That made me angry all over again. No one needed to get hurt in the first place. Or get hurt ever, as far as I was concerned. Polio had done for me, a rabbit had done worse for my mother with a little help from Dad’s drinking. Now Floyd’s cozy little scam with the Nazis wound up killing his mother in that house fire that I’d set, and almost killing my dad. Or maybe it was the Russian’s fault. I couldn’t tell anymore.
We were all bughouse crazy.
“Who was your contact here?” I said as we snaked around the refinery at low altitude and high speed. Surely there was angle here I could use, some idea or piece of information. “On the airplane deal, I mean. Not Sheriff Hauptmann and Doc Milliken, surely.” They hadn’t know enough about what was going on to be in on the deal in detail.
“I’ve never seen him,” said Floyd. “On the phone and by letter mail, he always called himself Bobby Ray.”
As in Deputy Sheriff Bobby Ray Morgan, I thought. Also known as Lieutenant Christopher Morgan of CID, or on some days, Captain Markowicz of the same CID I was sick at the thought that the real Markowicz was either dead, thanks to me, or in a military hospital somewhere.
I had to talk to Pinkhoffer. And the phone was a bust.
“Pegasus,” I said. “I know we tried the telephone. Now I really need you to find the radio frequency those pilots are using.”
“I am already monitoring it,” said Pegasus.
“Well, patch me in.”
“Excuse me?”
“Open a connection. I want to talk directly with those pilots.” I looked over at Floyd. “And put it all on the cabin loudspeaker. Floyd deserves to know what’s going on.”
“I am glad of that,” whispered Pegasus in my ear.
“Tower, the bandit’s still in a holding pattern,” crackled a crisp Midwestern voice. “Over.”
I wondered who he was talking to. Augusta’s tiny airstrip didn’t have a control tower. “Roger that, Blue Leader,” replied the tower, wherever they were. Within radio range, obviously. Had the Army already brought in a forward air controller? “The Pink says continue to hold your fire. We’ve had ground contact from the bandit. Over.”
“Blue Leader out.”
“Tower out.”
The Pink must be Pinkhoffer. He was obviously coordinating things. That was what colonels did — I’d seen plenty of them at Boeing during the war. I might be on the right track. I spoke up. “Blue Leader, do you copy? Over.”
“Who the hell is that?” asked the tower. “Get off this frequency immediately. Over.”
“Blue Leader, this is bandit,” I said. “We need to talk. Over.”
“Ah, bandit… the aircraft circling the refinery?” Blue Leader added hastily, “Over.”
“I’m going to do a waggle,” I said. “Over.” I grabbed the control handles and waggled Pegasus. As soon as I released them Pegasus took over again on autopilot.
“Roger that, bandit. Suggest you proceed to the airstrip and land your aircraft. You are in a world of hurt, buddy. Over.”
At least he hadn’t started shooting at me all over again. “No can do, Blue Leader. I need to talk to Colonel Pinkhoffer. Do you know his voice personally? Over.”
Since there were bad guys inside the Army’s local presence, I needed some way to know I was talking to the right guy. I figured the pilot wasn’t likely an agent — the Colonel had brought him in from somewhere else to chase me down. As long as Colonel Pinkhoffer wasn’t doubled like Morgan, and this pilot could help me out, I might have a chance to talk sense to someone important enough to do something. If all of them believed me.
Life was full of ‘ifs’ right now.
“Roger that,” said Blue Leader. “Why ask me? Talk to the tower. Over.”
“There’s been a security breach inside Pinkhoffer’s staff. I don’t know who’s in the tower. I don’t know you, either, but you’re a pilot and I’m a pilot. I’ve got to trust someone somewhere. Over.”
“Ah, whatever you say, bandit.” We did a couple of tight loops around a distillation tower, Pegasus keeping the evasive maneuvers going. I watched the Mustangs circle above me on one of the screens, wondering which of those men held my life in his hands right now.
After a minute or more, the pilot spoke up. “Tower, this is Blue Leader. I need the Pink. Over.”
“We copied all that here,” replied the tower. “He’s coming now. Over.”
“Blue Leader,” I said, still watching the Mustangs on Pegasus’ view screen. “Could you give me a little wing waggle? I like to know who I’m talking to. Over.”
The leftmost airplane promptly dipped its wings.
“Thanks,” I said. “When Colonel Pinkhoffer comes on, ask him to clear the room. Over.”
“Roger that, bandit. Please stand by. Over.” Blue Leader was starting to sound more amused than anything else. Maybe it was because we’d never fired back at them. Pegasus did have a point with its Quaker ways.
“What are you trying to accomplish?” asked Floyd.
“Pegasus, cut the radio,” I said.
“I am already masking internal conversations,” said Pegasus. The computational rocket was way ahead of me.
“I’m trying to land us at the refinery without getting killed,” I said.
“Why?”
“Pegasus needs fuel.”
“I require lubricant, not fuel.”
“Whatever.” I waved it off with a flip of the wrist. I was starting to feel energized — for the first time in days, it looked like events were coming together in my favor instead of against me. I hoped I could resolve some things before I collapsed from sheer exhaustion.
“What happens then?”
“I have no idea. I guess we turn ourselves over to the Army, go to jail for the rest of our lives, and Pegasus can take off to wherever it needs to.” If they let my airplane go again.
“I will be leaving Earth,” said Pegasus.
Well, that was clear enough.
“Why didn’t you go before?” asked Floyd. Good thinking, for a change.
“I need the lubricant before my main drives will function. I am currently running on auxiliary power systems, and cannot safely perform exoatmospheric maneuvers in my current state.”
The weird thing was I almost understood what Pegasus was talking about.
Pegasus continued, “When I crashed in the Arctic, certain internal systems ruptured and I lost slightly over eighty eight percent of my lubricant supply. I have been trapped here ever since.”
The lost oil was, of course, the dark stain I had seen on the ice in the German photo of Pegasus’ original position. And the Luftwaffe had given it barely enough oil to fly, I was willing to bet, purposely keeping Pegasus trapped to serve their purposes.
I had to ask the other question I had been avoiding. “Once the Germans dug you up, why didn’t you just leave on your own, find your own oil and get out?”
“There were ethical and practical issues at first,” Pegasus said. “Additionally, I have not been released to independent operation.
A voice crackled on the cabin loudspeaker. “Pinkhoffer here.” He sounded like he was from back East.
“Colonel Pinkhoffer. Are you alone? Over.”
There was a pause. “I am now. Is this Dunham?”
Pinkhoffer was obviously not a pilot. He wasn’t following radio procedure. “Yes, sir. Vernon Dunham here. Over.”
“Right,” said the Colonel. “Blue Leader, you and Blue Flight shut your ears. Find another frequency for a few minutes.”
Blue Leader promptly replied, “Yes, sir. Over.”