HEDY LAMARR<br/><br/>Coughing from the foul fumes the idiotic German was pouring up into the hangar, I nodded gratefully to Johnston and covered my mouth and nose with his handkerchief.<br/><br/><em>Good, God, what's wrong with the man? I reject his services and he turns so clingy and spiteful, the small print in one of old RK Maroon's contracts wouldn't even be enough to dump him!</em>Soon however, Buck, one of the mechanics had a better idea. He staggered back from opening the shutters and tossed a spanner in the works, killing both engines and ending the fracas. Then Bob hit the launcher release and Kaiser Bill was history.<br/><br/>Outside over the steady rumble of the zeppelin's motors I could hear the rattle of combat and then a loud<em>thump!</em>of an explosion. The plane hangar was no place from which to observe a battle so I shouted over to Bob,<strong>"When they're done, haul them back in. Re-arm, refuel and repair. Get the pilots to stow their gear, clean up and come up to the passenger dining room. They'll need directions. I'm going to organise dinner."</strong>I turned to Johnston.<strong>"Drink? Now there's a plan. Let's go."</strong><br/><br/>I led the way back along the lengthy longitudinal corridor that ran right down the spine of the ship. At the elevator we ascended one deck to the passenger deck, the<em>clean</em>area of the zeppelin. Doubling back past the private cabins I reached the passenger lounge and Benson who had shadowed us silently all the way here while ducking into my office to get the bourbon the German had gifted me, now appeared as if by magic with a silver tray, a crisp cotton towel over his forearm and a white DJ, a white silk bow tie at his throat. On the tray was the bourbon with two half-filled tumblers. I let my guest take one then took the second for myself.<br/><br/><strong>"Benson, go and tell the galley chief that there will be seven for dinner... at most. It might be less."</strong>I had no idea how many pilots were still out there,<strong>"And please pass me the lounge phone."</strong>The tall negro silently nodded and withdrew, but not before passing me the heavy bakelite telephone. I wound the brass handle and a moment later was speaking to Mister Steele.<br/><br/><strong>"How is the conn, Mister Steele? All in order? Please trim her for a course of 170 towards Denver - there should be, I hope, four planes to recover - and keep her in the clouds. Just let the topside observer posts have a view above. Then pass the conn to Mister Bell, clean up and come up to the passenger lounge for drinks and dinner. Oh, and Mister Steele, formal dress if you please. If you haven't anything less ... rustic ... to wear, Bell should have a spare uniform available, my last navigator was about your size."</strong>I lay the phone earpiece aside and took a heavy pull on my glass. The firey liquid washed through my system and in seconds the alcohol bit my bloodstream hard enough to make me shiver.<br/><br/><em>Damn. Needed that.</em><br/><br/><strong>"So you know that Hun?"</strong>I asked Johnston,<strong>"Has he always been that arrogant, pig-headed and stubborn?"</strong>