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"I am Helmut von Hartwick, Lieutenant Colonel, Elite Guard." He pronounced lieutenant
"leftenant."
"Okay, Helmut, suppose you start explaining yourself. Just what is the big idea?"
The self-styled colonel laughed. "Really, old man, there isn't much to explain, is there? You seem
to have eluded us somehow and placed me at a disadvantage. I can see that."
"You had better see that, but that is not what I mean, and that is not enough." Cargraves hesitated.
The Nazi had him somewhat baffled; he did not act at all like a man who has just come out of a daze.
Perhaps he had been playing possum -- if so, for how long?
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Well, it did not matter, he decided. The Nazi was still his prisoner. "Why did you order my ship
bombed?"
"Me? My dear chap, why do you think I ordered it?"
"Because you sound just like the phony English accent we heard over our radio. You called
yourself `Captain James Brown.' I don't suppose there is more than one fake Englishman in this crowd of
gangsters."
Von Hartwick raise his eyebrows. "`Gangsters' is a harsh term, old boy. Hardly good manners. But
you are correct on one point; I was the only one of my colleagues who had enjoyed the questionable
advantage of attending a good English school. I'll ask you not to call my accent `phony.' But, even if I
did borrow the name `Captain James Brown,' that does not prove that I ordered your ship bombed. That
was done under the standing orders of our Leader -- a necessary exigency of war. I was not personally
responsible."
"I think you are a liar on both counts. I don't think you ever attended an English school; you
probably picked up that fake accent from Lord Haw-Haw, or from listening to the talkies. And your
Leader did not order us bombed, because he did not know we were there. You ordered it, just as soon as
you could trace a bearing on us, as soon as you found out we were here."
The Nazi spread his. hands, palms down, and looked pained. "Really, you Americans are so ready
to jump to conclusions. Do you truly think that I could fuel a rocket, call its crew, and equip it for
bombing, all in ten minutes? My only function was to report your location."
"You expected us, then?"
"Naturally. If a stupid radarman had not lost you when you swung into your landing orbit, we
would have greeted you much sooner. Surely you don't think that we would have established a military
base without preparing to defend it? We plan, we plan for everything. That is why we will win."
Cargraves permitted himself a thin smile. "You don't seem to have planned for this."
The Nazi tossed it off. "In war there are setbacks. One expects them."
"Do you call it `war' to bomb an unarmed, civilian craft without even a warning?"
Hartwick looked pained. "Please, my dear fellow! It ill befits you to split hairs. You seemed to have
bombed us without warning. I myself would not be alive this minute had I not had the good fortune to be
just removing my suit when you struck. I assure you I had no warning. As for your claim to being a
civilian, unarmed craft, I think it very strange that the Galileo was able to blast our base if you carried
nothing more deadly than a fly swatter. You Americans amaze me. You are always so ready to condemn
others for the very things you do yourselves."
Cargraves was at a loss for words at the blind illogic of the speech. Ross looked disgusted; he
seemed about to say something. Cargraves shook his head at him.
"That speech," he announced, "had more lies, half-truths, and twisted statements per square inch
than anything you've said yet. But I'll put you straight on one point: the Galileo didn't bomb your base;
she's wrecked. But your men were careless. We seized your rocket and turned your own bombs on you-"
"Idioten!"
"They were stupid, weren't they? The Master Race usually is stupid when it comes to a showdown.
But you claimed we bombed you without warning. That is not true; you had all the warning you were
entitled to and more. You struck the first blow. It's merely your own cocksureness that led you to think
we couldn't or wouldn't strike back."
Von Hartwick started to speak. "Shut up!" Cargraves said sharply. "I'm tired of your nonsense. Tell
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me how you happen to have this American ship. Make it good."
"Oh, that! We bought it."
"Don't be silly."
"I am not being silly. Naturally we did not walk in and place an order for one military space ship,
wrapped and delivered. The transaction passed through several hands and eventually our friends
delivered to us what we needed."
Cargraves thought rapidly. It was possible; something of the sort had to be true. He remembered
vaguely an order for twelve such ships as the Wotan had originally been designed to be, remembered it
because the newspapers had hailed the order as a proof of post-war recovery, expansion, and prosperity.
He wondered if all twelve of those rockets were actually operating on the run for which they had
supposedly been purchased.
"That is the trouble with you stupid Americans," von Hartwick went on. "You assume that every
one shares your silly belief in such rotten things as democracy. But it is not true. We have friends
everywhere. Even in Washington, in London, yes, even in Moscow. Our friends are everywhere. That is
another reason why we will win."
"Even in New Mexico, maybe?"
Von Hartwick laughed. "That was a droll comedy, my friend. I enjoyed the daily reports. It would
not have suited us to frighten you too much, until it began to appear that you might be successful. You
were very lucky, my friend, that you took off as soon as you did."
"Don't call me `my friend'," Cargraves said testily. "I'm sick of it."
"Very well, my dear Captain." Cargraves let the remark pass. He was getting worried by the
extended absence of Art and Morrie. Was it possible that some other of the Nazis were still around, alive
and capable of making trouble?
He was beginning to think about tying up the prisoner here present and going to look for them
when the lock sighed open. Morrie and Art stepped out, prodding the other prisoner before them. "He
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