“We agreed that you would work for me for three months. And I agreed not to file a complaint against Flight Lieutenant Clyde Boar for his conduct, unbecoming of a Royal Air Force officer. I also told him I knew Air Vice-Marshal Keith Park and would be calling him after I left, assuming we could not reach an agreement on how to handle such a delicate situation.”

“I appreciate your help with getting me out of jail, but I need to get to Church Fenton.”

Bertie glanced to him. “Oliver from Maine, do you know the penalty for striking an officer?”

Ollie shook his head.

“You could spend a very long time in a military prison, until we win this damn war or we are all speaking German.”

Ollie swallowed.

“I also suspect that Commander Davies didn’t know what to do with you. You’re American, not enlisted in the Royal Air Force—at least not yet—and he has an armada of Nazis flying over his airfield every night on their way to destroy London. Davies has lost a lot of good men; his fighters are falling like hammers out of the sky.”

Bertie sighed. “He may not have been able to keep you locked up until you’re old and gray, but he sure as hell could have made it very difficult for you to join the fight by making a call to Church Fenton. I suppose he welcomed my solution for an amicable agreement.”

“Thanks, Bertie. I guess I owe you, and your friend, Keith Park, a bit more gratitude.”

Bertie laughed and rubbed his knee. “I met the air vice-marshal at a parade in London once. And since I got close enough to shake Park’s hand, I thought it couldn’t hurt to use the man’s name.”

Hearing the man cackle made Ollie smile.

“You should have seen the commander’s eyes when I mentioned Park’s name. He looked like a child being called into the schoolmaster’s office,” Bertie continued, rubbing his knee, and laughed harder.

Ollie chuckled, something he hadn’t done in weeks. He covered his ribs with his hands.

“Looks like they roughed you up a wee bit, Ollie. Ninety days of working on our mission will give you time to recover.”

“What type of mission?”

“Source Columba. Commander Davies also has a vested interest in the success of this mission, probably another reason he let you out to work for me.”

Ollie scratched his head. “What’s Source Columbia?”

“Columba. It’s top secret.” Bertie’s smile faded. His eyes lowered. “How can I be sure you’re not a spy?”

“I’m a crop-duster.” Ollie considered digging in his suitcase for his pilot’s license.

Wind whistled through the open window. The truck hit a pothole, bouncing them from their seats.