_CHAPTER ELEVEN_
The Paris-Berlin express thundered through the night, a gigantic ship
that rode high above the Earth. Far below one could see the dim lights
of eastern Europe.
Harry Wilson pressed his face against the window, staring down. There
was nothing to see but the tiny lights. They were alone, he and the
other occupants of the ship ... alone in the dark world that surrounded
them.
But Wilson sensed some other presence in the ship, someone besides the
pilot and his mechanics up ahead, the hostess and the three stodgy
traveling men who were his fellow passengers.
Wilson's hair ruffled at the base of his skull, tingling with an unknown
fear that left him shaken.