The Staffel Invisible by By Donald E. Keyhoe

Author:By Donald E. Keyhoe
Format: mobi
Publisher: Munsey's

CHAPTER IV. INVISIBLE DOOM

THE LUGER BLAZED just above his head, and the report echoed thunderously in the cubicle. Knocked off balance, Janner went crashing to the floor. Strange landed a fierce blow under his ear, and the Ober-Leutnant collapsed limply. Excited voices sounded from out in the base. Strange hastily pulled part of the tufted crepe hair from the back of Janner's hand, pressed it to the vacant spot between his eyebrows. He had barely finished when two round-hatted German mechanics burst into the room. They halted, staring slack-mouthed at the inert figure on the floor.

Strange coolly picked up the .45 and the Luger and rose to his feet. The dapper Leutnant came running into the cubicle, followed by an armed guard-sergeant and half a dozen Heinies. Strange gestured to the unconscious Janner.

“Sergeant, tie up the Herr Offizier before he recovers his senses and tries another murderous attack.”

The non-com knelt beside Janner. Strange turned to the undersized lieutenant and held out the Luger.

“Smell the muzzle, Leutnant Braun. You will note that the gun has just been fired. The empty shell is there on the floor.”

“Ja, Herr Rittmeister,” said Braun breathlessly. “It is so. But I—”

“The gun is Leutnant Janner's,” Strange went on tersely. “You will find the bullet-hole there in the door, proof that he fired at me. I am telling you this so you will be ready to testify at the court-martial, later.”

“But why did he try to kill you, Herr Rittmeister?” exclaimed Braun. “They told me that he phoned that something had happened to you.”

“I think he intended to make it seem an accident—but I was too quick for him. He called me in here and caught me off guard. But while he was telephoning, I managed to retrieve this pistol which I stole back at Rondecourt. Janner made the error of putting it a trifle too close to me after he disarmed me. I hurled it into his face just as he fired at me.”

“I knew he hated you,” said Braun, then reddened in confusion. “Your pardon, Herr—”

“It is of no importance,” Strange interrupted. “But now we have other things to do. Is the Gotha ready?”

“It will be in another minute. Unter-Leutnant Schwartz is ready to start the motors when you give the word.”

“Tell him to start them at once,” Strange ordered. “I will take the plane Janner flew, if it is in condition.”

“Ja, your bullets—the ones you fired by accident,” Braun hastily amended his sentence, “only chipped the Kullglass on the cowl. I have had the tanks filled and the guns reloaded.”

“Sehr gut,” Strange said crisply. “Have the plane ready to take off after the Gotha, and you will follow me. Tell Schwartz to circle at two thousand feet until we are at his altitude. We will approach Rondecourt at ten thousand and begin gliding to bring us in at a thousand feet. You and I will take care of any Allied planes in the air, while Schwartz goes low enough to destroy the fighter I had to leave on the field.

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