Why not?
Why is he afraid that Ivan wants pictures?
Of what?
“Well, if we can get the hangar doors open, can push the Storch outside without giving ourselves a hernia, and I can get it started, why don’t we go flying?”
[THREE]
Airstrip Y-97
Paderborn, American Zone of Occupation, Germany
1035 22 February 1946
Cronley made a second pass over what was obviously a deserted airfield to confirm what he had seen on the first.
“Did you see those great big X’s painted at both ends of the runway?” he asked into the intercom. “They mean ‘This ain’t no functioning airport. Don’t land here.’”
“I had the runway so marked to keep the curious away,” Cohen replied matter-of-factly.
“So I can land here?”
“Please do. I urgently require the gentlemen’s restroom.”
Cronley set the Storch down on what was the deserted airfield’s only runway, and then taxied to a small, two-story control tower. They had just about reached the tower when two Ford staff cars appeared.
I didn’t see them when I passed over the field, which means they were hiding somewhere.
What’s that all about?
When they had climbed down from the Storch, Cohen walked quickly to the control tower building, opened the door, and went inside without saying a word to the four men wearing triangled ODs who were now standing by the staff cars.
“Why do I think there’s a functioning pissoir in there?” Cronley asked.
None of the four men replied.
“My name is Cronley, and this is Colonel Serov of the Red Army.”
Again, none of the men replied.
Cohen came out of the building several minutes later.
“Well, let’s get in the cars,” he said.
“Who’s going to sit on my airplane?” Cronley asked.
“It’s perfectly safe here.”
“On a deserted airfield? And where am I going to get gas for my airplane?”
“That’s the first time that’s come up,” Cohen said.
“That’s because I didn’t know we were headed for a deserted airport.”
“What kind and how much gas are you going to need?”
“Three jerry cans of regular gas.”