The buffers rumbled as they spun and there was the constant crackle of the ice, but it felt quiet.
Hilt pulled a pack of cigarillos from the frock coat he was wearing, flipped it open with his thumb and removed one with his lips.
“Would you like a light?” the professor asked without looking up from the glowing bowl of his pipe.
Hilt moved closer to the professor, who lit the cigarillo, Hilt shielding the flame with his hand. His eyes looked into the professor’s face as the match flared.
“Is there something you want to say, Mister Hilt?” said the older man.
He was waiting for another barbed criticism or casual putdown and was surprised when Hilt exhaled smoke, paused and said, “I want to know about the Brigadier’s last moments.”
Rickenbacker considered his words, looking into the past
