Martin and Brehmer put Kathryn on a bus in Madison, having decided she'd be safer that way than in the car, which might be spotted. It wasn't an easy farewell. Martin stood back at the last to give the kids a little time by themselves. They were both looking a bit teary.

"I shall write to you," said Brehmer. "I promise. As soon as I can. Just make sure you get police protection immediately upon your arrival. Promise me that, darling."

"Yes, I will. But how will I know if you're safe, Jurgen? They may be looking for you too."

"Oh, I'm sure they are," he said, "but they won't find me. I will be in Mexico sooner than you can say...'Jack Robertson'"

"It's 'Jack Robinson'," she said, smiling a bit through her tears.

"Oh. Well, 'Jack Robinson', then." Brehmer laughed. "I have so many expressions to learn, but no time to learn them now."

"All aboard for Chicago!" yelled the uniformed driver. "Last call!"

"That's it," said Brehmer. "You must go now." All he could see was her eyes, hazel eyes shining into his mournfully. She caught her breath, embraced him fiercely for a moment. One last kiss. And then she was gone. Brehmer stood for a long time watching as the bus pulled away. He could not have found any words to describe what he felt. Then he heard Martin approaching.

"Don't worry. She'll be all right. Want to break your fast and have a cigarette? It might snap you out of your blue mood."

"No thanks," replied Brehmer. "I've given up on them for good, blue mood or not. So...what is our plan, Martin? Do we drive to Mexico?"

"Not in this car. No, Jurgen, I have a much better idea. There is a civil airport only a few miles from here. We are going to go and buy an airplane there, if we can find a good one, and you are going to fly us to Mexico, my friend. Time you started earning your keep in the way you are best suited for."

"Well...I'll be damned," said Brehmer, raising his eyebrows, "but...just how much money did you take from Otto's cash, Martin?"

Martin smiled. "Fifteen thousand dollars. And it's not counterfeit, either. The real stuff, Jurgen. As for Otto, I left him plenty enough to get himself in further trouble with. I'm not a greedy man, just a practical one."

Brehmer laughed out loud. "You're a very practical man, my friend! Let's go and look at airplanes."

* * * * *

By midafternoon the deal was done. The airfield they flew to had had a handful of planes for sale. Of those, two had interested Brehmer...a Stearman PT-17 that was in nice shape, and much better than that, a Beecraft 18 twin-engine modern aircraft. He checked them over thoroughly, tried out the engines, and took each plane for a short flight, accompanied by the airfield manager, who was impressed by Brehmer's knowledge of airplanes and his enthusiasm for them.

"By God, son, you should be flying for the Army Air Corps," he said. "They need men like you."

Brehmer thanked him, and said he was thinking about it, but he had to clear away some business first. Maybe in the Spring he would volunteer, and get to fly P-38's. (Little did this guy know some of Brehmer's old squadron buddies were probably fighting those same P-38's right now over the Med! They referred to it as "the fork-tailed devil", and had a very healthy respect for the big twin-boom fighter.)

"What do you think?" he said to Martin. "The Stearman is a good plane, and I can set her down anywhere with absolute ease...but the Beechcraft is a magnificent airplane. With that plane you could run a very good business, as long as there are airstrips available to fly to. I just don't want to use too much of our money."

"The Stearman's got open cockpits, Brehmer. Damn cold and windy. You know me, I like my creature comforts. I am going to offer this fellow what I think is a good price, and throw in the car with it. We'll see if he goes for it. If not, we buy the Stearman."

Brehmer nodded. He went over and studied the Beech from one end to the other. It was a truly inspired design in every way.

Ten minutes later Martin came over, smiling broadly. "It's a deal. Jurgen, we are now the proud owners of a Beechcraft 18. I have the papers. Let's get a meal, a room at the nearest motor lodge, and a meal. We fly in the morning."

"Martin," said Brehmer. "You are a wonder."

* * * * *

Kathryn's bus pulled into downtown Chicago at 8 pm. She didn't go home, but caught a cab and went straight to the police station. Fifteen minutes later she was telling her tale to a very interested Detective Lance Drecker. Drecker had followed Chongo's advice and gotten his wife and kids out of town...but not himself. He had no intention of missing the finale if there was to be one, and it looked like there very well might be.

"These two that helped you...why did they do that?" asked Drecker, watching her eyes very closely.

"I'd say it was for several reasons," said Kathryn, looking like she was thinking hard about it. "Number one, they had decided that the whole plot to sabotage that secret project at the University was completely unrealistic and suicidal. They wanted no further part of it."

"Hmmmm..." grunted Drecker, noncomittally. "What were their names?"

"The older man was named 'Van Skelde" or something like that...I don't know his first name...and the younger man is called 'Wally'. Wally Krupinski."

Drecker knew she was covering up something, and he suspected it was because of the young guy. She was sweet on the guy for sure, according to what the girl Norma at the store had said. So she was protecting him.

"You say they were driving Otto's car. Do you know who Otto is? He's a nazi spy commander. His full name is Otto Kretschmar, similar to the name of some ace U-boat commander, but spelled a little differently. He's a very dangerous man."

"I know that," said Kathryn, showing a flash of anger. "I'm not stupid! That's why I've come here to warn you and the government people. Otto and the other fellow are at that cabin, a few miles east of Rockland. If you don't believe me, get the cops up there to check it out."

"Oh, I will," said Drecker. "I will. And don't think I'm not appreciative of your help, Miss McConnell. I am. You say they've been in contact with the female agent...Ursula?"

"Yes. In regular contact. And she is definitely back in Chicago now."

"Yeah. I'd bet on that too," said Drecker. "I need to know a couple more things. Namely...describe the car that you made your getaway in, and see if you can suggest where they might be going in it now."

"It's a maroon-colored 1939 Packard," said Kathryn. (that was a lie...the car was actually a black 1938 Pontiac) "I don't have any idea where they're going. They dropped me off in Madison, and I was grateful to be alive. I didn't ask them any questions I didn't have to."

Drecker wrote it all down and let the clock tick for awhile.

"Is there anything else?" asked Kathryn, when she couldn't stand the silence any longer.

"Yeah. This Krupinski. Wally Krupinski. He was your boyfriend according to Norma, your coworker."

Kathryn flushed a bit. "I...went out with him a couple of times. He was a nice guy. I don't know what he is, but I don't think he's a German spy at all, I think he got caught up in it somehow by accident. That jerk Otto came to the store, pulled a gun on both of us, and forced us into his car. I don't blame Wally for it. What you need to do is stop worrying about Wally and Van-whatever-his-name-is...they're harmless...they saved my life! Worry about Otto and Ursula. They are anything but harmless."

"You got that right," said Drecker. "Okay. It's getting late. I think we can take a break on this, Miss McConnell. I want you to stay somewhere safe until the show is over...which oughta be soon, given the info you've given me about the hideout in Rockland. Don't go back to your store or your apartment.   Don't go to any of the usual places where you would normally be. In fact, I am gonna arrange for a hotel room for you, and have it watched...to protect you, you understand. I want you to stay there and put up with that for at least a few days. We may need you to identify suspects shortly. I'll call you the moment we do."

Kathryn nodded. She felt totally exhausted and wanted nothing more than to lie down and sleep somewhere, anywhere, and not answer any more questions.

Drecker got busy. He arranged for the hotel room, detailed two plainclothes men to take Kathryn there and watch the place, and assigned others to stake out her apartment and the store. Something would turn up. He also put out the word on that maroon 1939 Packard, assuming she'd told the truth about that. He was not at all sure she had. But she was probably right...those two guys didn't matter all that much. It was the other ones he had to run down. Otto, Ursula, and Bruno. Might as well pass the word to Chongo too. And then catch a few hours sleep, if he was lucky.

* * * *