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"Snow an.

slush, and ever-increasing numbers of the Boches. But I daresay you've al read considered that, haven't you?"

Without waiting for a reply, he entered into a conversation with the Yi goslavian captain.

Finally, he turned to Canidy.

"Todor suggests we put you ashore at Ploce," he said.

"He has a first cousi twice removed there. Or did he say a 'second cousin, once removed'? He aSa asked that I express his practically boundless admiration for your wristwatch, Canidy looked at the Yugoslavian captain, who was smiling warmly at tuff exposing two gold and two missing teeth, i Then he unstrapped his chronometer and handed it to him.

The Yugoslavian said something, and Saint Peter translated, j "He says, "Oh, I couldn't."" "Tell him I insist," Canidy said I The Yugoslav unstrapped his cheap watch and handed it to Canidy.

"He says," Saint Peter said, "that if you insist..." } Canidy chuckled. I "It's sixty miles, or thereabouts, to Ploce," Saint Peter said.

"If we're N stopped, it should take us four, perhaps four and a half hours." | "And if we're stopped?" 1 "Then none of us will get to visit Piece's many historical and cultural 9 tractions," Saint Peter said. 'i

lONE]

First Lieutenant Hank Darmstadter was riding in the copilot's seat working the radios when Commander John Dolan suddenly reached over and grasped his upper arm in a very tight grip.

Startled, Darmstadter looked at him. Dolan's face was white and beaded with sweat. He seemed to be in pain.

"Indigestion," Dolan said with a terrible effort.

"There's a bottle of medicine in my briefcase. Get it, will you?"

The first thing Darmstadter remembered, as he hastily unfastened his seat and shoulder harness, was that Dolan had been medically retired from the Navy before the war because of a heart condition.

Jesus, he's having a heart attack' Dolan's black leather Navy-issue briefcase was on a shelf in the passageway between the cockpit and the auxiliary fuel tanks that had been installed in the bomb bay. Its contents expanded the accordion folds, and Darmstadter grunted with the effort it took to open the catch and the straps that held it closed.

As he started rummaging through the briefcase, he glanced past the auxiliary fuel tanks into the fuselage. The German girl was looking at him. She had her hair done up in braids, which she had then coiled on the sides of her head.

Darmstadter wondered who she was and why getting her and her father out of Germany had been worth all the effort it had cost.

They had been introduced, and she had politely shaken hands, but had remained silent. From the way her eyes had followed the conversation, however, Darmstadter had known that she at least understood English. And yet she had asked no questions, not even about where they were taking her. He wondered if she was in some kind of emotional shock, or simply acknowledging that for the moment she had no voice whatever in what happened to her.

Then he had a strange thought. He wondered what she had done during ile flight about taking a leak. There was a relief tube in the cockpit, but that Wouldn't have done her any good, even if she had known about it and asked for it.

He returned his attention to Dolan's briefcase. There was everything in it, from a copy of TMB-25-1 Flight Operation B-25 Series Aircraft to a change of socks and underwear and a toilet kit. And a pint bottle of a bright red liquid with a label reading "Medical Corps, U.S. Army" and the typewritten message:

"It. Commander J. R. Dolan, USNR, Take As Required for Indigestion."

Darmstadter hurried back to the cockpit.

Dolan reached for the bottle. Darmstadter unscrewed the cap and handed it to him.

"Sit down and take the airplane," Dolan ordered. Then he waited until Darmstadter had gotten back into the copilot's seat, fastened his seat and shoulder belts again, and nodded to show his readiness to fly the airplane before he put the bottle of bright red liquid to his lips.

He took a large swallow, hesitated, and then took a second. In a moment, the look of pain on his face went away, and he managed a weak smile.

Darmstadter looked at the instrument panel. They had been homing in on the Cairo RDF for the past thirty minutes. The needle on the signal-strength gauge was almost at the upper peg. They were flying ten degrees to the left of the direction indicated by the needle on the RDF antenna indicator.

Darmstadter made the course correction and then looked at Dolan again.

The startling paleness was gone from his face.

"You better start letting down," Dolan ordered.