "I always have been credited with having brains enough to take care of my business and my own comforts," he said dryly. Then he smiled. "But sit down. We will see what we have for luncheon."

Bending over he bellowed at Hans, making his words jumble together. Hans looked blank and shook his head. Stan scowled at him. Then he got a bright idea. He looked over at Domber and beckoned to him. Domber came over. He was shorter than Hans. Stan reached down and bellowed: "Get up and I'll show you how to adjust this type of supercharger!" He even gave Herr Domber a hand up on the step.

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