or each pilot plane and each will have its
squad of men. At 20,000 feet the pilot plane will cut them loose and
they will glide down upon England without a sound." He laughed softly.

"They say there will always be an England. Bah. England is done." He
glared at Garret. "When the decoy bombers come over, you will lead your
flight after them. Now that they have increased your squadron to twenty
Spitfires, and the three American planes, they could do much damage.
With early dawn light to fly by they might break up the whole plan."

"I will take them on a chase that will lead them so far away they won't
get back. Send a big flight of Messerschmitts in after my squadron
contacts the decoy bombers and have them start a dogfight. They never
quit as long as there is anything left to fight. But you better send
plenty of fighters."

"That is planned," Naggel said gruffly. "We cannot control the other
flights that will go up, but yours is the key defense unit, the best
they have, and it is most important in our plans."

Stan bent forward and strained his eyes to see the markings on the map.
He wanted to know where those three concentrations of invasion planes
were. He was able to spot them because they were marked upon the map
with red circles. He was pressing his face against the boards to see
better when one foot slipped a little. His right boot scraped across the
floor.

Naggel did not stop talking and none of the others seemed to have heard.
One of the men beside Naggel lighted a cigarette and leaned back. The
radioman turned a dial and began talking softly into the portable mike.
Stan could not hear what he said.

Slowly Stan got to his feet. He had the information he wanted. The thing
to do was to beat the Jerries to the punch. The Royal Air Force would
blast every one of those air fields and get the enemy on the ground. But
he had to get to headquarters at once, everything depended upon speed.
Only a few hours remained for the job.

Stan slipped through the wrecked door and paused for a moment. As he
started to move down the steps a dark shadow loomed behind him. Before
he could leap aside a hard object crashed down upon his head. Red and
white lights danced before his eyes and stabbing pains racked him. Then
he slid slowly forward and fell on his face.

When Stan opened his eyes he was sitting in a chair with his head
hanging on one side. He shook his head and groaned, then focused his
gaze upon the leering face