242 “Just like that?”

“Yeah. Just like that,” Leadfoot echoed. “We got satchel charges, which our good brothers can plant while we’re inside bullshittin’ with the brass, there’s enough plastic explosive to plant in the can and other places, timer fuses, too. Theyll have a real party there about three minutes after we pull out.”

“That’s cuttin’ it kinda close,” Beerbelly objected.

Leadfoot gave him a vulpine “V” grin. “Makes it more exciting. I’ve gotten sorta bored lately.”

Leadfoot took three bikers into the headquarters building, a converted modular home that had somehow survived the years of depredations. There he strung a line of crap for the officer in command while his subordinates got busy planting plastic explosive in unobtrusive places.

At last, satisfied that Leadfoot and his companions were genuine, the commander assigned them to an area of the perimeter and dismissed them. Back on their hogs, they rode laughing wildly into the darkness. It was the last the Nazis of Casper would see of them.

With a ripple effect, the explosives blew the modular house into a cloud of splinters and totally eliminated the leadership of the blackshirt troops. A huge fireball rose in the night, and flames continued to burn while Thermopolis launched an attack that totally exterminated every last Nazi rat in the nest.