Free Trophy by Julian Jay Savarin

all right? You look upset. Is something wrong?”
    What could he say? How could he tell the CO about Beuren, when he had absolutely nothing with which to back up his fears? And yet, Johann with Beuren—it didn’t bear thinking about. But Beuren was a good pilot; a very good one.
    “Axel?” Wusterhausen was saying. “Is something wrong?” he repeated.
    Hohendorf pulled himself together. “I’m fine, Chief. I was thinking of something else—having to see Anne-Marie this weekend—”
    “Ah yes. I’m very sorry about that, Paul.” The flimsy excuse seemed to have got past Wusterhausen. “But you’ll have to sort your marriage out before you leave for the new unit.”
    Hohendorf nodded, relieved to have managed to deflect the Sea Eagle for once. “We’ll be having a serious talk. One way or the other, it will be resolved before I go.”
    “Good. I don’t mind telling you that in somequarters the opinion is that you’ll not be waiting too long for your Korvetten?.”
    The news drove all other thoughts from Hohendorf’s mind. “Whose opinion?”
    “Mine, for a start. Now off you go, or you’ll be blaming me for getting you caught in the tunnel. Try to have a good weekend.”
    “Thanks. See you on Monday.”
    Wusterhausen nodded and watched the other man leave. “You may have trouble with your wife, Axel … but that’s not your real worry. Don’t think I fell for that explanation for one minute.”
    As he walked away from Wusterhausen’s office, Hohendorf heard Ecker’s voice behind him.
    “Ah, Axel,” Ecker called. “What did the Sea Eagle want?”
    Hohendorf turned, keeping his expression neutral. “He wanted to give us a pat on the back for a job well done, and also to talk about Anne-Marie.”
    Ecker was pleased about the pat on the back, sympathetic about Anne-Marie.
    “How are you going to handle it?” he asked. From the little anybody had been able to gather, Anne-Marie was not the easiest of people to deal with. The squadron members were on principle solidly behind Hohendorf, even though publicly they kept well out of the family quarrel.
    Hohendorf smiled. “I’ll think of something.”
    “I expect you’ll have to. Don’t forget, we’re here if you need us.”
    “Thanks, Johann. I won’t forget.”
    “Fine. See you on Monday.”
    “Tchuss.”
    “Tchuss, Axel.”
    Ecker waited until Hohendorf had turned a corner before he thoughtfully began to retrace his steps. He was passing the squadron commander’s office when Wusterhausen called to him through the halfopen door.
    “Ecker. In here.”
    Wondering what was up, Ecker did as he was told.
    Wusterhausen was at his desk … He gestured absently. “Sit down, Johann.”
    Ecker, feeling like a schoolboy who’d been summoned for some unspecified misdemeanour, took a chair facing the desk.
    Wusterhausen went straight to the point. “What’s bothering Axel Hohendorf?”
    “I don’t quite understand the question, Chief. Everyone knows his marriage has come apart, and of course that bothers him. But it certainly does not affect his flying.”
    Wusterhausen gave a brief smile that could have meant anything. “How quickly you leap to his defense. Don’t worry, I’m not about to ground him…. So you feel his marriage is all that’s causing him concern?”
    “Of course, Chief. What else could there be?”
    “What indeed.” Wusterhausen slowly placed the palms of his hands upon the desk and raised himself off his chair. He paced the small room slowly, now and then pausing before a framed photograph of an aircraft he had flown, or a group of colleagues past and present. The walls were hung with mementoes of his flying career. Now he stopped before a recent one. It was a picture of him in full gear, standing next to a Tomcat on the massive flight deck of an American aircraft carrier. Ecker observed him warily.
    He turned from the photograph to face Ecker. “Either my officers have suddenly become simpleminded, or they believe I