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diff --git a/.gitattributes b/.gitattributes new file mode 100644 index 0000000..6833f05 --- /dev/null +++ b/.gitattributes @@ -0,0 +1,3 @@ +* text=auto +*.txt text +*.md text diff --git a/32331-h.zip b/32331-h.zip Binary files differnew file mode 100644 index 0000000..8ca1fc3 --- /dev/null +++ b/32331-h.zip diff --git a/32331-h/32331-h.htm b/32331-h/32331-h.htm new file mode 100644 index 0000000..c958985 --- /dev/null +++ b/32331-h/32331-h.htm @@ -0,0 +1,5961 @@ +<!DOCTYPE html PUBLIC "-//W3C//DTD XHTML 1.0 Strict//EN" + "http://www.w3.org/TR/xhtml1/DTD/xhtml1-strict.dtd"> +<!-- $Id: header.txt 236 2009-12-07 18:57:00Z vlsimpson $ --> + +<html xmlns="http://www.w3.org/1999/xhtml" xml:lang="en" lang="en"> + <head> + <meta http-equiv="Content-Type" content="text/html;charset=utf-8" /> + <meta http-equiv="Content-Style-Type" content="text/css" /> + <title> + The Project Gutenberg eBook of Dave Dawson at Casablanca, by R. Sidney Bowen. + </title> + <style type="text/css"> + +body { + margin-left: 10%; + margin-right: 10%; +} + + h1,h2,h3,h4,h5,h6 { + text-align: center; /* all headings centered */ + clear: both; +} + +p { + margin-top: .75em; + text-align: justify; + margin-bottom: .75em; +} + +hr { + width: 33%; + margin-top: 2em; + margin-bottom: 2em; + margin-left: auto; + margin-right: auto; + clear: both; +} + +.toc {width: 40%; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;} +.tocname {text-align: left;padding-left: 5em;} +.tocpage {text-align: right;} + +.notes {background-color: #d3d3d3; color: #000000; + margin:auto; + width:60%;} + +.indent {display: block; margin-left: 5em; + padding-left: 5em; text-indent: -3em; + margin-right: 5em} + +.pagenum { /* uncomment the next line for invisible page numbers */ + /* visibility: hidden; */ + position: absolute; + left: 92%; + font-size: smaller; + text-align: right; +} /* page numbers */ + + +.blockquot { + margin-left: 5%; + margin-right: 10%; +} + +.center {text-align: center;} + +.smcap {font-variant: small-caps;} + +.u {text-decoration: underline;} + +.figcenter { + margin: auto; + text-align: center; +} + + </style> + </head> +<body> + + +<pre> + +Project Gutenberg's Dave Dawson at Casablanca, by Robert Sydney Bowen + +This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with +almost no restrictions whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or +re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included +with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org + + +Title: Dave Dawson at Casablanca + +Author: Robert Sydney Bowen + +Release Date: May 11, 2010 [EBook #32331] + +Language: English + +Character set encoding: UTF-8 + +*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK DAVE DAWSON AT CASABLANCA *** + + + + +Produced by Greg Weeks, Roger L. Holda, Joseph R. Hauser +and the Online Distributed Proofreading Team at +http://www.pgdp.net + + + + + + +</pre> + + + + +<div class="figcenter" style="width: 283px;"> +<img src="images/ddac000.jpg" width="283" height="417" alt="Cover" title="" /> +</div> + +<h1>DAVE DAWSON +AT<br /> +CASABLANCA</h1> + + + +<p class="center"><br /><br />BOOKS BY R. SIDNEY BOWEN<br /><br /> +<span class="smcap">Dave Dawson at Dunkirk<br /> +Dave Dawson with the R. A. F.<br /> +Dave Dawson in Libya<br /> +Dave Dawson on Convoy Patrol<br /> +Dave Dawson at Singapore<br /> +Dave Dawson with the Pacific Fleet<br /> +Dave Dawson with the Air Corps<br /> +Dave Dawson on the Russian Front<br /> +Dave Dawson Flight Lieutenant<br /> +Dave Dawson with the Commandos<br /> +Dave Dawson with the Flying Tigers<br /> +Dave Dawson on Guadalcanal</span> +</p> + +<div><br /><br /><br /></div> + +<h1>DAVE DAWSON<br /> +AT<br /> +CASABLANCA</h1> + + +<h3><i>by</i><br /> +R. SIDNEY BOWEN<br /> +<br /> +<span class="smcap">The War Adventure Series</span></h3> + +<div><br /><br /></div> + +<h2>CROWN PUBLISHERS<br /> +<span class="smcap">New York</span> +</h2> + +<div><br /><br /></div> + +<h5>COPYRIGHT 1944 BY CROWN PUBLISHERS<br /> +<br /> +<i>All rights reserved, including the right<br /> +to reproduce this book, or portions<br /> +thereof, in any form.</i><br /> +<br /><br /><br /><br /> +Printed in the United States of America</h5> + + + +<h4><span class="smcap">Dedicated to<br /> +Johnny Bogardus</span> +</h4> + +<div><br /><br /></div> +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<div><br /><br /></div> + +<h2>CONTENTS</h2> + + + + + +<div class="center"> +<table class="toc" border="0" cellpadding="4" cellspacing="0" summary=""> +<tr> + <td class="tocpage"><small>CHAPTER</small></td> + <td></td> + <td class="tocpage"><small>PAGE</small></td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td class="tocpage">I</td> + <td class="tocname"><a href="#CHAPTER_ONE">THE MAN IN GRAY</a></td> + <td class="tocpage">13</td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td class="tocpage">II</td> + <td class="tocname"><a href="#CHAPTER_TWO">JUST IN CASE</a></td> + <td class="tocpage">23</td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td class="tocpage">III</td> + <td class="tocname"><a href="#CHAPTER_THREE">SILENT LIPS</a></td> + <td class="tocpage">37</td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td class="tocpage">IV</td> + <td class="tocname"><a href="#CHAPTER_FOUR">ORDERS FOR EAGLES</a></td> + <td class="tocpage">46</td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td class="tocpage">V</td> + <td class="tocname"><a href="#CHAPTER_FIVE">WHISPERING DEATH</a></td> + <td class="tocpage">58</td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td class="tocpage">VI</td> + <td class="tocname"><a href="#CHAPTER_SIX">CHANGED ORDERS</a></td> + <td class="tocpage">76</td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td class="tocpage">VII</td> + <td class="tocname"><a href="#CHAPTER_SEVEN">BLACKOUT</a></td> + <td class="tocpage">90</td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td class="tocpage">VIII</td> + <td class="tocname"><a href="#CHAPTER_EIGHT">EAGLES CAN TAKE IT</a></td> + <td class="tocpage">103</td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td class="tocpage">IX</td> + <td class="tocname"><a href="#CHAPTER_NINE">DEATH STRIKES</a></td> + <td class="tocpage">112</td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td class="tocpage">X</td> + <td class="tocname"><a href="#CHAPTER_TEN">INVISIBLE EYES</a></td> + <td class="tocpage">125</td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td class="tocpage">XI</td> + <td class="tocname"><a href="#CHAPTER_ELEVEN">MIDNIGHT RAIDER</a></td> + <td class="tocpage">138</td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td class="tocpage">XII</td> + <td class="tocname"><a href="#CHAPTER_TWELVE">FIGHTING HEARTS</a></td> + <td class="tocpage">149</td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td class="tocpage">XIII</td> + <td class="tocname"><a href="#CHAPTER_THIRTEEN">LURKING WINGS</a></td> + <td class="tocpage">163</td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td class="tocpage">XIV</td> + <td class="tocname"><a href="#CHAPTER_FOURTEEN">GOERING'S SNOOPERS</a></td> + <td class="tocpage">179</td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td class="tocpage">XV</td> + <td class="tocname"><a href="#CHAPTER_FIFTEEN">DEATH TAKES WINGS</a></td> + <td class="tocpage">194</td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td class="tocpage">XVI</td> + <td class="tocname"><a href="#CHAPTER_SIXTEEN">BLAZING DOOM</a></td> + <td class="tocpage">207</td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td class="tocpage">XVII</td> + <td class="tocname"><a href="#CHAPTER_SEVENTEEN">VULTURES' NEST</a></td> + <td class="tocpage">224</td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td class="tocpage">XVIII</td> + <td class="tocname"><a href="#CHAPTER_EIGHTEEN">EAGLES COME THROUGH</a></td> + <td class="tocpage">236</td> +</tr> +</table></div> + + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="DAVE_DAWSON_AT_CASABLANCA" id="DAVE_DAWSON_AT_CASABLANCA"></a>DAVE DAWSON AT CASABLANCA</h2> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<div> +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_13" id="Page_13">[Pg 13]</a></span> +</div> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_ONE" id="CHAPTER_ONE"></a>CHAPTER ONE</h2> + +<h4><i>The Man in Gray</i></h4> + + +<p>The four-faced clock over the information booth on the Upper Level of +the Grand Central Station in New York City showed exactly twenty-five +minutes after three. Dave Dawson paused in his restless pacing up and +down to look at it for the hundredth time in the last half hour. He +glared at it, sighed heavily, and made noises deep in his throat.</p> + +<p>"Where is that Freddy Farmer guy, anyway?" he grated to himself. "For +half an hour I've been pounding shoe leather here waiting for him. +Darned if he isn't worse than a woman, not being at a place on time. But +he's probably <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_14" id="Page_14">[Pg 14]</a></span>lost. And if he is, he can stay lost for all I care."</p> + +<p>With a sharp nod for emphasis, he walked over to the newsstand and +bought a bar of candy. The Union News lad back of the counter glanced at +the row of decoration ribbons under Dawson's wings, and gave him a smile +and the kind of look that said he'd like to hear about some of Dawson's +experiences. Dave ignored the look, however, and turned away. He didn't +want to talk about the war. In fact, he didn't even want to think about +it. Freddy and he were enjoying a much-deserved leave, and they still +had four days to go. And until those four days had come and gone, the +war could be on another world as far as he was concerned. Right! The +heck with it for four more days!</p> + +<p>For the hundred-and-first time Dawson looked at the information-booth +clock. The hands said twenty-seven minutes of four now, and Dave made +noises in his throat once again. He pulled two hockey-game tickets out +of his tunic pocket and looked at them.</p> + +<p>"For two cents I'd leave him flat and get somebody else to go with me!" +he muttered. "I should have drawn the bum a map so he could use it to +get over here from Times Square. <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_15" id="Page_15">[Pg 15]</a></span>He—"</p> + +<p>He let the rest trail off as he saw Freddy Farmer hurrying toward him +from the direction of the IRT shuttle train to Times Square. He fixed +the English-born air ace with a disgusted eye and watched him approach. +Freddy came up to him all smiles and slightly flushed.</p> + +<p>"Waiting for somebody, old thing?" he greeted Dave.</p> + +<p>"No!" Dawson snapped. "And my mother taught me never to speak to +strangers. So scram, before I call a cop."</p> + +<p>"Speaking of your New York cops," Freddy Farmer chuckled, "I wouldn't be +here now, if it hadn't been for a bobby in the Bronx."</p> + +<p>"Bronx?" Dawson exploded. "What the heck were you doing up there? This +morning you said you were going to hear Benny Goodman's band over at the +Paramount Theatre."</p> + +<p>"And so I did," Freddy replied with a nod. "And it was absolutely +topping. But—"</p> + +<p>"Topping, he says!" Dawson snorted. "You should show your passport when +you use words like that. You mean keen, or in the groove, or on the +beam, or strictly the nuts. But what about the Bronx? Did Goodman lead a +parade?"</p> + +<p>"If you'll be so kind as to shut that big mouth <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_16" id="Page_16">[Pg 16]</a></span>of yours, I'll +explain!" Freddy snapped. "After the show I had something to eat, and—"</p> + +<p>"As if I couldn't guess <i>that</i>!" Dawson grunted. "And so?"</p> + +<p>"And so when I came out of the restaurant it was snowing," the English +youth said. "And—"</p> + +<p>"Snowing, in <i>January</i>?" Dawson mock-gasped and widened his eyes. "Well, +what do you know about that? So you just stood there and watched it +snowing in January, of all times, while I cooled my heels here waiting +for you!"</p> + +<p>"Do you want to listen, or would you rather give that tongue of yours +exercise?" Freddy Farmer bit off.</p> + +<p>"Okay, okay, but make it good!" Dawson sighed. "I've got two tickets for +the Ranger-Chicago Hawks hockey game tonight. Make your story good, or +somebody else goes with me!"</p> + +<p>"What?" Freddy cried. "You've got—Good grief! Now we've got four!"</p> + +<p>"Four what?" Dawson demanded. "Or am I supposed to guess?"</p> + +<p>"Four tickets to the hockey game," Freddy Farmer said, and produced two +from his own pocket. "I couldn't remember who was to get the tickets. So +after I came out of the restau<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_17" id="Page_17">[Pg 17]</a></span>rant, I walked up to Madison Square +Garden and got two tickets just to be sure. And—What's the matter, +Dave? You suddenly sick, or something?"</p> + +<p>The last was because Dawson had made a face, groaned, and clapped one +hand to his forehead. With the other he reached out and grabbed Freddy's +hand that held the hockey-game tickets, and jerked it up until the +tickets were about an inch from the end of the English youth's nose.</p> + +<p>"Boy, are you something!" he groaned. "Take a look, Bright Eyes! Take a +good look! You went to the wrong window. Those tickets are for the +Ranger-Boston Bruin game next Wednesday!"</p> + +<p>"Oh, good grief, no!" Freddy cried. "I didn't know there was any special +window. I just went to one and asked the chap for two good tickets to +the next game. And he gave me these. I'll take them back and—"</p> + +<p>"No, you won't, sweetheart!" Dawson interrupted, and shook his head. +"You'll just be out that dough, and maybe it will teach you to use your +head next time. We'll give the tickets to the first two soldiers we +meet. But let's get back to the Bronx. Did the ticket fellow send you +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_18" id="Page_18">[Pg 18]</a></span>up there?"</p> + +<p>"No, it was one of your blasted tube trains!" Freddy Farmer growled. "I +asked the chap what tube I should take to get to Grand Central. He +didn't understand me until I remembered that you call the <i>tube</i> the +subway. So—"</p> + +<p>"You mean you English guys call the <i>subway</i> the tube," Dawson cut in +again. "How many times have I got to tell you that when in Rome shoot +Roman candles! So you went to the subway, and—? Now what?"</p> + +<p>Freddy Farmer didn't reply. He stood staring at something behind Dawson. +Dave turned impulsively, but all he saw was a lot of people hurrying +toward their respective destinations. He turned back and looked at +Freddy.</p> + +<p>"Okay, come up for air!" he growled. "What's eating you, anyway?"</p> + +<p>"That chap over there by the ticket window," the English-born air ace +finally said. "The chap in gray. I've seen him half-a-dozen times +today."</p> + +<p>"So what?" Dawson grunted. "It's a free country and a small world. What +of it?"</p> + +<p>"Nothing, except that the first time was in the lobby of the hotel as +you and I were leaving," Freddy said. "And the next time he was three +seats away from me in the Paramount. And the next time <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_19" id="Page_19">[Pg 19]</a></span>was in the +restaurant; then at Madison Square Garden; and up in the Bronx, too."</p> + +<p>"No kidding?" Dawson echoed, half expecting his pal to pull some kind of +a gag.</p> + +<p>"No kidding at all," Freddy replied promptly. "I'm certain that the chap +has been following me around."</p> + +<p>"Could be," Dawson murmured, and casually turned around so that he could +get a look at the man in gray. "Frankly, though, you <i>do</i> look like a +guy with itchy fingers, and we've got a lot of expensive things in this +town. He's probably a plain-clothes detective from Police Headquarters."</p> + +<p>"Then I'm definitely in a mess now!" Freddy Farmer snapped right back at +him. "I'm sure it's a crime in any country to be caught talking to the +likes of you! See him, Dave?"</p> + +<p>"Yeah," Dawson grunted, turning back. "A nice-looking guy. And he didn't +get that overcoat with cigarette coupons. We'll check up in a couple of +minutes and see if he continues to trail you. Right now, though, I can +hardly wait. What about the Bronx, anyway?"</p> + +<p>"I took the wrong tube train, that's all," <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_20" id="Page_20">[Pg 20]</a></span>Freddy said. "And I went +right to the end of the line, which was in the Bronx, but not a single +station said Grand Central. I got off and asked a bobby how to get +there. He was a very fine chap, and straightened me out. But, good +grief, I've certainly seen a lot of New York today!"</p> + +<p>"Well, don't ever take a subway to Brooklyn!" Dawson advised. "You +wouldn't be back for a week. What shall we do now? Where'll we go, I +mean. Want to take a subway ride?"</p> + +<p>"Deliver me!" Freddy Farmer groaned. "Definitely, no! Personally, I'm +hungry. Let's go find a nice restaurant and fuel up, what?"</p> + +<p>"Okay," Dawson sighed. "I suppose you've got to have a nine-course snack +to keep you from fainting until supper. Okay. But let's go to the dining +room in the Biltmore Hotel next door. If your friend in gray follows you +there, we'll know he's up to something. Ten to one, though, you've been +having a pipe dream."</p> + +<p>"Perhaps," Freddy Farmer admitted as he dropped into step with Dawson. +"But that's definitely the same chap I've been seeing all day long. I +wonder why the blighter <i>is</i> following me around? No, no, my little man! +Just keep your opinion to yourself. I—I say, wait a minute, <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_21" id="Page_21">[Pg 21]</a></span>Dave!"</p> + +<p>Freddy Farmer left Dawson's side and went over to two Yank soldiers who +were obviously going no place, but just taking in the sights. They +saluted him as he came up and stopped in front of them.</p> + +<p>"I say, you two on leave, what?" he asked with a grin.</p> + +<p>"Yes, sir," they replied together, and gave him a funny look.</p> + +<p>"Will you be in town come next Wednesday?" Freddy asked again.</p> + +<p>"Yes, sir," they replied in the same breath.</p> + +<p>"Good!" Freddy beamed, and held out the hockey tickets. "Use these, if +you like. And half a minute! Here, buy yourselves some little thing, +what? And good luck."</p> + +<p>Freddy Farmer added two one-dollar bills to the hockey tickets and +walked away. The two soldiers gaped down at the two tickets and the two +dollars.</p> + +<p>"What's the matter with that guy; is he touched?" one of them mumbled. +"And did you hear him, Fuzzy? He didn't even speak English!"</p> + +<p>"Who cares?" Fuzzy asked as he came out of his trance. "Two +four-buck-forty hockey tickets, <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_22" id="Page_22">[Pg 22]</a></span>and two bucks in cash! Who cares if the +guy is touched? He's okay by me!"</p> + +<p>"Well, well!" Dawson chuckled when Freddy joined him. "Darned if the kid +didn't at that! And even let go of two bucks."</p> + +<p>"All I had on me," Freddy said with a smile. "So that makes you the one +to pay for our meal, see?"</p> + +<p>"Oh, yeah?" Dawson jeered. "Well, don't look right now, but standing in +your shoes is a guy who's heading for a lot of dish washing in the +Biltmore kitchen!"</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<div> +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_23" id="Page_23">[Pg 23]</a></span> +</div> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_TWO" id="CHAPTER_TWO"></a>CHAPTER TWO</h2> + +<h4><i>Just in Case</i></h4> + + +<p>"Well?" Freddy Farmer demanded as he leaned across the dining table +toward Dawson. "Did I have a pipe dream, or not? Did you see who just +came in and sat down?"</p> + +<p>"Yeah," Dawson grunted, and buttered a roll. "Your pal in gray. I wonder +what's the big idea?"</p> + +<p>"So do I!" Freddy echoed instantly. "And I've half a mind to go over +right now and ask him. The beggar is beginning to give me the creeps. He +doesn't look foreign, though."</p> + +<p>"Hey, come out of your spin, pal!" Dawson chuckled. "What do you think +this is, Gestapo <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_24" id="Page_24">[Pg 24]</a></span>stuff?"</p> + +<p>Freddy Farmer looked at Dawson and smiled slowly.</p> + +<p>"I wouldn't know, old thing," he said. "You see, this isn't England, so +I wouldn't know for sure <i>what</i> kind of funny business was afoot."</p> + +<p>"Ouch!" Dawson yipped softly, and flung up an arm in front of his face. +"Right in the eye, that time. You're improving each day with your snappy +come-back, my young friend. Keep it up, and you'll be the life of the +party some day. Well, I guess that's all the fodder I want right now. +How's for a stroll around in the beautiful January snow, huh? But it's +probably slush by now, and—Hey! I almost forgot! You think I'm paying +for your meal, don't you? Well—"</p> + +<p>"Of course not!" Freddy Farmer cut in quickly. "And just to show my +heart's in the right place, I'll even pay for both of us."</p> + +<p>"I wonder if there's a doctor in the house?" Dawson murmured, and stared +hard at the English youth. "Sure you feel all right, Freddy?"</p> + +<p>"Never felt better," the other replied. "Wait just a moment, will you, +old thing? I'll be right back."</p> + +<p>Before Dawson could ask questions, Freddy got up from his chair and +walked quickly across <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_25" id="Page_25">[Pg 25]</a></span>the dining room and down the broad flight of +carpeted steps to the lobby. Dawson blinked, then took a sip of water, +and glanced over at the man in gray. The mysterious stranger was looking +toward the lobby, and was in the act of pushing himself up out of his +chair. He seemed to change his mind, however. He shot a quick look over +Dawson's way, then settled back in his chair and went to work on a piece +of pie the waiter had placed in front of him.</p> + +<p>"That bird sure is plenty interested in Freddy," Dawson muttered to +himself, and frowned. "I wonder what the heck's cooking around here, +anyway?"</p> + +<p>He played with that thought for two or three minutes, but was unable to +get any place. And then as he happened to glance toward the dining-room +lobby entrance, he saw Freddy Farmer standing there and beckoning to him +urgently. Dawson raised questioning eyebrows, took a look toward the man +in gray, got up from his chair, and started to leave the table. He had +taken but two steps when the waiter appeared at his elbow.</p> + +<p>"The check, Captain," the waiter said politely.</p> + +<p>"Oh, yeah," Dawson murmured absently, and <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_26" id="Page_26">[Pg 26]</a></span>glanced at the total. He +pulled some money from his pocket and gave it to the waiter. "There you +are," he murmured again, and hurried over to the lobby entrance to the +dining room where Freddy was waiting.</p> + +<p>The English-born air ace greeted him with a grin like a Cheshire cat.</p> + +<p>"And let that be a lesson to you, my good fellow," Freddy said with an +emphatic nod of his head.</p> + +<p>"Says which?" Dawson grunted, and gave him a blank look.</p> + +<p>Freddy Farmer patted his stomach and licked his lips.</p> + +<p>"A delicious meal, quite!" he breathed. "I hope you gave the waiter a +decent tip. But, knowing you, I doubt it."</p> + +<p>Dawson started violently, and his jaw dropped.</p> + +<p>"Well, you little I-don't-know-what!" he eventually exploded. "Stuck me +for the meal, didn't you? I knew darn well you must have had something +in mind when you gave your last two bucks to those soldiers. You play +the big-hearted big shot to them, and <i>I</i> get stuck for your two bucks' +worth of food!"</p> + +<p>"Oh, I wouldn't say that," Freddy Farmer <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_27" id="Page_27">[Pg 27]</a></span>chuckled. "Just say it's your +share in the lease-lend agreement between America and England. I'll pay +you back some day, too."</p> + +<p>"Yeah!" Dawson sneered. "When I'm a hundred and six and have lost all my +teeth. When I can eat only soup instead of a thick steak like I just +bought for you. But you just wait, my little bowlegged pet! I'll—Oh-oh! +The man in gray, eh?" Dawson added the last because of the flinty look +that had suddenly leaped into Farmer's eyes.</p> + +<p>"Quite!" Freddy murmured. "And I'm jolly well sick of this hide-and-seek +business. I'm going to find out what the blighter's up to. I detest +shadows, excepting my own."</p> + +<p>With a grim nod Freddy Farmer stepped past Dawson and walked over toward +the man in gray who was just leaving the dining room. Dawson impulsively +swung around and followed him. The man in gray acted as though he did +not see Freddy, but the English youth stopped in front of him, barring +his way.</p> + +<p>"Have you been wishing to speak to me, sir?" Freddy asked quietly. "Is +that why you've been following me all over town all day?"</p> + +<p>The man in gray looked blank for a moment. Then he shrugged and gave +Freddy a friendly <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_28" id="Page_28">[Pg 28]</a></span>smile.</p> + +<p>"It <i>has</i> been rather obvious, hasn't it, Captain Farmer?" he said as +both Freddy and Dawson stared at him, dumbfounded. "But you went to a +lot of places where I couldn't help but show myself. I guess you've had +enough experience to guess when you're being trailed. The name is +Carter, Captain."</p> + +<p>As the man in gray introduced himself, he slipped something out of his +pocket and held it cupped in his hand so both youths could see it. They +took a good look at the gold F.B.I. badge and quickly raised their eyes +to the man's face.</p> + +<p>"The F.B.I. no less!" Dawson breathed. "What's up? Is Farmer wanted by +the F.B.I.—I hope?"</p> + +<p>The man chuckled and shook his head.</p> + +<p>"No," he said. "Neither of you are, in fact. The two of us just had +orders to keep an eye on you both."</p> + +<p>"'<i>Two</i> of us'?" Dave echoed sharply. "You mean—" He let the rest go as +the F.B.I. agent nodded.</p> + +<p>"That's right, Captain Dawson," he said quietly, and made a faint +gesture toward the other side of the lobby. "My partner has been looking +after you, while I tried to keep up with <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_29" id="Page_29">[Pg 29]</a></span>Captain Farmer here. If +Captain Farmer hadn't returned to the dining room, I'd have taken on the +job of sticking with you, and my partner would have tackled Captain +Farmer. Frankly, I would have enjoyed the change. But now—"</p> + +<p>The F.B.I. agent grinned and shrugged.</p> + +<p>"But now that the cat's out of the bag," he said, "suppose we stop +playing cops and robbers and make it a foursome? My partner got tickets +right behind your seats for the hockey game tonight. We're also staying +at your hotel. Or would you rather be alone? Now don't be afraid that +you'll hurt my feelings. I'll understand. After all, a couple of fellows +on leave have their rights, you know."</p> + +<p>"Yeah, sure, of course," Dawson mumbled absently, not quite sure if he +was in the middle of a dream or not. "Sure, sure it's okay by Freddy and +me. But—but look, sir. I mean, what's all the big idea? Why should the +F.B.I. want to follow us around? I don't get it."</p> + +<p>"To be perfectly frank, neither do I," Agent Carter made the amazing +reply. "All I know is that two days ago we were given orders to come up +from Washington, register at your hotel, and keep an eye on you two."</p> + +<p>"But for what?" Freddy Farmer asked. "You <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_30" id="Page_30">[Pg 30]</a></span>mean you were to guard us +from harm, or some such silly rot?"</p> + +<p>"I wouldn't exactly call it silly rot, Captain," the F.B.I. man said +gravely. "After all, you two are marked men, in a way. I mean by that, +you've been thorns in the side of Axis Intelligence more than once since +this Second World War started. Not that personal revenge by enemy agents +in this country is to be expected. Yet, on the other hand, there's no +sense in regarding it as impossible."</p> + +<p>"Well, I'll be darned!" Dawson gulped. "But that's just plain screwy. +Why, I can name several dozen famous soldiers in this war that the Axis +would love to get a million times more than they'd want to get us. Do +you mean that everybody who's got in a few pokes at the Axis has an +F.B.I. escort when he goes on leave?"</p> + +<p>"Hardly," Agent Carter said with a smile. "Let's say that you two happen +to be special cases. Why, you can search me. Lots of times we're given +orders, and we have no idea what's behind them. Let's go over and meet +my partner. Or is my suggestion of a moment ago out?"</p> + +<p>"No," Dawson replied. "I told you it was okay by us. Besides, maybe your +partner can tell us things."</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_31" id="Page_31">[Pg 31]</a></span>"If he can, he won't," Agent Carter said. "You can count on that, I'm +afraid. His name is Hickson, and it so happens that he's a rabid Ranger +fan. He comes from this town. Let's go over."</p> + +<p>Still not quite sure that he wasn't being made the goat of some crazy +gag, Dawson walked with Agent Carter and Freddy Farmer across the lobby +to where a thin, almost sickly-looking man of uncertain years was seated +in a chair reading a newspaper. He put down his paper and smiled as the +trio approached. It was then Dawson had a vague feeling he had seen that +thin face somewhere quite recently. Then as Agent Carter made the +introductions, it came to Dawson. Agent Hickson had been the man next in +line behind him when he had bought tickets for the hockey game. As he +shook hands and mumbled some pleasantry, Dave realized he had seen that +thin face other places, too, during the day.</p> + +<p>"Did I give you as much trouble, Agent Hickson," he asked, "as Farmer +seems to have given Agent Carter?"</p> + +<p>"No, Captain," the other replied with a twinkle in his eye. "And don't +ever go in for crime. You'd be a cinch."</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_32" id="Page_32">[Pg 32]</a></span>"With those big flat feet, it would be obvious!" Freddy Farmer chuckled, +as the red climbed into Dawson's face.</p> + +<p>"Okay, okay!" Dave growled and grinned at the same time. "I'm not like +you, with things on your conscience! So naturally I wouldn't even give +it a thought that anybody was following me. But look, Agent Hickson, can +you add anything to what Agent Carter has told us? Which was absolutely +nothing."</p> + +<p>"I'm afraid I can't, Captain." Hickson smiled, and shook his head. +"Carter and I are just a couple of slaves who do what we're told and ask +no questions."</p> + +<p>"But you do know <i>something</i>, only you won't tell us, what?" Freddy +Farmer pressed the issue.</p> + +<p>The F.B.I. man shook his head again and made a little cross mark over +his heart.</p> + +<p>"I honestly don't know a thing," he said, "except that I like this +particular job. I'm from New York, you know. And I'm a hockey fan, in +case Carter hasn't told you."</p> + +<p>"He has," Dawson grinned, and glanced at his wrist watch. "And I sort of +go for the game, myself. It's hours, though, before game time. Anybody +have any suggestions what to do until then? Listen, Freddy! Eating is +strictly out, at <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_33" id="Page_33">[Pg 33]</a></span>least for a couple of hours!"</p> + +<p>"You don't have to shout, old thing; I hear you," the English youth +replied. "Yes, I have a suggestion. I've been meaning to see that United +Nations display they have at Radio City. What say we go back to the +hotel and clean up a bit? These blasted American shoes I bought +yesterday are killing me."</p> + +<p>Dawson started to shake his head, but instantly checked the movement. A +gleam leaped into his eyes.</p> + +<p>"Fair enough," he said. "I could do with a clean shirt myself. Come on. +We'll take a cab."</p> + +<p>During the cab ride across town to the hotel, they talked of this and +that and nothing in particular. When the cab pulled up in front of the +hotel, Dawson opened the door, let the two F.B.I. men get out ahead of +him, and got out quickly himself, leaving Freddy Farmer the last to +alight. Without so much as a look over his shoulder, Dawson linked arms +with the two F.B.I. men and hurried them up the steps into the hotel.</p> + +<p>"Dave!" he heard Freddy Farmer call out. "Oh, I say, <i>Dave</i>!"</p> + +<p>The two F.B.I. men wanted to stop, but Dawson practically pushed them +through the doors.</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_34" id="Page_34">[Pg 34]</a></span>"It's okay," he chuckled. "Just his turn to be left holding the bag. +He'll be right in. You'll see."</p> + +<p>That was exactly the case. A moment later Freddy came hurrying inside, +flush-faced, with a very hard-eyed taxicab driver right at his heels.</p> + +<p>"I say, Dave!" the English youth panted. "You know I haven't a bean on +me. Let me have—"</p> + +<p>"We're all broke!" Dawson said coldly. "You were last out, anyway. Go +over to the desk, borrow the fare, and have it put on your bill. I'll +see if there's any mail for us. Meet you upstairs in our room."</p> + +<p>Freddy Farmer glared and pursed his lips as though he were striving to +hold back the blistering words that rose in his throat.</p> + +<p>The cab driver looked at him and scowled darkly. "How's about it, +General?" he growled. "I can't keep my hack out front all afternoon!"</p> + +<p>"Oh yes, quite," Freddy said. "Come along!"</p> + +<p>After giving a look that should have raised third-degree burns on the +Yank pilot's face, Freddy went over to the lobby desk and spoke to the +clerk. Bursting with inner laughter, Dawson watched Freddy's face grow +redder and redder <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_35" id="Page_35">[Pg 35]</a></span>as the desk clerk gave him the fishy eye. Then the +clerk went into the manager's office. He came right out, though, yanked +open a desk drawer, and handed a bill to Freddy.</p> + +<p>"Now I have got to watch <i>my</i> step, and how!" Dawson chuckled, and +walked over to the mail window.</p> + +<p>There was something in the box. It was a telegram addressed to them +both. Dave ripped it open and was reading the message just as Freddy +Farmer came over. The wire read:</p> + +<div class="blockquot"><p>"Take seven P.M. plane for Washington La Guardia Airport. Report my +office War Department on arrival.</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">Colonel Welsh</span>"</p></div> + +<p>"And so what?" Dave asked, looking at Freddy Farmer.</p> + +<p>"So leave it over, I fancy," the English youth murmured with a frown. "I +wonder what now?"</p> + +<p>"You do the guessing; I'm stumped," Dawson said, glancing up quickly as +Agents Carter and Hickson came over.</p> + +<p>There was a telegram in Agent Carter's hand. Agent Hickson looked as +though he had just lost his last friend.</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_36" id="Page_36">[Pg 36]</a></span>"So we all take an airplane ride instead, eh?" Agent Carter said, and +nodded at the wire in Dawson's hand.</p> + +<p>"You too?" Dave questioned.</p> + +<p>"Right," Agent Carter replied. "There are four reservations waiting for +us at La Guardia."</p> + +<p>"Wouldn't you know!" Agent Hickson groaned and shook his head sadly. +"Wouldn't you know I was nuts to think I could mix pleasure with +business!"</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<div> +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_37" id="Page_37">[Pg 37]</a></span> +</div> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_THREE" id="CHAPTER_THREE"></a>CHAPTER THREE</h2> + +<h4><i>Silent Lips</i></h4> + + +<p>"Well, I guess this is the parting of the ways, Captain," Agent Carter +of the F.B.I. said as the taxicab rolled to a stop on front of a War +Department Building in Washington. "Hickson and I will keep the cab for +the ride over to the Bureau. Sorry we all missed an evening in New York +together, but there'll come another day, I hope. Best of luck, you two. +It's been nice knowing you."</p> + +<p>"Same thing, the other way around, sir," Dawson said as he shook hands +and climbed out of the cab. "And thanks for the protection—or whatever +it was supposed to be."</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_38" id="Page_38">[Pg 38]</a></span>Agent Carter laughed and raised a protesting hand.</p> + +<p>"Now let's not go into that again!" he said. "The answer is still that I +don't know. Maybe Colonel Welsh will tell you. We can't, because we +simply don't know. What's the matter, Captain Farmer?"</p> + +<p>Freddy was just straightening up after sticking his head back in through +the cab door opening. He shrugged and grinned.</p> + +<p>"Just looking to see if you had your fingers crossed, sir, while you +said that," he replied. "But I see you didn't, and so that's that. Well, +cheerio, and good hunting, and all that sort of thing. Sorry I didn't +speak to you sooner."</p> + +<p>"That's the kind of tough break we get in our kind of job," Agent Carter +said, and made a flip wave with his hand. "So long, until we meet +again."</p> + +<p>"And let's hope that'll be soon!" Dawson called out as the cab rolled +away.</p> + +<p>The two air aces stood on the curb until the taxi turned the corner +toward Pennsylvania Avenue and was lost to view. Then they impulsively +turned and looked at each other.</p> + +<p>"Swell fellows, those two," Dawson said. "Wish we could have had more +time together. <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_39" id="Page_39">[Pg 39]</a></span>I've always wanted to ask a real honest-to-goodness +F.B.I. man a few questions."</p> + +<p>"Then those two will never know how lucky they are," Freddy Farmer came +right back. "But speaking of questions—"</p> + +<p>"Check, and double-check!" Dawson echoed, and started across the +sidewalk to the main entrance of the War Department Building. "The +sooner we ask them, the sooner we <i>may</i> get an idea as to what the heck +is going on."</p> + +<p>The door guard stopped them and requested identification papers. They +complied by producing their leave papers and the wire from Colonel +Welsh. The guard referred to a book on his table desk, and nodded.</p> + +<p>"Third floor, Captain," he said, and gave them each a building pass that +had to be turned in when they left. "Room Three Twenty-Nine."</p> + +<p>The two youths nodded, returned the guard's salute, and headed for the +stairway. The door of Room 329 was just like all the other doors on that +floor except that it had "Colonel Welsh, Private" painted on the glass. +Dawson rapped his knuckles on the glass, and immediately received the +summons to enter. Colonel Welsh, Chief of U. S. Armed Forces +Intelligence, was seated behind a huge desk that seemed to take <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_40" id="Page_40">[Pg 40]</a></span>up most +of the office. He was practically hidden behind a mass of papers, bound +reports, and such, piled up all over the desk top.</p> + +<p>He glanced up, smiled, pushed back his chair, and rose to come around +the end of the desk.</p> + +<p>"Welcome to Washington again, you two," he said, and shook hands. "A +nice flight down?"</p> + +<p>"Fine, sir," Dawson replied. "We had a couple of swell air companions, +too. You in charge of the F.B.I. now, Colonel?"</p> + +<p>"F.B.I.? Me?" Colonel Welsh echoed. "Hardly! Not as long as J. Edgar +Hoover continues to run it so perfectly. But what do you mean?"</p> + +<p>Dawson stared hard at the senior officer, and then gave a little sigh.</p> + +<p>"Oh, so it's like that, eh?" he murmured. "I thought that maybe you +might have had something to do with the two F.B.I. agents who trailed +Freddy and me all over New York. I suppose you didn't?"</p> + +<p>Colonel Welsh didn't reply at once. He motioned them to chairs and then +reseated himself at his desk.</p> + +<p>"No, not directly," he said in reply to Dawson's question. "But of +course I knew all about it. So you spotted them, eh?"</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_41" id="Page_41">[Pg 41]</a></span>"Freddy did," Dawson replied. "I didn't, because <i>I</i> have a clear +conscience. We—or Freddy, I mean—called the turn on one of them. He +'fessed up and introduced us to his partner. Naturally, we asked +questions, but they didn't, or wouldn't, admit they knew what it was all +about."</p> + +<p>"If you'll only explain, sir," Freddy Farmer chimed in, "maybe I'll be +able to sleep tonight."</p> + +<p>"Of course I'll explain, Farmer," the Colonel said with a smile. "As for +sleeping tonight, I wouldn't count on it, if I were you. Those F.B.I. +men were following you around simply to see if anybody <i>else</i> was +following you around, that's all."</p> + +<p>"That's <i>all</i>?" Dawson echoed. "Who else would be following us around? +And why, for cat's sake? Don't tell me, Colonel, that you really believe +some Axis agent might try to get in a bit of personal revenge just +because Freddy and I have been lucky on a couple of things! Why, +that's—"</p> + +<p>"No, that wasn't the idea," the Chief of Intelligence interrupted +quietly. "Though I have had that fear more than once. Your being lucky a +couple of times, as you so wrongly call it, was most disheartening to +certain Japs and certain <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_42" id="Page_42">[Pg 42]</a></span>Nazis, who have long memories. But this recent +F.B.I. business was a bit different. I'm not going to give you details, +because I'm pledged to utmost secrecy. So don't waste breath asking +questions. This much, though, I can tell you. A list of names, compiled +by the War Department, was recently turned over to the F.B.I. Your names +were on that list, and you've been watched over by F.B.I. men ever +since. The reason, as I said, was to see if anybody was following you."</p> + +<p>"You mean, sir—" Dawson frowned and hesitated. "You mean—because if +they were, it would indicate that the mysterious list of names wasn't as +secret as it was supposed to be? That it, sir?"</p> + +<p>"That's it exactly, Dawson," the Colonel said. "Nice work to have +figured that out, too. That's right—that list is most secret. It has +the President's approval, the Secret Service's approval, as well as the +okay of the Army, Navy, and Air Forces. It is most secret, and it was +the F.B.I.'s job to make absolutely sure by maintaining a constant check +on every man on that list. Now does that satisfy you?"</p> + +<p>"No, sir," Dawson said with a grin. Then with a shrug: "But you said +something about <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_43" id="Page_43">[Pg 43]</a></span>not wasting breath asking for details. However, I could +do with a hint, if that's in order."</p> + +<p>"It isn't," the Colonel told him instantly. "For once it's my job to +assign you to a certain mission without the right to tell you a thing +about it. You'll learn soon enough, and when you do, you'll realize why +I have to keep my lips silent. This I can and will tell you, though. +It'll be a most pleasant mission, and you'll both get a tremendous +thrill out of it."</p> + +<p>"Well, that's something, anyway," Dawson said. "I'm all for it, whatever +it is."</p> + +<p>"Quite," Freddy Farmer echoed. Then, with an almost sly look at the +Colonel, he asked, "A mission in this country, sir?"</p> + +<p>"A mission that will take in several countries, Farmer," the +Intelligence Chief replied. "And that <i>is</i> the very last bit of +information I'm going to give you. Now just excuse me a couple of +minutes while I tend to some of this stuff. Then we'll get along out to +Bolling Field."</p> + +<p>"Bolling Field, sir?" Dave cried, and leaned forward.</p> + +<p>For all the good it did him, he might just as well have yelled at the +man in the moon. Colonel Welsh seemed to forget that either Dawson or +Farmer existed as he gave all his attention <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_44" id="Page_44">[Pg 44]</a></span>to the paper work on his +desk.</p> + +<p>It was almost ten minutes later when he signed his name to the last of +the papers, collected them, and slipped them into one of the desk +drawers which he locked with one of many keys he took from his pocket.</p> + +<p>"Sorry it took so long, boys," he said, and reached for his service cap. +"All done now, though. So let's go."</p> + +<p>The colonel led the way outside, locked his office door, and touched +Dawson on the arm as the Yank air ace started along the corridor toward +the main stairway.</p> + +<p>"No, not that way, Dawson," he said, and pointed a finger the other way. +"We're still not taking any chances. Follow me, you two."</p> + +<p>Dawson and Farmer did just that. They came out into the Washington night +by a small rear door on the ground floor of the War Department Building. +There was no guard there, and Colonel Welsh used another key from his +bunch to unlock the door. From the door they followed him through a +shadow-filled alley, down another one that crossed the first at right +angles, and finally out onto a narrow, poorly lighted street, where a +car was parked in the deep shadows of some overhanging tree branches.</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_45" id="Page_45">[Pg 45]</a></span>"Jump in, you two," Colonel Welsh said, and opened the door. "I think we +can all sit in front. I'll be your pilot this time. But on four rubber +tires, instead of wings."</p> + +<p>"What about our building passes, sir?" Freddy Farmer asked. "Won't the +guard—"</p> + +<p>"I'll take care of that," the colonel said. "You can explain to him, if +you want, when you come back."</p> + +<p>"Come back from where, sir?" Dawson asked before he could choke off the +question.</p> + +<p>"From a lot of places, Dawson," Colonel Welsh said with a chuckle. "From +a lot of places. Now, hop in, and enjoy the ride."</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<div> +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_46" id="Page_46">[Pg 46]</a></span> +</div> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_FOUR" id="CHAPTER_FOUR"></a>CHAPTER FOUR</h2> + +<h4><i>Orders for Eagles</i></h4> + + +<p>The usually active, buzzing Bolling Field was shrouded in darkness and +looked almost completely deserted as Colonel Welsh wheeled the car up +toward the main gates. When he came within twenty yards of those gates, +however, there was instant proof that not everybody was asleep. Two +small-sized searchlight beams cut the darkness and focused square on the +moving car. Dawson, from past experience, knew that up in the little +towers that housed the searchlights were a couple of machine guns that +were also trained dead on the car. In addition, the captain on duty and +two armed guards sud<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_47" id="Page_47">[Pg 47]</a></span>denly appeared and closed in on the car in nothing +flat. And as if the twin searchlight beams were not enough, the captain +snapped on a flashlight and played it straight into Colonel Welsh's +face, then into Dawson's, and then into Freddy Farmer's. Just to make +sure, the captain turned the light on the colonel's face once more, and +then snapped it out.</p> + +<p>"Your pass, please, sir," he said quietly.</p> + +<p>The colonel produced it, and the captain was completely satisfied. He +stepped back, saluted, and gave an order. As the heavy gates swung open, +Colonel Welsh slipped the car into gear and rolled on through. Looking +back, Dawson noted that the guns of the guards, and the searchlight +beams, too, followed the car well inside the field. The idea seemed +silly to him for a moment. Then he realized that it would be quite easy +for somebody who wasn't wanted to hook a ride on the rear bumper, and +thus get inside where he didn't belong.</p> + +<p>"Yes, sir!" he murmured as he turned front again. "This is one place +that would stop even Superman cold."</p> + +<p>"I hope that's true, and I believe it is," Colonel Welsh stated.</p> + +<p>Dawson turned his head and glanced sharply <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_48" id="Page_48">[Pg 48]</a></span>at the Intelligence Chief. +An undernote in the officer's voice had a queer ring. Before he could +ask questions, however, Colonel Welsh turned the car in through the +wide-open doors of one of the hangars, braked it to a stop just inside, +and switched off the engine. A single rafter-light threw a pale glow +about the interior, and in one sweeping glance Dave saw that the hangar +was empty of planes except for a single Army-Air-Forces, Wright +Cyclone-powered, Vultee V-12C, attack bomber. A couple of mechanics and +a technical sergeant were standing by the wing. They came over to the +car at once, and gave the colonel a snappy salute.</p> + +<p>"All set and ready, as you ordered, sir," the technical sergeant said.</p> + +<p>Colonel Welsh climbed out of the car, and nodded.</p> + +<p>"Very good, Sergeant," he said. "Roll her out and start her up, will +you? We're going to use Captain Billings' office for a few minutes. If +anybody happens to wander in, no matter who, you have my authority to +send him right along on his way."</p> + +<p>"Right, sir," the technical sergeant answered, and grinned as though he +could name two or three high rankers he would just love to toss out <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_49" id="Page_49">[Pg 49]</a></span>on +their ears, now that he had the permission to do so.</p> + +<p>However, he didn't mention that little item. Instead, he snapped orders +to the two mechanics, and all three of them began rolling the attack +bomber out onto the hangar apron. Meanwhile Colonel Welsh led Dawson and +Farmer into Captain Billings' office in a rear corner of the hangar. He +snapped on the light, closed the door, waved them to a couple of chairs, +and sat down at a desk. He drew six envelopes from an inside pocket of +his tunic. Each envelope was heavily sealed with wax, and each was made +of a peculiar-looking paper. At first glance it struck Dawson that it +was oil paper, or shark's skin. At any rate, he had a sudden thought +that each envelope was absolutely waterproof.</p> + +<p>The colonel placed them in a pile on the desk in front of him, and then +rested a hand on top of the pile, almost as though he expected a +non-existent wind or an invisible force to snatch them away.</p> + +<p>"You two are headed for Natal, Brazil," he began, speaking quietly. +"With stops on the way at Miami, Puerto Rico, San Fernando in British +Trinidad, Paramaribo in Dutch Guiana, Belem in Brazil, and Natal. You +will land on <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_50" id="Page_50">[Pg 50]</a></span>the government airport at each of those points. +Officially, you are making a survey flight for the Army Air Transport +Command. At Miami and Puerto Rico you will contact the American +commanding officer, and deliver to him <i>in the presence of no one else</i> +the envelope that bears his name. On the authority of a letter which I +shall give you to take along, you are to instruct him to guard his +envelope with his life, and <i>not</i> to open it until the sixteenth of this +month. At San Fernando, Paramaribo, Belem, and Natal, of course you will +contact the officer in command of the American staff, and not the +commanding officer of the airport."</p> + +<p>The colonel paused for a moment as though permitting time for his +instructions to sink in. Then he tapped the pile of heavily sealed, +waterproof envelopes with his fingers.</p> + +<p>"These contain information on perhaps the most important secret of this +war!" he continued, speaking in a grave tone. "The Axis would gladly +give up half a dozen divisions of troops for the possession of any one +of these envelopes. And that doesn't even begin to describe how +important they are. I am the only man in the world who knows of the +flight you two are to begin in a few minutes. At least, I pray to God +that I'm <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_51" id="Page_51">[Pg 51]</a></span>the only one. However, in view of the fact that absolutely +nothing is <i>sure</i> in this war, I must give you this order: Under no +circumstances, not even under the threat of the most horrible kind of +death, is either of you to permit a single one of these letters to get +into the hands of anybody but the American officer whose name is typed +on the front of each envelope. Do I make myself clear?"</p> + +<p>"Yes, sir," Dawson said with a nod.</p> + +<p>"Definitely, sir," Freddy Farmer echoed.</p> + +<p>"And I'm sure you do," the colonel said. "I can't help, though, but +stress that point. <i>Don't let any of these envelopes out of your sight +until each has been delivered to the proper person.</i> Make doubly sure +that each of those proper persons understands what he is to do. +Naturally, you'll be asked questions by those officers as to what the +envelopes contain. That is one reason why I'm not even telling you, so +that you can truthfully reply that you do not know. Just remember, this +is the most secret mission you have ever undertaken. Guard these +envelopes with your lives and see that they are delivered to the proper +parties. If the commanding officer does not happen to be there when you +arrive, do <i>not</i> give the envelope to the next in command. Stay <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_52" id="Page_52">[Pg 52]</a></span>there +until the commanding officer does arrive. If you have a forced landing, +play up the fact you are on a survey flight. If your plane is damaged, a +wire sent to me in Washington will get an immediate reply ordering the +commandant of the airfield nearest the scene of your crash to turn over +a plane to you. If one of you happens to be injured in the crash, the +other will carry on alone as soon as possible, without creating +suspicion that the flight is not for survey purposes."</p> + +<p>The colonel suddenly stopped talking and drew from his pocket two small +vials containing a brownish liquid. He placed them beside the pile of +envelopes, and looked at the two air aces again.</p> + +<p>"If both of you are hurt badly," he said, "or if—and I pray God it will +not happen—you should fall into the hands of enemy agents, or +force-land on the water and be approached by a lurking U-boat, you are +to take the caps from these vials and pour the contents over the +envelopes. The powerful acid they contain will completely destroy the +envelopes and their contents in a matter of seconds. In short, it is +your sacred trust to destroy these envelopes before you die—or are +captured. Now, to make sure, <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_53" id="Page_53">[Pg 53]</a></span>repeat to me the instructions I've just +given you."</p> + +<p>Dawson spoke for the pair and repeated almost word for word everything +the colonel had told them.</p> + +<p>"Well, that's all I've got to say," the Intelligence Chief said with a +nod. "Here, Dawson. Three of these and a vial are for you. And the other +three and a vial are for you, Farmer. Naturally, my prayers go with you +for a safe and very uneventful flight. If it helps any, I personally +chose you two for this flight, because—well, you've come through for me +several times in the past, and I know you will again. One thing, though. +If any of the envelopes fall into Axis hands, I might just as well put a +bullet through my brain, because I wouldn't want to go on living. Have +either of you any questions?"</p> + +<p>"Yes, sir, I have one," Freddy Farmer spoke up.</p> + +<p>"Then let's have it," Colonel Welsh said with a nod.</p> + +<p>The English-born air ace hesitated a moment, and a slight flush crept up +into his sun-and-wind-bronzed face.</p> + +<p>"These chaps to whom we deliver the envelopes, sir," he said with a +frown. "What if <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_54" id="Page_54">[Pg 54]</a></span>they—Well, what I'm trying to say, sir, is supposing +<i>they</i> don't follow the orders we give them? What if they should lose +their envelopes or—well, you know."</p> + +<p>"They won't, Farmer," Colonel Welsh said with a grim shake of his head. +"Each of the six officers that you will contact is not only an officer +in our Armed Forces, but a carefully selected member of Intelligence as +well. In short, each is one of my own men. And after you show them this +letter of authority, you need not worry that they won't follow orders +right to the letter."</p> + +<p>As he spoke, the colonel drew a seventh, but unsealed, envelope from his +pocket and handed it to Freddy Farmer. Then he turned his head and +looked at Dawson's frown.</p> + +<p>"Yes, Dawson?" he asked. "You've a question, too?"</p> + +<p>"A couple, Colonel," Dave replied. Then with a shrug, "The first may +strike you as stupid."</p> + +<p>"How can I say, until you ask it?" the Intelligence officer demanded as +the Yank air ace didn't go on.</p> + +<p>"These officers we're to contact—" Dawson said presently—"is there any +way we can make sure that each <i>is</i> the one we believe him to be? <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_55" id="Page_55">[Pg 55]</a></span>In +other words, we've just got six names, Colonel. I haven't read them yet, +but it's possible that neither Freddy nor I know the men from Adam as +far as looks are concerned."</p> + +<p>"A mighty good question, Dawson," Colonel Welsh said with an emphatic +nod. "Just shows you've got your eye on the ball right at the start. +Contact the officer, show him my letter of authority, and demand his +identification. It will be a copper disc with some numbers stamped on +it. Every set of numbers will add up to forty-one—the year, +incidentally, of Pearl Harbor. If the numbers don't add up to forty-one, +then he is not your man."</p> + +<p>"And if they <i>don't</i> add up to forty-one, sir?" Freddy Farmer asked, and +leaned forward.</p> + +<p>Colonel Welsh's lips stiffened, and an agate-hard glint came into his +eyes. He pointed to the letter of authority Freddy held in his hands.</p> + +<p>"Use that to have the man placed under close arrest at once!" he said +harshly. "And get in radiophone communication with me as soon as +possible. <i>If</i> the man tries to evade arrest, tries to escape—shoot him +dead on the spot! Yes, that's an unusual order, but this is an unusual +mission. Now, the other question, Dawson? What is it?"</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_56" id="Page_56">[Pg 56]</a></span>"When we reach Natal, sir," Dave said, "what do we do? Fly back and +report to you?"</p> + +<p>"No," the senior officer said with a shake of his head. "I'm allowing +three days for you to make this stop-over flight to Brazil. That should +get you in Natal by the fourteenth, the fifteenth at the latest. Put up +at the Pan-Am Hotel. I will join you there on the fifteenth. I'll have +another little mission for you when I get there. Well, any other +questions?"</p> + +<p>Dawson and Farmer looked at each other. Then they looked at Colonel +Welsh, and each shook his head. The senior officer stood up, and as +though the gods had waited for that exact instant, the Vultee's +Wright-Cyclone outside broke forth with its song of mighty power.</p> + +<p>"Then that's that," Colonel Welsh said. "There's some flying gear over +there on the wall. Select what you want, and then let's get outside to +the plane. I'll stake my life that not a soul has heard what we've been +talking about, but four walls always get on my nerves. I like it better +out in the open where I can see in all directions, and for some +distance, too. But don't pay any attention to me. I'm under a slight +strain, and it's trying its darnedest to get me. Stupid, of course. So +select your stuff, and let's <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_57" id="Page_57">[Pg 57]</a></span>get out to the plane. God bless you, and +all kinds of happy landings until we meet again in Natal, Brazil."</p> + +<p>If they happened to be listening to the colonel's parting words, the +gods of war, and death, and doom, must have had quite a laugh for +themselves!</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<div> +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_58" id="Page_58">[Pg 58]</a></span> +</div> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_FIVE" id="CHAPTER_FIVE"></a>CHAPTER FIVE</h2> + +<h4><i>Whispering Death</i></h4> + + +<p>Shifting to a slightly more comfortable position in the Vultee's cockpit +seat, Dave Dawson absently drummed the fingers of one hand on the side +of the cockpit and stared down at the sky-blue Caribbean Sea rolling far +beneath his wings. Behind him was Puerto Rico, and a considerable way +ahead of him was the British-owned island of Trinidad. Several miles off +the Vultee's left wing tip were the Leeward and Windward islands of the +West Indies jutting up out of the blue water. High above him was a +cloudless sky with a shimmering ball of gold in the center.</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_59" id="Page_59">[Pg 59]</a></span>All in all, it was a scene that would have made poets rave, and the +hardest of hearts melt. However, if the truth must be known, it left +Dawson cold. Not because he did not possess an eye for Nature's beauty; +it was rather because, though he was looking at it, he wasn't actually +seeing it. His mind was too filled with other and more personal +thoughts.</p> + +<p>The previous night he and Freddy Farmer had taken off from Bolling Field +and had flown directly to the Army Air Forces base at Miami. There, +after making sure, they had delivered the first of the sealed envelopes. +Later they had flown on to the base at San Juan, on Puerto Rico, and +delivered the second envelope. Now they were winging their way farther +south to the Air Transport Command base at San Fernando on Trinidad.</p> + +<p>"After Trinidad, Paramaribo, and Belem, and Natal," Dawson said, and +scowled down at the beautiful Caribbean. "That's just the point, too. A +couple of air-mail pilots, that's all we are!"</p> + +<p>"What's that, Dave?" he heard Freddy Farmer's voice in the inter-com +phones. "What are you mumbling about?"</p> + +<p>"Mumbling?" Dawson snorted. "I was shout<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_60" id="Page_60">[Pg 60]</a></span>ing with joy! I'm so excited +that I can hardly keep from jumping overboard. And now that I think of +it, maybe that <i>would</i> be a good idea!"</p> + +<p>"Then go right ahead, old thing," the English youth in the rear pit +chuckled. "Nothing I want more than for you to have your own way, you +know."</p> + +<p>"Don't look right now, but you can go fly a kite to the moon, pal!" +Dawson growled. "I suppose you're enjoying this here-to-there hop in the +sky?"</p> + +<p>"Well, I <i>have</i> seen better piloting," Freddy came right back. "But, +considering one thing and all, I'm not too fed up—yet. On the other +hand, it is a bit boring. I mean—"</p> + +<p>"You mean what?" Dave asked as Freddy let the rest hang in mid-air.</p> + +<p>"Don't know just how to put it in words," young Farmer replied. +"But—well, after that little talk with the colonel last night, I was +quite steamed up, as you would say. Very mysterious, and exciting, and +possibly dangerous, if you get what I mean."</p> + +<p>"I do," Dawson grunted. "But all it is to me now is mysterious. You can +have my share of the excitement and danger, if any. I'm just full of +beans, though, I guess. After some of the close <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_61" id="Page_61">[Pg 61]</a></span>shaves you and I have +had, routine stuff just gets me down, but quickly! But there have been +two bright spots in this thing so far, thank goodness."</p> + +<p>"Bright spots?" Freddy Farmer echoed. "Then I must have been looking the +other way at the time. What do you mean?"</p> + +<p>"At Miami and San Juan," Dawson replied. "The way those two commanding +officers tried to pump us as to what the sealed envelopes contained. It +was nice to look very wise and not tell them a darn thing. It was fun to +see somebody else floundering around in the dark. Misery loves company. +Say! Know what I hope, Freddy?"</p> + +<p>"I wouldn't even dare guess!" the English-born air ace replied. "What do +you hope?"</p> + +<p>"That the lad we contact at San Fernando has a copper disc with numbers +that add up to forty-five!" Dawson told him.</p> + +<p>"What?" young Farmer gasped. "Forty-five? But, Dave, the number is—"</p> + +<p>"Sure, forty-one!" Dawson cut in. "But don't you catch on, pal? If the +number is forty-five, it means that the lad is a phoney. And that means +that maybe we'll get some excitement out of this aerial messenger boy +job."</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_62" id="Page_62">[Pg 62]</a></span>"Rot, and very much so!" Freddy snapped angrily. "Come off it, Dave! +This is very serious business, and you are absolutely balmy to even hope +that things will go wrong. Just remember what Colonel Welsh said, Dave. +If one of these sealed envelopes should fall into Axis hands, he'd +rather put a bullet in his brain than go on living. Stop being a blasted +fool, old thing! It's not a bit like you at all!"</p> + +<p>"Okay, okay, papa!" Dawson chuckled. "Consider that you have up-ended me +and given me the shingle where it counts most. Just the same, I hate to +think of going stark, raving mad in the cockpit of a Wright-powered +Vultee."</p> + +<p>"Well, if that's all that's bothering you, you can put it out of your +mind at once," Freddy snapped, "because you were that way a long, long +time ago!"</p> + +<p>"Oh, yeah?" Dawson shouted.</p> + +<p>"Yeah!" Freddy Farmer replied. "But definitely!"</p> + +<p>They left it that way for the next fifteen minutes or so. At the end of +that time the Vultee was well out of sight of all land, and Dawson was +keeping it on course with instruments. At the end of that time, too, the +southern part of the heavens began to mist and fog up and gradually +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_63" id="Page_63">[Pg 63]</a></span>change to a copperish gray. The straight line that marked where the blue +of the sky ended and the copperish gray began told Dawson that a line +squall was moving across the Caribbean. But five minutes later the +little twinge of uneasiness that had come to him melted away, because +the copperish gray moved westward and not up northward toward the +Vultee. However, because of the silly mood that had gripped him since +leaving Puerto Rico, he had to voice a crazy thought.</p> + +<p>"Wouldn't you know, not even a storm to give us something extra to do!"</p> + +<p>"Eh, Dave?" he heard Freddy Farmer say. Then a second later, he felt +Farmer's hand tapping him on the shoulder, and heard his pal's excited +voice crackling in his inter-com phones. "Bear ten degrees eastward, +Dave! There's something down there on the water. Can't see it clearly +yet. Looks like a bit of rag being waved about by somebody."</p> + +<p>Dawson changed the Vultee's course, and at the same time twisted around +in the seat and glanced back at Freddy. Then he turned front and peered +ahead and down in the direction of the English youth's pointed finger. +He squinted his eyes slightly and even shielded them against <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_64" id="Page_64">[Pg 64]</a></span>the golden +sun with his free hand. But for all he could see, he might just as well +have kept both eyes shut. There was just blue Caribbean, turned golden +here and there by shafts of sunlight dancing off the surfaces of the +rolling swells.</p> + +<p>"I know you can see through a brick wall, Freddy," he said, "but if you +can see anything down there, then I'll eat it!"</p> + +<p>"It will be quite a meal!" Freddy Farmer cried. "Because it happens to +be a life raft! And there are chaps on it. Yes, four chaps! And one is +waving his shirt, or something. Blast those dirty U-boat blighters!"</p> + +<p>"Never mind the U-boats!" Dawson growled. "Just stick to the raft. Where +the heck is it? I think you're seeing things. I—Hold it, everybody; +hold it! I see it now, Freddy! I wasn't looking far enough out. Yeah! +That's a raft sure enough. Boy! I bet this sun is doing plenty to those +birds!"</p> + +<p>As Dawson spoke, he watched the small raft riding the rolling swells of +the blue Caribbean, as helpless as a leaf. As he stared at the four +figures in the raft, his anger boiled and the blood throbbed in his +temples. Dirty U-boat blighters, and how, as Freddy had said. Of all the +fighting forces to come out of Nazi Ger<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_65" id="Page_65">[Pg 65]</a></span>many, the U-boat commanders and +crews were the worst. Human life, and particularly the lives of women +and children, meant even less to them than it did to the Gestapo. Steel +sharks of the sea, they were called. To call them that was an insult to +a real man-eating shark. There just wasn't any name to call those who +manned Nazi U-boats, because there is no name in any language that +adequately describes them.</p> + +<p>Yes, the dirty U-boat blighters! Down there on the bobbing raft were +four who were no doubt victims of a terrible life-and-ship-destroying +explosion that had probably come in the dark of night. As those and +other bitter thoughts raced through Dawson's mind, he impulsively eased +back the Wright-Cyclone's throttle and slanted the nose of the Vultee +downward.</p> + +<p>"How I wish this was a flying boat, and we could pick up those poor +beggars!" he heard Freddy Farmer groan.</p> + +<p>"You and me both!" Dave agreed. "We have a radio, thank goodness. So we +can get help sent out before those fellows have to spend another night +at sea. I wonder how long they've been floating around?"</p> + +<p>"Quite some time, I fancy," Freddy Farmer <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_66" id="Page_66">[Pg 66]</a></span>said. "The chap waving his +shirt seems to be the only one with any life in him. The three huddled +down in the raft might as well be dead. Sights like that one make me +thank my lucky stars I'm in the air end of this blasted war."</p> + +<p>"You can say that again for me!" Dawson echoed. "At least in the air you +get it clean and fast. Mostly, anyway. Check and double-check! The boys +that really deserve the medals and the praise in this scrap are the +merchant marine fellows. They have nothing to fight back with except a +pea-shooter at the stern, and maybe one on the bow. They're perfect +floating targets twenty-four hours a day. If their engines break down, +heaven help them! Yes, my hat is off to those fellows, and I don't mean +maybe. I—Hey, Freddy! See that? He's trying to send us a message with +his shirt, isn't he? He seems to be waving it down to the right more +than down to the left."</p> + +<p>"That's right!" Freddy Farmer cried. "That's the old International Morse +code done with a flag. To the right is a dot, and to the left is a dash. +And straight down in front means the end of a word. Now, where's my +blasted pencil, and I'll put it down. There he put it down in front +three times! That means the end of the message. <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_67" id="Page_67">[Pg 67]</a></span>If he'll only repeat +it, I think I can get it."</p> + +<p>The man standing on the tiny raft seemed to wait a moment or two, as +though he were striving to rally his waning strength for another effort. +Then he started waving his shirt again. It was a short message, and both +boys got it without bothering to jot down each letter. The message +signaled was:</p> + +<p class="center"> +FLY OVER LOW PLEASE, IMPORTANT<br /> +</p> + +<p>"What do you make of that, Freddy?" Dawson asked, and dipped the +Vultee's nose even more. "Does he think we're a rescue plane that's come +to drop food and water, poor devil?"</p> + +<p>"I don't know," the English youth replied. "Possibly. Or maybe there's +something on the raft he wants us to see. The only thing to do is to go +down and find out. I say! I've just remembered! I have some chocolate, +Dave. I'll tie it up in my handkerchief and try to drop it right onto +the raft, if you get us down low enough. But, for heaven's sake, don't +hit the raft, or the water!"</p> + +<p>"Aw gee!" Dawson grated at him. "And that's just what I was planning to +do, too! You spoil <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_68" id="Page_68">[Pg 68]</a></span>all my fun, you dope! Act your age, will you?"</p> + +<p>"Just don't take us down too low," Freddy Farmer reminded him evenly.</p> + +<p>Dawson opened his mouth to make a fitting retort. Instead he shrugged, +let Freddy's remark slide, and concentrated on getting the Vultee down +as low as he possibly could. When he had reached an altitude of some ten +or fifteen feet, he throttled the Wright Cyclone until it was just a +shade on the good side of stalling. He guided it toward the tiny life +raft. The shirt-waver had ceased his signaling and was crouching down on +the raft as though he were afraid Dawson was going to bounce the +Vultee's belly off the top of his hatless head.</p> + +<p>"So you're also silly enough to think I'll come too close?" Dawson +growled, as he experienced a moment of annoyance. "Well, relax, fellow! +Just relax, and let's have a look at the meaning of that message. Okay, +Freddy! Get set to drop that chocolate!"</p> + +<p>As he spoke, he impulsively started to jerk his head around. Some inner +warning cut short his effort, and it was that inner warning that +unquestionably saved his life, and Freddy Farmer's life, too. In other +words, just as he was about to turn his head for a look at Young +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_69" id="Page_69">[Pg 69]</a></span>Farmer, all four men on the raft sprang to crouching positions. Each +gripped a sub-machine gun in his hands and blazed away at the coasting +Vultee!</p> + +<p>True, Dawson's sudden inner warning had helped, but it was his +instinctive reaction to sudden danger that actually saved his life and +Freddy's. In less time than it takes to bat an eyelash, he had smashed +the throttle wide open with one hand and was hauling the Vultee around +in a wing tip water-kissing turn with the other. Had he started to climb +at that same time, the Grim Reaper still might have claimed them both, +because the four crouching figures on the raft had automatically pointed +their machine guns skyward.</p> + +<p>As it happened, though, Dawson held the Vultee in a tight turn until its +tail was toward the raft. Then he quickly flattened out, shot forward +for a split second, and banked the Vultee over on its left wing tip. He +banked it to the right wing tip and hauled the craft up in a twisting +power zoom toward the sun-filled heavens. Only when he was well out of +range and had leveled off did he let the clamped air out of his lungs +and shake the cold beads of sweat from his forehead.</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_70" id="Page_70">[Pg 70]</a></span>"Suffering rattlesnakes, Freddy!" he choked out. "Was that a nightmare, +or did it happen? Those bums let fly at us, Freddy! All four of them!"</p> + +<p>There was no answer from young Farmer, and in the length of time it took +Dawson to twist around in the seat, he seemed to die a thousand deaths. +His fears were unfounded, however. Freddy Farmer was very much alive. No +bullet had snuffed out his life, though the left side of his glass hatch +was covered with a million tiny cracks. Amazement and utter bewilderment +were all that was wrong with the British-born air ace. He sat rigid in +his seat, staring at Dawson as though he had never seen him before in +his life. His face was white under his sun-and-wind bronze, and his +mouth hung open as though he had intended to yell, but had been shocked +into forgetting all about it.</p> + +<p>"Hey, Freddy, snap out of it!" Dawson shouted, and rocked the Vultee +violently.</p> + +<p>The English youth stared blankly for a second longer. Suddenly he +blinked, and his whole body shook like a leaf. The breath came from +between his lips in a whistle that Dawson could almost hear above the +roar of the Vultee's Cyclone.</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_71" id="Page_71">[Pg 71]</a></span>"The blighters! The low-down dirty beggars! They shot at us; +They—they—" Young Farmer choked on his words, and his eyes opened +still wider in amazement.</p> + +<p>It took a half second or so for Dawson to realize that Freddy was +looking at something forward and downward. Automatically, he twisted +around front and looked down. He let out a bellow of surprise. Down on +the Caribbean was a Nazi U-boat breaking surface not over fifty yards +from the floating life raft. Unable to move a muscle, he stared as the +conning-tower hatch opened and a couple of men spilled out onto the wet +deck and hurried toward the bow. The undersea killer veered over toward +the floating raft.</p> + +<p>What he saw made Dave fighting mad. He shook with anger, and a red film +seemed to slide over his eyes.</p> + +<p>"So?" he bellowed at the top of his lungs. "So it's like that, huh?"</p> + +<p>It was just like that. No sooner had the words left Dawson's lips than +the U-boat's bow gun belched flame, and the sky a hundred yards or so +off the Vultee's right wing tip seemed to explode in a roar of sound and +a great puff of oily black smoke. An instant later, another bit of sky +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_72" id="Page_72">[Pg 72]</a></span>seemed to explode. This time the puff of oily black smoke was high above +the Vultee. This was because Dawson had turned the nose of the plane +downward and was thundering straight at the U-boat at almost rocket +speed.</p> + +<p>"So you want to play, do you?" He shouted the crazy words. "Well, so do +we! And how! Here, catch, you tramps!"</p> + +<p>The Vultee's wing guns punctuated his words with a chattering blast of +sound that made the aircraft tremble violently. Straight lines of silver +tracers cut down at the two men crouched behind the guard of the +U-boat's bow gun. They would have done better had they dived overboard +and down under the U-boat's keel. The bullets from the Vultee's wing +guns found them and smashed them to the steel deck. Tapping rudder a +bit, Dawson veered the plane's nose a shade to the right and blazed away +at the open conning tower hatch. A man crawling up out of it was flung +head over heels clear of the U-boat's side and down into the water as +though by some invisible giant.</p> + +<p>By then the Vultee's prop was about ready to chew into the conning tower +itself, and Dawson had to haul the nose up and go curving around and +away. That maneuver permitted Freddy <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_73" id="Page_73">[Pg 73]</a></span>Farmer to go into action with his +rear guns. As Dave jerked his head around for a split second, he saw the +four men on the raft trying to scramble up to the U-boat's wet deck, +only to go toppling over backwards like tenpins and disappear beneath +the surface of the water.</p> + +<p>"There, you rotten beggars, you'll not do that again!" the English +youth's voice rang loud in Dawson's inter-com phones. "Not by half, you +won't!"</p> + +<p>"The sub's crash diving, Freddy!" Dawson yelled as he saw the hatch +close and the nose of the U-boat slip down under water. "Oh, gosh! If we +only had a depth charge or two! Oh, how I hate to let that snake get +away!"</p> + +<p>As the wishful words spilled off his lips, he was in the act of doing +what little he could. That was wheeling around and down for another run +over the crash-diving U-boat, and letting fly with all his guns at the +top half of the submerging craft. He might possibly hit some part that +would check the dive and force the U-boat back to the surface. That was +a slim, slim hope, and it died completely as the entire craft slid out +of sight, leaving behind an empty life raft and seven bodies.</p> + +<p>With a groan Dave cut his fire, and hauled <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_74" id="Page_74">[Pg 74]</a></span>the Vultee up out of its +dive and onto even keel. He stared down at the floating bodies, gulped, +shuddered slightly, and drew a hand across his goggles, as though that +would wipe away the scene below and make everything as it had been +before. It didn't, of course, but when he took another look downward he +found it hard to believe that Death had been whispering so close. Then +he snapped out of his trance.</p> + +<p>"Get the nearest patrol base on the radio, Freddy, and report that +U-boat's position!" he spoke into his inter-com mike. "There's just a +chance that it may have to surface soon, and somebody else can nail it."</p> + +<p>"Right-o!" Freddy Farmer called back. "But, gosh, I would love to be +that somebody else! Or—or has this just been a crazy dream, Dave? It +doesn't make sense! Those were blasted Nazis on the life raft. +Like—like a confounded decoy, or something. I—"</p> + +<p>"<i>Decoy?</i>" Dave Dawson gasped, and sat up straight in the pit. "Holy +smoke! Do you suppose so? Sure, you must be right. Look, Freddy! Report +that U-boat's last position. Then we'll get out of here, but fast! +Something is kind of screwy, and I don't like it, but plenty I don't."</p> + +<p>As Dawson nosed the Vultee around and onto <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_75" id="Page_75">[Pg 75]</a></span>its course for San Fernando +on British-owned Trinidad, he impulsively lifted his free hand to his +chest and pressed it against the two sealed envelopes and the little +vial of acid that were in his inside tunic pocket.</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<div> +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_76" id="Page_76">[Pg 76]</a></span> +</div> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_SIX" id="CHAPTER_SIX"></a>CHAPTER SIX</h2> + +<h4><i>Changed Orders</i></h4> + + +<p>The U. S. Army Air Transport Command at San Fernando comprised the +entire south side of the Trinidad air base. Dawson spotted the American +flag atop the Administration Building from the air. After his recent +experience, a great sense of relief and joy flooded through him at the +sight of Old Glory waving proudly in the breeze. And not only that, but +the sight of Old Glory meant also that this crazy aerial messenger-boy +mission was one-half completed. Three more stops and they would be at +Natal. There they would meet Colonel Welsh and, please, please, God, +find out what in thun<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_77" id="Page_77">[Pg 77]</a></span>der this secret sealed-envelope business was all +about.</p> + +<p>"And if he doesn't tell me," Dawson muttered as he let down the Vultee's +wheels and nosed the craft earthward, "it's going to be the end of a +beautiful friendship as far as I'm concerned. Right! He's got to give us +a tiny inkling, at least or—or—Well, I sure hope he does, anyway."</p> + +<p>"So do I, old chap!" he heard Freddy Farmer echo his hope. "I also want +to see his face when we tell him what we have to tell. You haven't any +new ideas, have you, Dave?"</p> + +<p>"Dawson shook his head. During the remainder of the flight to this next +stop, both had taken the U-boat experience apart and had carefully +examined it piece by piece. It was all to no avail, in regard to +reaching any definite conclusion. True, the logical conclusion was that +the life raft had served as a decoy to bring them down so low that its +occupants could shoot them into the water. When that had failed, the +lurking U-boat had surfaced to try its luck with its bow anti-aircraft +gun. If that was the correct conclusion, it made everything even more +screwy. Colonel Welsh was the only man living who knew why they were +making this crazy flight. He had told them so. How could a Nazi <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_78" id="Page_78">[Pg 78]</a></span>U-boat +at sea learn the secret they shared with Colonel Welsh? And—</p> + +<p>"Gosh!" Dawson gasped. "But no! Heck, no! That would be even screwier!"</p> + +<p>"What, Dave?" Freddy asked. "You do have a new idea?"</p> + +<p>"Not exactly," Dawson replied. "Just a chilling thought. Do you suppose +those birds on that raft were <i>really</i> torpedo survivors, and in their +crazed state took us for a Nazi plane and—"</p> + +<p>"What utter rot, Dave!" Freddy Farmer interrupted. "Don't be silly, old +thing! Of course not! Would four torpedo survivors bother to take four +sub-machine guns onto a life raft with them? Certainly not! Come out of +it, Dave! They were Nazis, sure enough. They were from that U-boat, too, +and set adrift to have a go at us."</p> + +<p>"But how—" Dawson began and cut himself off short. "Oh, skip it! If I +let myself think any more about the crazy business, I'll forget what I'm +doing and crack us up."</p> + +<p>"Then for goodness' sakes don't think of it!" Freddy Farmer cried in +alarm. "I fancy I've had excitement enough for the rest of this day! So +forget things and keep your eye on that field down there."</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_79" id="Page_79">[Pg 79]</a></span>Dawson did just that, and a couple of minutes later he set the Vultee +down light as a feather and taxied it over toward the Administration +Building. He braked to a stop eventually, unsnapped his safety and +parachute harness, and climbed stiff-legged down onto the ground. Freddy +Farmer joined him, and they were just starting to get some of the flight +stiffness out of their legs when a major came out of the Administration +Building and walked over to them.</p> + +<p>"Captains Dawson and Farmer?" he asked with a smile.</p> + +<p>"Yes, sir." Dave replied with a salute. "I'm Dawson. And you are Major +Parker, Yank commandant here, sir?"</p> + +<p>"That's right," the senior officer replied. "Welcome to Trinidad. Word +came through that you were making a survey flight along our South +American bases. I think you'll find we're not doing so badly here at San +Fernando. Here, this came through about half an hour ago. It's addressed +to you both. Needless to say, we didn't try to decode it. I don't +believe we have that code in the base book, anyway."</p> + +<p>The major held out a small yellow envelope. Dawson took it, ripped it +open, and withdrew a single sheet of paper. His heart did a loop in <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_80" id="Page_80">[Pg 80]</a></span>his +chest when he saw that the coded message was signed, "Tiger." That was +the signature Colonel Welsh used whenever he contacted the boys in +secret. The major had been quite correct, too. The code used by Colonel +Welsh was not to be found in the regular base code book, because it was +a special one that the colonel had made up himself. This code was not +known by more than half a dozen men, two of them being Dawson and +Farmer. The value of such a code was that it was so made up that a +decoding book, or decoding wheel, was not needed. Once you knew the +code, you could read messages from the memory of what the various +letters and numbers and symbols meant.</p> + +<p>Dave Dawson and Freddy Farmer looked at it together, while Major Parker +politely stared off across the base field. The true meaning of the +message became instantly apparent to them. Translated in their minds, it +read:</p> + +<div class="blockquot"><p>"Halt flight San Fernando. Arriving by air midnight. Serious +emergency developed. Maintain constant alert. Destroy evidence if +necessary. Important!</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">Welsh</span>"</p></div> + +<p>Dawson read the coded message three times, absently pulled off his +helmet and goggles, ran <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_81" id="Page_81">[Pg 81]</a></span>his fingers through his hair, and glanced +sidewise at Freddy Farmer.</p> + +<p>"And that is strictly that," he said. "But I wonder what?"</p> + +<p>"I don't know," the English-born air ace replied with a shrug of his +shoulders. "Frankly, though, I don't think I'm annoyed by this message. +Fact is, I'm just a bit glad. Much rather see him tonight, instead of +waiting until we get to Natal."</p> + +<p>Dawson grinned faintly, and nodded.</p> + +<p>"Yeah, I get what you mean," he murmured. "Maybe there's a connection +between this and what happened a while ago, eh?"</p> + +<p>"If not, I'll be very much surprised," Freddy Farmer said slowly. "And +yet I may be a bit balmy to say that. How could there possibly be any +connection?"</p> + +<p>Dawson shrugged, but made no reply. He stuffed the coded message into +his pocket, and turned to where Major Parker was inspecting the Vultee.</p> + +<p>"Thanks for giving us the message, sir," he said. Then he added with a +grin, "It sort of looks as though we've been fired, you might say. Our +superior officer is joining us here at midnight. Would it be all right +for us to eat <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_82" id="Page_82">[Pg 82]</a></span>in the Officers' Club and sort of kill time until he gets +here?"</p> + +<p>"Certainly, Dawson," the major replied at once. "The place is yours. +Help yourself to anything you like. So your survey flight is called off, +eh?"</p> + +<p>"Well, temporarily, anyway," Dave replied. "But don't ask me why, +because I wouldn't know, Major."</p> + +<p>"Okay, I won't," the other smiled. "I'll ask you this, instead. What +kind of trouble did you run into on the way down here?"</p> + +<p>"Trouble, Major?" Dawson echoed, and stared at him hard.</p> + +<p>"These holes," the senior officer replied, and pointed to a cluster of +four bullet holes six inches in from the Vultee's left wing tip. +"Somebody been sticking a pencil through the wing skin, eh?"</p> + +<p>"No; Nazi slugs," Dawson told him. "We—we came across a surfacing +U-boat about eighty miles out. It crash dived right after it sighted us, +but it threw up a few slugs in the meantime. We got a couple of its +crew, though. We radioed Puerto Rico patrol base and gave them the +U-boat's position. Have you heard any report that she was caught and +nailed?"</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_83" id="Page_83">[Pg 83]</a></span>"None," the major said, and then pointed across the field. "We wouldn't +get that sort of thing, anyway. This is a British-owned base, you know. +That we're here is a sort of lend-lease in reverse, you might say. And +radio stuff such as your call would be picked up by them over there. Too +bad, though, you didn't have a couple of depth charges aboard."</p> + +<p>"You're telling me, sir?" Dawson echoed with a grim laugh. "I'd have +given my right eye for just one! I don't think I hate anything so much +as I hate the U-boats."</p> + +<p>"You're not alone in that pet hate," the major added. "The U-boat is the +one thing we've got to lick, and lick fast, if we hope to win this war. +Of course, we <i>are</i> flying a lot of stuff across these days. But it +still takes ships to get oil, and gas, and the heavy stuff over where +it's needed. Hold everything! Where are my manners? You two could do +with a wash-up and something to eat right now, couldn't you?"</p> + +<p>"Oh, quite, sir," Freddy Farmer said eagerly.</p> + +<p>And for once Dawson had to agree with the perpetually hungry English +youth that a little food wouldn't be a bad idea at all. And so, after a +quick check of the Vultee to make sure that no stray bullets had damaged +anything seriously, <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_84" id="Page_84">[Pg 84]</a></span>they walked over to the Officers' Club with Major +Parker. The commanding officer introduced them to a couple of Air +Transport Command pilots and then took them into the mess, where a good +meal was waiting for them. Major Parker had a cup of coffee while they +ate, and conversation was at a dead end for a bit.</p> + +<p>Finally, Dawson refused a second cup of coffee and sighed in +contentment.</p> + +<p>"I guess I was rather starved, sir," he said to the major with a guilty +laugh. "Must be that Caribbean air."</p> + +<p>"Or the excitement," the major remarked quietly. "A little excitement +always makes me hungry enough to eat a horse. You and Farmer are a +couple of lucky fellows, you know."</p> + +<p>"How do you mean, sir?" Dawson questioned, and gave him a searching +look.</p> + +<p>The other smiled faintly and appeared to be very interested in something +he could see out of the mess window. Then suddenly he turned his head +and fixed his calm blue eyes on them both.</p> + +<p>"Tiger hasn't given <i>me</i> anything to do for a couple of months," he +said, "except this job here and orders to keep my eyes and ears open +for <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_85" id="Page_85">[Pg 85]</a></span>sabotage, and all that sort of stuff. I think a little real action +would just about save my life."</p> + +<p>Dawson tried hard to control the start that the unexpected words gave +him, but he didn't succeed very well.</p> + +<p>"<i>Tiger</i>, Major?" he echoed, as a little note of caution sounded deep +within him.</p> + +<p>Major Parker smiled, and a little bit of red seeped up into his leathery +face.</p> + +<p>"I couldn't help but see the signature, Dawson," he said. "But you have +my word of honor that I didn't read it. Because I saw that it was +addressed to you two. Colonel Welsh taught me that secret code of his +just before he sent me down to this place. I haven't been lucky enough, +yet, to have had the chance to use it."</p> + +<p>Since their messenger-boy mission had been washed out, at least until +Colonel Welsh's arrival at midnight, there was no reason to check Major +Parker's connection with Intelligence, but Dave somehow couldn't pass it +by.</p> + +<p>"I see, sir," he said quietly. "Well, Farmer and I were taught +something, too, before we left. We were taught to take an interest in +copper discs. Are you interested in copper discs, sir?"</p> + +<p>"Slightly," the other said with a chuckle. "At <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_86" id="Page_86">[Pg 86]</a></span>least I'm interested in +one copper disc. It has numbers on it."</p> + +<p>"Numbers?" Dawson murmured, and tried to look a little surprised.</p> + +<p>Major Parker smiled, and slipped a hand into his pocket.</p> + +<p>"That's right," he said as he withdrew his hand. "Numbers. The numbers +on the copper disc I'm interested in add up to forty-<i>three</i>. Would you +like to see it?"</p> + +<p>A cold chill shot through Dawson's chest, and a strange dryness came +into his throat. Forty-<i>three</i>? But if Major Parker really was Colonel +Welsh's agent down here at San Fernando, the numbers on his copper disc +should add up to forty-<i>one</i>.</p> + +<p>"Why, yes, yes," he finally got out with an effort. "I'd like to see it +very much."</p> + +<p>"Then have a look, by all means, Dawson," the major said, and with a +slight movement of his hand he tossed a brightly polished copper disc +down on the table top.</p> + +<p>Dawson picked it up with fingers that were trying desperately hard to +stop trembling. He could hear Freddy Farmer's heavy breathing, as the +English youth leaned over to take a look. Dave had picked up the disc +with the smooth <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_87" id="Page_87">[Pg 87]</a></span>side showing, so he had to turn it over. On the other +side stamped into the metal were the numbers 9 1 2 7 8 6 8. He stared at +them, and suddenly the truth came to him. The numbers did not add up to +forty-<i>three</i>. They added up to forty-<i>one</i>, just as they should have.</p> + +<p>The major's soft chuckle made Dawson jerk up his head.</p> + +<p>"Sorry I couldn't resist the temptation, Dawson," the officer said. "You +just added them up, didn't you? And reached the Pearl Harbor figure, +eh?"</p> + +<p>"Yes," Dawson said, and handed back the copper disc with a grin. "But +you sure had my heart fluttering for a moment there."</p> + +<p>"Frankly, I was just about to reach for my service automatic," Freddy +Farmer added.</p> + +<p>"Well, forgive me my rather flat little joke, and let's skip it, eh?" +Major Parker said with a little wave of his hand. "I noticed that Tiger +stuff gave you a little start, so I thought I'd kid a bit. Maybe that's +what this darn sun down here does to a fellow. To be serious though—and +out of order, I guess—anything in Tiger's message that I should know?"</p> + +<p>"Just what we told you," Dave replied pleasantly. "Our survey job is +held up until Colonel <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_88" id="Page_88">[Pg 88]</a></span>Welsh arrives. Which will be midnight tonight."</p> + +<p>Major Parker looked disappointed. Then he sighed, and grinned.</p> + +<p>"Okay," he said, "we'll let it go at that. If he had wanted me to know +anything, he'd have sent me a message, too. Well, as I said, the place +is yours. I've got some paper work to do, so I'll have to leave you for +a spell. Don't hesitate to make yourselves at home. If there is anything +you want, just yell. See you later."</p> + +<p>"Yes, sir, and thanks for everything," Dawson said. He and Farmer also +rose as the senior officer got to his feet.</p> + +<p>"Think nothing of it," the major said with a wave of his hand. "And have +fun, if you can find any fun around this place." With a smile and a nod, +he went through the mess door.</p> + +<p>Freddy looked at Dawson, and Dawson looked right back at him.</p> + +<p>"Nice enough chap, isn't he?" the English youth finally broke the +silence.</p> + +<p>"Yes, he's okay," Dawson agreed. "I guess he is going bats down here +with nothing to do. That is, nothing in his own line of work. Say, +Freddy?"</p> + +<p>"Yes, Dave."</p> + +<p>"How about walking down some of this swell <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_89" id="Page_89">[Pg 89]</a></span>meal, huh?" Dave suggested. +"I could do with a walk around. And like Colonel Welsh, I'm not so keen +about four walls."</p> + +<p>"A top-hole idea," Freddy Farmer said gravely, and brushed a couple of +crumbs off the skirt of his tunic. "I know just what you mean, old +thing. I've been thinking about it myself. Yes, definitely a top-hole +idea. Let's get along, shall we?"</p> + +<p>"Yeah, let's," Dawson murmured, and led the way toward the mess door.</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<div> +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_90" id="Page_90">[Pg 90]</a></span> +</div> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_SEVEN" id="CHAPTER_SEVEN"></a>CHAPTER SEVEN</h2> + +<h4><i>Blackout</i></h4> + + +<p>The setting sun was turning the waters of Paria Gulf between Trinidad +and Venezuela to blood red as Dawson and Farmer strolled along a +footpath that skirted a huge sugar plantation close to the San Fernando +field. As neither had ever set foot on Trinidad before, the many and +strange sights that met their wandering gaze took up all of their +attention, and the thought that was in the back of each youth's mind was +not given utterance for quite some time.</p> + +<p>Presently, though, Dawson came to a full stop, took a deep breath, and +squatted down on the ground.</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_91" id="Page_91">[Pg 91]</a></span>"Let's rest and watch the sunset," he said. "It looks like it's going to +be something. Besides, that's plenty enough walking for these aged +bones."</p> + +<p>"I was wondering if you were going to keep it up forever," Freddy Farmer +grunted, and sank down beside him. "Good grief! It does get your legs +when you're not used to it."</p> + +<p>"Think of the poor infantry, and realize how lucky you are," Dawson +chuckled. "After all, pal, you and I were flying last night, not +sleeping."</p> + +<p>"And don't I know it!" the other youth replied. "Can hardly keep my eyes +open now. As a matter of fact, when we get back, I'm going to borrow a +place from Major Parker to sleep until Colonel Welsh shows up. Blast it, +Dave! I don't think I feel very friendly toward the colonel, just now. +Heaven knows he's kept us in the dark once or twice in the past, but +certainly nothing like this. I'm just about ready to explode with +curiosity."</p> + +<p>"Me, I'm almost beginning not to give a darn," Dawson said, and lazily +stretched his arms over his head. "Too doggone much mystery and not an +answer to a single question. Speaking of questions, Freddy—call me +nuts, <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_92" id="Page_92">[Pg 92]</a></span>but I've got an awful funny feeling."</p> + +<p>"About what, Dave?" the English youth asked quickly, and gave him a +searching look.</p> + +<p>"These darned sealed envelopes we're still carrying around," Dave +replied. "The four we've still got, counting Major Parker's. In the +colonel's message, he ordered us to destroy them if necessary. +Well—well, outside of that dizzy U-boat thing, it's been just an +airplane flight. Yet—darn it, Freddy—having these envelopes in my +pocket is giving me the jim-jams!"</p> + +<p>"Yes, I know what you mean," young Farmer admitted, and frowned. "I'm +getting rather fed up with carrying them around, too. Silly, of course, +but a couple of times I've felt as though somebody were watching every +move I made."</p> + +<p>Dawson started slightly and took a quick glance in all four directions, +but he didn't see anyone, except some people near the San Fernando base +over half a mile away. He looked at Freddy and grinned a little +sheepishly.</p> + +<p>"You have, kid?" he echoed. "Well, me too. I've been having exactly that +kind of feeling, too. You know what I think about hunches!"</p> + +<p>"Yes," the other replied. "And I also know that sometimes your hunches +are worth giving serious consideration."</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_93" id="Page_93">[Pg 93]</a></span>"Sometimes, he says" Dawson snorted. "Look, pal—Oh, skip it! Now about +the four envelopes, Freddy, if you want my opinion on the matter, +it's—let's dump the acid on them and be rid of the darn things. Maybe +Colonel Welsh won't like it, but what the heck? He said, <i>if necessary</i>, +and the funny feeling I've got right now, and have had ever since we got +his message, makes me think it <i>is</i> necessary! What do you think? Or am +I going off half-cocked?"</p> + +<p>Freddy Farmer didn't reply for a moment. He sat staring out over the +Gulf of Paria that was now changing from blood red to midnight blue +since the sun had gone down behind the headlands of Venezuela. Finally +he reached a hand up inside his tunic and nodded abruptly.</p> + +<p>"If you're going off half-cocked, then we both are, Dave," he said +quietly. "I'm all for getting rid of them. If you alone had the funny +feeling, I'd say no. But I've got a queer feeling, too. So—well, here +go my two, anyway."</p> + +<p>As young Farmer spoke, he took out his two sealed envelopes and dropped +them on the ground. Then, moving back a bit, he unscrewed the cap of his +little vial and poured the brownish-colored contents over the envelopes. +There was a small flash of flame as the stuff came in <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_94" id="Page_94">[Pg 94]</a></span>contact with the +envelopes which seemed to melt away into the ground, leaving nothing but +a black smudge where they had been.</p> + +<p>"Boy, does that do the trick!" Dawson breathed, and dropped his two +sealed envelopes on the spot where Freddy's two had been. "Drop that +vial, Freddy, and kick dirt over it. Just a smell of that stuff would +most likely take the soles off your shoes. Okay, here go mine, too."</p> + +<p>A few seconds later there was another dark smudge on the ground, and not +so much as a shred of any of the sealed envelopes, or their contents. +Both Dawson and Freddy dropped their empty vials, kicked dirt over them, +and stamped the little mounds flat. Then, as if by mutual agreement, +they relaxed and heaved deep sighs of relief.</p> + +<p>"Maybe I was wrong," Dawson said thoughtfully. "Maybe Colonel Welsh will +hit the roof when we tell him. Just the same, though, I feel a hundred +per cent better."</p> + +<p>"Quite!" Freddy Farmer murmured, but with emphasis. "I feel as though a +terrific weight had been lifted from my shoulders. I swear, Dave, I +haven't got a strong enough heart to stand much of this sort of thing. +Frankly, this is the first contented breath I've taken since <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_95" id="Page_95">[Pg 95]</a></span>we left +Washington."</p> + +<p>"Yeah, I know," Dawson agreed. "The colonel certainly did pour on the +old caution stuff this time. So I guess it was—or still is—something +pretty doggone important. But there I go again, wondering what it's all +about. I sure wish the colonel would hurry up and get here!"</p> + +<p>"Know something, Dave?" Freddy asked after a couple of moments of +silence between them.</p> + +<p>"<i>Know</i> something?" Dave groaned, and rolled over on his stomach. "Maybe +you haven't been listening to me, pal. <i>I</i> don't know from nothing. Do +you?"</p> + +<p>"Not exactly," Freddy replied. "Just the old guessing game again. I am +guessing, though, that somebody found out about those sealed envelopes. +Also, they found out that you and I were acting as the messenger boys. +Also, they arranged that balmy life-raft and U-boat business this +afternoon. And also, Colonel Welsh is a very worried man, right at the +moment."</p> + +<p>"All of which means nothing," Dawson added, "and will continue to mean +nothing until the colonel gets here, and explains. <i>If</i> he does."</p> + +<p>"Most naturally!" Freddy said with a slight edge to his voice. "I've +been doing some extra <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_96" id="Page_96">[Pg 96]</a></span>thinking about this thing, in case you don't +realize it."</p> + +<p>"Well, go right ahead and think yourself black, blue, and sky-pink in +the face, if it makes you happy, little man," Dawson said with a laugh, +"but you still won't know from beans until the colonel gets here. And if +he—"</p> + +<p>"I know, <i>I know</i>!" Freddy interrupted with an impatient gesture of his +hand. "Save your breath, old thing. However, you might give this a bit +of thought, if your brain can stand the strain. We've been flying part +of the air transport route to North Africa."</p> + +<p>"No kidding?" Dawson said with a mock gasp. "Why, I always thought the +air transport route to North Africa was by way of Salt Lake City and +Alaska!"</p> + +<p>"Very, <i>very</i> funny!" Freddy snapped. "If I'm not boring you, Major +Parker said he was sent down here to keep an eye out for sabotage. He +also said nothing has happened in all the time he's been here. Colonel +Welsh admitted that his special agents were acting as C.O. of the points +where we've stopped and were going to stop. Why, Dave? <i>Why</i> should +Intelligence have a sudden interest in this air route to North Africa?"</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_97" id="Page_97">[Pg 97]</a></span>Dawson started to make another wisecrack, but the deadly serious look on +young Farmer's face stopped him. He gave the question a moment or two of +thought and then shook his head.</p> + +<p>"I don't know, Freddy," he replied. "I really don't know. You can search +me. If it isn't because of possible sabotage, then what?"</p> + +<p>"I guess I've asked myself that question a thousand times," the +English-born air ace said slowly. "I can think up but one answer that +might make sense. This is it. All these arrangements are being made to +make absolutely sure nothing will happen to something very special that +is soon to be flown to North Africa."</p> + +<p>"Such as?" Dawson prompted.</p> + +<p>Freddy seemed to hesitate for a long time. Then he shrugged, and made a +little gesture with his hands, palms upward.</p> + +<p>"Blessed if I know, or can guess," he said. "However, I feel absolutely +sure that all this business is taking place because something highly +important is to be flown to North Africa."</p> + +<p>"I don't think I agree with you there, Freddy," Dawson stated with a +frown. "This is one of the Air Transport Command routes to North Africa, +but if something special was to <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_98" id="Page_98">[Pg 98]</a></span>be flown across, the plane carrying it +certainly wouldn't land at all these points. Heck, Freddy! Air Transport +Command has lots of planes that could make the run down here to Trinidad +non-stop, and hop from here to Natal the same way."</p> + +<p>"Oh, quite," Freddy Farmer agreed, and waved his hand as though brushing +aside the undisputed point. "Non-stop all the way to Natal, if you want +to make an issue of it. However, the points in between are being given +just as much attention. Presumably this is being done <i>in the event of +trouble and a forced landing</i>; emergency fields, so to speak, all along +the route the plane, or <i>planes</i>, will fly."</p> + +<p>"Okay, okay, Master Mind!" Dawson laughed, and threw up his hands. +"Maybe you've got something there. And if you have, it means that what +we've been delivering, and what we just destroyed, are instructions in +case your mysterious cavalcade of the air happens to sit down on one of +the fields. Okay, that's that, then. Now all you have left to figure out +is <i>why</i> this mysterious flight?"</p> + +<p>Freddy Farmer nodded but made no reply. He sat watching the swiftly +approaching shadows of night. Glancing at his face, Dawson saw that the +English youth had something very ab<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_99" id="Page_99">[Pg 99]</a></span>sorbing on his mind. When young +Farmer continued to maintain silence, Dawson's curiosity got the best of +him.</p> + +<p>"Okay, out with it," he said. "What's the heavy thought that's weighing +down your brain at the moment?"</p> + +<p>"A very definitely insane one," Freddy Farmer replied, with a little +apologetic smile. "But taking it all and all, I'm blessed if I can think +of anything better."</p> + +<p>"Thanks," Dawson said sarcastically, and rolled over on his side. "That +makes everything clear as mud. What do you want me to do—get up on my +hind legs and beg?"</p> + +<p>If Freddy Farmer heard the remark, he ignored it. He turned to Dawson +and held up one hand with the fingers stiff and extended upward. Then he +started counting them off with the forefinger of the other hand.</p> + +<p>"<i>One</i>: Two F.B.I. chaps followed us all over New York," he said. +"<i>Two</i>: Colonel Welsh told us that a list of names compiled by the War +Department had been turned over to the F.B.I., and that it had the +approval of the President, the Secret Service, the Army, Navy, and Air +Forces. <i>Three</i>: The colonel refused to give us so much as a hint as to +what's behind this flight <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_100" id="Page_100">[Pg 100]</a></span>of ours. <i>Four</i>: He told us to guard those +sealed envelopes with our lives. <i>Five</i>: He said that one of his agents +was in secret command of every point where we were to stop. <i>Six</i>: The +route is the Air Transport route to North Africa. <i>Seven</i>: The colonel +said that the sealed envelopes contained the most important secret of +the war so far. And <i>eight</i>: He said that he would have another special +mission for us when we met in Natal."</p> + +<p>"And <i>nine</i>?" Dawson queried when young Farmer stopped talking and +lapsed into brooding silence.</p> + +<p>The English youth hesitated, chewed on his lower lip for a moment, and +then leaned over toward Dave and whispered, "<i>Nine</i>, is that all these +arrangements are being made because—because President Roosevelt and the +Yank High Command are being flown to North Africa, and perhaps beyond, +for a war conference with Prime Minister Churchill, Premier Joseph +Stalin, and their High Command Staffs. And there you have what <i>I</i> +think!"</p> + +<p>Dawson whistled softly, sat up straight, and stared hard at his flying +mate and dearest friend.</p> + +<p>"And <i>I</i> think you are strictly nuts, Freddy!" he said. But scarcely had +he spoken the words <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_101" id="Page_101">[Pg 101]</a></span>when he frowned and gave a little twist of his +head. "Jeepers, I wonder!" he mumbled.</p> + +<p>"Yes, no doubt I am quite nuts," Freddy agreed, and got up on his feet. +"Personally, I can't think up a better guess. It's started my brain +swimming, though. So what say we start on back, eh? Don't want to miss +evening mess, you know."</p> + +<p>"What a guy! <i>What a guy!</i>" Dawson groaned, and stood up. "Here in one +breath he has perhaps figured out the biggest secret in the war so far, +and in the next breath he's sounding off about that stomach of his. Did +I mention a moment ago that I think you <i>are</i> nuts? If I didn't, then +consider it said right now!"</p> + +<p>"The difference between us, old thing!" Freddy Farmer explained with an +airy wave of his hand as he started back along the path. "The food you +eat helps your body. The food I eat helps my body <i>and</i> my brain. If +you'd only eat more, maybe some of the nourishment would have a chance +to get up that high! I say! I didn't half realize that it was this +dark."</p> + +<p>"Yeah," Dawson agreed as he stumbled over a root. "A good thing that +talking box of yours ran out of words, or Major Parker would have to +send out a searching party. I—Hey, Freddy! <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_102" id="Page_102">[Pg 102]</a></span>What's the matter?"</p> + +<p>Dawson shouted the last because young Farmer, some ten or fifteen feet +ahead of him in the gloom, had suddenly buckled at the knees and had +fallen slowly to the ground. Dave leaped forward toward his prostrate +pal and had started to kneel down beside him when suddenly there was a +rustling sound in the sugar cane to his right. He turned his head and +caught a fleeting glimpse of bare feet and trousers. Then the Trinidad +sky seemed to fall on top of his head with a thunderous roar of sound, +and a great shower of red, yellow, orange and purple sparks.</p> + +<p>"Hey! What—"</p> + +<p>From a million miles away he heard the hoarse whisper of his own voice. +Then the hands of an invisible giant seemed to grab hold of him, lift +him high, and fling him spinning head over heels out across a world +composed of booming sound and flashing light.</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<div> +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_103" id="Page_103">[Pg 103]</a></span> +</div> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_EIGHT" id="CHAPTER_EIGHT"></a>CHAPTER EIGHT</h2> + +<h4><i>Eagles Can Take It</i></h4> + + +<p>A death-like stillness was everywhere. In that total absence of sound, +Dawson was aware of a throbbing, pounding pain in his head that made him +feel as though somebody were chopping it apart. Silence, darkness, and +somebody chopping his head to pieces. These three things Dawson's +sluggish brain could grasp, or at least grasp for a moment at a time. +All else, though, was just a great big blank. He didn't know where he +was, or what had happened. He scarcely remembered who he was.</p> + +<p>Suddenly a prickly pain all over his face seemed to speed up the +functioning of his brain. <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_104" id="Page_104">[Pg 104]</a></span>That, and the dull realization that he could +barely breathe because something was clamped hard against his nose and +mouth. Realization, yes; but there was not yet enough strength in his +body to do anything about it. For that matter, he felt as if he had no +body. He was aware of nothing but the pain in his head. Maybe his body +was gone, and only his head was living on. Did such things happen? Was +it possible for—</p> + +<p>"Dave! Dave, old man! Oh—<i>Dave</i>!"</p> + +<p>Sound? Yes, that was the sound of a voice! But whose voice? Dave +couldn't see anything because of the darkness, shattered every now and +then by pin-points of glittering light, like falling stars in the night +heavens. He—The thought dribbled away as a sense feeling returned to +his "absent" body. He suddenly realized that he was being picked up, or +rolled over on his back. The prickly pain left his face at once. In the +next instant he knew that his eyes were open, because he was conscious +of many shadows. The shadows moved, but no objects were clearly +outlined.</p> + +<p>"Dave! Dave, old thing! Can you hear me?"</p> + +<p>An arm was about his shoulders, and a hand was brushing his face. The +brushing seemed to remove every trace of the prickly pain. It also +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_105" id="Page_105">[Pg 105]</a></span>seemed to cause the shadows to stop moving and gradually take on shape +and outline. He know he was looking at treetops outlined against a pale +grey sky that grew darker and darker as he looked at it. A head came +into view. He saw wide, fear-filled eyes and lips that moved but made no +sound, save dry sobs. Suddenly, as though a button had been pressed +inside his head, his sluggish brain started to speed up, and in a flash +complete consciousness returned. Memory too, came flooding back like +waters pouring through a broken dam.</p> + +<p>"Freddy!" he heard himself gasp. "You—you okay, Freddy?"</p> + +<p>The arm about his shoulders tightened, and Freddy's choking voice +answered, "Thank goodness, Dave! I thought—I could hardly feel your +heart beat. You can thank God for your helmet, and I for mine, too. Our +heads would have been caved in but for them. No, Dave! Don't try to sit +up. You got it worse than I, or maybe my head is harder."</p> + +<p>"I'll feel better sitting up, Freddy," Dawson mumbled, and sat up in +spite of Farmer's plea for him to lie still.</p> + +<p>For the first couple of seconds, though, it didn't help at all. The +throbbing pain doubled <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_106" id="Page_106">[Pg 106]</a></span>in intensity, and he thought his head was going +to fly off his shoulders. After the first couple of seconds the +throbbing pain died down, and he could feel new strength surging through +his body. It was then that he took a good look at Freddy Farmer, let out +a little startled cry, and impulsively reached out a hand.</p> + +<p>"Jeepers, Freddy!" he gasped. "You look like you've been through a meat +grinder, and—Holy smokes! Look at me, will you? I look even worse. My +tunic's in ribbons, and—"</p> + +<p>Dawson stopped talking and stared wide-eyed at young Farmer. The +English-born air ace returned his look and nodded slowly as he wet his +lips with his tongue.</p> + +<p>"Quite, Dave," he said in a strained voice. "Some dirty beggar chopped +us down and searched us from head to foot for something he <i>didn't</i> +find."</p> + +<p>An icy chill swept through Dawson, and he swallowed hard. It was a +second or two before he could speak.</p> + +<p>"Those sealed envelopes, I bet!" he whispered. "We got rid of them just +in time. But, my gosh, Freddy! Who—"</p> + +<p>Dawson let the thought go unspoken because it seemed so utterly +incredible.</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_107" id="Page_107">[Pg 107]</a></span>"Yes, who?" Freddy Farmer echoed, and gave a little shrug of his +shoulders. "Somebody, that's certain. Gosh, he came close to killing us. +When I came to and saw you with your ripped tunic pulled up over your +head and your face pushed down into the dirt, I thought sure you were a +goner. Look, Dave, take off your helmet, if it doesn't hurt too much. I +want to see if it's more than just a bump. If your scalp's been cut, I +can patch it from this pocket Red Cross kit I carry."</p> + +<p>But Dawson had already explored under his helmet with very gentle +fingertips. He had two bumps side by side, not over an inch above a +point where two such blows would undoubtedly have paralyzed him for +life, if not killed him instantly. As it was, there were just the two +bumps and no wet or caked blood.</p> + +<p>"Just bumps, Freddy," he said, and forced a chuckle. "A couple of pips, +but you know me, Old Iron Head. How about you, though?"</p> + +<p>"I'm lucky," Freddy said, and tried to match Dawson's forced gaiety. +"Just one lump, but I'm sure the old noggin will ache for months. We'd +better bear this in mind, Dave. We can't stand another of these +attacks."</p> + +<p>"Says which?" Dawson mumbled.</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_108" id="Page_108">[Pg 108]</a></span>"We couldn't possibly be that lucky twice," the English youth explained. +"Blast this whole business, though! I don't like things I don't +understand. I definitely don't!"</p> + +<p>Dave Dawson didn't make any comment on that. He got slowly to his feet, +steeled himself while a dizziness swept through his head, and then began +a methodical search of his uniform pockets. Watching him, Freddy Farmer +waited until he had inspected their contents and had put them back.</p> + +<p>"Anything missing, Dave?" he asked.</p> + +<p>"Nothing, not even my money," Dawson replied with a note of grimness in +his voice. "So that proves it. Proves it wasn't a stick-up and plain +robbery. That we're both still alive and more or less kicking proves +murder wasn't the big idea, either. They were after something that we +didn't have any more. And—Sweet tripe, Freddy! That was over a couple +of hours ago. Look at the time, will you?"</p> + +<p>As Dawson spoke he thrust out his wrist watch. Ferry Farmer didn't +glance at the radium-painted dial. He simply nodded.</p> + +<p>"I know," he said. "I didn't enjoy our little nap at all. If you really +do feel up to it, Dave, what say we get on along back, what? Major +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_109" id="Page_109">[Pg 109]</a></span>Parker may be wondering about us."</p> + +<p>"Yeah," Dawson said, and stopped short. "Major Parker, Freddy?" he said +after a long pause. "He knows that code of the colonel's. He delivered +that message to us, but swears he read only the signature. And he is the +only one, outside of those two Air Transport Command pilots, that we've +spoken to here. But heck! I'm just plain nuts. It just couldn't be!"</p> + +<p>"And I don't think it is, Dave," Freddy Farmer murmured. "I'd bet my +life it wasn't Major Parker. He—Half a minute, Dave! Here comes +somebody along the path! I can see two flashlights!"</p> + +<p>"Me, too!" Dawson answered quickly. "I can—" He stopped as the silence +of night was suddenly broken with a loud hail.</p> + +<p>"Hello-o-o-o-o! Dawson and Farmer! Where are you? Hello-o-o-o! Dawson +and Farmer-r-r-r!"</p> + +<p>"That's Parker!" Dawson cried. "Out looking for us. Let's go, Freddy!"</p> + +<p>Dawson took a couple of steps, then stopped and cupped his two hands to +his mouth.</p> + +<p>"Hello-o-o there, Major!" he bellowed. "We're coming!"</p> + +<p>As his call died away, he could tell by the <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_110" id="Page_110">[Pg 110]</a></span>movement of the beams of +light far back along the path that whoever held the flashlights was +coming on the run. He and Freddy walked toward the approaching lights, +and after a couple of minutes one of them was playing over him at close +quarters. Major Parker's dumbfounded comments were splitting the night +air.</p> + +<p>"Good grief, what happened to you two? I waited mess for you, but when +you didn't show up I got worried for fear you'd got lost. Somebody said +they saw you heading up this path, so we came after you. Good grief! +What happened? Are you badly hurt?"</p> + +<p>By "we," Major Parker meant himself and one of the field pilots, who was +carrying the other flashlight. On impulse Dawson gave the man, whose +name was Tracey, a searching look, but he saw only bewildered amazement +and sympathy in the sun-and-wind bronzed face.</p> + +<p>"We don't exactly know, sir," Dawson answered the major. "We were +heading back to the base when suddenly the lights went out. Somebody +jumped us from the sugar cane. When we woke up, we were as you see us, +but nothing was missing."</p> + +<p>"Nothing?" Major Parker asked sharply.</p> + +<p>"Not a darn thing, sir!" Dawson replied <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_111" id="Page_111">[Pg 111]</a></span>truthfully. "I don't get it. +And I don't like it, either. Thanks, though, for coming after us."</p> + +<p>Major Parker dismissed the last with a wave of his hand, and opened his +mouth as though to say something important. He seemed to change his mind +as he shot a quick glance at Tracey, because he gave a little shrug and +remarked, "Well, standing around here isn't helping anything. I'd better +get you two back so you can clean up. We've got some spare uniforms, and +it won't be hard to find your fit. Slugged, and not a thing missing, +huh? Well, that's a new one on me. Okay, let's get back—if you two +really aren't hurt badly?"</p> + +<p>"Just a bump or two, sir," Dawson assured him. "Nothing to write home +about, at all."</p> + +<p>"Quite," Freddy Farmer murmured. "Received worse than this in a crash or +two. We're quite all right, sir."</p> + +<p>Major Parker paused, scowled, and shot them both a keen, searching look. +He said nothing, though; he just shrugged, turned around, and started +leading the way back along the path that skirted the sugar cane +plantation.</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<div> +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_112" id="Page_112">[Pg 112]</a></span> +</div> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_NINE" id="CHAPTER_NINE"></a>CHAPTER NINE</h2> + +<h4><i>Death Strikes</i></h4> + + +<p>Brows furrowed in deep thought, Major Parker slowly packed tobacco into +his pipe, put the stem between his teeth, and struck a match. As he +applied the flame to the bowl, he raised his eyes and watched Dave +Dawson and Freddy Farmer putting away their second meal as his guests. +This time, however, it was not in the Officers' Mess. The trio were in +the major's own quarters, and Dawson and Farmer looked none the worse +for their recent experience. Uniforms that fitted them perfectly had +been found, and it had been a matter of a couple of minutes to transfer +their insignia and incidentals from their <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_113" id="Page_113">[Pg 113]</a></span>torn and dirt-smeared +uniforms. As a matter of fact, anybody stepping inside the major's +quarters at the moment wouldn't have thought anything amiss. That is, +unless he noticed the fixed scowl on the major's face.</p> + +<p>The major kept scowling until Dave and Freddy had fully satisfied their +craving stomachs. Then he poured coffee for the three of them and +offered cream and sugar. That done, he slipped a hand into his tunic +pocket, pulled out his copper disc and tossed it on the table.</p> + +<p>"What else do I have to do to convince you two?" he asked quietly.</p> + +<p>Dawson lowered his coffee cup and looked at the major in mild surprise.</p> + +<p>"What's that, sir?" he asked.</p> + +<p>Major Parker jabbed his pipe stem at the copper disc.</p> + +<p>"That," he said, "is the only identification I can produce until Colonel +Welsh arrives at midnight. That isn't far off, of course, but you two +ran into some trouble tonight. Bad trouble, I'd say, and—Well, I'm +supposed to be in charge down here, which automatically makes me +responsible for your safety. I fell down on the job, it seems. In other +words, I'd like all the details so that I can start the wheels turning +to round <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_114" id="Page_114">[Pg 114]</a></span>up this mysterious trouble-maker."</p> + +<p>Dawson smiled, gave a little twist of his head, and gestured with one +hand.</p> + +<p>"That's just the trouble, sir," he said pleasantly. "There aren't any +details, except the unpleasant ones that we've already told you. We were +heading back here when we were suddenly jumped and knocked cold. Whoever +did the job tore our uniforms to ribbons searching us."</p> + +<p>"And what do you suppose he was searching for?" Major Parker asked +shrewdly.</p> + +<p>"I don't know, sir," Dawson said quietly, and looked straight at him. +"Whatever it was, he didn't find it, because neither of us lost a single +thing."</p> + +<p>"That's quite right, sir," Freddy Farmer spoke up. "I just had a +thought, though. Perhaps robbery was the main idea, but something or +somebody scared the beggar off."</p> + +<p>Major Parker made a face as though he suddenly had a bad taste in his +mouth, and sighed sadly.</p> + +<p>"Look, Farmer, I'm all of thirty-three!" he said sarcastically, "I've +been around a little. Don't give me that kind of an explanation. It's +silly. Whoever it was had time to tear your uniforms to shreds, but <i>no</i> +time to grab your <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_115" id="Page_115">[Pg 115]</a></span>money. That is, if it <i>was</i> robbery."</p> + +<p>"Well, it was just a thought, sir," Freddy replied with a weak grin.</p> + +<p>"Then let's skip it," the major suggested laughingly. Becoming serious, +he said, "Don't think I'm trying to bust in on secret stuff. What isn't +my business <i>isn't</i> my business. I've been attached to Intelligence long +enough to learn that. I ask for details simply because a couple of funny +things have happened around here lately. About ten days ago one of the +field laborers, hired by the British, was found dead with a bullet in +his brain. It turned out to be a Luger bullet. Three days ago somebody +broke into my office and tried to go through my private files. At least, +that's the way it looked to me—though my hunch might be all wet. Tell +me this, if you can: Did either of you get a look at whoever slugged +you?"</p> + +<p>"I didn't see a thing, or feel a thing, for that matter," Freddy Farmer +said with a shake of his head. "I was just walking along, and the next +instant I was out cold."</p> + +<p>Dawson started to shake his head, when suddenly he remembered. "I saw +his feet and legs up to his knees! As a matter of fact, he was +barefooted, but he wore pants. That's all I saw. <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_116" id="Page_116">[Pg 116]</a></span>Just his bare feet and +his trouser legs up to his knees."</p> + +<p>"Barefooted, eh?" Major Parker murmured. "That could well mean one of +the natives. There are certainly enough of them around here. Well, that +just makes this confounded business much more mysterious. I'll certainly +be mighty glad when Colonel Welsh arrives."</p> + +<p>"I guess that goes for the three of us, sir," Dawson added with a smile.</p> + +<p>"Yes, very much so," Freddy Farmer chimed in.</p> + +<p>Then followed a few minutes of silence, while each was engrossed with +his own thoughts. Presently Major Parker sighed faintly, knocked the +coals from his pipe bowl into an ash tray, and got to his feet.</p> + +<p>"I have to make a little nightly inspection tour about the place," he +said. "So, if you two will excuse me, I'll get on with the job. Don't go +away, though. I won't be long. I'll be back for another cup of coffee +with you. They certainly know how to make it down in this part of the +world."</p> + +<p>"All right, sir, we'll wait," Dawson answered for Farmer and himself. +"Unless there's something we can do to help? Doesn't seem quite fair +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_117" id="Page_117">[Pg 117]</a></span>for us to eat your food, take up your time, and not do any—"</p> + +<p>"Forget it, Dawson," Parker interrupted. "I'm glad to have you here. +Well, be seeing you shortly."</p> + +<p>With a nod and another wave of his hand, Major Parker went outside and +left the two youths looking at each other.</p> + +<p>"I like Major Parker plenty," Dawson said after a while. "And it sure +makes me feel like a heel."</p> + +<p>"What does?" the English-born air ace wanted to know. "The fact that you +like him?"</p> + +<p>"Cut it out!" Dawson urged. "Of course not. I feel like a heel because I +can't come clean and tell him all that we know."</p> + +<p>"It isn't very much, if you ask me," Freddy said with a shrug and a +gesture.</p> + +<p>"I know, but just the same I wish I could tell him what little we do +know. I'm sure he knows that we're holding out on him. And like I said, +he's such a swell fellow. And not the least bit dumb, what I mean."</p> + +<p>"Well, you can't be dumb and work for Colonel Welsh, I fancy," Freddy +murmured.</p> + +<p>Dawson started to agree with him, but suddenly checked his words and +shot a quick glance <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_118" id="Page_118">[Pg 118]</a></span>at Freddy. The English-born air ace was toying with +his cup of coffee and didn't see the grin that tugged down the corners +of Dawson's mouth.</p> + +<p>"Well, there is one exception," Dave said. "I could give you his name +with one hand tied behind my back."</p> + +<p>"And so could I!" Freddy said without so much as glancing up from his +cup of coffee. "His name is Dawson! Thought you were being very smart, +little man, didn't you, what?"</p> + +<p>"Okay, pass the cream!" Dave ordered. "I know when I'm licked. I—Hey! +You hear that?"</p> + +<p>"Hear what?" young Farmer asked, and looked up quickly.</p> + +<p>"I thought I heard a shout and a couple of shots from outside," Dave +told him. "You didn't hear anything at all, Freddy?"</p> + +<p>"Not a blessed thing, except your confounded voice," Freddy told him.</p> + +<p>That was all the English youth did say, because at that instant they +both clearly heard wild shouting and the savage yammer of machine-gun +fire. For about half a second they sat perfectly still. Then as one they +leaped to their feet, whirled, and raced out the door of Major <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_119" id="Page_119">[Pg 119]</a></span>Parker's +quarters. Outside, it was dark, and the sudden change blinded them both. +But only for a moment, and at the end of that moment they saw two or +three moving lights over at the southwest corner of the base, and +several figures running across the field toward those moving lights. +Impulsively, Dawson reached for his holstered service automatic and +broke into a run.</p> + +<p>"Let's go, kid," he called back over his shoulder.</p> + +<p>The last was unnecessary, because young Farmer was in motion, too, and +right there at his elbow. Together they ran across the field and reached +the small group gathered about three figures holding powerful +flashlights. The beams were being played on something on the ground, and +as Dawson took a look he gasped and instantly pushed his way forward. On +the ground, and just being helped up by a guard corporal, was Major +Parker. The officer, in spite of his leathery tan, looked very pale. And +there was a trickle of blood running down from a cut on his forehead +just over the left eye.</p> + +<p>"Take it easy, sir; I'll get the ambulance," the guard corporal was +saying as Dawson reached the injured man. "And we'll get the guy that +did it, too."</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_120" id="Page_120">[Pg 120]</a></span>"Don't bother about that, Corp," a voice said. "I saw him running after +the major fired, and me and little Betsy, here, knocked him out. He's +over there and not talking to anybody. He'll never talk again, not that +bird!"</p> + +<p>Dawson had raised his head at the sound of the voice, and saw a +square-jawed American soldier not ten feet away. The soldier was holding +a sub-machine gun in the crook of one arm, and patting it affectionately +with his hand. He paused in his patting long enough to jerk a thumb to +his left. Dawson looked in that direction and started inwardly as he +made out the huddled figure of a dead man on the ground. The thing that +made him start was the fact that the dead man was barefooted. One +glance, and Dawson turned his attention to Major Parker, who was now on +his feet, gently pushing aside the guard corporal's efforts to keep +holding him.</p> + +<p>"It's all right, Corporal, thanks," Major Parker said. "And I don't want +any ambulance. Somebody loan me a handkerchief until I can get a real +patch for this thing."</p> + +<p>"I've a First Aid patch right here, sir," Freddy Farmer spoke up +quickly. "Here, let me put it on. There! I say, sir, what happened?"</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_121" id="Page_121">[Pg 121]</a></span>The major tested the First Aid patch with his fingers and grinned a +trifle stiff-lipped at Dawson and Farmer.</p> + +<p>"He seems to have gone in for numbers tonight," he said. "I was just +coming around the corner of the Non-Coms' mess over there, when I +thought I heard a sound behind me. I turned, but it was quite dark at +that spot, so I didn't see anything clearly. Just—well, just somebody +diving at me. I didn't bother to ask questions. I dropped and went for +my gun. That's what saved me a really nasty crack, I guess. It messed up +his aim, because he had to reach out farther. But I missed, too, when I +shot at him as we both fell to the ground. Singed him, though, because +he cried out. The crack he gave me made me see a few stars, so I missed +again as he jumped to his feet and started running. Private Marvin, +here, arrived on the scene just in time, and Private Marvin is the kind +who doesn't miss. Let's go take a look."</p> + +<p>The whole group moved over to the dead man on the ground. The flashlight +beams were played on him. Somebody leaned down and turned the corpse +over on its back. The dead man was dressed in cheap native clothing, and +his skin was burned almost as black as the night <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_122" id="Page_122">[Pg 122]</a></span>sky. There was +something about the features, particularly the wide forehead, that +arrested Dawson's attention. As he leaned closer for a better look, he +caught sight of a corner of white showing beneath a tear in the dead +man's shirt. On impulse, Dawson reached down and pulled. Out came a +white envelope, and Dave's heart leaped up into his throat. He didn't +have to look inside the envelope to know what was there. Instantly he +recognized it as the letter of authority Colonel Welsh had given Farmer +and him to carry.</p> + +<p>"Holy smokes!" he whispered to himself. "So he <i>did</i> get something off +us. This! I'd forgotten all about this thing."</p> + +<p>"What thing?" Major Parker asked sharply, and stepped close.</p> + +<p>Dawson hesitated, but when he saw that the major and he were standing a +little apart from the others, he removed the letter of authority and +smoothed it out so the senior officer could read it. Major Parker did +just that.</p> + +<p>"But you didn't give me any—" he began, and stopped short as Dawson +nudged him quickly.</p> + +<p>"I know, sir," Dave said in a low voice. "We decided it best to destroy +them, after the message we got from Tiger. We did just that about five +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_123" id="Page_123">[Pg 123]</a></span>minutes before your corpse there jumped us. He didn't find what he +wanted, but he did find this letter. No doubt he figured that we'd given +them to you, or, at least, that you had been given yours. He went after +you, and—" Dawson came to a halt and gave a little angry shake of his +head. "I seem to be doing fine, I don't think!" he grated after a +moment. "I guess you could almost say, sir, that I gave you that crack +on the head. I was responsible for it, anyway."</p> + +<p>"No, that's not true, Dave!" Freddy Farmer spoke in his ear at that +moment. "I'm the thoughtless blighter. Don't you remember? I began +carrying that letter at Puerto Rico. I confess I had forgotten all about +the blasted thing."</p> + +<p>Dawson looked hard at his pal and then shrugged.</p> + +<p>"Okay, you or me, what does it matter?" he sighed. "The major should be +plenty sore at both of us."</p> + +<p>"You can skip that, both of you," Major Parker spoke up instantly. +"After all, maybe it's a break in a way. The rat is dead, and that makes +one less of his breed to bother us. Ten to one he killed that field +laborer and searched my office. If so—"</p> + +<p>The major let the rest slide, for at that mo<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_124" id="Page_124">[Pg 124]</a></span>ment all heard the roar of +an approaching aircraft. It was coming in fast from the north, and as +Dawson stared in that direction, he caught sight of the winking green +and red running lights. A couple of moments later, the field lights were +turned on to light the long runway. Shortly after that an American B-25 +slid down to a nice landing, and went trundling over toward the +Administration Building. Dawson, glancing at his watch, saw that it was +exactly midnight.</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<div> +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_125" id="Page_125">[Pg 125]</a></span> +</div> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_TEN" id="CHAPTER_TEN"></a>CHAPTER TEN</h2> + +<h4><i>Invisible Eyes</i></h4> + + +<p>No sooner had the North American B-25 bomber braked to a full stop in +front of the Administration Building than the fuselage door swung open +and Colonel Welsh disembarked. The Intelligence officer's thin face was +deeply lined from worry and loss of sleep, but his eyes were sharp and +clear as he swept them over the group that had sprung to attention. When +his eyes came to Dawson and Farmer, a light of relief seeped into them, +and he gave a little nod of his head as a sign of recognition, and +perhaps approval.</p> + +<p>"Get inside, you two, at once!" the colonel <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_126" id="Page_126">[Pg 126]</a></span>ordered. And then, as his +eyes picked out Major Parker, he added, "You, too, Parker. Everybody +else, back to your posts!"</p> + +<p>With a million and one speculative thoughts dancing and racing about +inside their heads, Dawson and Farmer climbed up into the bomber, with +Major Parker at their heels. Once inside, they saw that the bomb +compartment had been fitted out as an aerial office. Instinctively they +headed that way. By the time they reached that compartment, Major Parker +had joined them. The senior officer wigwagged a finger to check any +questions that might be asked and waved the three of them to the little +seats fitted to either side of the fuselage. He seated himself behind a +small table bolted to the bomb compartment flooring and stared into +space as the B-25's engines were revved up a little, and the bomber +started to trundle forward.</p> + +<p>Automatically, Dawson braced himself for a take-off, but the ship did +not leave the ground. The pilot trundled the bomber over toward one of +the hangars, braked it to a stop, and cut his engines. A moment later, +the field's ground crew was busy filling the aircraft's tanks. Still +Colonel Welsh sat staring into space without speak<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_127" id="Page_127">[Pg 127]</a></span>ing a word. The +suspense, and the mystery of it all, were like butterflies in Dawson's +chest. Again and again he glanced at the colonel, hoping to catch the +senior officer's eyes, believing that if he did so the colonel might +give him some kind of a sign that would at least relieve the tension.</p> + +<p>He had no luck, though. The colonel sat like a man of stone while the +B-25's fuel tanks were being filled to the brim. When they were filled, +the engines were started, and the bomber was trundled out to the +take-off end of the runway.</p> + +<p>"A take-off sure, this time!" Dawson thought to himself. "I wonder where +we're headed? In fact, I'm wondering a whole lot of things right now. +Something has certainly happened, because the colonel looks in a bad +way. He looks about as bad as I felt a few hours ago."</p> + +<p>But there was no take-off. When the bomber was swung around into the +wind, the engines were throttled to idling speed. Then and then only did +Colonel Welsh come out of his trance. He looked at Dawson and Farmer, +and reached out his hand.</p> + +<p>"Give me the rest of those envelopes," he said.</p> + +<p>Dawson shook his head and spoke quickly as a look of utter horror spread +over Colonel <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_128" id="Page128">[Pg 128</a></span>Welsh's face.</p> + +<p>"We haven't got them, sir," he said. "Right after receiving your code +message, we decided it was best to destroy them, so we did."</p> + +<p>Horror vanished from the Intelligence Chief's face and thankful relief +took its place.</p> + +<p>"Good lads!" he said. "Now give me a detailed report of your flight from +Washington."</p> + +<p>Dave Dawson glanced impulsively at Freddy Farmer, but the English-born +air ace shook his head and made a sign for Dave to do the talking. Dave +turned to Colonel Welsh and began to relate everything that had happened +from the Washington take-off to the moment of the colonel's arrival. He +didn't leave out a thing. However, in the event he might have missed +something, he shot a questioning look at Freddy Farmer when he had +finished.</p> + +<p>"No, I can't think of a thing to add," the English youth said. "You've +covered everything, I'm sure."</p> + +<p>During all the time Dawson was talking, Colonel Welsh sat leaning +forward slightly and listening as though his life depended upon every +word. Eventually he straightened up and looked at Major Parker.</p> + +<p>"Have you anything to add?" he asked.</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_129" id="Page_129">[Pg 129]</a></span>"Nothing, sir," the major replied. "Dawson covered my end of it all in +complete detail."</p> + +<p>"You had never seen the dead man before, Parker?" the colonel then +asked.</p> + +<p>"No, sir," Major Parker replied. Then, with a faint gesture, he added, +"I may have seen him, sir, in the course of my work, but the natives +here all look more or less alike."</p> + +<p>Colonel Welsh grunted, scowled down at the little table in front of him, +and suddenly shot a sharp look at Dawson.</p> + +<p>"Yes?" he asked. "You've got something on your mind, Dawson?"</p> + +<p>Dave started slightly, because he did have something on his mind and was +debating if he should mention it. He could feel the red seeping up into +his face as he looked at Colonel Welsh.</p> + +<p>"Just a hunch, sir," he said. "I'm probably all wrong. The dead man is +undoubtedly a native, as Major Parker says, but—"</p> + +<p>"But what?" Colonel Welsh pressed as Dawson let the rest go unspoken.</p> + +<p>"Well, his skin was dark like that of a native's, sir," Dave replied +after a quick apologetic look at Major Parker, "but there was something +about his features that sort of struck me as queer. The forehead looked +a little too wide for <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_130" id="Page_130">[Pg 130]</a></span>a native's, and I was suddenly struck by the +hunch that he was—No, I <i>must</i> have been wrong!"</p> + +<p>"Never mind what you must have been!" Colonel Welsh said sharply. +"Finish what you were going to say! You had the hunch that he was—"</p> + +<p>Dawson hesitated a second and then took the plunge. "That he was a +German, sir!"</p> + +<p>A moment of tingling silence settled over the made-over bomb +compartment. Then Colonel Welsh broke it with an order to Major Parker.</p> + +<p>"Come with me and show me this dead man, Parker," he said. "Dawson, you +and Farmer wait right here for me."</p> + +<p>Three seconds later the colonel and the major had climbed out of the +bomber, leaving Dawson and Farmer to twiddle their fingers.</p> + +<p>"I am going stark, raving mad!" young Farmer suddenly exploded in a low, +vibrant voice. "If I don't find out something soon, I don't know what +I'll do!"</p> + +<p>"I'll join you in a throat-cutting act, pal!" Dawson said, and sighed +heavily. "If this isn't the most mixed-up business we ever got into, +then I don't know what! The colonel's been here half an hour, and we +don't even know why he <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_131" id="Page_131">[Pg 131]</a></span>came down here in the first place. We can thank +the gods for one thing, anyway."</p> + +<p>"What's that?"</p> + +<p>"That Colonel Welsh was relieved and not burnt up when I told him we had +destroyed those envelopes," Dawson replied. "Envelopes! Phew! I'll be +seeing those darn things in my dreams for the rest of my life. Gosh! One +would think they contained the complete plans of Allied High Command for +the invasion of the European Continent, or something!"</p> + +<p>"Maybe they did," Freddy Farmer said with a shrug and a sigh. "Maybe +they did."</p> + +<p>With that the pair lapsed into brooding silence. Each was perfectly +content to remain silent, because words were just a waste of breath now. +They had talked themselves black and blue in the face as to the what and +the why of this crazy business. For all their talking, they were right +back where they had started in regard to anything concrete and definite. +Why talk about it any more? It was far, far better to go quietly nuts +waiting for Colonel Welsh to return and throw a little light on the +subject.</p> + +<p>They sat and waited for a good fifteen minutes, mulling over their own +thoughts and listening absently to the even murmur of the idling +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_132" id="Page_132">[Pg 132]</a></span>Wright-Cyclone engines that powered the North American B-25.</p> + +<p>At the end of that fifteen minutes, however, the colonel returned. To +Dawson's relief and pleasure, he saw that a lot of the worry had left +the Intelligence officer's face. In fact, there was an almost happy look +in his eyes. He came straight into the bomb compartment, seated himself +at his little table, and took the inter-com phone mike off the wall hook +at his side.</p> + +<p>"Take off, Captain," he spoke into it. "Fly north for twenty minutes and +then take up the course I gave you. Eh? Right!"</p> + +<p>The colonel put the inter-com mike back on the hook, looked at Dawson, +and smiled faintly.</p> + +<p>"Thank heaven for your hunch," he said. "You were absolutely right. He +was a German."</p> + +<p>"A spy, sir?" Dave blurted out before he could check himself.</p> + +<p>"Naturally," the colonel replied. "Just about the best in the Nazis' +gang. Colonel Baron Franz von Steuben is his name. Or was. Frankly, +we've been after him for a long time. The world is well rid of his kind. +What's the matter, Dawson?"</p> + +<p>"Major Parker, sir," Dawson replied, and reddened slightly. "I hope he +didn't think that <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_133" id="Page_133">[Pg 133]</a></span>I—"</p> + +<p>"Not a bit of it!" the colonel interrupted quickly. "The major admires +you for your hunch. He'd be the last one in the world who would want you +to keep it to yourself. As a matter of fact, he suspected that you might +feel embarrassed and asked me to give you his compliments and to say he +was sorry he couldn't go along with you."</p> + +<p>"To where, sir?" Freddy Farmer fairly shouted. And then he blushed so +flamingly that both Dawson and the colonel had to laugh.</p> + +<p>"That's all right, Farmer," the Intelligence officer said, still +chuckling. "Don't blame you at all. I can see it in both your faces that +you're practically ready to blow up with questions. Well, things have +happened that I didn't want to happen, so I guess it's time for me to do +a little explaining. Do you remember that technical sergeant in the +hangar at Bolling Field?"</p> + +<p>The two air aces nodded.</p> + +<p>"He's dead," Colonel Welsh stated grimly. "He, too, was a Nazi spy. And +working right under my very nose, which doesn't make <i>me</i> feel very +proud. Shortly after your take-off, one of the mechanics who helped to +roll out your plane came to me with the information that the technical +sergeant had been standing right outside that office while I was giving +you your instructions. I can tell you that that was the closest I ever +came to having a case of heart failure. I got to work at once checking +up on that tech<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_134" id="Page_134">[Pg 134]</a></span>nical sergeant. I won't bother you with the details, but +we caught him cold. Complete with a powerful short-wave sending set, and +all the rest of it. That was <i>after</i> he had had time to do his dirty +work, <i>if any</i>. I know, now, what that dirty work was, of course. Your +experiences, and Major Parker's, made the picture clear. He simply +flashed word to other agents to get you two by hook or by crook. He knew +your course, and he knew what you carried, though I'm still positive +that he didn't know the contents of those sealed envelopes.</p> + +<p>"Anyway, word was flashed along the network of Nazi spies on this side +of the Atlantic and to that U-boat lurking in the Caribbean. Heavens! +That was a daring stunt those devils tried."</p> + +<p>"I'm still shaking at how close it came to being successful!" Dawson +spoke up in a strained voice as the colonel paused.</p> + +<p>"Amen, and let's not think of that any more," the Intelligence officer +added almost fervently. "As soon as I learned the truth, I flashed you +a <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_135" id="Page_135">[Pg 135]</a></span>message to halt the flight and wait for me. I was too late at Puerto +Rico. I also took off in this plane at once to get down here and contact +you. I stopped at Puerto Rico, and Miami, too, and collected the two +sealed envelopes you had already delivered. Then I came on here and +found out that you two had used your heads. Just in time, too, thank +goodness. That you beat Colonel Baron Franz von Steuben to the punch is +something you can congratulate yourselves on for the rest of your lives. +If I had even dreamed that devil was down here, I would have had +nineteen different kinds of cat fits. But all's well that ends well. +And, although we've got to change our plans, we're still a couple of +jumps up on the Nazis."</p> + +<p>Colonel Welsh paused for breath and to take out his handkerchief and +wipe imaginary beads of sweat from his forehead. Both Dawson and Farmer +sat on the edges of their seats waiting for him to continue, but after a +moment or two of silence Dawson couldn't stand it any longer.</p> + +<p>"Can't you tell us a little about all this, Colonel? Just a little that +might help us—well, in case we got into another jam? Or are we on our +way back to Washington now? Is the job finished as far as Freddy and I +are concerned?"</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_136" id="Page_136">[Pg 136]</a></span>"No, we are not heading back to Washington," Colonel Welsh answered +quietly. "As for you and Farmer, the job is just beginning. Well, you've +earned the right to know. Since I was going to explain at Natal anyway, +I might as well explain now. You recall all that F.B.I. business in New +York? Remember my telling you of that list of names turned over to the +F.B.I. for checking?"</p> + +<p>"Could we forget, sir?" Dawson chuckled. "Freddy and I have been going +nuts trying to add two and two. We got a zero every time, and I don't +mean a Jap Zero, either."</p> + +<p>"Well, all that was simply a check and double-check, you might say," +Colonel Welsh said as his face became grave. "Every name on that +approved list was to be connected in some way with—"</p> + +<p>The colonel paused and ran his tongue across his lower lip.</p> + +<p>"Every man on that list," he began again, "is to have something to do +with a proposed trip by President Roosevelt to a war conference with +Prime Minister Winston Churchill at Casablanca in Morocco, North +Africa!"</p> + +<p>A moment of silence hung over the trio as the colonel finished speaking. +Then Dawson gave a <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_137" id="Page_137">[Pg 137]</a></span>little laugh and looked at Freddy Farmer. "Pick up +the marbles, Master Mind!" he said. "Pick them all up. You win!"</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<div> +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_138" id="Page_138">[Pg 138]</a></span> +</div> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_ELEVEN" id="CHAPTER_ELEVEN"></a>CHAPTER ELEVEN</h2> + +<h4><i>Midnight Raider</i></h4> + + +<p>"What?" Colonel Welsh exploded as he looked from Dawson to Farmer, and +back again. "What's this?"</p> + +<p>"Farmer, sir," Dave explained. "We made about six million guesses apiece +as to what this was all about. One of his was that the President was +going to North Africa, or beyond, for a conference with Prime Minister +Churchill and Stalin."</p> + +<p>"Nobody heard you make that guess, did they?" the colonel asked, +tight-lipped, as he fixed his eyes on young Farmer.</p> + +<p>"No, sir!" the English youth replied. "No<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_139" id="Page_139">[Pg 139]</a></span>body."</p> + +<p>"He's right, sir," Dawson spoke up quickly. "I remember when he made +that guess he spoke so low I could hardly hear him, and I was lying +right next to him. In case you're wondering, Colonel, it wasn't until we +were on our way back to the base that Colonel Baron von Steuben slugged +us. So it's certain he didn't hear Freddy."</p> + +<p>"Yes, of course you're right," the colonel said, and smiled at Farmer. +"So don't feel bad. It just gave me a start that you had hit the nail on +the head. You were partly wrong, though. Joseph Stalin will not be among +those present this time."</p> + +<p>"And those envelopes, sir?" Dawson asked when the colonel fell silent +and stared out the compartment window at the darkness of night sweeping +by. "They are still very hush-hush stuff, as far as we're concerned? +Could I ask if they contained information about the President's trip?"</p> + +<p>The senior officer turned from the window and looked straight at him.</p> + +<p>"You can, and I'll tell you," he said. "Each envelope contained the +route the President's plane is to fly, the exact time schedule, and the +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_140" id="Page_140">[Pg 140]</a></span>codes to be used in case the aircraft runs into trouble, or danger, and +all that sort of thing. In short, as I told you in Washington, the Nazis +would give almost anything to get hold of one of those sealed envelopes. +With that information in their possession, they could have delivered a +terrible blow to the United Nations. Think of it! The death of the +President and members of the American High Command! It would be like +setting our war effort back to the day of Pearl Harbor!"</p> + +<p>The horrible thought made Dawson shiver in spite of himself, and he +thanked God that Freddy and he had destroyed their letters before von +Steuben had smashed them both to the ground. The President's death would +have been loss enough, but to have added the loss of the great leaders +of our military, naval, and air forces would have been world shaking +indeed.</p> + +<p>"And now, sir?" Dawson asked after several moments of silence. "Now +another plan is to be carried out?"</p> + +<p>Colonel Welsh didn't answer for a moment. He stared down at his two +hands folded on the edge of the little table, and the expression on his +thin face seemed to show a reluctance to answer that question. +Presently, though, he lifted <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_141" id="Page_141">[Pg 141]</a></span>his head and looked straight at the two +youthful air aces.</p> + +<p>"We are now headed for Casablanca," he began quietly. "With the extra +tanks of fuel we have aboard, we can make it easily. If we reach +Casablanca without any trouble, I will be as sure as a man can be that +the enemy has not learned anything of the President's plan to fly there +himself. If we don't—"</p> + +<p>The Chief of all U. S. Intelligence let the rest trail off into thin air +and made a little gesture with one hand. Dawson frowned and looked at +him earnestly.</p> + +<p>"I don't think I get what you mean, sir," he said slowly.</p> + +<p>"And neither do I, sir," Freddy Farmer spoke up.</p> + +<p>For a moment the colonel held his lips pressed together in a thin, grim +line, and a hard light glittered in his eyes.</p> + +<p>"In a thing like this," he said presently, "you can't afford to take +<i>any</i> chances. You've got to be dead sure; as dead sure of everything as +it is humanly possible to be, from start to finish. I had utmost +confidence in your making the complete flight to Natal. And the way you +two did handle yourselves, when the odds were actually <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_142" id="Page_142">[Pg 142]</a></span>all against you, +proves that the confidence I had in you was justified. But in everything +there is ever present the little item of fate. A tiny little something +that is beyond man's power to see in advance, or even to counteract when +it happens. For example, that technical sergeant at Bolling Field. I +would have staked my life on that man. But, as things turned out, I was +completely mistaken. And so with you two, or with each of my agents at +the stops you were to make. Because of something you couldn't guard +against, or prevent before death came to you, the contents of one of +those sealed envelopes might have fallen into enemy hands. What I mean +is, one of the envelopes might have been opened, the contents read, and +then the envelopes resealed."</p> + +<p>"But, Colonel," Dawson protested, "one of us would—"</p> + +<p>"I know, I know," the colonel said, stopping him with a gesture of his +hand. "But look at it this way. Suppose von Steuben had knocked you both +out while you still had the envelopes? Suppose he had opened one, read +its contents, and resealed it so that you'd never have guessed? What +then? When you came to and found you still had the envelopes, you'd +never dream that they had been touched."</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_143" id="Page_143">[Pg 143]</a></span>"But I'd be plenty suspicious, sir!" Dawson interrupted. "I'd—"</p> + +<p>"Would you?" the colonel's quiet but firm voice stopped him again. "But +von Steuben was no fool! What if he stole your money and Farmer's money, +too? What then?"</p> + +<p>"I see what you mean, sir," Dawson said, and grinned sheepishly. "We +would have thought we'd been victims of some holdup."</p> + +<p>"Exactly," the colonel agreed. "A crazy little twist of fate over which +you had no control whatever. Yet the damage would have been done. So I +had to do what I could to find out if there had been any crazy twist of +fate. In other words, each of those sealed envelopes contained the +information, in code of course, that the <i>next</i> bombing plane to pass +through would carry the President, and members of his party."</p> + +<p>Dawson blinked, and suddenly the truth hit him between the eyes.</p> + +<p>"What, sir?" he gasped. "You—you mean this B-25 is <i>supposed</i> to be +carrying the President?"</p> + +<p>"I mean just that!" the colonel confirmed grimly. "<i>If</i> enemy agents +have learned what was in those envelopes, they will believe that this +bomber is carrying the President as a passenger. The President has +already left Washing<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_144" id="Page_144">[Pg 144]</a></span>ton in secret, and it wouldn't take much checking +by enemy agents to find out that he isn't at the White House. Naturally +they'd believe he was aboard this plane."</p> + +<p>"Anything funny happen on your flight down, sir?" Freddy Farmer asked, +as the senior officer paused for breath.</p> + +<p>"Nothing that I noticed," Colonel Welsh replied with a shake of his +head. "But just because things don't happen doesn't mean that they +<i>won't</i>, in time. So, as I said, we won't know for sure until we arrive +at Casablanca."</p> + +<p>"And maybe not even then," Dawson mumbled to himself.</p> + +<p>Colonel Welsh gave the Yank air ace a sharp look, and then nodded his +head.</p> + +<p>"That's right," he agreed. "And maybe not even then. Just another reason +why an Intelligence man gets gray hair so early in life. You never can +tell about a job until it's all finished and you're working on another. +Then it's the same thing all over again."</p> + +<p>The trio lapsed into silence, but not for long, because the question +that had been plaguing Dawson just had to come out.</p> + +<p>"Supposing we make it to Casablanca okay," he said, "and you feel sure +that the enemy hasn't <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_145" id="Page_145">[Pg 145]</a></span>learned a thing about the President's trip, what +then? The sealed orders Farmer and I were to have delivered at the rest +of the stops are destroyed, and you say you collected the envelopes we +left at Miami and Puerto Rico. How will they know about the President's +plane when it does come through?"</p> + +<p>"A good question, but I've got the answer, Dawson." The colonel smiled +and pointed to a brief-case on his little table. "In there are +duplicates of the orders, <i>without</i> the part about the next bomber +through being the President's plane. If we reach Casablanca safely, +we'll turn around and head south for Liberia, cross the South Atlantic +to Natal, and deliver one of those sealed envelopes to each of the stops +as we fly north to Washington. I've allowed sufficient time for us to do +that, in case that's the way it works out."</p> + +<p>"Well," Dawson remarked, and shifted to a more comfortable position on +his chair, "there's nothing like a two-way hop across—"</p> + +<p>But he never finished his sentence, because at that moment the pilot of +the B-25 came back into the made-over bomb compartment and spoke to +Colonel Welsh.</p> + +<p>"A surface ship just ahead, sir, sending up <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_146" id="Page_146">[Pg 146]</a></span>distress flares," he +reported. "Probably a merchantman with a torpedo in her plates. We're +about three hundred and fifty out, due east of Barbados. Do you want me +to radio the ship's position? You gave orders, you know, to maintain +radio silence."</p> + +<p>"Sending up distress flares?" Colonel Welsh queried with a frown. "What +good does she think flares will do? The captain of any other ship near +by would be a fool to come close to her. The U-boat might still be +lurking around."</p> + +<p>"I know, sir," the pilot said. "Maybe she hears us and wants us to send +out her position because her radio shack is gone. Maybe she thinks we're +a flying boat on patrol."</p> + +<p>For some unknown reason a sudden eerie chill rippled across the back of +Dawson's neck. He looked at Colonel Welsh and tried to convince himself +that this was none of his business, but that eerie chill forced him to +blurt out, "And it could be something <i>else</i>, sir! I mean, if we send +out the ship's position, our radio will reveal <i>our own</i> position."</p> + +<p>The pilot of the bomber glared quickly at Dawson, and the corners of his +mouth stiffened. "It isn't fun to be torpedoed at night," he said +quietly. "I lost a brother that way."</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_147" id="Page_147">[Pg 147]</a></span>Dawson flushed slightly, but he didn't drop his eyes before the other's +stare. Before he could say anything, though, Colonel Welsh addressed the +pilot.</p> + +<p>"Circle her and continue to maintain radio silence, Captain," he said. +"Just before you pass her to port, drop a flare so that we can get a +good look at her. If she seems in trouble, then maybe we'll do something +for her. Meantime, though, I want all members of the crew to go to +battle stations."</p> + +<p>The bomber pilot's eyes widened in surprise, but he had sense enough not +to ask any questions. He nodded, glanced at Dawson, turned and went +forward to his compartment. Dawson waited until he was out of earshot, +and then gave Colonel Welsh an apologetic smile.</p> + +<p>"I'm sorry, speaking out of turn like that, sir," he said. "I guess the +captain must think I'm a little cracked."</p> + +<p>"Let him think so," the colonel remarked quietly. "All he knows is that +he's flying me to Casablanca for a meeting with my agents, and that it's +up to him and his crew to get me there. If he'd been through what you +have, he'd be the first to agree with you. Maybe the flare will tell us +something. If it is a torpedoed ship, <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_148" id="Page_148">[Pg 148]</a></span>I think I will take a chance and +have her position radioed. Poor dev—"</p> + +<p>That was as far as the colonel got. The savage yammer of aerial +machine-gun fire interrupted him. An instant later they all heard a yell +of pain from the pilot's compartment. Even before the echo had died +away, the North American B-25 heeled over on one wing and started to +slide off and down with both engines wide open.</p> + +<p>"The pilot's hit!" Dawson yelled, and lurched to his feet. "Pilot hit +and his co-pilot, too, I guess. By what? How the heck—"</p> + +<p>Dawson didn't finish, either. At that instant the night outside was +lighted with a brilliance like that of high noon. A terrific roar seemed +to slam into the B-25 from all sides and spin her around until she was +as helpless as a dried leaf in a gale.</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<div> +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_149" id="Page_149">[Pg 149]</a></span> +</div> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_TWELVE" id="CHAPTER_TWELVE"></a>CHAPTER TWELVE</h2> + +<h4><i>Fighting Hearts</i></h4> + + +<p>The crazy motion of the bomber knocked Dawson off balance and sent him +lurching heavily against the flare rack as he reached the navigator's +nook just aft of the pilot's compartment. The air whistled out of his +lungs, and balls of colored fire danced before his eyes. Fortunately, +though, his outflung hands caught hold of something, and he was able to +prevent himself from pitching headlong on his face.</p> + +<p>The B-25 was still flooded by brilliant light, and above the screaming +roar of the over-revving Wright-Cyclones, Dawson could hear the chatter +of aerial machine guns. He gave no <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_150" id="Page_150">[Pg 150]</a></span>thought to the thing that was +happening. He had but one idea in his head, and that was to fight his +way forward to the pilot's compartment. As he dived past the navigator's +nook, a hand grabbed him by the arm, and he heard voices, but he could +not understand the words above the din of other noises. With a savage +wrench of his arm he freed himself, and piled forward into the pilot's +compartment.</p> + +<p>One glance gave him a complete picture, and his racing heart seemed to +stand still. The glass of the pilot's compartment was shattered to bits. +The pilot was slumped over against the Dep wheel, and the weight of his +limp body was pushing the control forward so that the bomber remained in +its mad dive. Beside the limp pilot was the co-pilot, flopped over +against the side of the compartment and looking for all the world like a +man dead tired who had simply leaned over to brace himself and catch a +couple of minutes of sleep. That is, he looked like such a man except +for the crimson blood that gushed from a gaping wound in his neck just +below the left ear.</p> + +<p>After one look at the hideous sight Dawson flew into action. Bracing +himself behind the pilot's seat, he grabbed the limp figure by the +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_151" id="Page_151">[Pg 151]</a></span>shoulders and pulled him back on the seat. Holding him upright with one +hand, he reached around and opened the catch of the pilot's safety +harness. That done, he braced himself again and eased the man to the +floor boards. The pilot's eyes fluttered open, and his lips sprayed +drops of blood as he tried to speak. Dawson didn't have time to listen. +He leaped into the pilot's seat, grabbed the control wheel with one +hand, hauled back on it steadily, and eased off the throttles with his +other hand.</p> + +<p>Little by little the crazy downward plunge of the B-25 eased off. The +plane began to climb back into the sky. There was still brilliant white +light all about. It had a silverish tint to it, and Dawson had the +impression that he was flying straight through a phosphorescent ocean. +In an abstract way be realized the white light was caused by flares that +had been dropped from high above the bomber and were bringing it out in +clear relief for a mysterious aerial night raider.</p> + +<p>"Where is it, and what?" Dawson gasped as he squinted his eyes in the +brilliant glare. "It's just one ship. I can tell it from the guns. But +what—"</p> + +<p>He cut the rest off short and heeled the B-25 <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_152" id="Page_152">[Pg 152]</a></span>way over on its wing and +brought it around and up in a climbing turn with the engines wide open. +He did so because he had caught a glimpse of a shadow boring in and up +at him from the left. Just a shadow, but he knew instinctively that it +was another plane. At the top of its climb, he whipped the bomber over +and around in the opposite direction. The bomber was neither a P-40 nor +a Lockheed Lightning, and his heart seemed to stand still in his throat +as he waited for the big craft to come around. With each passing second, +he expected to hear the savage yammer of guns blazing away at him.</p> + +<p>As a matter of fact, a moment later he did hear guns, but they came from +the B-25, not from the other plane. They came from the port side, and +impulsively he jerked his head around in that direction. As he did so, +he saw a sight that brought a wild cry of joy from his lips. Silhouetted +against the brilliant background of light was a Nazi-marked Arada AR-95 +twin-pontoon seaplane. He could see the silverish disc described by the +spinning propeller, but the aircraft seemed to be standing still. +Rather, it seemed to be held motionless in the air by twin streams of +tracer smoke that reached out to it from the B-25.</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_153" id="Page_153">[Pg 153]</a></span>It was motionless for only a moment, and then suddenly a sheet of flame +spewed out from under its engine cowling. Fire mushroomed out in all +directions, and in the wink of an eye, the Arada completely disappeared, +and there was just a great cloud of fire hanging in the flare-lighted +heavens. To Dawson the cloud seemed to hang not for seconds, but for +minutes. And then, as though an invisible cable had been cut, the cloud +of fire dropped straight downward.</p> + +<p>"Sweet shooting! Pretty!" Dawson heard his own voice yell. "And I've got +a hunch that it was good old Freddy who nailed her! If it—"</p> + +<p>He stopped short, as he happened to glance ahead and to the left. By now +the flares were burning out, and were down close to the water. Because +of that he was able to see the seven-or eight-thousand-ton tramp steamer +that was leaving a broad, churning wake as it made off at top speed +toward the darkness to the north. The surface vessel flew no flag, and +there was little to distinguish her from any of the thousands of tramp +steamers.</p> + +<p>She was no mystery to Dawson, however. One look at her racing away from +the light of the fading flares was all he needed to know the truth. That +ship was one of the few Nazi sea <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_154" id="Page_154">[Pg 154]</a></span>raiders left, and the Arada seaplane +had come from her decks. By looking carefully he could see a cradle on +the forward deck, and a huge hoisting crane that must have lifted the +seaplane over the side.</p> + +<p>"The dirty dogs!" Dawson grated as he glared down at the fleeing vessel. +"If only we had some bombs or depth charges aboard, what a finish we +could put to that sea murderer! We'd—"</p> + +<p>"Dawson! Thank God!"</p> + +<p>The words seemed to explode in his ears. He jerked his head around and +saw the strained features of Colonel Welsh. The Intelligence Officer's +eyes were wide with both anger and amazement. His lips moved silently +for a couple of seconds before he spoke again. "That was close! It would +have been too close, but for you, Dawson! What's that down—"</p> + +<p>"A Nazi raider that was carrying the seaplane," Dawson cut him off. "We +can't do anything about her now, though. Even our radio is smashed, so +we can't send out her position. But the pilot and co-pilot, Colonel! Get +help and get them aft. The pilot is still alive, I think, but this +chap—"</p> + +<p>Dawson stopped as he turned and looked at the co-pilot in the seat next +to his. Cold rage <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_155" id="Page_155">[Pg 155]</a></span>filled his heart, and his bitter hatred of all things +Nazi flared up again. Too many times had his youthful eyes looked upon +death not to recognize it now. Nothing in the world could help the +co-pilot. He had passed on to join his buddies in the airmen's Valhalla.</p> + +<p>"Better get to work on the pilot behind me!" Dawson said with a +sharpness he didn't realize was in his voice. "There must be a medical +kit aboard this bomber. I'll stick here and keep us going. Or do you +want to turn back?"</p> + +<p>"No, keep going!" the colonel replied. "It wouldn't do to turn back now. +Here, Corporal! Give me a hand with your pilot. Where's the medical +kit?"</p> + +<p>The last words were directed to one of the aircraft's crew who had come +forward into the compartment. Dawson paid no attention to him, for at +that moment the port engine started to kick up a bit, and he had to give +all his attention to getting it to run smoothly again. By then the glow +of the flares had faded out, and the B-25 was thundering on through the +darkness of the night. Dawson switched on the small-instrument light so +that he could keep a careful check on engine performance and hold the +aircraft to her course across the Atlantic. Only once <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_156" id="Page_156">[Pg 156]</a></span>did he take his +attention from his flying, and that was when the dead co-pilot was +lifted from his seat and taken aft. Once again red rage burned within +Dave, as it always did when one of his countrymen was killed. He gripped +the control wheel hard to prevent his hands from shaking.</p> + +<p>Presently somebody slid into the co-pilot's seat and touched him on the +arm. It was Freddy Farmer.</p> + +<p>"Well done, old thing!" the English youth said in a voice that shook +with feeling. "Fancy we've all got you to thank for saving our hides. +Personally, I was too scared to move for hours, and—"</p> + +<p>"Nuts!" Dawson interrupted with gruff affection. "Anybody can haul a +plane out of a dive. If it hadn't been for your sweet shooting, that rat +might have nailed us!"</p> + +<p>"Good grief, how did you know?" Freddy gasped. "You couldn't see me from +here!"</p> + +<p>"I didn't have to look back," Dawson chuckled. "I simply saw the kind of +shooting it was and knew at once you were behind the guns. How's the +pilot making out, or don't you know?"</p> + +<p>"Not too bad, for which he can thank his <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_157" id="Page_157">[Pg 157]</a></span>lucky stars," the English +youth replied. "He'll pull through all right, but I guess the chap will +be out of the war for some time. What kind of blasted business was it, +anyway, Dave? That beggar was waiting for us right up on top, with his +confounded flares. We were—well, as you would say, a sitting duck."</p> + +<p>"Yeah, and we were darn near a dead pigeon, too!" Dawson said grimly. +"But how, and why? Don't ask me, pal! I just haven't got the brains it +would take to figure out this crazy mess. To me it looks like one of +those little items of fate the colonel was talking about. Unless—"</p> + +<p>"Unless what, Dave?" Freddy Farmer pressed as Dawson fell silent.</p> + +<p>"Unless there's no connection at all," the Yank air ace finally +remarked.</p> + +<p>"I'm afraid that doesn't make much sense to me," young Farmer said. +"What do you mean, no connection?"</p> + +<p>"Well, figure it this way," Dawson replied. "Say that the President's +forthcoming trip to Casablanca is as much of a perfect secret as ever. +That—"</p> + +<p>"But that's silly!" Freddy Farmer cut in. "The fact that this plane was +mysteriously attacked means that some blasted Nazi agent <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_158" id="Page_158">[Pg 158]</a></span>found out what +was in one of those sealed envelopes. I mean, that the next bomber +through would have the President aboard."</p> + +<p>"Are you all through sounding off?" Dave snapped. "Or don't you want to +hear the rest of what I have to say?"</p> + +<p>"Sorry, and all that!" the English youth snapped right back at him. +"I'll be still. What were you going to say, Dave?"</p> + +<p>"Figure the President's trip business <i>out</i>," Dawson went on speaking +again. "Okay. So for what other reason should we be attacked by a +mysterious plane from a mysterious raider in the middle of the Atlantic? +I can think of only one, and this is it. Take it or leave it. The Nazi +U-boats aren't doing so hot for Hitler these days. We're sinking his +steel sharks left and right, and he's going to run out of them before +long. Okay. Where is a lot of our stuff going these days? To North +Africa. And a lot of it is being <i>flown</i> over. Okay. The Nazis don't +stand a chance of going after our transports with their planes, like +they can on the supply route to England. So what do they do? They send a +sea raider out, fitted with a scout seaplane. The sea raider's detector +picks out one of our planes crossing at night, and the seaplane goes up +to high altitude <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_159" id="Page_159">[Pg 159]</a></span>and waits. Maybe those distress signals are part of +the gag to get our plane to go down for a look. Anyway, the seaplane +pilot drops his flares. They light up the target for him and also blind +those aboard the transport plane long enough for the Nazi rat to do his +stuff with his guns. And there you are. Take it or leave it!"</p> + +<p>"Just the point, Dawson," Colonel Welsh suddenly broke in. "I don't know +<i>whether</i> to take it or leave it. I certainly don't!"</p> + +<p>"Oh, you there, sir?" Dawson gulped as he turned his head around. "I was +just—well—"</p> + +<p>"I know, and I'm glad I heard what you said," the colonel interrupted +him. "I was certain that they were laying for us because they believed +the President to be aboard. Yet I swear I don't see how they could +possibly have found out. I'd stake my life that only we three know the +contents of those sealed envelopes."</p> + +<p>"If I may say so, sir," Freddy Farmer spoke up, "I have a feeling that +Dawson has come very close to the truth, if he hasn't hit it exactly. +Frankly, sir, it was just too perfect for the Nazis to have planned it +this way. There—there just wasn't enough time, I'd say."</p> + +<p>"What do you mean by that last?" the colonel asked him.</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_160" id="Page_160">[Pg 160]</a></span>"I mean that if we had been attacked by a land-based plane, we could +take it that the Nazis had got wind of the truth and had come after us," +the English youth started to explain. "But that aircraft was from a +surface ship—a surface ship that was <i>directly</i> in our path. Tell me +this, sir, if you will. On the way down, what did you plan to do when +you reached Trinidad?"</p> + +<p>"Eh?" the senior officer grunted. "Why, see you two, of course, and find +out what had happened, if anything. After I had heard what you had to +say, I'd decide what to do next. Why?"</p> + +<p>"Well, there you are, sir!" young Farmer cried. "That proves that +Dawson's idea must be right. Don't you see? Even <i>you</i> weren't sure as +to where this aircraft would go next. You didn't even give the pilot his +course instructions until the very start of the take-off. So how could +the Nazis possibly have found out and radioed that surface vessel to +sail to a point <i>directly in our path</i> in the time it took us to fly out +here from Trinidad? It's—it's silly, if you'll forgive me, sir."</p> + +<p>The colonel said nothing for a moment. Then he gave a long-drawn-out +sigh.</p> + +<p>"Yes, I guess you're right, both of you," he <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_161" id="Page_161">[Pg 161]</a></span>said. "The secret of the +President's trip must still be as safe as ever. Yes, it must be that +way. We just happened to bump into something that any plane flying this +route would have bumped into."</p> + +<p>"I sure hated to see that sea raider get away!" Dawson grumbled. "Talk +about lucky shots! That first blast got the radio set cold, unless the +radio man can fix it up, sir? I saw the shambles it was as I dived by +the navigator's nook."</p> + +<p>"No, no such luck," Colonel Welsh replied. "I asked him quite a while +back, and he said it was hopeless. The navigator, of course, has a +record of the exact position at the time, so we can report it when we +reach Casablanca."</p> + +<p>"How's the pilot, sir?" Dawson asked. "Were there any other casualties +besides that poor co-pilot?"</p> + +<p>"The pilot will pull through," Colonel Welsh replied. "The only casualty +was the co-pilot. Well, I'll go aft now to see if I can do anything for +the pilot. You two can get us through all right, eh? I mean—"</p> + +<p>"If the engines keep ticking over, we'll make it, sir," Dawson said +quietly. "The tanks were spared, praise be! So I think it will be all +good flying from here in."</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_162" id="Page_162">[Pg 162]</a></span>"Then I'll leave you to it," the colonel said. "And—and God bless both +of you!"</p> + +<p>Neither Dawson nor Farmer had a chance to say anything, because the +Intelligence officer quickly turned and went aft.</p> + +<p>"Well, you convinced even me with that swell sales talk of yours, +Freddy," Dawson eventually broke the silence between them. "I guess +maybe I did hit on the right idea, at that."</p> + +<p>"I think you did," the English youth echoed. Then with a chuckle he +added, "But I suppose I'll never hear the end of it from now on!"</p> + +<p>"Now ain't that gratitude for you?" Dawson groaned, and shook his head +sadly. "So help me, why I keep getting that food-craving hide of yours +out of tight spots, I'll never understand. I must be nuts, I guess!"</p> + +<p>"And for once," Freddy Farmer laughed, "I won't argue with you!"</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<div> +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_163" id="Page_163">[Pg 163]</a></span> +</div> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_THIRTEEN" id="CHAPTER_THIRTEEN"></a>CHAPTER THIRTEEN</h2> + +<h4><i>Lurking Wings</i></h4> + + +<p>For the hundredth time Dawson dug knuckles into his tired eyes, stifled +the yawn that struggled to get up out of his throat, and took a quick +glance at Freddy Farmer seated in the co-pilot's seat. And for the +hundredth time he wondered how the English-born air ace could go through +so much and still look as fresh as a daisy.</p> + +<p>"Boy, oh boy!" he finally blurted out. "How do you do it, anyway, +Freddy?"</p> + +<p>The English youth glanced his way with arched eyebrows.</p> + +<p>"How do I do what?" he wanted to know.</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_164" id="Page_164">[Pg 164]</a></span>"Look so doggone full of pep," Dawson told him. "Here I feel like the +last rose of summer after a steam roller has run over it, and you look +like a million bucks, or more. How come? Are you taking some very secret +vitamin pills that I don't know anything about, huh?"</p> + +<p>"Certainly not!" young Farmer replied at once. "I haven't got <i>that</i> +old, yet. But would you like to know the truth?"</p> + +<p>"Well, if you insist on telling me, I suppose I've got to listen," +Dawson grunted. "So shoot."</p> + +<p>"Well, don't let my looks fool you," Farmer replied. "I may look fresh, +but I definitely am not that way inside. Fact is, I'm not quite sure +whether I am awake or asleep. And if you insist on knowing everything, +I'd be jolly glad if we would sight land."</p> + +<p>Dawson started slightly and shot him a keen look.</p> + +<p>"Meaning?" he asked.</p> + +<p>Young Farmer made a faint motion of his hand toward the milky sort of +world through which the B-25 was flying. The sun had been up for a long +time, now, but haze blurred the sun's rays and turned both sea and sky +into a drifting milky-tinted mass that made instrument flying absolutely +necessary.</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_165" id="Page_165">[Pg 165]</a></span>"Meaning that I'm wondering if my navigation has gone haywire," Freddy +said. "We should have made landfall half an hour ago, Dave. But there is +nothing but blasted water down there. How's our fuel?"</p> + +<p>"Okay, we've got plenty in the tanks," Dawson said. "If your navigation +is all cockeyed, then I'll eat this ship. Of course, you are a funny +sort of gink in lots of ways, my little man. But when it comes to +navigating, I'll take you every time. So relax, pal. What's a half hour +on an ocean hop? We probably bumped into a head wind, that's all."</p> + +<p>"Thanks, old thing," Farmer smiled at him. "And I certainly hope that +you're right. However, this whole blasted business has been so balmy +right from the start that I'm willing to expect almost anything. And, in +fact, I do."</p> + +<p>Dawson ignored that remark. Freddy had certainly hit the nail on the +head. Of all the jobs they had tackled, this one was certainly the most +mixed up and involved. It seemed so for the very simple reason that not +one thing had gone along as planned. At every turn something had popped +up to toss a monkey wrench into the works and necessitate a complete +revision of plans. Realization of that caused little <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_166" id="Page_166">[Pg 166]</a></span>fingers of ice to +pluck at Dawson's heart. The object of all this business was a safe +journey by air to Casablanca for the President and the American High +Command. With everything going haywire from the start, what other blows +of Fate might be struck once the President was on his way?</p> + +<p>"But I'm just tired, and letting myself get off the beam!" Dawson +mumbled. "The colonel's secret is still his secret. And—and that raider +business was just one of those things. Darn it! Nazi agents just +couldn't have found out anything!"</p> + +<p>"Just what I've been trying to convince myself of for hours," he heard +Freddy Farmer say. "But I'm still finding it a bit of a difficult job. +As you say, though, we're both so blasted tired. I feel as though I've +been in this aircraft all my life."</p> + +<p>"Yeah, me, too!" Dawson agreed. "I—"</p> + +<p>He stopped speaking, straightened up in the seat, and peered into the +milky-colored sky off to the left and a little bit ahead. He stared +until his eyes ached and smarted.</p> + +<p>"What's the matter, Dave?" Freddy asked presently. "Are we making +landfall?"</p> + +<p>"No," Dawson replied slowly, with a little <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_167" id="Page_167">[Pg 167]</a></span>shake of his head. "I guess +I'm just seeing things. I could swear that I saw a group of planes show +off there for a split second or so."</p> + +<p>"Planes?" young Farmer echoed excitedly. "What type? Maybe it's an +escort come out to meet us, and—But no, that couldn't be. Nobody knows +we're coming. Did you recognize them, Dave?"</p> + +<p>"That's just the point," Dawson complained as he continued to stare into +the milky mass that was the sky. "I'm not dead sure, but I think—Well, +if you want to know, they looked like Junkers Ju-88's to me. Yeah, the +big long-range babies the Nazis used against England and shipping in the +Atlantic. But maybe I was just seeing things."</p> + +<p>"You must have been, Dave!" Freddy said sharply. "It's my guess the +Nazis haven't any long-range bombers to spare against shipping in this +part of the Atlantic. We have far, far too much aerial cover for our +boats. Besides—"</p> + +<p>The English-born air ace didn't continue. He stared off to the left. +Dave sensed the sudden movement and impulsively turned his head to look +in that direction, too. As a result, they both saw the milky sky split +apart for a brief moment and reveal six Nazi Junkers Ju-88's <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_168" id="Page_168">[Pg 168]</a></span>winging +along on a course almost parallel with theirs. The haze and the milky +overcast parted just long enough for them to see the six-plane +formation, and then it promptly closed down and hid all from view. But +they had seen the ships and before Dawson took another breath he piloted +the B-25 down and away on a detour course toward the north.</p> + +<p>"You were right, Dave!" Freddy Farmer spoke first. "Absolutely right! +Those were Junkers, or I've never seen one in my life. And I've seen +plenty of them!"</p> + +<p>"Junkers, right enough," Dawson repeated with a nod of his head. "And +that bunch was the <i>second</i> group! In short, there must be a whale of a +big Yank convoy that they are hunting for, or else—"</p> + +<p>Dawson stopped and shrugged, but Freddy Farmer wouldn't let it remain +that way.</p> + +<p>"Or else what?" he demanded.</p> + +<p>"Or else they are hunting for <i>all</i> planes headed for Casablanca," +Dawson replied slowly. "Go aft and get the colonel, will you, Freddy? I +think he should be told what's going on."</p> + +<p>"Definitely!" young Farmer replied, and quickly slipped out of the +co-pilot's seat.</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_169" id="Page_169">[Pg 169]</a></span>During the next couple of minutes Dawson virtually "explored" every +square inch of the milky air all about the B-25 but he didn't sight any +planes. Then Freddy returned with Colonel Welsh, and Dawson reported +what they had seen.</p> + +<p>"They seem to be all around our course, sir," Dawson added. "Do you want +us to plow right on through, or continue to detour around this area and +come into Casablanca from the north? We've the fuel left to do it, if +that's what you want."</p> + +<p>The colonel didn't reply at once. It was very plain from the expression +on his thin face that the news of sighting Nazi aircraft disturbed him +greatly.</p> + +<p>"It can't be a convoy they're after," he finally said, "because there +isn't one this far south. And they can't be looking for any plane, such +as this one, because—"</p> + +<p>The Chief of U. S. Intelligence paused a second, shook his head, and +ordered, "Get on course for Casablanca, Dawson, and plow right on +through! With our radio gone, we're helpless to find out what's what—if +anybody happens to know. The sooner we get to Casablanca, the better. So +bang on through, but avoid action <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_170" id="Page_170">[Pg 170]</a></span>if it's possible."</p> + +<p>"Very good, sir," Dawson replied, and pulled the B-25 back onto her +original course. "By the way, sir, how's the pilot?"</p> + +<p>"Getting better by the minute," the colonel replied. "Lost a lot of +blood, but we'll take care of that as soon as we get to Casablanca. Push +on through, and I'll order the crew to remain at battle stations. This +is the darnedest mess I ever bumped into!"</p> + +<p>"If I've ever met up with anything more tantalizing, then I sure don't +remember it," Dawson remarked by way of agreement. "Okay, sir! +Casablanca it is, and on the run!"</p> + +<p>Colonel Welsh murmured something that Dawson didn't catch and, giving +the Yank air ace a pat on the shoulder, he swung about and returned to +his battle station aft. For the next twenty-two minutes Dawson and +Farmer didn't speak as the twin-engined North American B-25 prop-clawed +its way forward through the milky-hued heavens. Neither of them spoke +because anything they might have said would only have served to increase +their fears. Both feared they were lost, and not even headed toward +Casablanca. They feared that at any second a whole flock of those +mysterious Junkers might <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_171" id="Page_171">[Pg 171]</a></span>suddenly appear in the air before them and +open up with all guns. They feared that once more their plans were about +to be knocked into a cocked hat.</p> + +<p>"Jeeper, jeepers!" Dawson finally muttered. "I couldn't have a worse +case of jim-jams than I've got right now, even if I was actually +piloting the President's plane. I—"</p> + +<p>"Dave!" Freddy Farmer broke in excitedly. "I'll be blessed! Look!"</p> + +<p>The English youth's exclamation was quite unnecessary because Dawson was +already staring wide-eyed at one of the many so-called miracles of +weather. In other words, the milky air stopped abruptly, as though cut +off by a knife. One instant the B-25 was plowing on through the stuff, +and the next it was roaring out into clear air filled with brilliant +sunshine. Dead ahead was the coast of French Morocco, and the Port of +Casablanca glistening white in the sun!</p> + +<p>"So this guy Farmer is a punk navigator, huh?" Dawson shouted joyously. +"Like heck he is, what I mean!"</p> + +<p>"Luck, blasted luck, I swear it!" Freddy breathed, but there was a happy +smile on his face just the same. "Man! I never was so glad <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_172" id="Page_172">[Pg 172]</a></span>in all my +life to see a place as I am to see that spot ahead. Luck, absolutely +nothing but luck!"</p> + +<p>"Okay, have it your way," Dawson laughed. "But just keep right on having +this kind of luck. That's all I've got to say. Boy, oh boy! Dry land +ahead, and something to eat, and a place to lay down my weary head. +Oh-oh! Here come some of the boys to give us a look-see. See them, +Freddy?"</p> + +<p>"Of course," the English youth replied with a nod, and fixed his gaze on +the flight of Lockheed P-38 Lightnings that were sweeping gracefully up +off North African soil and streaking out to sea toward the B-25.</p> + +<p>In less time than it takes to tell about it, those high-speed fighter +aircraft were right on top of the B-25 and skipping and sliding all +about it as their pilots investigated. It took them but a couple of +moments to satisfy themselves. Then they throttled and dropped into +escort position. That is, all except one pilot. He slid out in front to +lead the way to the American-built air base on the north side of the +city. A few minutes later Dawson throttled his engines, and slid the +B-25 down to a feather-bed landing. At a signal from the Operations +Tower, he trundled the bomber in toward the small Administration +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_173" id="Page_173">[Pg 173]</a></span>Building. There he killed his engines completely, took a deep breath, +and relaxed in the seat. A glance at the instrument clock showed that he +had been in the air for a little over twelve hours, but the way his +numbed body felt, it was as though he had been in the air for over +twelve hundred hours.</p> + +<p>"So this is Casablanca," he murmured, and absently unsnapped his safety +harness. "Well, I sure want to give it a look, but not right now. No, +sir! For the next thirty-six hours, and maybe longer, all I want is a +nice soft bed!"</p> + +<p>"Make that two, if you please!" Freddy Farmer added, and put a hand to +his mouth to cover the yawn he could no longer hold back. "Just +a—Oh-oh! Here comes a high-ranker in very much of a hurry. Now what, I +wonder?"</p> + +<p>Dawson looked toward the Administration Building and saw a trim major +general of the Air Force running toward the B-25. By the time he reached +it, Colonel Welsh was out of the plane. The two officers exchanged hasty +salutes, and the major general started to take Colonel Welsh by the arm +and lead him away. The colonel held back, however, nodded at the bomber +and said something. The major general nodded in reply and made a waving +motion <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_174" id="Page_174">[Pg 174]</a></span>with one hand. Then the pair turned and hurried over to the +Administration Building and disappeared inside.</p> + +<p>"Well, how do you like that?" Dawson gasped. "What about that wounded +pilot aft?"</p> + +<p>"That's why the colonel stopped," Freddy Farmer replied, and poked a +finger to the right. "Here comes the ambulance now. Let's get back and +see if we can lend them a hand. After all, this is his aircraft."</p> + +<p>"Right; let's go," Dawson agreed, and pushed his stiff body out of the +seat. "The least we can do is wish him all kinds of luck."</p> + +<p>They made their way back to the compartment where the wounded pilot was +resting on blankets laid out on the floorboards. There was some color in +his face, now, and his neck and the upper part of his chest was swathed +in bandages. Gathered about him were the members of his crew, each +trying to keep from looking at the blanket-covered body of the co-pilot +that lay on the far side of the compartment.</p> + +<p>Dawson crouched beside the wounded pilot and grinned cheerfully.</p> + +<p>"Lucky guy, Captain," he said. "A nice hospital, pretty nurses, and +swell food for you. How's for changing places, huh?"</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_175" id="Page_175">[Pg 175]</a></span>"I'll let you know after I've tried it for once," the other said, and +matched the grin. "And, Dawson—"</p> + +<p>"Yes, fellow," Dave prompted.</p> + +<p>"I'm a dope, Dawson," the pilot said. "I want to apologize for that +crack I made about losing a brother in a night torpedoing. It sure +turned out different. I didn't know the score, you see, so I thought you +were just—Well, I mean—"</p> + +<p>"Skip it, fellow, skip it," Dawson smiled, and gently pressed the +other's arm. "I didn't know the score myself, so I was just whistling in +the dark. But forget it, Skipper! You had a perfect right to think as +you did. Now here's the ambulance, so I'll stop talking. Good luck, +fellow. And if we can work it, we'll come say howdy to you in the +hospital. Good luck, anyway!"</p> + +<p>"Yes, a million in luck, old thing!" Freddy Farmer added as he stood +smiling down at the man.</p> + +<p>"I've already had the million in luck, thanks to you two," the pilot +said, as the ambulance medico came climbing into the B-25. "Be sure and +come see me, if you can. I want to thank you for bringing the ship +through. I'm kind of fond of her, you see, and—Well, you know how it +is, eh?"</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_176" id="Page_176">[Pg 176]</a></span>Both Dawson and Farmer nodded gravely. Being pilots, they knew exactly +how a fellow felt about his aircraft. Made of metal, and plastics, and +wood, and fabric, to be sure. But to its pilot, it was something human +and full of understanding. Something that couldn't be put into words, +because there are no words in any language that can adequately describe +the feeling a pilot holds in his heart for his plane. Dawson and Farmer +simply nodded gravely, and gave a hand in lifting the wounded man out of +the bomber and putting him in the ambulance.</p> + +<p>"A nice guy," Dave murmured as the ambulance pulled away. "I sure am +going to visit him if I get the chance."</p> + +<p>"Yes, and me too, if!" Freddy Farmer murmured.</p> + +<p>The remark caused Dawson to turn his head and glance sharply at his pal.</p> + +<p>"And just what do you mean by that?" he demanded.</p> + +<p>Young Farmer shrugged and nodded toward the Administration Building. +"That chap headed our way," he said. "I've a bit of a hunch that +something is up."</p> + +<p>"Huh?" Dawson gasped. "What—"</p> + +<p>He let the rest go as a field orderly came up <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_177" id="Page_177">[Pg 177]</a></span>on the run and saluted +smartly. "Colonel Welsh's compliments, Captains Dawson and Farmer," the +orderly said. "He asks that you report to him in the commanding +general's office in an hour."</p> + +<p>"An <i>hour</i>?" Dawson choked out, and then caught himself. "Very good, +Sergeant," he said hastily. "We'll be there."</p> + +<p>The orderly saluted and retreated toward the Administration Building. +Dawson groaned softly.</p> + +<p>"One hour, and off we go again! How much sleep can a fellow catch in an +hour, I'd like to know?"</p> + +<p>"About sixty minutes' worth," Freddy Farmer murmured. "Frankly, I prefer +to spend that time eating. Let's go hunt up the Officers' Mess."</p> + +<p>Dawson started to speak, thought better of it, and dropped into step +with Freddy. One hour, huh? And then what? But he was much too tired and +hungry to bother guessing up some answers. What would happen, would +happen. And, after all, what was one more hour in this mysterious +business?</p> + +<p>What was one more hour? The gods of war on high could have <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_178" id="Page_178">[Pg 178]</a></span>told him. +They could have told him it was just one more hour in which the Grim +Reaper could steal closer and make ready to strike a blow that would +stun the entire civilized world!</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<div> +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_179" id="Page_179">[Pg 179]</a></span> +</div> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_FOURTEEN" id="CHAPTER_FOURTEEN"></a>CHAPTER FOURTEEN</h2> + +<h4><i>Goering's Snoopers</i></h4> + + +<p>"Anything else I can get you, sir?"</p> + +<p>Dawson glanced up at the mess orderly standing by the table, shook his +head, and smiled.</p> + +<p>"No thanks, Corporal," he said. "I've had all I can hold. How about you, +Freddy?"</p> + +<p>"I'm finished, too," the English youth said with a contented sigh. "That +hit the spot, Corporal. My compliments."</p> + +<p>"Thank you, sir," the mess orderly said, and beamed his pleasure.</p> + +<p>"Tell me, where is everybody, Corporal?" Dawson asked, and waved a hand +at the empty mess room. "Out on patrol?"</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_180" id="Page_180">[Pg 180]</a></span>"Oh, no, sir," the orderly explained. "This is only a stop-over base for +pilots and equipment headed for the front. We don't fly any patrols from +here, sir, though a few of the pilots have been taking a whack at +Goering's Snoopers, whenever they get close enough."</p> + +<p>"<i>Goering's Snoopers?</i>" Dawson echoed with a puzzled look. "Do you mean +Nazi bombing raids on this place?"</p> + +<p>"No, sir," the other replied promptly. "And that's the funny part of it, +too. Not one of them has come within gun range of this place. Fact is, +only once since they started their funny business three days ago, have +we seen them. Then they were so high, they were no more than dots. I +heard one of the pilots say, though, that they were long-range Junkers. +Goering's Snoopers, we call them, because they seem to hang around all +the time, but do nothing. I wish we did have a regular squadron of +fighter planes here, though. Those Junkers get on my nerves. A darn +funny business, if you ask me, sir."</p> + +<p>Neither Dawson nor Farmer made any comment for a moment. They simply +exchanged glances, and each knew what the other was thinking. Thinking +of the mysterious flock of Junkers Ju-88's they had seen a hundred +miles <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_181" id="Page_181">[Pg 181]</a></span>or so off the coast.</p> + +<p>"Phantom ships, eh, Corporal?" Dawson finally spoke. "Any of the pilots +who went up after them lucky enough to nail one?"</p> + +<p>"Yes, I think so, sir," the orderly replied with a nod. "Day before +yesterday they say a P-38 pilot got one of them. It was way inland near +Marrakech. I heard the pilot had just enough gas to get back. It's +pretty bad country in these parts for forced landing, you know, sir."</p> + +<p>"But doesn't the C.O. know where the bombers are based?" Freddy Farmer +spoke up. "They're not coming here all the way from Tunisia, are they?"</p> + +<p>"I couldn't say, sir," the orderly replied with a shrug. "All I know is +what I hear around the base. There aren't many of us here. The base +isn't in full swing yet. But it won't be long, and then maybe we'll have +a fighter squadron here, in case them Nazis try to really start +something. Funny about them Snoopers starting to show up three days ago. +It doesn't make sense. But what does in this screwy war?"</p> + +<p>Neither Dawson nor Farmer had an answer for that one, so they just +shrugged, and pushed back their chairs.</p> + +<p>"Well, thanks for the fine meal, Corporal," <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_182" id="Page_182">[Pg 182]</a></span>Dawson said, and tossed a +bill on the table. "Here, have a time for yourself when you get a pass +to town."</p> + +<p>"I sure will, and thanks, Captain!" the orderly gulped when he saw the +amount of Dawson's tip. "Thanks a lot, sir. And I hope I'll be here next +time you pass through."</p> + +<p>"So do I, Corporal," Dawson smiled as he headed for the door. "And good +luck."</p> + +<p>"The same to you, sir!" the other called after him. "The same to you +both!"</p> + +<p>Outside the mess, Dawson glanced at his wrist watch and saw that it was +just about time to report to Colonel Welsh in the field commandant's +office.</p> + +<p>"Let's go, Freddy," he said. "What do you think of Goering's Snoopers? I +guess we spotted some of them, huh?"</p> + +<p>"No doubt," the English youth replied, and frowned. "And a very queer +business, if you ask me. Do you suppose, Dave—"</p> + +<p>"I wouldn't know," Dawson said as Farmer paused and frowned all the +harder. "But you may be right. I mean that the Nazis have got wind of +something, and Goering's Snoopers are sort of keeping an eye on things. +If so, that's not so good. Do you get what I mean?"</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_183" id="Page_183">[Pg 183]</a></span>"I do, and I agree with you completely," Freddy replied at once. "But +how in the world—Oh, blast it! I'm tired of trying to figure out +riddles!"</p> + +<p>They left it at that and walked in silence to the Administration +Building. A sentry met them just inside the door, learned their names, +and led them at once to the office of Major General Hawker, commanding +officer of the recently established U. S. Air Forces Base. The two +youths were admitted at once, and as Dawson looked at Colonel Welsh +seated to one side of the huge desk, his heart gave a nervous leap and +tried to slide up into his throat. The Intelligence Chief's face looked +like that of a ghost. Rather, it looked like the face of a man worried +sick; worried so sick he was seeing ghosts. However, with a tremendous +effort Colonel Welsh gravely presented the two air aces to Major General +Hawker who welcomed them with a smile and a few well chosen words. His +face, too, showed the nervous strain under which he was suffering. +Dawson, glancing from one to the other, felt the old familiar eerie +tingle at the back of his neck. The old eerie tingling that had never in +the past failed to serve as a warning of danger and death in the +immediate future.</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_184" id="Page_184">[Pg 184]</a></span>"Be seated, gentlemen, please," the major general was saying, and +gesturing a hand toward a couple of chairs. "I—Well, Colonel, I believe +you'd better begin the talking, anyway. These two officers have been +working with you since the start of things. So go right ahead, sir."</p> + +<p>Colonel Welsh nodded his thanks to the general and stared at Dawson and +Farmer with eyes haggard from worry and fear.</p> + +<p>"Bad news for us," he said bluntly. "The thing we tried to prevent has +come to pass in spite of our efforts. Where the leak is, I don't know. +Maybe I'll never find out. But that is not important, now. What is +important is the fact that the Nazis have learned of the war conference +to be held in Casablanca. In short, the Nazis know that President +Roosevelt is coming to Casablanca!"</p> + +<p>"You're sure, sir?" Dawson blurted out as the colonel paused for breath.</p> + +<p>"As sure as it's necessary to be," the Intelligence officer replied, +tight-lipped. Leaning forward, he tapped a map spread out on the top of +the desk. "Take a look at this and tell me what it means to you."</p> + +<p>Both Dawson and Farmer left their chairs to study the map. It was a +large-sized navigation <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_185" id="Page_185">[Pg 185]</a></span>map that included the eastern shores of the two +American continents and the western shores of the European and African +continents. The map was creased in many places, and there were many +smears of grease on its surface to indicate it had been used +considerably. What caught and instantly held Dawson's attention, and +Farmer's also, were the many penciled markings and notes on the map. At +first glance, they didn't mean much, but on second glance, their full +meaning was revealed. It was very startling, to say the least.</p> + +<p>Dawson jerked up his head and stared in half-stunned amazement at +Colonel Welsh.</p> + +<p>"This is an air navigator's chart, sir!" he exclaimed. "With a dozen +different courses plotted out from the States, from South America, and +from England, to here. <i>To Casablanca!</i>"</p> + +<p>"That's right," the Colonel said soberly. "Every course plotted on that +chart <i>ends</i> at Casablanca! If you look closer, you will see where the +Nazi owner of that chart has penciled in the area off the coast of +Morocco that he patrolled."</p> + +<p>"Nazi owner, sir?" Freddy Farmer choked out. "You mean—"</p> + +<p>The English-born air ace stumbled over his <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_186" id="Page_186">[Pg 186]</a></span>words, and before he could +start over again, Colonel Welsh answered him.</p> + +<p>"That's right, Farmer. That chart was taken from the body of a dead Nazi +pilot, whose bomber was shot down in the Atlas Mountains about two +hundred miles from here."</p> + +<p>"One of Goering's Snoopers, eh?" Dawson murmured absently.</p> + +<p>Major General Hawker stiffened and glanced at him sharply.</p> + +<p>"What's that, Dawson?" the senior officer asked. "Where'd you hear about +Goering's Snoopers?"</p> + +<p>"The Officers' Mess orderly was telling us, sir," Dawson explained. "He +said there has been a group of Nazi bombers hanging around this base for +the last three days, but not too close. He said that your pilots had +nicknamed them Goering's Snoopers."</p> + +<p>"Oh, I see," the major general said with a nod. "That's right, they +certainly are Snoopers. But they'll be a whole lot <i>more</i> than that—if +they get their chance!"</p> + +<p>The senior office emphasized the last by rapping a clenched fist on the +desk.</p> + +<p>"Then you know what they're up to, sir?" Dawson asked quickly. "I +suppose the colonel <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_187" id="Page_187">[Pg 187]</a></span>told you that we sighted them off shore? Is their +base near here, sir?"</p> + +<p>Dawson would have asked more questions, but the major general raised a +hand for silence and looked at Colonel Welsh.</p> + +<p>"Do you want me to do the talking, Colonel?" he asked. "Or would you +rather?"</p> + +<p>"No, go right ahead, sir," Colonel Welsh replied with a shake of his +head. "After all, you've been right here where it's all been going on. +Go right ahead, sir."</p> + +<p>Major General Hawker grunted and stared down at the desk top for a +moment, as though taking time out to choose his words. Presently he +looked up at Dawson and Farmer. Both youths were a little startled by +the glitter of seething anger in his eyes.</p> + +<p>"The North African campaign has progressed so rapidly and so +successfully," he began, "that we're way ahead of ourselves, you might +say. I mean that we've been so busy doing the big things that we've had +to let much detail work slide. For example, this base wasn't to be ready +for another month yet, but it is in operation right now. It has been for +the last three or four weeks. However, it is simply a port through which +equipment and personnel pass on the way <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_188" id="Page_188">[Pg 188]</a></span>to the battle fronts. The +working staff is very small, and we have no squadron, or even a flight +of planes and pilots of our own. I mean, based here for our protection. +That, of course, is because every plane and pilot is needed at the +front. Those of us who are behind the front must shift as best we can, +until there comes a lull in the main battle, and we've the time to start +tucking in the ends."</p> + +<p>The major general paused for breath.</p> + +<p>"So far, I've only given you a picture of conditions here," he continued +presently. "Well, about ten days ago I was secretly informed through +Colonel's Welsh's office that the President and Mr. Churchill were going +to hold a war conference here at Casablanca. Naturally, I kept that +secret. However, the Nazis must have got hold of that news somehow, +either here or in Washington. We'll probably never know which. Three +days ago those Junkers long-range bombers started putting in an +appearance. At first, I thought they were after convoys, but pilots who +sighted them off shore reported that they either kept at a safe +distance, or raced away to hide in the clouds before our planes could +reach them. In short, they did everything in their power to avoid air +battle. In addition, they <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_189" id="Page_189">[Pg 189]</a></span>went the limit to prevent any of our planes +from <i>following them back to their base</i>."</p> + +<p>"Just what do you mean by that, sir?" Dawson asked with a puzzled frown.</p> + +<p>The major general reached out a hand and tapped a finger on the +navigator's chart on the desk.</p> + +<p>"That plane and its crew were deliberately sacrificed so that the others +could get away," he said. "It happened yesterday morning. A Lockheed +Lightning pilot happened to be in the air, and he sighted the Snoopers +off shore. He requested permission by radio to give chase and engage +them. That permission was granted. The Snoopers had a good start on him, +however, and there were a lot of clouds, so the Lockheed pilot was +unable to catch up until the chase had gone a good two hundred miles +inland. When he started to close in, the pilot reported later, one of +the bombers dropped out of formation, turned back, and gave battle. It +put up a good fight, and by the time the Lockheed pilot had downed it, +the others had disappeared completely. Just before turning back to +fight, the German pilot dumped his full load of bombs, and they exploded +in the wilderness below. That didn't help him any. Well, the bomber +crashed, and <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_190" id="Page_190">[Pg 190]</a></span><i>no one bailed out</i>! That struck the Lockheed pilot as +being queer and as there was some smooth ground close by, he landed to +take a look at his victim. He said it was not a pretty sight. <i>But</i> +there were only three aboard, whereas a Junkers Ju-88 usually has a crew +of at least six. Not one of those three had made any attempt to leave +the plane as it fell earthward. Do you know why?"</p> + +<p>The senior officer paused and seemed to wait.</p> + +<p>"No, sir," Freddy Farmer spoke up impulsively. "Why, sir?"</p> + +<p>"Because there were <i>no</i> parachute packs aboard the plane!" the other +replied at once. "In fact, the plane was stripped bare of everything +that was not absolutely essential to flying and fighting. There were no +identification papers on any of the crew, though the Lockheed pilot +could tell from decoration ribbons that all were veteran airmen. There +was nothing except this navigation chart. The Lockheed pilot said that +one of the men was holding it as though he had been about to destroy it, +but was stopped by the crash. By that I mean, in one hand he clutched +the chart and in the other a cigarette lighter. Anyway, the Lockheed +pilot brought the map back to me, and as soon as I took one <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_191" id="Page_191">[Pg 191]</a></span>look at it +I knew the reason for the constant patrolling of those Nazi bombers. I +know exactly what they are."</p> + +<p>"It sounds like a suicide outfit to me," Dawson murmured as the major +general paused. "They must be waiting for the President and his party to +arrive. Then they'll let go with the whole works, to say nothing of +their own lives."</p> + +<p>"There's no doubt about it!" Major General Hawker agreed grimly. "I'm as +convinced of that as though they had come and told me so. If they know +<i>when</i> the President and Mr. Churchill will arrive, I don't know. +Perhaps they will receive that signal from somebody right here in +Casablanca. The way they have let convoys alone and have avoided air +battle, at the deliberate sacrifice of one of their own, is proof +positive that they are waiting for the one big opportunity. And even +though the President's life, and Mr. Churchill's life, were spared, the +loss of other lives would be almost as disastrous to the Allied cause. +In short, so long as that German suicide squadron remains in existence, +a terrible danger hangs over the entire civilized world. No matter how +many planes we have protecting the President and his party, some of +those bombers would be bound <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_192" id="Page_192">[Pg 192]</a></span>to get through."</p> + +<p>"But their base, sir, wherever it is?" Dawson spoke up as the other +paused. "If you could only find it, and—"</p> + +<p>"Exactly the point!" the major general interrupted. "If we could only +<i>find it</i>! The only thing I've got here that could out-fly the Junkers +Ju-88 is a Lightning. But the main difficulty is that I have no pilots I +can order out on such a mission. I mean, should they find the base and +radio its position, they wouldn't have fuel enough left to return. +They'd force land in the mountain wilderness and eventually die of +starvation or the heat. We've <i>got</i> to destroy those planes—and <i>within +the next thirty-six hours!</i>"</p> + +<p>"Thirty-six hours, sir?" Dawson echoed, as his heart started to pound +against his ribs.</p> + +<p>The major general looked at him gravely, and nodded.</p> + +<p>"Yes," he said. "Just ten minutes before your plane landed I received +code word from Washington that the President and his party are <i>already +on the way to Casablanca!</i>"</p> + +<p>"Good gosh!" Dawson gasped before he could check himself. "Only +thirty-six hours and then Goering's snooping suicides can do their +stuff? Or try to do it? But—"</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_193" id="Page_193">[Pg 193]</a></span>Dawson suddenly checked himself and looked at Freddy Farmer. For a long +moment their eyes met, and then they nodded impulsively. Dawson turned +to Major General Hawker.</p> + +<p>"With your permission, sir," he said quietly, "Farmer and I would like +to locate that base and radio its position so that our bombers could go +over and wipe it out."</p> + +<p>As Dawson finished speaking, silence settled over the room. Colonel +Welsh broke it as he addressed his words to Major General Hawker.</p> + +<p>"Just what I told you, sir," he said. "And by God, they'll find it, +too—Bless them both!"</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<div> +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_194" id="Page_194">[Pg 194]</a></span> +</div> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_FIFTEEN" id="CHAPTER_FIFTEEN"></a>CHAPTER FIFTEEN</h2> + +<h4><i>Death Takes Wing</i></h4> + + +<p>For the tenth time, Dave Dawson checked his position and made absolutely +sure that he was where he was supposed to be. For the tenth time, +countless fears shot through his brain to taunt and jeer at him. He +wasn't at the agreed rendezvous point. His navigation was all cockeyed. +He was a hundred miles north of the point. He was a hundred miles south +of it. He was—</p> + +<p>"Cut it out, fellow!" he ordered himself. "This is a fine time for you +to go haywire! You're simply here ahead of time. Your watch tells you +that. Freddy was held up a bit, that's all. Maybe he ran into a bit of +weather, or some<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_195" id="Page_195">[Pg 195]</a></span>thing. Maybe—"</p> + +<p>Or something? But what? That was the question! Freddy Farmer could fly +through the toughest weather made. He was that kind of pilot. It was +crazy to think that weather would hold up Freddy. But where was he? Why +wasn't he here?</p> + +<p>These tantalizing questions pounded in Dawson's brain like the booming +of big guns. He clenched his teeth and gripped the controls of the +Lockheed Lightning so tightly that the knuckles of his hands showed +white through the skin. That this was perhaps the last flight he might +ever make didn't bother him much. What did was the fear that Freddy and +he might fail in the successful completion of this vitally important +mission. And that fear was doubled when he realized that the odds were +all against them. Yesterday when they had volunteered for the job Major +General Hawker had told them in no uncertain terms that their chances of +finding the secret Nazi bomber base were about one in a thousand, and +their chances of coming back alive were about one in a million.</p> + +<p>Yes, the odds were all against them, but that didn't matter. They'd had +the odds against them before and had won out. So right after leaving +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_196" id="Page_196">[Pg 196]</a></span>Major General Hawker's office they had selected two Lockheed Lightnings +on the field and flight tested them thoroughly. By then darkness had +settled, so they had gone to one of the field hutments and tumbled into +bed with their clothes on, so that there would be no waste of time in +case they had to make a night take-off in a hurry.</p> + +<p>Good fortune was theirs, however. They each had twelve solid hours of +sleep before word came that Nazi bombers were sighted off the coast. +Five minutes later they were both in the air, but instead of flying out +to sea, they carried out a prearranged flight plan. Dawson had flown +northward to circle around to the east and then southward to a point +over the middle of the Atlas Mountains. And Farmer had flown south with +the idea of circling eastward, and then up north to rendezvous with +Dawson. One of them would be sure to cross the path of the Nazis winging +back to their secret base. The instant one of them spotted the Nazis he +would code call the other over his radio and give his position and +course. The other would head that way at once, join up, and together +they would trail the Nazis to their base, and then code call Casablanca +where a hastily assembled squadron of <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_197" id="Page_197">[Pg 197]</a></span>American bombers was waiting.</p> + +<p>Yes, a very carefully thought out plan of action, except for one flaw. +And that one flaw was making itself known right now as Dawson coasted +the Lockheed about in the North African sky over the prearranged +rendezvous point. In short, he had not seen the Nazi bombers, and he had +not heard so much as a whisper over the radio, though he had called +Freddy Farmer several times for a check. No bombers! Radio silence since +Casablanca! So—</p> + +<p>"So," Dave said to himself as he tried to still the fearful pounding of +his heart, "So something has happened to Freddy! He's bumped into +trouble, and his radio went haywire on him. Or he's lost and has missed +the Nazis completely. Or—or he's dead!"</p> + +<p>Dawson hardly realized that he had spoken the words until they were out. +Their echo in his ears caused his mouth and throat to go dry, and +fingers of ice to curl about his heart. He shook his head savagely and +pounded one clenched fist on his knee.</p> + +<p>"Stop it!" he ranted at himself. "Don't even let yourself think of it, +you dope! Freddy will show up, or call you. He's just got to. He's—"</p> + +<p>He cut the rest off short and stiffened in his <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_198" id="Page_198">[Pg 198]</a></span>seat as he caught sight +of a plane ripping through the air toward him. As he opened his mouth to +let out a shout of joy at meeting up again with Freddy Farmer, his +breath stuck in his throat.</p> + +<p>"But that can't be Freddy!" he mumbled as he squinted his eyes at the +oncoming plane. "That plane is coming from the east, and Freddy would be +coming up from the south. And—Hey! My gosh! That—that plane is +<i>German</i>! It's a Messerschmitt 109, a Nazi fighter plane, and heading +right my way!"</p> + +<p>He cut off the last with a vigorous shake of his head, as though to +clear his vision. However, when he took another look, the plane was +still a Nazi Messerschmitt 109, and it was still racing straight toward +him from out of the east. A moment later, though, just as Dawson +instinctively slid the guard off the electric trigger button of his +guns, the on-streaking Messerschmitt swerved southward, and its nose +went slanting up in a climb.</p> + +<p>"What the heck?" Dawson cried, as a faint sensation of disappointment +rippled through him. "Is he getting cold feet so soon? Or didn't he see +me?"</p> + +<p>A couple of moments later, his last thought seemed to be proven true. +The Messerschmitt pilot leveled off after he h<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_199" id="Page_199">[Pg 199]</a></span>ad climbed a couple of +thousand feet, and Dawson could tell by the decrease in the plane's +speed that the pilot has eased back to cruising throttle. No more than a +couple of miles separated the two aircraft now, and though the +Messerschmitt was perhaps three thousand feet higher than the Lockheed, +Dawson knew that he could close in on the Nazi in no time, if he wished +to.</p> + +<p>That was just the point. Where a few moments ago he had been ready and +eager for battle, he was now filled with a sense of caution. For one +thing, what was a Nazi ME 109 doing over the Atlas Mountains? Was it +close to its base—the same base used by the mysterious Junkers +bombers—or was the pilot lost and wandering about in the North African +heavens hundreds and hundreds of miles from where he should be? And for +another thing, why hadn't the Nazi spotted him? Was the pilot dead, and +was the aircraft simply flying itself until it ran out of gas?</p> + +<p>"Or is this a smart trick, and I'm too dumb to catch on?" Dawson +muttered the next thought aloud, and stared at the other plane that was +now circling slowly about in the air. "Is he waiting <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_200" id="Page_200">[Pg 200]</a></span>for me to come +piling in, because he has some special surprise package waiting, or +what?"</p> + +<p>As he mulled over the question in an effort to guess at an answer that +might be close to the truth, the Yank air ace searched the surrounding +skies. However, if he expected to see any other planes in the heavens, +he was doomed to disappointment. As far as he could see in every +direction there was nothing but sun-tinted blue North African sky and a +few mountains of clouds piled up here and there.</p> + +<p>"Maybe <i>I'm</i> nuts!" he groaned, and gave a little shake of his head. +"Maybe I'm just seeing things. Or maybe I'm asleep and dreaming, but +don't realize it. Well, one German less is one German less, I always +say. So here goes for that bird tooting around up there. He'll—Well, +for cat's sake! Now what?"</p> + +<p>The last was because the Messerschmitt pilot had suddenly ceased his +coasting around and had swung onto a course due south at an increased +speed. And though Dawson gaped and stared in amazement, he let no "sky +grass" grow under his feet. He instantly swung south and opened up his +two Allison engines, but continued to maintain his altitude of some +three thousand feet below the other plane.</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_201" id="Page_201">[Pg 201]</a></span>For a full five minutes, the Nazi rocketed south with Dawson some two +miles behind him and holding steadily to the pace. At the end of that +five minutes, though, the Messerschmitt reached the edges of one of the +towering mountains of clouds in the sky. Impulsively, Dave opened his +throttles so that he would not lose the Messerschmitt in the clouds. The +action was unnecessary for the German pilot swerved to the east just +before he came to the clouds. Once again his abrupt change of speed +showed that he had eased back to throttle cruising.</p> + +<p>Anger took the place of amazement in Dawson, and he was on the point of +slamming up to give battle to the Messerschmitt, when suddenly twelve +Junkers 88 long-range bombers came sliding out from under the mountain +of cloud, looking for all the world as though they were rolling their +wheels across the peaks of the Atlas Mountains.</p> + +<p>So suddenly and so weirdly did they appear that for a second or so +Dawson was unable to realize what they were. When truth came to him, he +sat up stiff and straight in the seat and let out a yell of excited +relief.</p> + +<p>"Goering's Snoopers!" Dave cried. "There they are, the bums, as sure as +shooting! And on <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_202" id="Page_202">[Pg 202]</a></span>their way back to their base. No doubt of it, and, so +help me, that Messerschmitt must be some kind of a lone escort come out +to meet them and lead them home. Sure! There he goes sliding down, now. +But—but where is Freddy? Where is good old Freddy? He made his flight +south, so he must have crossed their path. He—!"</p> + +<p>He cut his own words off abruptly as a squealing noise sounded in his +earphones. It rose and fell, and rose and fell again. Although he worked +furiously over the tuning knobs of his panel set, he could get nothing +but the squeal's. That is, nothing but squeals for the next minute or +two. Then, suddenly, the squealing sound stopped, and a single spoken +word came through as clear as a bell.</p> + +<p>"Noswad!"</p> + +<p>That single word made Dave's heart pound furiously, because it was his +own last name spelled backwards; because it was the signal call Freddy +Farmer was to use when getting in radio contact with him. No sooner had +he heard the code call spoken once, than the squealing sound filled his +ears again. Whether it was Freddy's set or his that had gone haywire, he +could not tell at the moment. He simply put his lips to his own mike and +shouted Freddy's code call <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_203" id="Page_203">[Pg 203]</a></span>at the top of his voice.</p> + +<p>"Remraf! Remraf!" he shouted. "Can you hear me, Remraf? Over!"</p> + +<p>The only reply that he received was the continued squeal in his +earphones. Once again he called Freddy, but the result was the same. +Impulsively, he checked his own set as best he could, but found nothing +wrong with it. As a matter of fact, to make definitely sure that his own +set was in perfect working order, he sent out a signal call to +Casablanca Base and instantly received a reply that came in loud and +clear.</p> + +<p>"So that settles that," he grunted. "Freddy's set has gone haywire. He +probably picked up those Snoopers long ago and hasn't been able to +contact me up to now. He's around. I can't see him, but he must be +around somewhere doing his job of trailing those Snoopers back to their +base. With his eagle eyes, I'll bet a million bucks <i>he</i> can see <i>me</i>!"</p> + +<p>His heart overflowing with joy at the knowledge that Freddy Farmer was +alive and still flying, Dawson left his set tuned as fine as possible +and gave all of his attention to the Messerschmitt-led air cavalcade of +Junkers 88's that was sliding through the air over the mountain peaks. +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_204" id="Page_204">[Pg 204]</a></span>They were all well below Dawson's altitude now, and all he had to do was +to throttle to their speed and hug the sides of the cloud banks. True, +there was a small chance that he might be sighted, silhouetted against +the clouds as he was, but that was the chance he had to take. If he was +sighted, he knew that it would be the Messerschmitt 109 that would turn +back to drive him off, and so he kept his gaze on that plane and paid +little or no attention to the bombers.</p> + +<p>Eastward and then southward the Nazi planes flew, and then at the end of +some thirty-five minutes, they changed their course to the east again, +and then northward. Most of the Atlas Range was out of sight now. Ahead +lay barren country that looked as though nothing, not even a blade of +grass, had ever lived there. Farther ahead was the border line between +Morocco and French Algeria, but of course there was nothing to mark it. +Nothing, for as far as the eye could see there was only wasteland. These +barren lands of the western rim of the Sahara Desert seemed to shimmer +and tremble in the blistering heat of the sun. Even the banks of clouds +were gone now. They had been left over the Atlas Mountains, and the sun +blazing down made Dawson's throttles feel like red hot pokers, <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_205" id="Page_205">[Pg 205]</a></span>despite +the fact that he was some twelve thousand feet in the air.</p> + +<p>As a matter of fact, the constant glare of the sun, and the intense +concentration on the Nazi formation ahead and below him strained his +eyes to the utmost, and he began to see crazy objects and shapes that +were no longer there when he took a second look.</p> + +<p>It was because of this that he paid little or no attention to a +gray-green blur that appeared on the barren earth just ahead of the Nazi +planes. That is, he gave it scant attention until he suddenly realized +that the Nazi pilots had cut their throttles, and in follow-the-leader +style were circling around and down toward that gray-green blurr. +Shoving up his goggles, he dug knuckles into his smarting eyes, then +impulsively leaned forward as though that bit of movement would afford +him a better look.</p> + +<p>But whether or not it did, he certainly saw more than he had the first +time. The gray-green blur was a small group of shrub-covered hills that +rose right up out of the desert. That it was some kind of an oasis was +evident by the patches of pale green here and there.</p> + +<p>One thing was definite, however. To Dawson it was the only thing that +mattered. That gray-<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_206" id="Page_206">[Pg 206]</a></span>green patch on the seemingly limitless expanse of +shimmering and quivering Sahara was the secret base of Goering's +Snoopers! He had found it! There it was! The first two of the bombers +were already on the ground on the eastern fringe of the gray-green +patch. They looked like beetles as they moved along over the ground.</p> + +<p>A wild, fierce joy surged up in Dawson as he stared down at the place, +but when he happened to glance at his fuel gauges, a tiny icy shiver +went through him, and his joy was tempered by cold, hard reality. He had +fuel for about another half hour in the air. Fuel enough to take him a +fraction of the distance back to his Casablanca base. What he had +expected had happened, but only now did the full significance of it +descend upon him.</p> + +<p>"But we found it!" he shouted wildly as he put his lips to his flap mike +and reached out to tune his set to the Casablanca Base wave length. "And +that's what matters most. Now to tell Casablanca and—"</p> + +<p>At that moment Dawson's ears were filled with the savage yammer of +aerial machine guns and air cannon, above and behind him!</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<div> +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_207" id="Page_207">[Pg 207]</a></span> +</div> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_SIXTEEN" id="CHAPTER_SIXTEEN"></a>CHAPTER SIXTEEN</h2> + +<h4><i>Blazing Doom</i></h4> + + +<p>One, two, three seconds slipped by before Dawson could move a single +muscle. It was as though invisible hands of steel held him powerless. +Only his eyes and brain seemed able to function in that short space of +time. His eyes saw the top left section of his glass hatch melt away as +if by magic. His brain told him the shambles that was suddenly made of +his instrument board and radio panel would never in all this world +permit him to contact his Casablanca base. The golden moment had +come—and gone.</p> + +<p>Keeping alive was his prime concern now. The Grim Reaper was savagely +striving to cut <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_208" id="Page_208">[Pg 208]</a></span>life short for one Yank air ace!</p> + +<p>In three seconds Dave Dawson became a flying madman. Instinct, and +instinct alone, caused him to whirl the Lockheed up, over, and down in a +half roll. Hardly had he started the maneuver, than he kicked the ship +over on wing and came around back and straight up toward the sun-filled +sky. Not until he had reached the peak of his power zoom did he take so +much as a second for a look around. But now he did race his eyes about +the sky, and rage boiled up within him as he saw three German +Messerschmitt 109's pulling out of furious power dives, and prop clawing +around and up in an effort to "box" him in a perfect cross fire.</p> + +<p>"Not today!" he thundered wildly, and dropped the nose of his Lockheed. +"You had one swell chance, because I was too dumb a sap to think of +keeping eyes in the back of my head. That's the only chance you'll get. +You didn't make good, and now it's my turn. Hey! You there on the right! +How do you like <i>this</i> for a tasty dish?"</p> + +<p>As he shouted the words, he touched right rudder a bit and slammed down +almost at the vertical, straight for one of the power-zooming +Messerschmitts. The German pilot must have <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_209" id="Page_209">[Pg 209]</a></span>thought that ramming was the +one idea Dawson had in mind, because the Nazi plane suddenly fell over +on its side and started to circle away to avoid a mid-air crash. But +ramming was not Dawson's idea. No, not while he had slugs for his aerial +machine guns and shells for his air cannon. However, he waited until the +last second before he gave the Nazi aircraft everything the Lockheed +had. The almost instantaneous result indicated that it was much, much +more than enough. One minute the Messerschmitt was curving away, and the +next it just wasn't there any more. That is to say, it was just a shower +of flaming and smoking embers falling away to the sun-scorched Sahara +far below.</p> + +<p>"One!" Dawson bellowed, and cut his fire.</p> + +<p>Yes, one! And that left two others in the sky. However, those two were +crafty veterans of the <i>Luftwaffe</i>, and they had not been wasting time. +Nor had their actions been with the idea of getting away from the wild, +mad flying Yank eagle. On the contrary, they had simply maneuvered to +await their time. And that time came as Dawson cut his fire and started +to wheel up out of his thunderous power dive.</p> + +<p>As he started up, those two let fly at him. Maybe both hit the mark, or +maybe one of them <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_210" id="Page_210">[Pg 210]</a></span>missed completely. But what did it matter? The mark +was hit, and the "mark" was Dawson's plane. The air all about him seemed +suddenly alive with tracer smoke, and the Lockheed Lightning acted as +though it was about to fly right out from under Dave. He was hurled back +against the headrest with a force that filled his head with winking +stars. Then the Lockheed whipped up over on its back, dropped its nose +and headed straight down like a meteor gone berserk. Thunder roared in +his ears, and before his eyes exploded and flashed all the color +combinations in the world. In his nose was the acrid stench of smoke.</p> + +<p>"Your turn, this time, pal!" he heard his own voice shout, as he went +hurtling downward. "No! No, it isn't, darn it! <i>You're</i> not hit. +<i>You're</i> okay! Hit the silk, you dope! Bail out! Hit the silk! If you—"</p> + +<p>He choked off the rest, or rather fear choked off his words, as he +suddenly heard the renewed bursts of savage aerial machine-gun fire. His +ship shot to ribbons, and falling to earth in flames, yet those two Nazi +vultures were still pumping death at him.</p> + +<p>"But why not?" he reasoned. "They're Nazis, aren't they? What else would +you expect these <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_211" id="Page_211">[Pg 211]</a></span>killing rats to do?"</p> + +<p>Even as the thought slipped across his brain, a new one crowded close on +its heels. Rather, it was a realization. The realization that there was +not one bit of pain in his body as he struggled to free himself from the +burning Lockheed. And also that no ribbons of tracer smoke were cutting +past him. So what were the Nazis shooting at? At each other, or—</p> + +<p>Before he could finish the question he had managed to fight his way up +out of the pit, and dived headlong into sun-filled thin air. But it was +not his own movements that stopped his unfinished thought. On the +contrary, it was the sight of a wingless Messerschmitt 109 hurtling down +to its doom about three hundred yards from where his own body seemed to +hang in mid air.</p> + +<p>"Hey!" he gasped. "Did I get another one? Did I get two, and I'm just +finding out? But how the—"</p> + +<p>And he didn't finish that question either. He didn't, because at that +exact instant the gods of war, as though angered by the fact that he +still lived, tried one last time to finish him off. At any rate, at that +exact moment a piece of his riddled Lockheed Lightning flew off. +Straight <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_212" id="Page_212">[Pg 212]</a></span>and true as a ball pitcher's perfect strike it cut across the +air space toward him. He actually saw it coming out of the corner of his +eye, and he tried to duck as his body slowly tumbled end over end +downward. But he didn't succeed in ducking, or he didn't duck in time. +Something hit him a smashing blow on the side of his head, and the +entire North African sky blew up in a thunderous roar of sound!</p> + +<p>When consciousness returned to Dawson his first hazy impression was that +he was floating about in the middle of a great sea of black ink. But no, +not everything was that black. At regular intervals a faint yellowish +orange glow appeared before his eyes. But before he could get a good +look at it the glow faded away out of sight. Instinctively he tried to +get his brain to function; to get it to figure out what everything was +all about. However, for a long time he somehow just couldn't force his +brain to make that effort. He simply lived in a world of hazy snatches +of thought, and inky darkness lighted now and then by a yellowish orange +glow.</p> + +<p>Eventually, as though secret curtains had been pulled away inside his +head, memory came slipping back, and he began to discover and realize +things. The first realization was that he <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_213" id="Page_213">[Pg 213]</a></span>was hanging suspended in +mid-air and slowly swaying this way and that. The second realization was +that the darkness was the darkness of night. The third realization was +that there was a dull throbbing on the left side of his head. And the +fourth, and perhaps the most important realization of all, was that he +was dangling at the ends of the shroud lines of his parachute, which was +hopelessly fouled in the crooked and gnarled branches of a scrub tree. +By throwing his head way back he could look upward and see his fouled +'chute and the tree branches silhouetted against the billions of stars +that twinkled at him from high overhead. And when he looked down he saw +that rocky ground was not over three feet from the soles of his flying +boots.</p> + +<p>That realization filled him with great joy, but it also made him gulp, +and caused beads of cold sweat to break out on his forehead. Never as +long as he lived would he be able to remember that he actually had +pulled the rip-cord ring of his parachute whether or not that flying bit +of Lockheed wreckage caught him on the side of the head. But he must +have done that little thing, and by the grace of God and Lady Luck he +had not been allowed to strike ground while still unconscious. To have +done so, to have hit <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_214" id="Page_214">[Pg 214]</a></span>ground without being prepared for the landing +shock would unquestionably have resulted in a couple of broken ankles, +if not legs. Particularly because of the rocky soil under him. However, +one chance in a billion had come to pass, and his journey earthward had +been checked in the nick of time by the crooked and gnarled branches of +the scrub tree.</p> + +<p>"Or maybe it's just a dream!" he whispered hoarsely as he fumbled at the +snaps of his parachute harness. "Maybe it's just a cockeyed dream, and +I'm going to wake up stone dead!"</p> + +<p>The words he spoke, however, were just a means of letting off pent up +steam. He got the 'chute harness snaps undone, grabbed the straps with +both hands and slowly lowered himself until his feet touched solid +earth. However, his body had experienced so much swaying motion that his +sense of balance was all upset. And no sooner did his feet touch, and +had he let go of the harness straps, than he fell stumbling down onto +his hands and knees, and his brain started to spin furiously.</p> + +<p>For the next few moments he was content to sit on the solid earth and +wait for his brain to stop spinning and for fresh strength to flow back +into his body. Then finally he slowly arose and <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_215" id="Page_215">[Pg 215]</a></span>peered about in the +darkness. Just where he had come to earth he hadn't the faintest idea, +but it seemed a good guess that he must be somewhere in the region of +that weird group of shrub-covered hills that marked the spot where he +had seen those Junkers 88's go down to land. That guess caused countless +little fears to start pecking at his brain. How close to that secret +base was he? How come he had been left hanging unconscious on his +parachute shroud lines for the rest of the day? Where was Freddy Farmer? +Had Freddy really been trailing those bombers, too? Had he reported the +location to Casablanca base? Or was his radio truly dead, and did +Casablanca base still not know the truth? What time was it, anyway? Had +he been unconscious for just a few hours? Or had it been for a day and a +night, and had Goering's Snoopers already roared out from their hidden +base to do their devilish dirty work?</p> + +<p>Those and countless other soul-tantalizing questions whipped and spun +through his head as he searched about him in the gloom. Suddenly he +spotted the yellowish-orange glow once again. He judged it to be perhaps +a mile away, but he was unable to see the base of the glow because of a +rise in the ground. After one good <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_216" id="Page_216">[Pg 216]</a></span>look, though, he knew that it was +flame. Rather, a column of flame-tinted smoke that rose upward into the +night sky. Having seen that same sort of sight at night in other parts +of the world, he was pretty sure that the yellowish-orange glow was from +the burning wreckage of a plane.</p> + +<p>"Mine, or that Nazi I nailed?" he asked himself the question aloud. +"Or—Hey! I remember, now! <i>Two</i> Nazis went down, and I know darn well +that I only got one of them. I—"</p> + +<p>He stopped short, caught his breath and held it as though not daring to +let himself speak.</p> + +<p>"Freddy?" the whisper finally came out from between his stiff lips. "Was +it Freddy who piled down and nailed that second Nazi? But—But what +then? Where did he go? What did he do? I know he didn't have fuel to get +back to Casablanca, but if <i>only</i> his radio worked, and he was able to +tell them the story! Please, dear God, let Freddy have made good where +I—I failed."</p> + +<p>For a long minute he stood there motionless as though waiting for the +answer to his question to come drifting down through the night air. +Suddenly his hand flew to his holstered service gun, and he whirled +around and down in a crouch. Behind him, he had heard the crackling snap +of dry twigs, followed by the rattle of loose <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_217" id="Page_217">[Pg 217]</a></span>stones hitting together, +and the faint thud of something falling to the ground.</p> + +<p>With his finger crooked about the trigger, and his heart trying to +slam-bang its way out through his ribs, he waited for more sound. And +when it came to him, he didn't know whether to shout with insane joy, or +to break into crazy laughter. He didn't know which to do because the +sound he heard was a human voice; a hoarse whispering voice that was +filled with seething anger. A voice that said:</p> + +<p>"Blast, and eternally blast this confounded darkness!"</p> + +<p>For five full seconds Dawson was utterly unable to unhinge his frozen +tongue. The one-in-a-billion miracle left him completely speechless. It +seemed to knock everything out of his head and make all so unreal and +fantastic as to be absolutely impossible as an actuality.</p> + +<p>"Freddy! Freddy Farmer!" the words finally forced their way past his +lips. "Freddy! Can you hear me? Over here, Freddy! Over here!"</p> + +<p>As his voice died away to an echo, a tingling moment of silence settled +over everything. Then once again he heard Freddy Farmer's voice, like a +ghost voice from out out of the past.</p> + +<p>"Dave, Dave! Keep talking, old chap! I'll <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_218" id="Page_218">[Pg 218]</a></span>follow the sound of your +voice. Dave, old thing, are you all right? Don't move, Dave! Just keep +talking! I'll follow the sound of your voice!"</p> + +<p>"I'm okay, Freddy!" Dawson replied as hot tears of inexpressible joy +stung his eyes. "And, pal, this is the biggest moment of all, past, +present, and future. I'm over this way, kid. I can hear you now. Over +here, Freddy! Gosh, oh gosh! Am I glad to—"</p> + +<p>He never finished the sentence because at that moment a darker shadow +than the night suddenly materialized at his side, and in the next +instant the two air aces were hugging and thumping each other and +mumbling a lot of things that neither of them heard, much less paid +attention to. Finally, though, they ceased the greeting act and calmed +down.</p> + +<p>"Man, Dave!" Freddy Farmer panted. "I thought I'd never reach you. A +thousand times I swore I was lost and heading in the wrong direction. +Phew! What absolutely unbelievable luck! I'll never forget this as long +as I live. Not ever, I swear it!"</p> + +<p>"You and me both, Freddy!" Dave echoed the statement. "But look! You +were trailing those bombers? And it was you who nailed that +Messerschmitt right after I started down in a <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_219" id="Page_219">[Pg 219]</a></span>heap, and—But wait! Tell +me this, first. Your radio was okay, wasn't it? And you notified +Casablanca base, didn't you?"</p> + +<p>The air came out between young Farmer's lips in a whistling gasp, and he +grabbed hold of Dawson's arm.</p> + +<p>"Dave!" he choked out. "Dave! You mean <i>you</i> didn't let them know?"</p> + +<p>Dawson was unable to answer for a moment. His whole body seemed to turn +into a solid chunk of ice so that he could hardly breathe. It required a +tremendous effort to get the words off his lips.</p> + +<p>"No, Freddy," he said. "Just as I started to tune in Casablanca, that +Messerschmitt bunch gave me the works and shot my set into splinters. +Then—then your radio <i>was</i> out? I tried to raise you several times, but +couldn't."</p> + +<p>"The blasted thing went haywire after I'd been in the air only fifteen +minutes," the English youth replied. "I had half a mind to turn back to +Casablanca, but I didn't dare for fear the Junkers might be down my way. +They were. I sighted them coming in over Magador. They were hugging the +clouds. I gave them a few miles and then tagged along. I tried to raise +you, but I didn't get any answer, so I just carried on. <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_220" id="Page_220">[Pg 220]</a></span>About an hour +later I spotted you trailing a Messerschmitt. I tried to rise you again, +but still no answer. Then when we got close to here I saw those three +Messerschmitts drop down on you. I was above the lot of you, so I saw +everything. Man! I thought I'd die when you did nothing, and just let +them come down!"</p> + +<p>"Dumb ape that I am," Dawson said bitterly, "I was so interested in +watching the Junkers that I didn't think to keep an eye on my tail. I +heard your call once, Freddy, though I couldn't spot you. You did get +one of them, huh?"</p> + +<p>"I got both, with a bit of luck," young Farmer said quietly. "But not +before one of the blighters had put a bullet through my port engine's +oil line. All I could do was force land. I saw your parachute open, and +saw your silk foul in a tree near here. I tried to land as close as I +could, but messed things up something terribly. A blasted awful landing. +I was lucky not to have broken my confounded neck. I think I was knocked +out for a spell. Fact is, I'm sure of it, because it was late afternoon +when I collected my senses. I could see this bit of a hill where we are +now, so I started out for here. Good grief, what country! The Alps are +easier to cross than this bit of ground. When it got dark, it was just +three times <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_221" id="Page_221">[Pg 221]</a></span>as bad. But—Well, thank the Lord I finally reached you!"</p> + +<p>Dawson said nothing. He simply groped for Freddy Farmer's hand, found +it, and pressed it hard.</p> + +<p>"That was rotten luck for you, and just plain dumbness on my part," he +finally got out in a groan. "Those are the two reasons for our failure. +Gosh! If I had a knife, I think I'd be tempted to cut my throat. When I +think how close we came to preventing those bombers from raiding +Casablanca, I—"</p> + +<p>"But they haven't taken off yet, Dave!" Freddy cried excitedly. "It's +still not too late, if that's what you're thinking!"</p> + +<p>Young Farmer's words seemed to make Dawson's heart swell up and explode +in his chest.</p> + +<p>"What?" he gasped. "Haven't left yet? But it's well over the time limit, +Freddy! According to schedule, the President's party should have arrived +at Casablanca early this evening, and—"</p> + +<p>"Maybe it did, but the bombers haven't taken off!" young Farmer +interrupted. "While making my way here, I saw their hidden field from +some high ground. That was about an hour ago. They had a few oil pot +flares burning, and I could see the planes. All props were dead. They +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_222" id="Page_222">[Pg 222]</a></span>haven't left yet, Dave. My guess is that the President's party has been +delayed a bit, and <i>they</i> know it! And, Dave! There are more than just +Junkers there, too. At least half a dozen Messerschmitt single-seaters, +not counting the ones we got, and a two-seater Messerschmitt 110."</p> + +<p>"No kidding?" Dawson breathed, and swallowed hard. "Then that checks +with the thought I had. I mean, those bombers have a fighter escort to +protect their secret base in case a stray plane or two found it—like +what happened to us. But I think the big idea of their being here is to +sail out to give the bombers a better chance to get through when the big +moment comes. They must be 'Number Two Suicide Squad' because they'd +never get back here on the gas they carry!"</p> + +<p>"Absolutely!" Freddy Farmer replied at once. "No doubt of it. When the +bombers were sure of their target, they'd radio the Messerschmitts to +come on the jump and lend a hand. Dave, old thing, we're not all washed +up yet! Don't you understand?"</p> + +<p>"And how! I understand!" the Yank air ace said grimly, and got up onto +his feet. "Do you know the way to that secret field from here, <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_223" id="Page_223">[Pg 223]</a></span>Freddy?"</p> + +<p>"Yes," the other replied. "But it's about two hours of blasted hard +going. We've got to be very careful. I think the blighters have patrols +out hunting for us. I heard a few Jerry voices while I was making my way +here. By the way, that glow over there is your aircraft still burning. +Never knew a plane to burn so long."</p> + +<p>"So that's what it is, huh?" Dawson remarked absently. Then, reaching +out, he gripped Freddy Farmer's hand. "Let's go, pal," he said quietly. +"Don't ask me if I have any plans, because I haven't a one, yet. But +let's get to that field and decide when we get there. One thing is in +our favor, anyway. We're both still alive and kicking. If you ask me, +that's plenty for a starter!"</p> + +<p>"Quite!" Freddy Farmer echoed, tight-lipped. "We're both still alive, so +we're jolly well not licked yet!"</p> + +<p>"Check, and triple check!" Dawson grunted. "Let's go!"</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<div> +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_224" id="Page_224">[Pg 224]</a></span> +</div> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_SEVENTEEN" id="CHAPTER_SEVENTEEN"></a>CHAPTER SEVENTEEN</h2> + +<h4><i>Vultures' Nest</i></h4> + + +<p>Dawn was a faint gray line marking the point where the North African sky +met the North African Continent in the east. Just a faint gray line +heralding the coming of a new day, though the world was still shrouded +in the darkness of night. A new day. A new day of war. A new day—of +victory, or utter failure?</p> + +<p>The question was like a pin-point white hot flame burning in Dave +Dawson's brain as he and Freddy Farmer hugged the hard-packed ground +behind a clump of withered desert brush. Just seventy yards beyond the +desert brush was a long level strip of desert, flanked <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_225" id="Page_225">[Pg 225]</a></span>on both sides by +scrub-covered hills. Hills? They were little more than mounds of rock +and sand. As though Nature throughout the ages had thrust them up from +the bowels of the earth and covered them with scrub growth for a crazy +prank. They looked just about as natural in the middle of the Sahara as +a part of the Sahara would have looked in the middle of New York City. +Nevertheless, there they were. Another bit of the mysterious Sahara's +phenomena for man to study and wonder about. A desert oasis completely +surrounded by hills! Yet there it was for mortal eyes to view.</p> + +<p>However, the strange freak of Nature's handiwork held no interest +whatsoever for Dave Dawson or Freddy Farmer. What interested them +completely were the man-made things on that strip of desert valley. The +fifteen Junkers Ju-88's, the six Messerschmitt 109's and the single +two-seater Messerschmitt 110, that were pulled way back under perfect +camouflage covering on either side of the desert strip—the planes, and +the groups of shadowy figures that were walking about among them.</p> + +<p>For fifteen minutes the two youths had hugged the ground behind the +scrub bush and peered out at the weird yet deadly-looking scene in +silence. For one thing there was nothing to say. However, the main +reason for si<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_226" id="Page_226">[Pg 226]</a></span>lence was that each was close to the point of complete +exhaustion and collapse. Not two, but three hours ago they had started +toward the spot where they now were. Those three hours had been the most +torturing and grueling of their entire lives. Three hours used to cover +a distance of but a little over a mile! Simple enough to think about, +but how far different the actual execution of that night-shrouded +journey. Cuts and bruises on their bodies were countless. Their uniforms +were in shreds and tatters, and there was an utter weariness within them +such as few men have ever experienced. A hundred times all that kept +them going over the rock-studded ground, with thorn-bush barriers every +other foot of the way, were their fighting hearts and savage +determination to win through in spite of all odds.</p> + +<p>And they <i>had</i> won through, but were now forced to stretch out on the +ground and fight another battle—the battle for new strength and new +energy that would carry them forward to the most terrific struggle of +all. Yes, carry them forward to the struggle—and the successful +completion of an almost impossible task.</p> + +<p>"Freddy, I'm wondering," Dawson suddenly <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_227" id="Page_227">[Pg 227]</a></span>whispered, and touched the +English youth's prone body with his hand.</p> + +<p>"Yes, Dave?" came back the equally faint whisper. "Wondering about +what?"</p> + +<p>"If—" Dave began, and paused. "I mean, maybe we're all wet about this +business. There's not an engine out there ticking over, and it's darn +close to dawn. You'd think they'd be warming them up now, if they +expected to go out at a moment's notice. In other words, I'm wondering +<i>if</i> Major General Hawker was right. If this bunch <i>really does</i> have +any connection with the President's trip to Casablanca?"</p> + +<p>"I'm sure it must have, Dave," Freddy Farmer replied after a few seconds +of silence. "Everything absolutely adds up to that. In my mind, there's +no doubt about it. As for warming up the engines, the blighters are up +and about. No doubt they'll start them up any minute now. May be waiting +for a bit more light, you know. The point is, what are we—"</p> + +<p>The English-born air ace never finished that question. He didn't because +at that moment a figure garbed in the uniform of the Nazi <i>Luftwaffe</i> +rushed out of a little camouflaged hut on the left side of the desert +strip and shouted orders at the top of his voice. He spoke in Ger<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_228" id="Page_228">[Pg 228]</a></span>man, +of course, but both Dawson and Farmer knew the language, and so—and so +absolute confirmation of the truth was given them.</p> + +<p>"All pilots and crews report to <i>Herr Kommandant</i> at once!" the voice +bellowed in a note of wild, frenzied excitement. "<i>Der Tag</i> has come! +The signal has just been received from Casablanca. Your targets are +approaching there now. The American <i>Schweinehunds</i>, and the English +ones, too. <i>Der Tag</i> has come! <i>Heil</i> Hitler!"</p> + +<p>A brief moment of silence settled over everything. And then a +silence-shattering roar came from many throats.</p> + +<p>"<i>Heil</i> Hitler!"</p> + +<p>Bombs were exploding in Dave Dawson's brain, and his heart was pumping +madly in his chest as he pushed up onto his hands and knees.</p> + +<p>"Freddy!" he got out in a choking gasp. "This is it! You hear what that +bird said? They've received word from some rat in Casablanca, just as +Major General Hawker thought they would. Freddy! It's up to us now, or +else! Those confounded bombers just <i>can't</i> take off! And that's got to +be <i>that</i>!"</p> + +<p>"Absolutely!" the English youth echoed in a hoarse whisper. "And just +look at the blighters! <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_229" id="Page_229">[Pg 229]</a></span>Like blasted ants crawling all over those +planes, and—Dave! Do you see—"</p> + +<p>"Right!" Dawson cut in, and gripped his arm. "That Messerschmitt 110. +They're not touching it yet. Must be the <i>Kommandant's</i> plane. Probably +going to tag along and watch the slaughter, but keep out of the way."</p> + +<p>"Yes, yes!" Freddy said excitedly. "But we—"</p> + +<p>"My idea all along, pal!" Dawson breathed fiercely. "That's not the rat +<i>Kommandant's</i> baby, that's <i>ours</i>, Freddy! If we can only get it off +before they get us, we can pin the rest of those crates on the ground +like nobody's business. But, Freddy!"</p> + +<p>"Yes, Dave, yes?" the English youth asked impatiently. "What now?"</p> + +<p>"Just a thought," Dawson said in a quiet, steady voice that surprised +himself. "We'll get that baby off, and we'll raise merry heck with these +birds, even if it's the last thing we do. That's the idea! Maybe it +<i>will</i> be the last. I have a funny feeling that we've had more than our +share of luck already. So—Well, if you'd rather we tried to swipe a +single-seater Messerschmitt apiece, so that—"</p> + +<p>"Rot!" young Farmer snapped angrily. "So that one of us might get away? +Meaning me? <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_230" id="Page_230">[Pg 230]</a></span>Not a bit of it, Dave! We started the balmy business +together, and by the Lord Harry we'll <i>finish</i> it together, one way or +the other. So stop your silly talk, and let's get on with things. You +have your gun, of course?"</p> + +<p>"Right in my hand, kid," Dawson assured him. "And you're a pretty nice +guy, Freddy, if I haven't ever mentioned it before. Okay, together it +is. Keep low, and run like the dickens. If somebody gets in our +way—well, it will be just too bad for him. They're going half nuts out +there, now, so maybe we'll get the breaks and not be seen. Set, Freddy?"</p> + +<p>"Set, old thing," the English youth replied, and pressed Dawson's arm. +"Luck to us both!"</p> + +<p>"We don't count," Dawson said, and pressed young Farmer's arm in return. +"Luck to the Casablanca war conference, please God! Right! Here we go!"</p> + +<p>Dawson pressed Freddy Farmer's arm once more, then wheeled around, bent +way over almost double, circled the scrub bush, and went streaking out +onto the desert strip at top speed toward the Messerschmitt 110 parked a +good eighty yards away. Farmer bolted right after him.</p> + +<p>Perhaps it was Dawson's spinning imagina<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_231" id="Page_231">[Pg 231]</a></span>tion, or perhaps it was an +actual fact, but it seemed that no sooner was he out from behind the +scrub bush than the amount of light thrown forward by the swiftly +approaching day was tripled in intensity. He had the sensation that he +and Farmer stood out as clear and as huge as a couple of runaway horses, +and that every German eye was fixed upon them. In fact, had a hundred +machine guns suddenly opened up on them, he would not have been the +least bit surprised. With every racing stride he took, with every split +second that skipped by, he expected just that.</p> + +<p>However, there were no screams of alarm, and there were no blasts of +yammering machine-gun fire as the two youths covered forty yards in +their headlong dash and reached the first of the parked bombers. At that +point, Dawson swerved sharply to the left in order to avoid all notice +if possible. Then he swerved back to the right again without checking +his speed for a single instant. They had to pass four more bombers with +mechanics and pilots swarming all over before they reached the +Messerschmitt 110. They accomplished it in a matter of split seconds, +but to Dawson's high-pitched nerves and whirling brain, it seemed a +thousand years. <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_232" id="Page_232">[Pg 232]</a></span>It seemed as though he was only crawling over the +ground, and in slow motion at that.</p> + +<p>But the crazy thoughts he had were far from the truth. He was traveling +so fast that he virtually ran into the side of the Messerschmitt and was +bounced back, to bump up against Freddy Farmer's plunging body. They +caught hold of each other in an effort to maintain their balance. They +succeeded, but no sooner had they regained their balance and were +turning to scramble up into the plane than two uniformed Nazis came +running around the tail of the aircraft.</p> + +<p>The two Nazis saw Dawson and Farmer. Their jaws dropped, and they +skidded to a halt and reached for their holstered Lugers. But they might +just as well have tried to jump over the stars and drop straight down on +the two air aces. Dawson's gun barked once, so did Freddy Farmer's, and +there were two less Germans in the world.</p> + +<p>Before either of the dead Germans had hit the ground the two air aces +had whirled and had thrown themselves into the Messerschmitt's cockpit. +Though nothing had been decided between them, Dawson impulsively leaped +into the pilot's pit, and Freddy Farmer piled into the <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_233" id="Page_233">[Pg 233]</a></span>gunner's pit +aft. It was one of those unspoken agreements, and as Dawson landed in +the seat, his hands shot out for the engine switches, throttles, and +starter buttons. Two seconds later, the grinding of the starter gears +sounded like the loudest noise in all the world, and Dave's heart +pounded in wild fear that their two shots were bringing a horde of other +Nazis on the run. However, he didn't waste time looking about. He +hunched forward in the pit and concentrated every bit of his attention +and all his prayers on getting the two Daimler-Benz engines started.</p> + +<p>One second, one minute, one hour, or maybe a thousand years dragged by +before the two engines "caught" and roared in a mighty earth-shaking +duet of power. Dawson's heart leaped with wild joy, and for five +precious seconds he forced himself to let the engines run to warm up a +little before the take-off. At the end of five seconds, he eased off the +throttles, kicked off the wheel brakes, and let the Messerschmitt +trundle forward out of line with the other aircraft. No sooner was he in +the open and swerving left toward the long way of the field, than the +chattering yammer of a machine gun rose above the general roar, and he +heard the deathly <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_234" id="Page_234">[Pg 234]</a></span>whine of bullets passing overhead. He also heard a +wild yell from Freddy Farmer's lips, but he didn't dare twist around in +the seat and look back. He didn't because he was pointing the long way +of the desert strip now, and was ready to ram his throttles wide open. +In front of him was a milling mass of Germans. He was that a furious +attempt was being made by a Messerschmitt 109 pilot to trundle his +single-seater out of line and onto the desert strip to block the way!</p> + +<p>Stark terror gripped Dave's heart as he saw the nose of that +single-seater moving out toward the line of his take-off. He had +impulsively rammed both of his throttles wide open, and his aircraft was +leaping forward like a shell leaving the mouth of a cannon. Whether or +not he would pass that moving 109 in time was something that was in the +lap of the gods.</p> + +<p>Touch and go, and it was instinct more than sane thought that gave him a +new lease on life. As the Messerschmitt 110 rocketed forward toward the +milling mass of Nazis and the Messerschmitt 109 rolled out into his path +beyond, Dawson jabbed the electric trigger button of the ME's guns and +punched the air-cannon firing knob. Instantly the plane bucked and +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_235" id="Page_235">[Pg 235]</a></span>jumped madly as the guns yammered and pounded, and it was all Dawson +could do to hold it on its straight take-off line.</p> + +<p>"Gangway, bums, or take it!" he roared at the top of his voice. "Leap +for your lives, or else!"</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<div> +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_236" id="Page_236">[Pg 236]</a></span> +</div> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_EIGHTEEN" id="CHAPTER_EIGHTEEN"></a>CHAPTER EIGHTEEN</h2> + +<h4><i>Eagles Come Through</i></h4> + + +<p>Words, crazy, insane words poured from Dave Dawson's lips as he held the +Messerschmitt 110 as steady as a rock and guided it forward at full +throttle. Perhaps his actions were as crazy and insane as his words. For +every German his guns sent spinning to the ground, two more seemed to +come bounding out of nowhere with blazing sub-machine guns in their +hands. The Messerschmitt 109 that was being rolled out to block his path +loomed up larger and larger with every split second until it seemed to +fill the entire desert valley almost directly in front of his prop.</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_237" id="Page_237">[Pg 237]</a></span>Yes, perhaps crazy, perhaps insane, and perhaps totally and hopelessly +mad. Dawson didn't have time to wonder about that, or to give it a +single thought. The only thought he held in his swirling brain was that +he had to get the Messerschmitt off and into clear air. If he didn't, +all was doomed. And the point was that getting the aircraft into the air +was but the beginning of things!</p> + +<p>"Up, up with you! Come on! Get off, <i>get off</i>!"</p> + +<p>Shouting the commands at the plane, he hauled back on the controls, held +his breath, and shut his eyes, as though that would help a little. An +eternity of suspense dragged by. At the speed he was traveling now, +there wasn't a hope in the world that Freddy or he would survive a crash +with that other German plane. It was now, or never. All, or nothing but +instant death. With the fate of the entire civilized world hanging in +the balance, was it life, or was it—</p> + +<p>A mighty upward surge of the Messerschmitt caused Dawson's heart to +swell with joy. He opened his eyes and instinctively ducked because his +left wing and the nose of the Messerschmitt 109 seemed to be touching +one another. But not quite, thank God, and the 110 went prop-claw<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_238" id="Page_238">[Pg 238]</a></span>ing up +close to the vertical. Prop-clawing upward as the withering fire of +enraged vultures below spewed up after it.</p> + +<p>"Made it, made it!" Dawson choked out, and instantly kicked the +Messerschmitt over on wingtip and pulled it around in a screaming turn. +"Freddy, we—"</p> + +<p>He cut short his words as sudden memory of Freddy Farmer's wild yell +came back to mind. It seemed as though he lived and died a hundred +deaths in the time it took to turn his head and glance back at the rear +cockpit. What he saw sent a flood of joy into his pounding heart. Freddy +Farmer was still alive and kicking. And very much so, too. He had his +rear guns swung around and down and was blazing away at the ground. One +of his bursts of bullets had already nailed one of the Junkers 88's, and +livid red flame was shooting upward from the giant aircraft.</p> + +<p>"First blood for you, Freddy!" Dawson screamed into the thunder of his +twin Daimler-Benz engines. "First blood for you, and how! Let's go, kid! +They think they've got a date at Casablanca. The heck they have, I'll +say! Here, you, a kiss from Casablanca!"</p> + +<p>As Dawson roared out the last, he dropped <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_239" id="Page_239">[Pg 239]</a></span>the nose of the Messerschmitt +like a rock and went piling down toward the row of parked planes. He saw +two Messerschmitt 109's taking off, but they were past his line of fire, +so he couldn't do anything about them. Nor could he do anything about +the ocean of ground fire that swept up toward him. Maybe their 110 would +be "drowned" in that ocean of machine-gun and rifle fire, but not before +Freddy and he had made that secret desert airdrome a shambles of burning +aircraft that would block off all other attempts to take off.</p> + +<p>With every cubic inch of air seemingly filled with death-whining bullets +from the ground guns, Dave rocketed the 110 recklessly downward and let +go with all his guns and air cannon. One, two, three huge Junkers 88's +seemed to crab sideways and then break out into flame before he was +forced to pull up out of his mad dive, or go roaring in to his doom. His +heart was smashing against his ribs, and his face was bathed in hot +sweat as he pitted every ounce of his strength against the downward +momentum of the Messerschmitt. Then, with but half a second to spare, he +got the nose up and went engine-howling for the dawn gray sky.</p> + +<p>"Dave! They are—"</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_240" id="Page_240">[Pg 240]</a></span>Whatever Freddy Farmer had to say was drowned out in a tremendous +thunder of sound. Sound that billowed up from the ground directly under +the power zooming plane. Sound that seemed to envelop the Messerschmitt, +to grab it with many hands and fling it cartwheeling end over end out +across the North African dawn. All the fireworks in the world popped and +crackled in Dawson's head. A thousand steel fists hit against his body +from every conceivable angle. The nose of the Messerschmitt and the +instrument panel started spinning until all he could see was a whirling +blurr. The air that he sucked into his lungs was as liquid fire, and it +seemed to dry up every drop of blood in his body. In a crazy, abstract +sort of way he knew that some of the Junkers bombs had let go before he +had been able to zoom out of range, and concussion had caught the +Messerschmitt to make it as helpless as a dried leaf in a cyclone.</p> + +<p>"Dave! Man your guns! Two planes got off! There they come down. From in +front—<i>from in front</i>!"</p> + +<p>Freddy Farmer's screaming voice seemed to tear away the blurred veil +that covered Dawson's eyes. His vision cleared, and he looked up to see +the two Messerschmitt 109's streaking <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_241" id="Page_241">[Pg 241]</a></span>down at him from in front. Freddy +Farmer's guns were already blazing away, but the angle was bad, and the +tracers were smoking well above the diving planes.</p> + +<p>Even as Dawson looked up and spotted the two planes, he was pulling up +the nose and fumbling for the electric trigger button on his control +stick. He found it, only to have his fingers slide off. When he looked +down, he saw that his hand was red and glistening from his own blood. +The sight stunned him for a second because he felt no pain. That is, no +acute pain. From head to foot his entire body felt numb and weak, but +there was no sense of pain whatsoever. He was even more astonished when +he saw that the front of his ripped and torn tunic was stained with +blood, too.</p> + +<p>One glance, however, was all he could take—one glance to see, realize +the truth, and be dumbfounded. Then he snapped his eyes upward, tapped +right rudder just a little to bring one of the diving planes into his +sights—and fired!</p> + +<p>The result? He saw what happened with his two eyes, but he did not know +whether his bullets and air cannon shells, or Nazi panic, caused it. It +seemed that he had hardly jabbed <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_242" id="Page_242">[Pg 242]</a></span>the electric trigger button when the +plane in his sights swerved violently off to the right. Maybe his burst +hit it and kicked it that way, or perhaps the unthinking Nazi pilot +swerved purposely to throw Dawson off his aim. But whether no or yes, +the 109 swerved violently to its right, and went side-slashing into the +other diving 109. One second there were two planes hurtling downward, +and the next they had locked wings, crumpled about each other like wet +paper, and then completely disappeared in an exploding ball of flame and +oily black smoke.</p> + +<p>"Good gosh, no!" Dawson gasped, and hurled the no over and around to +avoid the flaming inferno as it went plunging past. "Did I get him, or +did the guy go haywire? Hey, Freddy! Did you see that?"</p> + +<p>Silence greeted his question, and terror was his again as he twisted +around in the seat. What he saw brought no yell of joy to his lips. On +the contrary, it brought a sob of alarm, because Freddy Farmer was +slumped over like a sack of wet meal against the side of the cockpit. +One upstretched hand still clung to the trigger guard of the rear guns, +but the English youth's face was deathly pale, save where it was +spattered with drops of blood. His eyes were closed.</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_243" id="Page_243">[Pg 243]</a></span>"Freddy!" Dawson shrieked. "Freddy! Speak to me, pal! Oh, dear God, +<i>no</i>! Please, oh, please! Freddy! Freddy, boy!"</p> + +<p>Dawson's voice faltered, and the only sounds he made were dry sobs that +struggled up out of his throat. He turned front, and hot, stinging tears +fell from his eyes. On the ground was a sight that should have brought +shouts of joy to his lips and filled him with wild, surging happiness. +The secret desert-oasis field was now completely covered by clouds of +dirty black smoke that were slashed every few seconds by the bright red +and orange flames of newly exploding bombs. Each time a flash of flame +slashed its way up through the clouds of dirty smoke, bits of plane +wreckage came hurtling up after it.</p> + +<p>Yes, Goering's Snoopers were doomed. They would never fly to Casablanca, +or to any other place, for that matter. But that wonderful, thrilling +realization left Dawson untouched. Somehow, he was beyond all feeling. +His brain was numbed, his heart was dead, and there was hardly the +strength in him to go on living. His tattered tunic was now drenched +with blood. Drops of blood fell from his fingers curled about the +Messerschmitt's controls. A gray cur<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_244" id="Page_244">[Pg 244]</a></span>tain seemed to hover before his +eyes, and it took every ounce of effort that he possessed to peer +through it and make out the instrument panel.</p> + +<p>"Can't be done, can't be done!" He heard his own mumbled voice as though +from miles and miles away. "We plastered them for keeps. But—but they +got old Freddy. And maybe they got me, too. Oh, dear God, I'm so tired, +so darn tired. I—I can't fly this thing back to Casablanca. I just—I +just want to quit now, and go to sleep. What does it matter, anyway? +Freddy's gone. And without old Freddy, I—"</p> + +<p>His mumbling voice trailed off, and there was nothing but the continued +thunder of the Daimler-Benz engines in his ears. Suddenly he heard +another voice. A voice? Or was it something inside of him speaking?</p> + +<p>"Quitting, huh? Just like that! You get a couple of scratches, and you +want to let down and quit. Isn't that just dandy? So Freddy's gone, huh? +How do <i>you</i> know? You can't tell from here! But, no, you don't even +want to <i>try</i> to get back to Casablanca, where maybe he could be saved +<i>if</i> he's still alive. No! You just want to quit and make <i>sure</i> that he +dies. Okay, quitter! There's hard earth down there. Dive in <i>and make +sure of death</i>!"</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_245" id="Page_245">[Pg 245]</a></span>The little voice kindled a spark of anger within him, and it flared up +into a bright hot flame. Quitter, huh? The heck he was! Maybe Freddy +wasn't dead! Please, God, let that be true! He'd get Freddy back. Honest +he would. He'd get Freddy back, no matter what. This wasn't the end for +either of them. Remember how they had once kidded that the Nazi was not +yet born who could polish off either of them? Well, that was true. Yes, +doggone it, that was <i>true</i>! Casablanca? Okay! You bet! It was hard to +move, and that darn gray veil made things hard to see. But he'd get +through just the same. Casablanca, here we come! Here we—</p> + +<p>The wheels of the bullet-riddled Messerschmitt 110 touching hard ground +seemed to snap something inside Dawson's head, and drag him back from +another world. In a daze he looked about and saw that he was rolling +along the Casablanca field. Above him, the air was filled with Allied +aircraft. A sharp stab of fear passed through his heart when he realized +that this Nazi plane had been in the air with those other aircraft. He +vaguely remembered they had spotted him way out from Casablanca, closed +in, and then dropped into escort position.</p> + +<p>And now <i>he</i> was down on Casablanca base! <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_246" id="Page_246">[Pg 246]</a></span>He'd made it, but he hadn't +realized it until just now! Could a pilot fly a course while +semi-conscious? Maybe he could, because Dave had very little +recollection of this flight except for the very start. And—Wait! +<i>Freddy Farmer!</i></p> + +<p>As the thought flashed through his brain, he lurched upward out of the +seat and looked back. Fresh fear and terror gripped him. Freddy was +still slumped lifelessly against the side of the pit. His face seemed +even paler, and it was covered with more dots of blood. Dawson started +to call out, when he heard the pounding of many running feet. He turned +his head in that direction and saw a large group of figures, led by +Colonel Welsh, racing toward the plane. He waved frantically with one +hand and called out.</p> + +<p>"Ambulance!" he shouted. "Get the ambulance at—"</p> + +<p>At that exact moment a dark cloud swooped down on top of him. A great +roaring started up inside his head. He knew that he was tumbling +headlong out of the pit and down onto the wing, but he was absolutely +helpless to do anything about it. Something, probably the wing stub, hit +him one last and final smash on the head, and there was nothing but +darkness, and utter silence.</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_247" id="Page_247">[Pg 247]</a></span>Dave Dawson found himself suspended in a world of clear, fresh-smelling +and soothing white when he again opened his eyes. It did not puzzle him +that all should be white, because his brain was too contented to bother +figuring it out. His whole body felt contented, too. A lulling warmth +enveloped him, and he did not care whether anything ever changed again. +This lulling warmth and this soothing contentment were all that he could +desire.</p> + +<p>However, that perfect spell of both mind and body was not long-lasting. +As complete consciousness finally returned, the aches and pains took +charge of his body, and his brain awakened fully with a terrible memory.</p> + +<p>"Freddy! Freddy Farmer!"</p> + +<p>Hardly realizing that his lips had gasped out his pal's name, he +struggled to push himself up. But even as he started the effort, other +hands were placed upon him and he was gently pressed down to his +original position. A position that he then realized was flat on his back +in a hospital bed. And then the face of the owner of those gently +pressing hands came into his vision, and he recognized Colonel Welsh.</p> + +<p>"Don't, son," the Intelligence Chief said softly. "Just let yourself go, +boy, and relax com<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_248" id="Page_248">[Pg 248]</a></span>pletely. Farmer is all right. Shot up a little, just +as you were, but he'll pull through with flying colors."</p> + +<p>"You're sure, sir?" Dawson choked out. "You mean it? You wouldn't kid +a—"</p> + +<p>"My word of honor," Colonel Welsh stopped him. "He's weak, yes, from the +loss of blood, just as you are. But he'll be all right, just as you'll +be all right after a period of mending and resting. And if you'll +promise to get another good sleep, I'll have you moved into Farmer's +room so that you can be together. And, son—"</p> + +<p>"Hey!" Dawson blurted out, as the thought suddenly came to him. "The +President's party, and—"</p> + +<p>He would have said more, but Colonel Welsh put a hand to his lips. +"Don't waste strength talking, son," he admonished with a smile. +"Believe me, everything is perfect. The war conference is under way +right now. And never mind giving me a report, either. Both you and +Farmer have babbled it all in the two days since you've been here. I +don't know what to say, Dawson. Wonderful isn't half the word that's +needed. I can only say that it is another great debt that civilized man +owes to you two. But for what you did, just you two alone, there's no +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_249" id="Page_249">[Pg 249]</a></span>telling what terrible changes there might have been in this war. We +caught the Nazi agent here who sent the signal of the President's coming +to that secret base. He was one of von Steuben's men my agents had been +watching, hoping he would lead them to bigger fish. But it turned out +<i>he</i> was the big fish here at Casablanca. We caught him at his hidden +radio, but the message had already gone through. He admitted it, even +boasted about it, saying that it was too late for us to do anything. No +matter how many planes we put in the air, some of those Junkers would +get through in time. That was no lie. Some of them, and maybe all of +them would have gotten through, because <i>we</i> had no idea from which +direction they would come to deliver their attack. Or when, so that we +would be ready. But you and Farmer—"</p> + +<p>Colonel Welsh stopped talking, blinked his eyes, swallowed hard, and +smiled.</p> + +<p>"All I can say," he finally got out, "is that I thank God from the +bottom of my heart that you two are fighting on our side. And, son—"</p> + +<p>The Chief of U. S. Intelligence was about to add that the President of +the United States had said that he wished to see Dave Dawson and Freddy +Farmer before he left Casablanca and <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_250" id="Page_250">[Pg 250]</a></span>personally decorate them for their +brave and gallant service above and beyond the call of duty. But Colonel +Welsh decided to wait until another time, because what use is it to tell +a fellow anything when he is fast asleep with a happy and thoroughly +contented smile on his face?</p> + +<p class="center"> +<br /><br />—— THE END ——<br /> +</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h4><a name="A_Page_from" id="A_Page_from"></a><i>A Page from</i></h4> + +<h2>DAVE DAWSON WITH THE EIGHTH AIR FORCE</h2> + +<p>After carefully checking the readings of his "black light" instrument +dials, Dawson raised his eyes and scowled out at the ocean of inky +darkness that seemed to sweep in on him from all sides.</p> + +<p>"Right on course, unless those instruments are haywire, which of course +they're not," he murmured. "But just the same, I'd sure like to get out +of these clouds. The darn stuff must stretch all the way to China!"</p> + +<p>As he spoke the words he absently fingered the switch button of his +radio, but when he suddenly realized what he was doing he snatched his +hand away as though the thing were red hot.</p> + +<p>"Radio silence at all cost, chump!" he growled at himself. "And stop +worrying about Freddy. He's somewhere right back there behind you. You +saw his ship as clear as could be only thirty minutes ago! So take it +easy."</p> + +<p>Yes, only thirty minutes ago Freddy Farmer had been right there at his +right rear in the other plane. Sure! But kingdoms have fallen,</p> + + +<div><br /><br /><br /><br /></div> + +<p class="notes"> +Transcriber's Notes:<br /> +Page 92: Changed givin to giving<br /> +Page 127: Changed thanks to tanks<br /> +Page 144: Changed Washingtan to Washington<br /> +Page 146: Changed blust to blurt<br /> +Page 161: Changed tto to to<br /> +Page 180: Changed Georing's to Goering's<br /> +</p> + + + + + + + + +<pre> + + + + + +End of Project Gutenberg's Dave Dawson at Casablanca, by Robert Sydney Bowen + +*** END OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK DAVE DAWSON AT CASABLANCA *** + +***** This file should be named 32331-h.htm or 32331-h.zip ***** +This and all associated files of various formats will be found in: + http://www.gutenberg.org/3/2/3/3/32331/ + +Produced by Greg Weeks, Roger L. Holda, Joseph R. 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You may copy it, give it away or +re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included +with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org + + +Title: Dave Dawson at Casablanca + +Author: Robert Sydney Bowen + +Release Date: May 11, 2010 [EBook #32331] + +Language: English + +Character set encoding: ASCII + +*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK DAVE DAWSON AT CASABLANCA *** + + + + +Produced by Greg Weeks, Roger L. Holda, Joseph R. Hauser +and the Online Distributed Proofreading Team at +http://www.pgdp.net + + + + + + + DAVE DAWSON + AT + CASABLANCA + + + + + BOOKS BY R. SIDNEY BOWEN + + + DAVE DAWSON AT DUNKIRK + + DAVE DAWSON WITH THE R. A. F. + + DAVE DAWSON IN LIBYA + + DAVE DAWSON ON CONVOY PATROL + + DAVE DAWSON AT SINGAPORE + + DAVE DAWSON WITH THE PACIFIC FLEET + + DAVE DAWSON WITH THE AIR CORPS + + DAVE DAWSON ON THE RUSSIAN FRONT + + DAVE DAWSON FLIGHT LIEUTENANT + + DAVE DAWSON WITH THE COMMANDOS + + DAVE DAWSON WITH THE FLYING TIGERS + + DAVE DAWSON ON GUADALCANAL + + + + + DAVE DAWSON + AT + CASABLANCA + + + _by_ + R. SIDNEY BOWEN + + + + + THE WAR ADVENTURE SERIES + + + + + CROWN PUBLISHERS + NEW YORK + + + + + COPYRIGHT 1944 BY CROWN PUBLISHERS + + + + + _All rights reserved, including the right + to reproduce this book, or portions + thereof, in any form._ + + + + + Printed in the United States of America + + + + + DEDICATED TO + JOHNNY BOGARDUS + + + + + CONTENTS + + CHAPTER PAGE + + I THE MAN IN GRAY 13 + + II JUST IN CASE 23 + + III SILENT LIPS 37 + + IV ORDERS FOR EAGLES 46 + + V WHISPERING DEATH 58 + + VI CHANGED ORDERS 76 + + VII BLACKOUT 90 + + VIII EAGLES CAN TAKE IT 103 + + IX DEATH STRIKES 112 + + X INVISIBLE EYES 125 + + XI MIDNIGHT RAIDER 138 + + XII FIGHTING HEARTS 149 + + XIII LURKING WINGS 163 + + XIV GOERING'S SNOOPERS 179 + + XV DEATH TAKES WINGS 194 + + XVI BLAZING DOOM 207 + + XVII VULTURES' NEST 224 + + XVIII EAGLES COME THROUGH 236 + + + + + DAVE DAWSON + AT + CASABLANCA + + + + +CHAPTER ONE + +_The Man in Gray_ + + +The four-faced clock over the information booth on the Upper Level of +the Grand Central Station in New York City showed exactly twenty-five +minutes after three. Dave Dawson paused in his restless pacing up and +down to look at it for the hundredth time in the last half hour. He +glared at it, sighed heavily, and made noises deep in his throat. + +"Where is that Freddy Farmer guy, anyway?" he grated to himself. "For +half an hour I've been pounding shoe leather here waiting for him. +Darned if he isn't worse than a woman, not being at a place on time. But +he's probably lost. And if he is, he can stay lost for all I care." + +With a sharp nod for emphasis, he walked over to the newsstand and +bought a bar of candy. The Union News lad back of the counter glanced at +the row of decoration ribbons under Dawson's wings, and gave him a smile +and the kind of look that said he'd like to hear about some of Dawson's +experiences. Dave ignored the look, however, and turned away. He didn't +want to talk about the war. In fact, he didn't even want to think about +it. Freddy and he were enjoying a much-deserved leave, and they still +had four days to go. And until those four days had come and gone, the +war could be on another world as far as he was concerned. Right! The +heck with it for four more days! + +For the hundred-and-first time Dawson looked at the information-booth +clock. The hands said twenty-seven minutes of four now, and Dave made +noises in his throat once again. He pulled two hockey-game tickets out +of his tunic pocket and looked at them. + +"For two cents I'd leave him flat and get somebody else to go with me!" +he muttered. "I should have drawn the bum a map so he could use it to +get over here from Times Square. He--" + +He let the rest trail off as he saw Freddy Farmer hurrying toward him +from the direction of the IRT shuttle train to Times Square. He fixed +the English-born air ace with a disgusted eye and watched him approach. +Freddy came up to him all smiles and slightly flushed. + +"Waiting for somebody, old thing?" he greeted Dave. + +"No!" Dawson snapped. "And my mother taught me never to speak to +strangers. So scram, before I call a cop." + +"Speaking of your New York cops," Freddy Farmer chuckled, "I wouldn't be +here now, if it hadn't been for a bobby in the Bronx." + +"Bronx?" Dawson exploded. "What the heck were you doing up there? This +morning you said you were going to hear Benny Goodman's band over at the +Paramount Theatre." + +"And so I did," Freddy replied with a nod. "And it was absolutely +topping. But--" + +"Topping, he says!" Dawson snorted. "You should show your passport when +you use words like that. You mean keen, or in the groove, or on the +beam, or strictly the nuts. But what about the Bronx? Did Goodman lead a +parade?" + +"If you'll be so kind as to shut that big mouth of yours, I'll +explain!" Freddy snapped. "After the show I had something to eat, and--" + +"As if I couldn't guess _that_!" Dawson grunted. "And so?" + +"And so when I came out of the restaurant it was snowing," the English +youth said. "And--" + +"Snowing, in _January_?" Dawson mock-gasped and widened his eyes. "Well, +what do you know about that? So you just stood there and watched it +snowing in January, of all times, while I cooled my heels here waiting +for you!" + +"Do you want to listen, or would you rather give that tongue of yours +exercise?" Freddy Farmer bit off. + +"Okay, okay, but make it good!" Dawson sighed. "I've got two tickets for +the Ranger-Chicago Hawks hockey game tonight. Make your story good, or +somebody else goes with me!" + +"What?" Freddy cried. "You've got--Good grief! Now we've got four!" + +"Four what?" Dawson demanded. "Or am I supposed to guess?" + +"Four tickets to the hockey game," Freddy Farmer said, and produced two +from his own pocket. "I couldn't remember who was to get the tickets. So +after I came out of the restaurant, I walked up to Madison Square +Garden and got two tickets just to be sure. And--What's the matter, +Dave? You suddenly sick, or something?" + +The last was because Dawson had made a face, groaned, and clapped one +hand to his forehead. With the other he reached out and grabbed Freddy's +hand that held the hockey-game tickets, and jerked it up until the +tickets were about an inch from the end of the English youth's nose. + +"Boy, are you something!" he groaned. "Take a look, Bright Eyes! Take a +good look! You went to the wrong window. Those tickets are for the +Ranger-Boston Bruin game next Wednesday!" + +"Oh, good grief, no!" Freddy cried. "I didn't know there was any special +window. I just went to one and asked the chap for two good tickets to +the next game. And he gave me these. I'll take them back and--" + +"No, you won't, sweetheart!" Dawson interrupted, and shook his head. +"You'll just be out that dough, and maybe it will teach you to use your +head next time. We'll give the tickets to the first two soldiers we +meet. But let's get back to the Bronx. Did the ticket fellow send you +up there?" + +"No, it was one of your blasted tube trains!" Freddy Farmer growled. "I +asked the chap what tube I should take to get to Grand Central. He +didn't understand me until I remembered that you call the _tube_ the +subway. So--" + +"You mean you English guys call the _subway_ the tube," Dawson cut in +again. "How many times have I got to tell you that when in Rome shoot +Roman candles! So you went to the subway, and--? Now what?" + +Freddy Farmer didn't reply. He stood staring at something behind Dawson. +Dave turned impulsively, but all he saw was a lot of people hurrying +toward their respective destinations. He turned back and looked at +Freddy. + +"Okay, come up for air!" he growled. "What's eating you, anyway?" + +"That chap over there by the ticket window," the English-born air ace +finally said. "The chap in gray. I've seen him half-a-dozen times +today." + +"So what?" Dawson grunted. "It's a free country and a small world. What +of it?" + +"Nothing, except that the first time was in the lobby of the hotel as +you and I were leaving," Freddy said. "And the next time he was three +seats away from me in the Paramount. And the next time was in the +restaurant; then at Madison Square Garden; and up in the Bronx, too." + +"No kidding?" Dawson echoed, half expecting his pal to pull some kind of +a gag. + +"No kidding at all," Freddy replied promptly. "I'm certain that the chap +has been following me around." + +"Could be," Dawson murmured, and casually turned around so that he could +get a look at the man in gray. "Frankly, though, you _do_ look like a +guy with itchy fingers, and we've got a lot of expensive things in this +town. He's probably a plain-clothes detective from Police Headquarters." + +"Then I'm definitely in a mess now!" Freddy Farmer snapped right back at +him. "I'm sure it's a crime in any country to be caught talking to the +likes of you! See him, Dave?" + +"Yeah," Dawson grunted, turning back. "A nice-looking guy. And he didn't +get that overcoat with cigarette coupons. We'll check up in a couple of +minutes and see if he continues to trail you. Right now, though, I can +hardly wait. What about the Bronx, anyway?" + +"I took the wrong tube train, that's all," Freddy said. "And I went +right to the end of the line, which was in the Bronx, but not a single +station said Grand Central. I got off and asked a bobby how to get +there. He was a very fine chap, and straightened me out. But, good +grief, I've certainly seen a lot of New York today!" + +"Well, don't ever take a subway to Brooklyn!" Dawson advised. "You +wouldn't be back for a week. What shall we do now? Where'll we go, I +mean. Want to take a subway ride?" + +"Deliver me!" Freddy Farmer groaned. "Definitely, no! Personally, I'm +hungry. Let's go find a nice restaurant and fuel up, what?" + +"Okay," Dawson sighed. "I suppose you've got to have a nine-course snack +to keep you from fainting until supper. Okay. But let's go to the dining +room in the Biltmore Hotel next door. If your friend in gray follows you +there, we'll know he's up to something. Ten to one, though, you've been +having a pipe dream." + +"Perhaps," Freddy Farmer admitted as he dropped into step with Dawson. +"But that's definitely the same chap I've been seeing all day long. I +wonder why the blighter _is_ following me around? No, no, my little man! +Just keep your opinion to yourself. I--I say, wait a minute, Dave!" + +Freddy Farmer left Dawson's side and went over to two Yank soldiers who +were obviously going no place, but just taking in the sights. They +saluted him as he came up and stopped in front of them. + +"I say, you two on leave, what?" he asked with a grin. + +"Yes, sir," they replied together, and gave him a funny look. + +"Will you be in town come next Wednesday?" Freddy asked again. + +"Yes, sir," they replied in the same breath. + +"Good!" Freddy beamed, and held out the hockey tickets. "Use these, if +you like. And half a minute! Here, buy yourselves some little thing, +what? And good luck." + +Freddy Farmer added two one-dollar bills to the hockey tickets and +walked away. The two soldiers gaped down at the two tickets and the two +dollars. + +"What's the matter with that guy; is he touched?" one of them mumbled. +"And did you hear him, Fuzzy? He didn't even speak English!" + +"Who cares?" Fuzzy asked as he came out of his trance. "Two +four-buck-forty hockey tickets, and two bucks in cash! Who cares if the +guy is touched? He's okay by me!" + +"Well, well!" Dawson chuckled when Freddy joined him. "Darned if the kid +didn't at that! And even let go of two bucks." + +"All I had on me," Freddy said with a smile. "So that makes you the one +to pay for our meal, see?" + +"Oh, yeah?" Dawson jeered. "Well, don't look right now, but standing in +your shoes is a guy who's heading for a lot of dish washing in the +Biltmore kitchen!" + + + + +CHAPTER TWO + +_Just in Case_ + + +"Well?" Freddy Farmer demanded as he leaned across the dining table +toward Dawson. "Did I have a pipe dream, or not? Did you see who just +came in and sat down?" + +"Yeah," Dawson grunted, and buttered a roll. "Your pal in gray. I wonder +what's the big idea?" + +"So do I!" Freddy echoed instantly. "And I've half a mind to go over +right now and ask him. The beggar is beginning to give me the creeps. He +doesn't look foreign, though." + +"Hey, come out of your spin, pal!" Dawson chuckled. "What do you think +this is, Gestapo stuff?" + +Freddy Farmer looked at Dawson and smiled slowly. + +"I wouldn't know, old thing," he said. "You see, this isn't England, so +I wouldn't know for sure _what_ kind of funny business was afoot." + +"Ouch!" Dawson yipped softly, and flung up an arm in front of his face. +"Right in the eye, that time. You're improving each day with your snappy +come-back, my young friend. Keep it up, and you'll be the life of the +party some day. Well, I guess that's all the fodder I want right now. +How's for a stroll around in the beautiful January snow, huh? But it's +probably slush by now, and--Hey! I almost forgot! You think I'm paying +for your meal, don't you? Well--" + +"Of course not!" Freddy Farmer cut in quickly. "And just to show my +heart's in the right place, I'll even pay for both of us." + +"I wonder if there's a doctor in the house?" Dawson murmured, and stared +hard at the English youth. "Sure you feel all right, Freddy?" + +"Never felt better," the other replied. "Wait just a moment, will you, +old thing? I'll be right back." + +Before Dawson could ask questions, Freddy got up from his chair and +walked quickly across the dining room and down the broad flight of +carpeted steps to the lobby. Dawson blinked, then took a sip of water, +and glanced over at the man in gray. The mysterious stranger was looking +toward the lobby, and was in the act of pushing himself up out of his +chair. He seemed to change his mind, however. He shot a quick look over +Dawson's way, then settled back in his chair and went to work on a piece +of pie the waiter had placed in front of him. + +"That bird sure is plenty interested in Freddy," Dawson muttered to +himself, and frowned. "I wonder what the heck's cooking around here, +anyway?" + +He played with that thought for two or three minutes, but was unable to +get any place. And then as he happened to glance toward the dining-room +lobby entrance, he saw Freddy Farmer standing there and beckoning to him +urgently. Dawson raised questioning eyebrows, took a look toward the man +in gray, got up from his chair, and started to leave the table. He had +taken but two steps when the waiter appeared at his elbow. + +"The check, Captain," the waiter said politely. + +"Oh, yeah," Dawson murmured absently, and glanced at the total. He +pulled some money from his pocket and gave it to the waiter. "There you +are," he murmured again, and hurried over to the lobby entrance to the +dining room where Freddy was waiting. + +The English-born air ace greeted him with a grin like a Cheshire cat. + +"And let that be a lesson to you, my good fellow," Freddy said with an +emphatic nod of his head. + +"Says which?" Dawson grunted, and gave him a blank look. + +Freddy Farmer patted his stomach and licked his lips. + +"A delicious meal, quite!" he breathed. "I hope you gave the waiter a +decent tip. But, knowing you, I doubt it." + +Dawson started violently, and his jaw dropped. + +"Well, you little I-don't-know-what!" he eventually exploded. "Stuck me +for the meal, didn't you? I knew darn well you must have had something +in mind when you gave your last two bucks to those soldiers. You play +the big-hearted big shot to them, and _I_ get stuck for your two bucks' +worth of food!" + +"Oh, I wouldn't say that," Freddy Farmer chuckled. "Just say it's your +share in the lease-lend agreement between America and England. I'll pay +you back some day, too." + +"Yeah!" Dawson sneered. "When I'm a hundred and six and have lost all my +teeth. When I can eat only soup instead of a thick steak like I just +bought for you. But you just wait, my little bowlegged pet! I'll--Oh-oh! +The man in gray, eh?" Dawson added the last because of the flinty look +that had suddenly leaped into Farmer's eyes. + +"Quite!" Freddy murmured. "And I'm jolly well sick of this hide-and-seek +business. I'm going to find out what the blighter's up to. I detest +shadows, excepting my own." + +With a grim nod Freddy Farmer stepped past Dawson and walked over toward +the man in gray who was just leaving the dining room. Dawson impulsively +swung around and followed him. The man in gray acted as though he did +not see Freddy, but the English youth stopped in front of him, barring +his way. + +"Have you been wishing to speak to me, sir?" Freddy asked quietly. "Is +that why you've been following me all over town all day?" + +The man in gray looked blank for a moment. Then he shrugged and gave +Freddy a friendly smile. + +"It _has_ been rather obvious, hasn't it, Captain Farmer?" he said as +both Freddy and Dawson stared at him, dumbfounded. "But you went to a +lot of places where I couldn't help but show myself. I guess you've had +enough experience to guess when you're being trailed. The name is +Carter, Captain." + +As the man in gray introduced himself, he slipped something out of his +pocket and held it cupped in his hand so both youths could see it. They +took a good look at the gold F.B.I. badge and quickly raised their eyes +to the man's face. + +"The F.B.I. no less!" Dawson breathed. "What's up? Is Farmer wanted by +the F.B.I.--I hope?" + +The man chuckled and shook his head. + +"No," he said. "Neither of you are, in fact. The two of us just had +orders to keep an eye on you both." + +"'_Two_ of us'?" Dave echoed sharply. "You mean--" He let the rest go as +the F.B.I. agent nodded. + +"That's right, Captain Dawson," he said quietly, and made a faint +gesture toward the other side of the lobby. "My partner has been looking +after you, while I tried to keep up with Captain Farmer here. If +Captain Farmer hadn't returned to the dining room, I'd have taken on the +job of sticking with you, and my partner would have tackled Captain +Farmer. Frankly, I would have enjoyed the change. But now--" + +The F.B.I. agent grinned and shrugged. + +"But now that the cat's out of the bag," he said, "suppose we stop +playing cops and robbers and make it a foursome? My partner got tickets +right behind your seats for the hockey game tonight. We're also staying +at your hotel. Or would you rather be alone? Now don't be afraid that +you'll hurt my feelings. I'll understand. After all, a couple of fellows +on leave have their rights, you know." + +"Yeah, sure, of course," Dawson mumbled absently, not quite sure if he +was in the middle of a dream or not. "Sure, sure it's okay by Freddy and +me. But--but look, sir. I mean, what's all the big idea? Why should the +F.B.I. want to follow us around? I don't get it." + +"To be perfectly frank, neither do I," Agent Carter made the amazing +reply. "All I know is that two days ago we were given orders to come up +from Washington, register at your hotel, and keep an eye on you two." + +"But for what?" Freddy Farmer asked. "You mean you were to guard us +from harm, or some such silly rot?" + +"I wouldn't exactly call it silly rot, Captain," the F.B.I. man said +gravely. "After all, you two are marked men, in a way. I mean by that, +you've been thorns in the side of Axis Intelligence more than once since +this Second World War started. Not that personal revenge by enemy agents +in this country is to be expected. Yet, on the other hand, there's no +sense in regarding it as impossible." + +"Well, I'll be darned!" Dawson gulped. "But that's just plain screwy. +Why, I can name several dozen famous soldiers in this war that the Axis +would love to get a million times more than they'd want to get us. Do +you mean that everybody who's got in a few pokes at the Axis has an +F.B.I. escort when he goes on leave?" + +"Hardly," Agent Carter said with a smile. "Let's say that you two happen +to be special cases. Why, you can search me. Lots of times we're given +orders, and we have no idea what's behind them. Let's go over and meet +my partner. Or is my suggestion of a moment ago out?" + +"No," Dawson replied. "I told you it was okay by us. Besides, maybe your +partner can tell us things." + +"If he can, he won't," Agent Carter said. "You can count on that, I'm +afraid. His name is Hickson, and it so happens that he's a rabid Ranger +fan. He comes from this town. Let's go over." + +Still not quite sure that he wasn't being made the goat of some crazy +gag, Dawson walked with Agent Carter and Freddy Farmer across the lobby +to where a thin, almost sickly-looking man of uncertain years was seated +in a chair reading a newspaper. He put down his paper and smiled as the +trio approached. It was then Dawson had a vague feeling he had seen that +thin face somewhere quite recently. Then as Agent Carter made the +introductions, it came to Dawson. Agent Hickson had been the man next in +line behind him when he had bought tickets for the hockey game. As he +shook hands and mumbled some pleasantry, Dave realized he had seen that +thin face other places, too, during the day. + +"Did I give you as much trouble, Agent Hickson," he asked, "as Farmer +seems to have given Agent Carter?" + +"No, Captain," the other replied with a twinkle in his eye. "And don't +ever go in for crime. You'd be a cinch." + +"With those big flat feet, it would be obvious!" Freddy Farmer chuckled, +as the red climbed into Dawson's face. + +"Okay, okay!" Dave growled and grinned at the same time. "I'm not like +you, with things on your conscience! So naturally I wouldn't even give +it a thought that anybody was following me. But look, Agent Hickson, can +you add anything to what Agent Carter has told us? Which was absolutely +nothing." + +"I'm afraid I can't, Captain." Hickson smiled, and shook his head. +"Carter and I are just a couple of slaves who do what we're told and ask +no questions." + +"But you do know _something_, only you won't tell us, what?" Freddy +Farmer pressed the issue. + +The F.B.I. man shook his head again and made a little cross mark over +his heart. + +"I honestly don't know a thing," he said, "except that I like this +particular job. I'm from New York, you know. And I'm a hockey fan, in +case Carter hasn't told you." + +"He has," Dawson grinned, and glanced at his wrist watch. "And I sort of +go for the game, myself. It's hours, though, before game time. Anybody +have any suggestions what to do until then? Listen, Freddy! Eating is +strictly out, at least for a couple of hours!" + +"You don't have to shout, old thing; I hear you," the English youth +replied. "Yes, I have a suggestion. I've been meaning to see that United +Nations display they have at Radio City. What say we go back to the +hotel and clean up a bit? These blasted American shoes I bought +yesterday are killing me." + +Dawson started to shake his head, but instantly checked the movement. A +gleam leaped into his eyes. + +"Fair enough," he said. "I could do with a clean shirt myself. Come on. +We'll take a cab." + +During the cab ride across town to the hotel, they talked of this and +that and nothing in particular. When the cab pulled up in front of the +hotel, Dawson opened the door, let the two F.B.I. men get out ahead of +him, and got out quickly himself, leaving Freddy Farmer the last to +alight. Without so much as a look over his shoulder, Dawson linked arms +with the two F.B.I. men and hurried them up the steps into the hotel. + +"Dave!" he heard Freddy Farmer call out. "Oh, I say, _Dave_!" + +The two F.B.I. men wanted to stop, but Dawson practically pushed them +through the doors. + +"It's okay," he chuckled. "Just his turn to be left holding the bag. +He'll be right in. You'll see." + +That was exactly the case. A moment later Freddy came hurrying inside, +flush-faced, with a very hard-eyed taxicab driver right at his heels. + +"I say, Dave!" the English youth panted. "You know I haven't a bean on +me. Let me have--" + +"We're all broke!" Dawson said coldly. "You were last out, anyway. Go +over to the desk, borrow the fare, and have it put on your bill. I'll +see if there's any mail for us. Meet you upstairs in our room." + +Freddy Farmer glared and pursed his lips as though he were striving to +hold back the blistering words that rose in his throat. + +The cab driver looked at him and scowled darkly. "How's about it, +General?" he growled. "I can't keep my hack out front all afternoon!" + +"Oh yes, quite," Freddy said. "Come along!" + +After giving a look that should have raised third-degree burns on the +Yank pilot's face, Freddy went over to the lobby desk and spoke to the +clerk. Bursting with inner laughter, Dawson watched Freddy's face grow +redder and redder as the desk clerk gave him the fishy eye. Then the +clerk went into the manager's office. He came right out, though, yanked +open a desk drawer, and handed a bill to Freddy. + +"Now I have got to watch _my_ step, and how!" Dawson chuckled, and +walked over to the mail window. + +There was something in the box. It was a telegram addressed to them +both. Dave ripped it open and was reading the message just as Freddy +Farmer came over. The wire read: + + "Take seven P.M. plane for Washington La Guardia Airport. Report my + office War Department on arrival. + + COLONEL WELSH" + +"And so what?" Dave asked, looking at Freddy Farmer. + +"So leave it over, I fancy," the English youth murmured with a frown. "I +wonder what now?" + +"You do the guessing; I'm stumped," Dawson said, glancing up quickly as +Agents Carter and Hickson came over. + +There was a telegram in Agent Carter's hand. Agent Hickson looked as +though he had just lost his last friend. + +"So we all take an airplane ride instead, eh?" Agent Carter said, and +nodded at the wire in Dawson's hand. + +"You too?" Dave questioned. + +"Right," Agent Carter replied. "There are four reservations waiting for +us at La Guardia." + +"Wouldn't you know!" Agent Hickson groaned and shook his head sadly. +"Wouldn't you know I was nuts to think I could mix pleasure with +business!" + + + + +CHAPTER THREE + +_Silent Lips_ + + +"Well, I guess this is the parting of the ways, Captain," Agent Carter +of the F.B.I. said as the taxicab rolled to a stop on front of a War +Department Building in Washington. "Hickson and I will keep the cab for +the ride over to the Bureau. Sorry we all missed an evening in New York +together, but there'll come another day, I hope. Best of luck, you two. +It's been nice knowing you." + +"Same thing, the other way around, sir," Dawson said as he shook hands +and climbed out of the cab. "And thanks for the protection--or whatever +it was supposed to be." + +Agent Carter laughed and raised a protesting hand. + +"Now let's not go into that again!" he said. "The answer is still that I +don't know. Maybe Colonel Welsh will tell you. We can't, because we +simply don't know. What's the matter, Captain Farmer?" + +Freddy was just straightening up after sticking his head back in through +the cab door opening. He shrugged and grinned. + +"Just looking to see if you had your fingers crossed, sir, while you +said that," he replied. "But I see you didn't, and so that's that. Well, +cheerio, and good hunting, and all that sort of thing. Sorry I didn't +speak to you sooner." + +"That's the kind of tough break we get in our kind of job," Agent Carter +said, and made a flip wave with his hand. "So long, until we meet +again." + +"And let's hope that'll be soon!" Dawson called out as the cab rolled +away. + +The two air aces stood on the curb until the taxi turned the corner +toward Pennsylvania Avenue and was lost to view. Then they impulsively +turned and looked at each other. + +"Swell fellows, those two," Dawson said. "Wish we could have had more +time together. I've always wanted to ask a real honest-to-goodness +F.B.I. man a few questions." + +"Then those two will never know how lucky they are," Freddy Farmer came +right back. "But speaking of questions--" + +"Check, and double-check!" Dawson echoed, and started across the +sidewalk to the main entrance of the War Department Building. "The +sooner we ask them, the sooner we _may_ get an idea as to what the heck +is going on." + +The door guard stopped them and requested identification papers. They +complied by producing their leave papers and the wire from Colonel +Welsh. The guard referred to a book on his table desk, and nodded. + +"Third floor, Captain," he said, and gave them each a building pass that +had to be turned in when they left. "Room Three Twenty-Nine." + +The two youths nodded, returned the guard's salute, and headed for the +stairway. The door of Room 329 was just like all the other doors on that +floor except that it had "Colonel Welsh, Private" painted on the glass. +Dawson rapped his knuckles on the glass, and immediately received the +summons to enter. Colonel Welsh, Chief of U. S. Armed Forces +Intelligence, was seated behind a huge desk that seemed to take up most +of the office. He was practically hidden behind a mass of papers, bound +reports, and such, piled up all over the desk top. + +He glanced up, smiled, pushed back his chair, and rose to come around +the end of the desk. + +"Welcome to Washington again, you two," he said, and shook hands. "A +nice flight down?" + +"Fine, sir," Dawson replied. "We had a couple of swell air companions, +too. You in charge of the F.B.I. now, Colonel?" + +"F.B.I.? Me?" Colonel Welsh echoed. "Hardly! Not as long as J. Edgar +Hoover continues to run it so perfectly. But what do you mean?" + +Dawson stared hard at the senior officer, and then gave a little sigh. + +"Oh, so it's like that, eh?" he murmured. "I thought that maybe you +might have had something to do with the two F.B.I. agents who trailed +Freddy and me all over New York. I suppose you didn't?" + +Colonel Welsh didn't reply at once. He motioned them to chairs and then +reseated himself at his desk. + +"No, not directly," he said in reply to Dawson's question. "But of +course I knew all about it. So you spotted them, eh?" + +"Freddy did," Dawson replied. "I didn't, because _I_ have a clear +conscience. We--or Freddy, I mean--called the turn on one of them. He +'fessed up and introduced us to his partner. Naturally, we asked +questions, but they didn't, or wouldn't, admit they knew what it was all +about." + +"If you'll only explain, sir," Freddy Farmer chimed in, "maybe I'll be +able to sleep tonight." + +"Of course I'll explain, Farmer," the Colonel said with a smile. "As for +sleeping tonight, I wouldn't count on it, if I were you. Those F.B.I. +men were following you around simply to see if anybody _else_ was +following you around, that's all." + +"That's _all_?" Dawson echoed. "Who else would be following us around? +And why, for cat's sake? Don't tell me, Colonel, that you really believe +some Axis agent might try to get in a bit of personal revenge just +because Freddy and I have been lucky on a couple of things! Why, +that's--" + +"No, that wasn't the idea," the Chief of Intelligence interrupted +quietly. "Though I have had that fear more than once. Your being lucky a +couple of times, as you so wrongly call it, was most disheartening to +certain Japs and certain Nazis, who have long memories. But this recent +F.B.I. business was a bit different. I'm not going to give you details, +because I'm pledged to utmost secrecy. So don't waste breath asking +questions. This much, though, I can tell you. A list of names, compiled +by the War Department, was recently turned over to the F.B.I. Your names +were on that list, and you've been watched over by F.B.I. men ever +since. The reason, as I said, was to see if anybody was following you." + +"You mean, sir--" Dawson frowned and hesitated. "You mean--because if +they were, it would indicate that the mysterious list of names wasn't as +secret as it was supposed to be? That it, sir?" + +"That's it exactly, Dawson," the Colonel said. "Nice work to have +figured that out, too. That's right--that list is most secret. It has +the President's approval, the Secret Service's approval, as well as the +okay of the Army, Navy, and Air Forces. It is most secret, and it was +the F.B.I.'s job to make absolutely sure by maintaining a constant check +on every man on that list. Now does that satisfy you?" + +"No, sir," Dawson said with a grin. Then with a shrug: "But you said +something about not wasting breath asking for details. However, I could +do with a hint, if that's in order." + +"It isn't," the Colonel told him instantly. "For once it's my job to +assign you to a certain mission without the right to tell you a thing +about it. You'll learn soon enough, and when you do, you'll realize why +I have to keep my lips silent. This I can and will tell you, though. +It'll be a most pleasant mission, and you'll both get a tremendous +thrill out of it." + +"Well, that's something, anyway," Dawson said. "I'm all for it, whatever +it is." + +"Quite," Freddy Farmer echoed. Then, with an almost sly look at the +Colonel, he asked, "A mission in this country, sir?" + +"A mission that will take in several countries, Farmer," the +Intelligence Chief replied. "And that _is_ the very last bit of +information I'm going to give you. Now just excuse me a couple of +minutes while I tend to some of this stuff. Then we'll get along out to +Bolling Field." + +"Bolling Field, sir?" Dave cried, and leaned forward. + +For all the good it did him, he might just as well have yelled at the +man in the moon. Colonel Welsh seemed to forget that either Dawson or +Farmer existed as he gave all his attention to the paper work on his +desk. + +It was almost ten minutes later when he signed his name to the last of +the papers, collected them, and slipped them into one of the desk +drawers which he locked with one of many keys he took from his pocket. + +"Sorry it took so long, boys," he said, and reached for his service cap. +"All done now, though. So let's go." + +The colonel led the way outside, locked his office door, and touched +Dawson on the arm as the Yank air ace started along the corridor toward +the main stairway. + +"No, not that way, Dawson," he said, and pointed a finger the other way. +"We're still not taking any chances. Follow me, you two." + +Dawson and Farmer did just that. They came out into the Washington night +by a small rear door on the ground floor of the War Department Building. +There was no guard there, and Colonel Welsh used another key from his +bunch to unlock the door. From the door they followed him through a +shadow-filled alley, down another one that crossed the first at right +angles, and finally out onto a narrow, poorly lighted street, where a +car was parked in the deep shadows of some overhanging tree branches. + +"Jump in, you two," Colonel Welsh said, and opened the door. "I think we +can all sit in front. I'll be your pilot this time. But on four rubber +tires, instead of wings." + +"What about our building passes, sir?" Freddy Farmer asked. "Won't the +guard--" + +"I'll take care of that," the colonel said. "You can explain to him, if +you want, when you come back." + +"Come back from where, sir?" Dawson asked before he could choke off the +question. + +"From a lot of places, Dawson," Colonel Welsh said with a chuckle. "From +a lot of places. Now, hop in, and enjoy the ride." + + + + +CHAPTER FOUR + +_Orders for Eagles_ + + +The usually active, buzzing Bolling Field was shrouded in darkness and +looked almost completely deserted as Colonel Welsh wheeled the car up +toward the main gates. When he came within twenty yards of those gates, +however, there was instant proof that not everybody was asleep. Two +small-sized searchlight beams cut the darkness and focused square on the +moving car. Dawson, from past experience, knew that up in the little +towers that housed the searchlights were a couple of machine guns that +were also trained dead on the car. In addition, the captain on duty and +two armed guards suddenly appeared and closed in on the car in nothing +flat. And as if the twin searchlight beams were not enough, the captain +snapped on a flashlight and played it straight into Colonel Welsh's +face, then into Dawson's, and then into Freddy Farmer's. Just to make +sure, the captain turned the light on the colonel's face once more, and +then snapped it out. + +"Your pass, please, sir," he said quietly. + +The colonel produced it, and the captain was completely satisfied. He +stepped back, saluted, and gave an order. As the heavy gates swung open, +Colonel Welsh slipped the car into gear and rolled on through. Looking +back, Dawson noted that the guns of the guards, and the searchlight +beams, too, followed the car well inside the field. The idea seemed +silly to him for a moment. Then he realized that it would be quite easy +for somebody who wasn't wanted to hook a ride on the rear bumper, and +thus get inside where he didn't belong. + +"Yes, sir!" he murmured as he turned front again. "This is one place +that would stop even Superman cold." + +"I hope that's true, and I believe it is," Colonel Welsh stated. + +Dawson turned his head and glanced sharply at the Intelligence Chief. +An undernote in the officer's voice had a queer ring. Before he could +ask questions, however, Colonel Welsh turned the car in through the +wide-open doors of one of the hangars, braked it to a stop just inside, +and switched off the engine. A single rafter-light threw a pale glow +about the interior, and in one sweeping glance Dave saw that the hangar +was empty of planes except for a single Army-Air-Forces, Wright +Cyclone-powered, Vultee V-12C, attack bomber. A couple of mechanics and +a technical sergeant were standing by the wing. They came over to the +car at once, and gave the colonel a snappy salute. + +"All set and ready, as you ordered, sir," the technical sergeant said. + +Colonel Welsh climbed out of the car, and nodded. + +"Very good, Sergeant," he said. "Roll her out and start her up, will +you? We're going to use Captain Billings' office for a few minutes. If +anybody happens to wander in, no matter who, you have my authority to +send him right along on his way." + +"Right, sir," the technical sergeant answered, and grinned as though he +could name two or three high rankers he would just love to toss out on +their ears, now that he had the permission to do so. + +However, he didn't mention that little item. Instead, he snapped orders +to the two mechanics, and all three of them began rolling the attack +bomber out onto the hangar apron. Meanwhile Colonel Welsh led Dawson and +Farmer into Captain Billings' office in a rear corner of the hangar. He +snapped on the light, closed the door, waved them to a couple of chairs, +and sat down at a desk. He drew six envelopes from an inside pocket of +his tunic. Each envelope was heavily sealed with wax, and each was made +of a peculiar-looking paper. At first glance it struck Dawson that it +was oil paper, or shark's skin. At any rate, he had a sudden thought +that each envelope was absolutely waterproof. + +The colonel placed them in a pile on the desk in front of him, and then +rested a hand on top of the pile, almost as though he expected a +non-existent wind or an invisible force to snatch them away. + +"You two are headed for Natal, Brazil," he began, speaking quietly. +"With stops on the way at Miami, Puerto Rico, San Fernando in British +Trinidad, Paramaribo in Dutch Guiana, Belem in Brazil, and Natal. You +will land on the government airport at each of those points. +Officially, you are making a survey flight for the Army Air Transport +Command. At Miami and Puerto Rico you will contact the American +commanding officer, and deliver to him _in the presence of no one else_ +the envelope that bears his name. On the authority of a letter which I +shall give you to take along, you are to instruct him to guard his +envelope with his life, and _not_ to open it until the sixteenth of this +month. At San Fernando, Paramaribo, Belem, and Natal, of course you will +contact the officer in command of the American staff, and not the +commanding officer of the airport." + +The colonel paused for a moment as though permitting time for his +instructions to sink in. Then he tapped the pile of heavily sealed, +waterproof envelopes with his fingers. + +"These contain information on perhaps the most important secret of this +war!" he continued, speaking in a grave tone. "The Axis would gladly +give up half a dozen divisions of troops for the possession of any one +of these envelopes. And that doesn't even begin to describe how +important they are. I am the only man in the world who knows of the +flight you two are to begin in a few minutes. At least, I pray to God +that I'm the only one. However, in view of the fact that absolutely +nothing is _sure_ in this war, I must give you this order: Under no +circumstances, not even under the threat of the most horrible kind of +death, is either of you to permit a single one of these letters to get +into the hands of anybody but the American officer whose name is typed +on the front of each envelope. Do I make myself clear?" + +"Yes, sir," Dawson said with a nod. + +"Definitely, sir," Freddy Farmer echoed. + +"And I'm sure you do," the colonel said. "I can't help, though, but +stress that point. _Don't let any of these envelopes out of your sight +until each has been delivered to the proper person._ Make doubly sure +that each of those proper persons understands what he is to do. +Naturally, you'll be asked questions by those officers as to what the +envelopes contain. That is one reason why I'm not even telling you, so +that you can truthfully reply that you do not know. Just remember, this +is the most secret mission you have ever undertaken. Guard these +envelopes with your lives and see that they are delivered to the proper +parties. If the commanding officer does not happen to be there when you +arrive, do _not_ give the envelope to the next in command. Stay there +until the commanding officer does arrive. If you have a forced landing, +play up the fact you are on a survey flight. If your plane is damaged, a +wire sent to me in Washington will get an immediate reply ordering the +commandant of the airfield nearest the scene of your crash to turn over +a plane to you. If one of you happens to be injured in the crash, the +other will carry on alone as soon as possible, without creating +suspicion that the flight is not for survey purposes." + +The colonel suddenly stopped talking and drew from his pocket two small +vials containing a brownish liquid. He placed them beside the pile of +envelopes, and looked at the two air aces again. + +"If both of you are hurt badly," he said, "or if--and I pray God it will +not happen--you should fall into the hands of enemy agents, or +force-land on the water and be approached by a lurking U-boat, you are +to take the caps from these vials and pour the contents over the +envelopes. The powerful acid they contain will completely destroy the +envelopes and their contents in a matter of seconds. In short, it is +your sacred trust to destroy these envelopes before you die--or are +captured. Now, to make sure, repeat to me the instructions I've just +given you." + +Dawson spoke for the pair and repeated almost word for word everything +the colonel had told them. + +"Well, that's all I've got to say," the Intelligence Chief said with a +nod. "Here, Dawson. Three of these and a vial are for you. And the other +three and a vial are for you, Farmer. Naturally, my prayers go with you +for a safe and very uneventful flight. If it helps any, I personally +chose you two for this flight, because--well, you've come through for me +several times in the past, and I know you will again. One thing, though. +If any of the envelopes fall into Axis hands, I might just as well put a +bullet through my brain, because I wouldn't want to go on living. Have +either of you any questions?" + +"Yes, sir, I have one," Freddy Farmer spoke up. + +"Then let's have it," Colonel Welsh said with a nod. + +The English-born air ace hesitated a moment, and a slight flush crept up +into his sun-and-wind-bronzed face. + +"These chaps to whom we deliver the envelopes, sir," he said with a +frown. "What if they--Well, what I'm trying to say, sir, is supposing +_they_ don't follow the orders we give them? What if they should lose +their envelopes or--well, you know." + +"They won't, Farmer," Colonel Welsh said with a grim shake of his head. +"Each of the six officers that you will contact is not only an officer +in our Armed Forces, but a carefully selected member of Intelligence as +well. In short, each is one of my own men. And after you show them this +letter of authority, you need not worry that they won't follow orders +right to the letter." + +As he spoke, the colonel drew a seventh, but unsealed, envelope from his +pocket and handed it to Freddy Farmer. Then he turned his head and +looked at Dawson's frown. + +"Yes, Dawson?" he asked. "You've a question, too?" + +"A couple, Colonel," Dave replied. Then with a shrug, "The first may +strike you as stupid." + +"How can I say, until you ask it?" the Intelligence officer demanded as +the Yank air ace didn't go on. + +"These officers we're to contact--" Dawson said presently--"is there any +way we can make sure that each _is_ the one we believe him to be? In +other words, we've just got six names, Colonel. I haven't read them yet, +but it's possible that neither Freddy nor I know the men from Adam as +far as looks are concerned." + +"A mighty good question, Dawson," Colonel Welsh said with an emphatic +nod. "Just shows you've got your eye on the ball right at the start. +Contact the officer, show him my letter of authority, and demand his +identification. It will be a copper disc with some numbers stamped on +it. Every set of numbers will add up to forty-one--the year, +incidentally, of Pearl Harbor. If the numbers don't add up to forty-one, +then he is not your man." + +"And if they _don't_ add up to forty-one, sir?" Freddy Farmer asked, and +leaned forward. + +Colonel Welsh's lips stiffened, and an agate-hard glint came into his +eyes. He pointed to the letter of authority Freddy held in his hands. + +"Use that to have the man placed under close arrest at once!" he said +harshly. "And get in radiophone communication with me as soon as +possible. _If_ the man tries to evade arrest, tries to escape--shoot him +dead on the spot! Yes, that's an unusual order, but this is an unusual +mission. Now, the other question, Dawson? What is it?" + +"When we reach Natal, sir," Dave said, "what do we do? Fly back and +report to you?" + +"No," the senior officer said with a shake of his head. "I'm allowing +three days for you to make this stop-over flight to Brazil. That should +get you in Natal by the fourteenth, the fifteenth at the latest. Put up +at the Pan-Am Hotel. I will join you there on the fifteenth. I'll have +another little mission for you when I get there. Well, any other +questions?" + +Dawson and Farmer looked at each other. Then they looked at Colonel +Welsh, and each shook his head. The senior officer stood up, and as +though the gods had waited for that exact instant, the Vultee's +Wright-Cyclone outside broke forth with its song of mighty power. + +"Then that's that," Colonel Welsh said. "There's some flying gear over +there on the wall. Select what you want, and then let's get outside to +the plane. I'll stake my life that not a soul has heard what we've been +talking about, but four walls always get on my nerves. I like it better +out in the open where I can see in all directions, and for some +distance, too. But don't pay any attention to me. I'm under a slight +strain, and it's trying its darnedest to get me. Stupid, of course. So +select your stuff, and let's get out to the plane. God bless you, and +all kinds of happy landings until we meet again in Natal, Brazil." + +If they happened to be listening to the colonel's parting words, the +gods of war, and death, and doom, must have had quite a laugh for +themselves! + + + + +CHAPTER FIVE + +_Whispering Death_ + + +Shifting to a slightly more comfortable position in the Vultee's cockpit +seat, Dave Dawson absently drummed the fingers of one hand on the side +of the cockpit and stared down at the sky-blue Caribbean Sea rolling far +beneath his wings. Behind him was Puerto Rico, and a considerable way +ahead of him was the British-owned island of Trinidad. Several miles off +the Vultee's left wing tip were the Leeward and Windward islands of the +West Indies jutting up out of the blue water. High above him was a +cloudless sky with a shimmering ball of gold in the center. + +All in all, it was a scene that would have made poets rave, and the +hardest of hearts melt. However, if the truth must be known, it left +Dawson cold. Not because he did not possess an eye for Nature's beauty; +it was rather because, though he was looking at it, he wasn't actually +seeing it. His mind was too filled with other and more personal +thoughts. + +The previous night he and Freddy Farmer had taken off from Bolling Field +and had flown directly to the Army Air Forces base at Miami. There, +after making sure, they had delivered the first of the sealed envelopes. +Later they had flown on to the base at San Juan, on Puerto Rico, and +delivered the second envelope. Now they were winging their way farther +south to the Air Transport Command base at San Fernando on Trinidad. + +"After Trinidad, Paramaribo, and Belem, and Natal," Dawson said, and +scowled down at the beautiful Caribbean. "That's just the point, too. A +couple of air-mail pilots, that's all we are!" + +"What's that, Dave?" he heard Freddy Farmer's voice in the inter-com +phones. "What are you mumbling about?" + +"Mumbling?" Dawson snorted. "I was shouting with joy! I'm so excited +that I can hardly keep from jumping overboard. And now that I think of +it, maybe that _would_ be a good idea!" + +"Then go right ahead, old thing," the English youth in the rear pit +chuckled. "Nothing I want more than for you to have your own way, you +know." + +"Don't look right now, but you can go fly a kite to the moon, pal!" +Dawson growled. "I suppose you're enjoying this here-to-there hop in the +sky?" + +"Well, I _have_ seen better piloting," Freddy came right back. "But, +considering one thing and all, I'm not too fed up--yet. On the other +hand, it is a bit boring. I mean--" + +"You mean what?" Dave asked as Freddy let the rest hang in mid-air. + +"Don't know just how to put it in words," young Farmer replied. +"But--well, after that little talk with the colonel last night, I was +quite steamed up, as you would say. Very mysterious, and exciting, and +possibly dangerous, if you get what I mean." + +"I do," Dawson grunted. "But all it is to me now is mysterious. You can +have my share of the excitement and danger, if any. I'm just full of +beans, though, I guess. After some of the close shaves you and I have +had, routine stuff just gets me down, but quickly! But there have been +two bright spots in this thing so far, thank goodness." + +"Bright spots?" Freddy Farmer echoed. "Then I must have been looking the +other way at the time. What do you mean?" + +"At Miami and San Juan," Dawson replied. "The way those two commanding +officers tried to pump us as to what the sealed envelopes contained. It +was nice to look very wise and not tell them a darn thing. It was fun to +see somebody else floundering around in the dark. Misery loves company. +Say! Know what I hope, Freddy?" + +"I wouldn't even dare guess!" the English-born air ace replied. "What do +you hope?" + +"That the lad we contact at San Fernando has a copper disc with numbers +that add up to forty-five!" Dawson told him. + +"What?" young Farmer gasped. "Forty-five? But, Dave, the number is--" + +"Sure, forty-one!" Dawson cut in. "But don't you catch on, pal? If the +number is forty-five, it means that the lad is a phoney. And that means +that maybe we'll get some excitement out of this aerial messenger boy +job." + +"Rot, and very much so!" Freddy snapped angrily. "Come off it, Dave! +This is very serious business, and you are absolutely balmy to even hope +that things will go wrong. Just remember what Colonel Welsh said, Dave. +If one of these sealed envelopes should fall into Axis hands, he'd +rather put a bullet in his brain than go on living. Stop being a blasted +fool, old thing! It's not a bit like you at all!" + +"Okay, okay, papa!" Dawson chuckled. "Consider that you have up-ended me +and given me the shingle where it counts most. Just the same, I hate to +think of going stark, raving mad in the cockpit of a Wright-powered +Vultee." + +"Well, if that's all that's bothering you, you can put it out of your +mind at once," Freddy snapped, "because you were that way a long, long +time ago!" + +"Oh, yeah?" Dawson shouted. + +"Yeah!" Freddy Farmer replied. "But definitely!" + +They left it that way for the next fifteen minutes or so. At the end of +that time the Vultee was well out of sight of all land, and Dawson was +keeping it on course with instruments. At the end of that time, too, the +southern part of the heavens began to mist and fog up and gradually +change to a copperish gray. The straight line that marked where the blue +of the sky ended and the copperish gray began told Dawson that a line +squall was moving across the Caribbean. But five minutes later the +little twinge of uneasiness that had come to him melted away, because +the copperish gray moved westward and not up northward toward the +Vultee. However, because of the silly mood that had gripped him since +leaving Puerto Rico, he had to voice a crazy thought. + +"Wouldn't you know, not even a storm to give us something extra to do!" + +"Eh, Dave?" he heard Freddy Farmer say. Then a second later, he felt +Farmer's hand tapping him on the shoulder, and heard his pal's excited +voice crackling in his inter-com phones. "Bear ten degrees eastward, +Dave! There's something down there on the water. Can't see it clearly +yet. Looks like a bit of rag being waved about by somebody." + +Dawson changed the Vultee's course, and at the same time twisted around +in the seat and glanced back at Freddy. Then he turned front and peered +ahead and down in the direction of the English youth's pointed finger. +He squinted his eyes slightly and even shielded them against the golden +sun with his free hand. But for all he could see, he might just as well +have kept both eyes shut. There was just blue Caribbean, turned golden +here and there by shafts of sunlight dancing off the surfaces of the +rolling swells. + +"I know you can see through a brick wall, Freddy," he said, "but if you +can see anything down there, then I'll eat it!" + +"It will be quite a meal!" Freddy Farmer cried. "Because it happens to +be a life raft! And there are chaps on it. Yes, four chaps! And one is +waving his shirt, or something. Blast those dirty U-boat blighters!" + +"Never mind the U-boats!" Dawson growled. "Just stick to the raft. Where +the heck is it? I think you're seeing things. I--Hold it, everybody; +hold it! I see it now, Freddy! I wasn't looking far enough out. Yeah! +That's a raft sure enough. Boy! I bet this sun is doing plenty to those +birds!" + +As Dawson spoke, he watched the small raft riding the rolling swells of +the blue Caribbean, as helpless as a leaf. As he stared at the four +figures in the raft, his anger boiled and the blood throbbed in his +temples. Dirty U-boat blighters, and how, as Freddy had said. Of all the +fighting forces to come out of Nazi Germany, the U-boat commanders and +crews were the worst. Human life, and particularly the lives of women +and children, meant even less to them than it did to the Gestapo. Steel +sharks of the sea, they were called. To call them that was an insult to +a real man-eating shark. There just wasn't any name to call those who +manned Nazi U-boats, because there is no name in any language that +adequately describes them. + +Yes, the dirty U-boat blighters! Down there on the bobbing raft were +four who were no doubt victims of a terrible life-and-ship-destroying +explosion that had probably come in the dark of night. As those and +other bitter thoughts raced through Dawson's mind, he impulsively eased +back the Wright-Cyclone's throttle and slanted the nose of the Vultee +downward. + +"How I wish this was a flying boat, and we could pick up those poor +beggars!" he heard Freddy Farmer groan. + +"You and me both!" Dave agreed. "We have a radio, thank goodness. So we +can get help sent out before those fellows have to spend another night +at sea. I wonder how long they've been floating around?" + +"Quite some time, I fancy," Freddy Farmer said. "The chap waving his +shirt seems to be the only one with any life in him. The three huddled +down in the raft might as well be dead. Sights like that one make me +thank my lucky stars I'm in the air end of this blasted war." + +"You can say that again for me!" Dawson echoed. "At least in the air you +get it clean and fast. Mostly, anyway. Check and double-check! The boys +that really deserve the medals and the praise in this scrap are the +merchant marine fellows. They have nothing to fight back with except a +pea-shooter at the stern, and maybe one on the bow. They're perfect +floating targets twenty-four hours a day. If their engines break down, +heaven help them! Yes, my hat is off to those fellows, and I don't mean +maybe. I--Hey, Freddy! See that? He's trying to send us a message with +his shirt, isn't he? He seems to be waving it down to the right more +than down to the left." + +"That's right!" Freddy Farmer cried. "That's the old International Morse +code done with a flag. To the right is a dot, and to the left is a dash. +And straight down in front means the end of a word. Now, where's my +blasted pencil, and I'll put it down. There he put it down in front +three times! That means the end of the message. If he'll only repeat +it, I think I can get it." + +The man standing on the tiny raft seemed to wait a moment or two, as +though he were striving to rally his waning strength for another effort. +Then he started waving his shirt again. It was a short message, and both +boys got it without bothering to jot down each letter. The message +signaled was: + +FLY OVER LOW PLEASE, IMPORTANT + +"What do you make of that, Freddy?" Dawson asked, and dipped the +Vultee's nose even more. "Does he think we're a rescue plane that's come +to drop food and water, poor devil?" + +"I don't know," the English youth replied. "Possibly. Or maybe there's +something on the raft he wants us to see. The only thing to do is to go +down and find out. I say! I've just remembered! I have some chocolate, +Dave. I'll tie it up in my handkerchief and try to drop it right onto +the raft, if you get us down low enough. But, for heaven's sake, don't +hit the raft, or the water!" + +"Aw gee!" Dawson grated at him. "And that's just what I was planning to +do, too! You spoil all my fun, you dope! Act your age, will you?" + +"Just don't take us down too low," Freddy Farmer reminded him evenly. + +Dawson opened his mouth to make a fitting retort. Instead he shrugged, +let Freddy's remark slide, and concentrated on getting the Vultee down +as low as he possibly could. When he had reached an altitude of some ten +or fifteen feet, he throttled the Wright Cyclone until it was just a +shade on the good side of stalling. He guided it toward the tiny life +raft. The shirt-waver had ceased his signaling and was crouching down on +the raft as though he were afraid Dawson was going to bounce the +Vultee's belly off the top of his hatless head. + +"So you're also silly enough to think I'll come too close?" Dawson +growled, as he experienced a moment of annoyance. "Well, relax, fellow! +Just relax, and let's have a look at the meaning of that message. Okay, +Freddy! Get set to drop that chocolate!" + +As he spoke, he impulsively started to jerk his head around. Some inner +warning cut short his effort, and it was that inner warning that +unquestionably saved his life, and Freddy Farmer's life, too. In other +words, just as he was about to turn his head for a look at Young +Farmer, all four men on the raft sprang to crouching positions. Each +gripped a sub-machine gun in his hands and blazed away at the coasting +Vultee! + +True, Dawson's sudden inner warning had helped, but it was his +instinctive reaction to sudden danger that actually saved his life and +Freddy's. In less time than it takes to bat an eyelash, he had smashed +the throttle wide open with one hand and was hauling the Vultee around +in a wing tip water-kissing turn with the other. Had he started to climb +at that same time, the Grim Reaper still might have claimed them both, +because the four crouching figures on the raft had automatically pointed +their machine guns skyward. + +As it happened, though, Dawson held the Vultee in a tight turn until its +tail was toward the raft. Then he quickly flattened out, shot forward +for a split second, and banked the Vultee over on its left wing tip. He +banked it to the right wing tip and hauled the craft up in a twisting +power zoom toward the sun-filled heavens. Only when he was well out of +range and had leveled off did he let the clamped air out of his lungs +and shake the cold beads of sweat from his forehead. + +"Suffering rattlesnakes, Freddy!" he choked out. "Was that a nightmare, +or did it happen? Those bums let fly at us, Freddy! All four of them!" + +There was no answer from young Farmer, and in the length of time it took +Dawson to twist around in the seat, he seemed to die a thousand deaths. +His fears were unfounded, however. Freddy Farmer was very much alive. No +bullet had snuffed out his life, though the left side of his glass hatch +was covered with a million tiny cracks. Amazement and utter bewilderment +were all that was wrong with the British-born air ace. He sat rigid in +his seat, staring at Dawson as though he had never seen him before in +his life. His face was white under his sun-and-wind bronze, and his +mouth hung open as though he had intended to yell, but had been shocked +into forgetting all about it. + +"Hey, Freddy, snap out of it!" Dawson shouted, and rocked the Vultee +violently. + +The English youth stared blankly for a second longer. Suddenly he +blinked, and his whole body shook like a leaf. The breath came from +between his lips in a whistle that Dawson could almost hear above the +roar of the Vultee's Cyclone. + +"The blighters! The low-down dirty beggars! They shot at us; +They--they--" Young Farmer choked on his words, and his eyes opened +still wider in amazement. + +It took a half second or so for Dawson to realize that Freddy was +looking at something forward and downward. Automatically, he twisted +around front and looked down. He let out a bellow of surprise. Down on +the Caribbean was a Nazi U-boat breaking surface not over fifty yards +from the floating life raft. Unable to move a muscle, he stared as the +conning-tower hatch opened and a couple of men spilled out onto the wet +deck and hurried toward the bow. The undersea killer veered over toward +the floating raft. + +What he saw made Dave fighting mad. He shook with anger, and a red film +seemed to slide over his eyes. + +"So?" he bellowed at the top of his lungs. "So it's like that, huh?" + +It was just like that. No sooner had the words left Dawson's lips than +the U-boat's bow gun belched flame, and the sky a hundred yards or so +off the Vultee's right wing tip seemed to explode in a roar of sound and +a great puff of oily black smoke. An instant later, another bit of sky +seemed to explode. This time the puff of oily black smoke was high above +the Vultee. This was because Dawson had turned the nose of the plane +downward and was thundering straight at the U-boat at almost rocket +speed. + +"So you want to play, do you?" He shouted the crazy words. "Well, so do +we! And how! Here, catch, you tramps!" + +The Vultee's wing guns punctuated his words with a chattering blast of +sound that made the aircraft tremble violently. Straight lines of silver +tracers cut down at the two men crouched behind the guard of the +U-boat's bow gun. They would have done better had they dived overboard +and down under the U-boat's keel. The bullets from the Vultee's wing +guns found them and smashed them to the steel deck. Tapping rudder a +bit, Dawson veered the plane's nose a shade to the right and blazed away +at the open conning tower hatch. A man crawling up out of it was flung +head over heels clear of the U-boat's side and down into the water as +though by some invisible giant. + +By then the Vultee's prop was about ready to chew into the conning tower +itself, and Dawson had to haul the nose up and go curving around and +away. That maneuver permitted Freddy Farmer to go into action with his +rear guns. As Dave jerked his head around for a split second, he saw the +four men on the raft trying to scramble up to the U-boat's wet deck, +only to go toppling over backwards like tenpins and disappear beneath +the surface of the water. + +"There, you rotten beggars, you'll not do that again!" the English +youth's voice rang loud in Dawson's inter-com phones. "Not by half, you +won't!" + +"The sub's crash diving, Freddy!" Dawson yelled as he saw the hatch +close and the nose of the U-boat slip down under water. "Oh, gosh! If we +only had a depth charge or two! Oh, how I hate to let that snake get +away!" + +As the wishful words spilled off his lips, he was in the act of doing +what little he could. That was wheeling around and down for another run +over the crash-diving U-boat, and letting fly with all his guns at the +top half of the submerging craft. He might possibly hit some part that +would check the dive and force the U-boat back to the surface. That was +a slim, slim hope, and it died completely as the entire craft slid out +of sight, leaving behind an empty life raft and seven bodies. + +With a groan Dave cut his fire, and hauled the Vultee up out of its +dive and onto even keel. He stared down at the floating bodies, gulped, +shuddered slightly, and drew a hand across his goggles, as though that +would wipe away the scene below and make everything as it had been +before. It didn't, of course, but when he took another look downward he +found it hard to believe that Death had been whispering so close. Then +he snapped out of his trance. + +"Get the nearest patrol base on the radio, Freddy, and report that +U-boat's position!" he spoke into his inter-com mike. "There's just a +chance that it may have to surface soon, and somebody else can nail it." + +"Right-o!" Freddy Farmer called back. "But, gosh, I would love to be +that somebody else! Or--or has this just been a crazy dream, Dave? It +doesn't make sense! Those were blasted Nazis on the life raft. +Like--like a confounded decoy, or something. I--" + +"_Decoy?_" Dave Dawson gasped, and sat up straight in the pit. "Holy +smoke! Do you suppose so? Sure, you must be right. Look, Freddy! Report +that U-boat's last position. Then we'll get out of here, but fast! +Something is kind of screwy, and I don't like it, but plenty I don't." + +As Dawson nosed the Vultee around and onto its course for San Fernando +on British-owned Trinidad, he impulsively lifted his free hand to his +chest and pressed it against the two sealed envelopes and the little +vial of acid that were in his inside tunic pocket. + + + + +CHAPTER SIX + +_Changed Orders_ + + +The U. S. Army Air Transport Command at San Fernando comprised the +entire south side of the Trinidad air base. Dawson spotted the American +flag atop the Administration Building from the air. After his recent +experience, a great sense of relief and joy flooded through him at the +sight of Old Glory waving proudly in the breeze. And not only that, but +the sight of Old Glory meant also that this crazy aerial messenger-boy +mission was one-half completed. Three more stops and they would be at +Natal. There they would meet Colonel Welsh and, please, please, God, +find out what in thunder this secret sealed-envelope business was all +about. + +"And if he doesn't tell me," Dawson muttered as he let down the Vultee's +wheels and nosed the craft earthward, "it's going to be the end of a +beautiful friendship as far as I'm concerned. Right! He's got to give us +a tiny inkling, at least or--or--Well, I sure hope he does, anyway." + +"So do I, old chap!" he heard Freddy Farmer echo his hope. "I also want +to see his face when we tell him what we have to tell. You haven't any +new ideas, have you, Dave?" + +"Dawson shook his head. During the remainder of the flight to this next +stop, both had taken the U-boat experience apart and had carefully +examined it piece by piece. It was all to no avail, in regard to +reaching any definite conclusion. True, the logical conclusion was that +the life raft had served as a decoy to bring them down so low that its +occupants could shoot them into the water. When that had failed, the +lurking U-boat had surfaced to try its luck with its bow anti-aircraft +gun. If that was the correct conclusion, it made everything even more +screwy. Colonel Welsh was the only man living who knew why they were +making this crazy flight. He had told them so. How could a Nazi U-boat +at sea learn the secret they shared with Colonel Welsh? And-- + +"Gosh!" Dawson gasped. "But no! Heck, no! That would be even screwier!" + +"What, Dave?" Freddy asked. "You do have a new idea?" + +"Not exactly," Dawson replied. "Just a chilling thought. Do you suppose +those birds on that raft were _really_ torpedo survivors, and in their +crazed state took us for a Nazi plane and--" + +"What utter rot, Dave!" Freddy Farmer interrupted. "Don't be silly, old +thing! Of course not! Would four torpedo survivors bother to take four +sub-machine guns onto a life raft with them? Certainly not! Come out of +it, Dave! They were Nazis, sure enough. They were from that U-boat, too, +and set adrift to have a go at us." + +"But how--" Dawson began and cut himself off short. "Oh, skip it! If I +let myself think any more about the crazy business, I'll forget what I'm +doing and crack us up." + +"Then for goodness' sakes don't think of it!" Freddy Farmer cried in +alarm. "I fancy I've had excitement enough for the rest of this day! So +forget things and keep your eye on that field down there." + +Dawson did just that, and a couple of minutes later he set the Vultee +down light as a feather and taxied it over toward the Administration +Building. He braked to a stop eventually, unsnapped his safety and +parachute harness, and climbed stiff-legged down onto the ground. Freddy +Farmer joined him, and they were just starting to get some of the flight +stiffness out of their legs when a major came out of the Administration +Building and walked over to them. + +"Captains Dawson and Farmer?" he asked with a smile. + +"Yes, sir." Dave replied with a salute. "I'm Dawson. And you are Major +Parker, Yank commandant here, sir?" + +"That's right," the senior officer replied. "Welcome to Trinidad. Word +came through that you were making a survey flight along our South +American bases. I think you'll find we're not doing so badly here at San +Fernando. Here, this came through about half an hour ago. It's addressed +to you both. Needless to say, we didn't try to decode it. I don't +believe we have that code in the base book, anyway." + +The major held out a small yellow envelope. Dawson took it, ripped it +open, and withdrew a single sheet of paper. His heart did a loop in his +chest when he saw that the coded message was signed, "Tiger." That was +the signature Colonel Welsh used whenever he contacted the boys in +secret. The major had been quite correct, too. The code used by Colonel +Welsh was not to be found in the regular base code book, because it was +a special one that the colonel had made up himself. This code was not +known by more than half a dozen men, two of them being Dawson and +Farmer. The value of such a code was that it was so made up that a +decoding book, or decoding wheel, was not needed. Once you knew the +code, you could read messages from the memory of what the various +letters and numbers and symbols meant. + +Dave Dawson and Freddy Farmer looked at it together, while Major Parker +politely stared off across the base field. The true meaning of the +message became instantly apparent to them. Translated in their minds, it +read: + + "Halt flight San Fernando. Arriving by air midnight. Serious + emergency developed. Maintain constant alert. Destroy evidence if + necessary. Important! + + WELSH" + +Dawson read the coded message three times, absently pulled off his +helmet and goggles, ran his fingers through his hair, and glanced +sidewise at Freddy Farmer. + +"And that is strictly that," he said. "But I wonder what?" + +"I don't know," the English-born air ace replied with a shrug of his +shoulders. "Frankly, though, I don't think I'm annoyed by this message. +Fact is, I'm just a bit glad. Much rather see him tonight, instead of +waiting until we get to Natal." + +Dawson grinned faintly, and nodded. + +"Yeah, I get what you mean," he murmured. "Maybe there's a connection +between this and what happened a while ago, eh?" + +"If not, I'll be very much surprised," Freddy Farmer said slowly. "And +yet I may be a bit balmy to say that. How could there possibly be any +connection?" + +Dawson shrugged, but made no reply. He stuffed the coded message into +his pocket, and turned to where Major Parker was inspecting the Vultee. + +"Thanks for giving us the message, sir," he said. Then he added with a +grin, "It sort of looks as though we've been fired, you might say. Our +superior officer is joining us here at midnight. Would it be all right +for us to eat in the Officers' Club and sort of kill time until he gets +here?" + +"Certainly, Dawson," the major replied at once. "The place is yours. +Help yourself to anything you like. So your survey flight is called off, +eh?" + +"Well, temporarily, anyway," Dave replied. "But don't ask me why, +because I wouldn't know, Major." + +"Okay, I won't," the other smiled. "I'll ask you this, instead. What +kind of trouble did you run into on the way down here?" + +"Trouble, Major?" Dawson echoed, and stared at him hard. + +"These holes," the senior officer replied, and pointed to a cluster of +four bullet holes six inches in from the Vultee's left wing tip. +"Somebody been sticking a pencil through the wing skin, eh?" + +"No; Nazi slugs," Dawson told him. "We--we came across a surfacing +U-boat about eighty miles out. It crash dived right after it sighted us, +but it threw up a few slugs in the meantime. We got a couple of its +crew, though. We radioed Puerto Rico patrol base and gave them the +U-boat's position. Have you heard any report that she was caught and +nailed?" + +"None," the major said, and then pointed across the field. "We wouldn't +get that sort of thing, anyway. This is a British-owned base, you know. +That we're here is a sort of lend-lease in reverse, you might say. And +radio stuff such as your call would be picked up by them over there. Too +bad, though, you didn't have a couple of depth charges aboard." + +"You're telling me, sir?" Dawson echoed with a grim laugh. "I'd have +given my right eye for just one! I don't think I hate anything so much +as I hate the U-boats." + +"You're not alone in that pet hate," the major added. "The U-boat is the +one thing we've got to lick, and lick fast, if we hope to win this war. +Of course, we _are_ flying a lot of stuff across these days. But it +still takes ships to get oil, and gas, and the heavy stuff over where +it's needed. Hold everything! Where are my manners? You two could do +with a wash-up and something to eat right now, couldn't you?" + +"Oh, quite, sir," Freddy Farmer said eagerly. + +And for once Dawson had to agree with the perpetually hungry English +youth that a little food wouldn't be a bad idea at all. And so, after a +quick check of the Vultee to make sure that no stray bullets had damaged +anything seriously, they walked over to the Officers' Club with Major +Parker. The commanding officer introduced them to a couple of Air +Transport Command pilots and then took them into the mess, where a good +meal was waiting for them. Major Parker had a cup of coffee while they +ate, and conversation was at a dead end for a bit. + +Finally, Dawson refused a second cup of coffee and sighed in +contentment. + +"I guess I was rather starved, sir," he said to the major with a guilty +laugh. "Must be that Caribbean air." + +"Or the excitement," the major remarked quietly. "A little excitement +always makes me hungry enough to eat a horse. You and Farmer are a +couple of lucky fellows, you know." + +"How do you mean, sir?" Dawson questioned, and gave him a searching +look. + +The other smiled faintly and appeared to be very interested in something +he could see out of the mess window. Then suddenly he turned his head +and fixed his calm blue eyes on them both. + +"Tiger hasn't given _me_ anything to do for a couple of months," he +said, "except this job here and orders to keep my eyes and ears open +for sabotage, and all that sort of stuff. I think a little real action +would just about save my life." + +Dawson tried hard to control the start that the unexpected words gave +him, but he didn't succeed very well. + +"_Tiger_, Major?" he echoed, as a little note of caution sounded deep +within him. + +Major Parker smiled, and a little bit of red seeped up into his leathery +face. + +"I couldn't help but see the signature, Dawson," he said. "But you have +my word of honor that I didn't read it. Because I saw that it was +addressed to you two. Colonel Welsh taught me that secret code of his +just before he sent me down to this place. I haven't been lucky enough, +yet, to have had the chance to use it." + +Since their messenger-boy mission had been washed out, at least until +Colonel Welsh's arrival at midnight, there was no reason to check Major +Parker's connection with Intelligence, but Dave somehow couldn't pass it +by. + +"I see, sir," he said quietly. "Well, Farmer and I were taught +something, too, before we left. We were taught to take an interest in +copper discs. Are you interested in copper discs, sir?" + +"Slightly," the other said with a chuckle. "At least I'm interested in +one copper disc. It has numbers on it." + +"Numbers?" Dawson murmured, and tried to look a little surprised. + +Major Parker smiled, and slipped a hand into his pocket. + +"That's right," he said as he withdrew his hand. "Numbers. The numbers +on the copper disc I'm interested in add up to forty-_three_. Would you +like to see it?" + +A cold chill shot through Dawson's chest, and a strange dryness came +into his throat. Forty-_three_? But if Major Parker really was Colonel +Welsh's agent down here at San Fernando, the numbers on his copper disc +should add up to forty-_one_. + +"Why, yes, yes," he finally got out with an effort. "I'd like to see it +very much." + +"Then have a look, by all means, Dawson," the major said, and with a +slight movement of his hand he tossed a brightly polished copper disc +down on the table top. + +Dawson picked it up with fingers that were trying desperately hard to +stop trembling. He could hear Freddy Farmer's heavy breathing, as the +English youth leaned over to take a look. Dave had picked up the disc +with the smooth side showing, so he had to turn it over. On the other +side stamped into the metal were the numbers 9 1 2 7 8 6 8. He stared at +them, and suddenly the truth came to him. The numbers did not add up to +forty-_three_. They added up to forty-_one_, just as they should have. + +The major's soft chuckle made Dawson jerk up his head. + +"Sorry I couldn't resist the temptation, Dawson," the officer said. "You +just added them up, didn't you? And reached the Pearl Harbor figure, +eh?" + +"Yes," Dawson said, and handed back the copper disc with a grin. "But +you sure had my heart fluttering for a moment there." + +"Frankly, I was just about to reach for my service automatic," Freddy +Farmer added. + +"Well, forgive me my rather flat little joke, and let's skip it, eh?" +Major Parker said with a little wave of his hand. "I noticed that Tiger +stuff gave you a little start, so I thought I'd kid a bit. Maybe that's +what this darn sun down here does to a fellow. To be serious though--and +out of order, I guess--anything in Tiger's message that I should know?" + +"Just what we told you," Dave replied pleasantly. "Our survey job is +held up until Colonel Welsh arrives. Which will be midnight tonight." + +Major Parker looked disappointed. Then he sighed, and grinned. + +"Okay," he said, "we'll let it go at that. If he had wanted me to know +anything, he'd have sent me a message, too. Well, as I said, the place +is yours. I've got some paper work to do, so I'll have to leave you for +a spell. Don't hesitate to make yourselves at home. If there is anything +you want, just yell. See you later." + +"Yes, sir, and thanks for everything," Dawson said. He and Farmer also +rose as the senior officer got to his feet. + +"Think nothing of it," the major said with a wave of his hand. "And have +fun, if you can find any fun around this place." With a smile and a nod, +he went through the mess door. + +Freddy looked at Dawson, and Dawson looked right back at him. + +"Nice enough chap, isn't he?" the English youth finally broke the +silence. + +"Yes, he's okay," Dawson agreed. "I guess he is going bats down here +with nothing to do. That is, nothing in his own line of work. Say, +Freddy?" + +"Yes, Dave." + +"How about walking down some of this swell meal, huh?" Dave suggested. +"I could do with a walk around. And like Colonel Welsh, I'm not so keen +about four walls." + +"A top-hole idea," Freddy Farmer said gravely, and brushed a couple of +crumbs off the skirt of his tunic. "I know just what you mean, old +thing. I've been thinking about it myself. Yes, definitely a top-hole +idea. Let's get along, shall we?" + +"Yeah, let's," Dawson murmured, and led the way toward the mess door. + + + + +CHAPTER SEVEN + +_Blackout_ + + +The setting sun was turning the waters of Paria Gulf between Trinidad +and Venezuela to blood red as Dawson and Farmer strolled along a +footpath that skirted a huge sugar plantation close to the San Fernando +field. As neither had ever set foot on Trinidad before, the many and +strange sights that met their wandering gaze took up all of their +attention, and the thought that was in the back of each youth's mind was +not given utterance for quite some time. + +Presently, though, Dawson came to a full stop, took a deep breath, and +squatted down on the ground. + +"Let's rest and watch the sunset," he said. "It looks like it's going to +be something. Besides, that's plenty enough walking for these aged +bones." + +"I was wondering if you were going to keep it up forever," Freddy Farmer +grunted, and sank down beside him. "Good grief! It does get your legs +when you're not used to it." + +"Think of the poor infantry, and realize how lucky you are," Dawson +chuckled. "After all, pal, you and I were flying last night, not +sleeping." + +"And don't I know it!" the other youth replied. "Can hardly keep my eyes +open now. As a matter of fact, when we get back, I'm going to borrow a +place from Major Parker to sleep until Colonel Welsh shows up. Blast it, +Dave! I don't think I feel very friendly toward the colonel, just now. +Heaven knows he's kept us in the dark once or twice in the past, but +certainly nothing like this. I'm just about ready to explode with +curiosity." + +"Me, I'm almost beginning not to give a darn," Dawson said, and lazily +stretched his arms over his head. "Too doggone much mystery and not an +answer to a single question. Speaking of questions, Freddy--call me +nuts, but I've got an awful funny feeling." + +"About what, Dave?" the English youth asked quickly, and gave him a +searching look. + +"These darned sealed envelopes we're still carrying around," Dave +replied. "The four we've still got, counting Major Parker's. In the +colonel's message, he ordered us to destroy them if necessary. +Well--well, outside of that dizzy U-boat thing, it's been just an +airplane flight. Yet--darn it, Freddy--having these envelopes in my +pocket is giving me the jim-jams!" + +"Yes, I know what you mean," young Farmer admitted, and frowned. "I'm +getting rather fed up with carrying them around, too. Silly, of course, +but a couple of times I've felt as though somebody were watching every +move I made." + +Dawson started slightly and took a quick glance in all four directions, +but he didn't see anyone, except some people near the San Fernando base +over half a mile away. He looked at Freddy and grinned a little +sheepishly. + +"You have, kid?" he echoed. "Well, me too. I've been having exactly that +kind of feeling, too. You know what I think about hunches!" + +"Yes," the other replied. "And I also know that sometimes your hunches +are worth giving serious consideration." + +"Sometimes, he says" Dawson snorted. "Look, pal--Oh, skip it! Now about +the four envelopes, Freddy, if you want my opinion on the matter, +it's--let's dump the acid on them and be rid of the darn things. Maybe +Colonel Welsh won't like it, but what the heck? He said, _if necessary_, +and the funny feeling I've got right now, and have had ever since we got +his message, makes me think it _is_ necessary! What do you think? Or am +I going off half-cocked?" + +Freddy Farmer didn't reply for a moment. He sat staring out over the +Gulf of Paria that was now changing from blood red to midnight blue +since the sun had gone down behind the headlands of Venezuela. Finally +he reached a hand up inside his tunic and nodded abruptly. + +"If you're going off half-cocked, then we both are, Dave," he said +quietly. "I'm all for getting rid of them. If you alone had the funny +feeling, I'd say no. But I've got a queer feeling, too. So--well, here +go my two, anyway." + +As young Farmer spoke, he took out his two sealed envelopes and dropped +them on the ground. Then, moving back a bit, he unscrewed the cap of his +little vial and poured the brownish-colored contents over the envelopes. +There was a small flash of flame as the stuff came in contact with the +envelopes which seemed to melt away into the ground, leaving nothing but +a black smudge where they had been. + +"Boy, does that do the trick!" Dawson breathed, and dropped his two +sealed envelopes on the spot where Freddy's two had been. "Drop that +vial, Freddy, and kick dirt over it. Just a smell of that stuff would +most likely take the soles off your shoes. Okay, here go mine, too." + +A few seconds later there was another dark smudge on the ground, and not +so much as a shred of any of the sealed envelopes, or their contents. +Both Dawson and Freddy dropped their empty vials, kicked dirt over them, +and stamped the little mounds flat. Then, as if by mutual agreement, +they relaxed and heaved deep sighs of relief. + +"Maybe I was wrong," Dawson said thoughtfully. "Maybe Colonel Welsh will +hit the roof when we tell him. Just the same, though, I feel a hundred +per cent better." + +"Quite!" Freddy Farmer murmured, but with emphasis. "I feel as though a +terrific weight had been lifted from my shoulders. I swear, Dave, I +haven't got a strong enough heart to stand much of this sort of thing. +Frankly, this is the first contented breath I've taken since we left +Washington." + +"Yeah, I know," Dawson agreed. "The colonel certainly did pour on the +old caution stuff this time. So I guess it was--or still is--something +pretty doggone important. But there I go again, wondering what it's all +about. I sure wish the colonel would hurry up and get here!" + +"Know something, Dave?" Freddy asked after a couple of moments of +silence between them. + +"_Know_ something?" Dave groaned, and rolled over on his stomach. "Maybe +you haven't been listening to me, pal. _I_ don't know from nothing. Do +you?" + +"Not exactly," Freddy replied. "Just the old guessing game again. I am +guessing, though, that somebody found out about those sealed envelopes. +Also, they found out that you and I were acting as the messenger boys. +Also, they arranged that balmy life-raft and U-boat business this +afternoon. And also, Colonel Welsh is a very worried man, right at the +moment." + +"All of which means nothing," Dawson added, "and will continue to mean +nothing until the colonel gets here, and explains. _If_ he does." + +"Most naturally!" Freddy said with a slight edge to his voice. "I've +been doing some extra thinking about this thing, in case you don't +realize it." + +"Well, go right ahead and think yourself black, blue, and sky-pink in +the face, if it makes you happy, little man," Dawson said with a laugh, +"but you still won't know from beans until the colonel gets here. And if +he--" + +"I know, _I know_!" Freddy interrupted with an impatient gesture of his +hand. "Save your breath, old thing. However, you might give this a bit +of thought, if your brain can stand the strain. We've been flying part +of the air transport route to North Africa." + +"No kidding?" Dawson said with a mock gasp. "Why, I always thought the +air transport route to North Africa was by way of Salt Lake City and +Alaska!" + +"Very, _very_ funny!" Freddy snapped. "If I'm not boring you, Major +Parker said he was sent down here to keep an eye out for sabotage. He +also said nothing has happened in all the time he's been here. Colonel +Welsh admitted that his special agents were acting as C.O. of the points +where we've stopped and were going to stop. Why, Dave? _Why_ should +Intelligence have a sudden interest in this air route to North Africa?" + +Dawson started to make another wisecrack, but the deadly serious look on +young Farmer's face stopped him. He gave the question a moment or two of +thought and then shook his head. + +"I don't know, Freddy," he replied. "I really don't know. You can search +me. If it isn't because of possible sabotage, then what?" + +"I guess I've asked myself that question a thousand times," the +English-born air ace said slowly. "I can think up but one answer that +might make sense. This is it. All these arrangements are being made to +make absolutely sure nothing will happen to something very special that +is soon to be flown to North Africa." + +"Such as?" Dawson prompted. + +Freddy seemed to hesitate for a long time. Then he shrugged, and made a +little gesture with his hands, palms upward. + +"Blessed if I know, or can guess," he said. "However, I feel absolutely +sure that all this business is taking place because something highly +important is to be flown to North Africa." + +"I don't think I agree with you there, Freddy," Dawson stated with a +frown. "This is one of the Air Transport Command routes to North Africa, +but if something special was to be flown across, the plane carrying it +certainly wouldn't land at all these points. Heck, Freddy! Air Transport +Command has lots of planes that could make the run down here to Trinidad +non-stop, and hop from here to Natal the same way." + +"Oh, quite," Freddy Farmer agreed, and waved his hand as though brushing +aside the undisputed point. "Non-stop all the way to Natal, if you want +to make an issue of it. However, the points in between are being given +just as much attention. Presumably this is being done _in the event of +trouble and a forced landing_; emergency fields, so to speak, all along +the route the plane, or _planes_, will fly." + +"Okay, okay, Master Mind!" Dawson laughed, and threw up his hands. +"Maybe you've got something there. And if you have, it means that what +we've been delivering, and what we just destroyed, are instructions in +case your mysterious cavalcade of the air happens to sit down on one of +the fields. Okay, that's that, then. Now all you have left to figure out +is _why_ this mysterious flight?" + +Freddy Farmer nodded but made no reply. He sat watching the swiftly +approaching shadows of night. Glancing at his face, Dawson saw that the +English youth had something very absorbing on his mind. When young +Farmer continued to maintain silence, Dawson's curiosity got the best of +him. + +"Okay, out with it," he said. "What's the heavy thought that's weighing +down your brain at the moment?" + +"A very definitely insane one," Freddy Farmer replied, with a little +apologetic smile. "But taking it all and all, I'm blessed if I can think +of anything better." + +"Thanks," Dawson said sarcastically, and rolled over on his side. "That +makes everything clear as mud. What do you want me to do--get up on my +hind legs and beg?" + +If Freddy Farmer heard the remark, he ignored it. He turned to Dawson +and held up one hand with the fingers stiff and extended upward. Then he +started counting them off with the forefinger of the other hand. + +"_One_: Two F.B.I. chaps followed us all over New York," he said. +"_Two_: Colonel Welsh told us that a list of names compiled by the War +Department had been turned over to the F.B.I., and that it had the +approval of the President, the Secret Service, the Army, Navy, and Air +Forces. _Three_: The colonel refused to give us so much as a hint as to +what's behind this flight of ours. _Four_: He told us to guard those +sealed envelopes with our lives. _Five_: He said that one of his agents +was in secret command of every point where we were to stop. _Six_: The +route is the Air Transport route to North Africa. _Seven_: The colonel +said that the sealed envelopes contained the most important secret of +the war so far. And _eight_: He said that he would have another special +mission for us when we met in Natal." + +"And _nine_?" Dawson queried when young Farmer stopped talking and +lapsed into brooding silence. + +The English youth hesitated, chewed on his lower lip for a moment, and +then leaned over toward Dave and whispered, "_Nine_, is that all these +arrangements are being made because--because President Roosevelt and the +Yank High Command are being flown to North Africa, and perhaps beyond, +for a war conference with Prime Minister Churchill, Premier Joseph +Stalin, and their High Command Staffs. And there you have what _I_ +think!" + +Dawson whistled softly, sat up straight, and stared hard at his flying +mate and dearest friend. + +"And _I_ think you are strictly nuts, Freddy!" he said. But scarcely had +he spoken the words when he frowned and gave a little twist of his +head. "Jeepers, I wonder!" he mumbled. + +"Yes, no doubt I am quite nuts," Freddy agreed, and got up on his feet. +"Personally, I can't think up a better guess. It's started my brain +swimming, though. So what say we start on back, eh? Don't want to miss +evening mess, you know." + +"What a guy! _What a guy!_" Dawson groaned, and stood up. "Here in one +breath he has perhaps figured out the biggest secret in the war so far, +and in the next breath he's sounding off about that stomach of his. Did +I mention a moment ago that I think you _are_ nuts? If I didn't, then +consider it said right now!" + +"The difference between us, old thing!" Freddy Farmer explained with an +airy wave of his hand as he started back along the path. "The food you +eat helps your body. The food I eat helps my body _and_ my brain. If +you'd only eat more, maybe some of the nourishment would have a chance +to get up that high! I say! I didn't half realize that it was this +dark." + +"Yeah," Dawson agreed as he stumbled over a root. "A good thing that +talking box of yours ran out of words, or Major Parker would have to +send out a searching party. I--Hey, Freddy! What's the matter?" + +Dawson shouted the last because young Farmer, some ten or fifteen feet +ahead of him in the gloom, had suddenly buckled at the knees and had +fallen slowly to the ground. Dave leaped forward toward his prostrate +pal and had started to kneel down beside him when suddenly there was a +rustling sound in the sugar cane to his right. He turned his head and +caught a fleeting glimpse of bare feet and trousers. Then the Trinidad +sky seemed to fall on top of his head with a thunderous roar of sound, +and a great shower of red, yellow, orange and purple sparks. + +"Hey! What--" + +From a million miles away he heard the hoarse whisper of his own voice. +Then the hands of an invisible giant seemed to grab hold of him, lift +him high, and fling him spinning head over heels out across a world +composed of booming sound and flashing light. + + + + +CHAPTER EIGHT + +_Eagles Can Take It_ + + +A death-like stillness was everywhere. In that total absence of sound, +Dawson was aware of a throbbing, pounding pain in his head that made him +feel as though somebody were chopping it apart. Silence, darkness, and +somebody chopping his head to pieces. These three things Dawson's +sluggish brain could grasp, or at least grasp for a moment at a time. +All else, though, was just a great big blank. He didn't know where he +was, or what had happened. He scarcely remembered who he was. + +Suddenly a prickly pain all over his face seemed to speed up the +functioning of his brain. That, and the dull realization that he could +barely breathe because something was clamped hard against his nose and +mouth. Realization, yes; but there was not yet enough strength in his +body to do anything about it. For that matter, he felt as if he had no +body. He was aware of nothing but the pain in his head. Maybe his body +was gone, and only his head was living on. Did such things happen? Was +it possible for-- + +"Dave! Dave, old man! Oh--_Dave_!" + +Sound? Yes, that was the sound of a voice! But whose voice? Dave +couldn't see anything because of the darkness, shattered every now and +then by pin-points of glittering light, like falling stars in the night +heavens. He--The thought dribbled away as a sense feeling returned to +his "absent" body. He suddenly realized that he was being picked up, or +rolled over on his back. The prickly pain left his face at once. In the +next instant he knew that his eyes were open, because he was conscious +of many shadows. The shadows moved, but no objects were clearly +outlined. + +"Dave! Dave, old thing! Can you hear me?" + +An arm was about his shoulders, and a hand was brushing his face. The +brushing seemed to remove every trace of the prickly pain. It also +seemed to cause the shadows to stop moving and gradually take on shape +and outline. He know he was looking at treetops outlined against a pale +grey sky that grew darker and darker as he looked at it. A head came +into view. He saw wide, fear-filled eyes and lips that moved but made no +sound, save dry sobs. Suddenly, as though a button had been pressed +inside his head, his sluggish brain started to speed up, and in a flash +complete consciousness returned. Memory too, came flooding back like +waters pouring through a broken dam. + +"Freddy!" he heard himself gasp. "You--you okay, Freddy?" + +The arm about his shoulders tightened, and Freddy's choking voice +answered, "Thank goodness, Dave! I thought--I could hardly feel your +heart beat. You can thank God for your helmet, and I for mine, too. Our +heads would have been caved in but for them. No, Dave! Don't try to sit +up. You got it worse than I, or maybe my head is harder." + +"I'll feel better sitting up, Freddy," Dawson mumbled, and sat up in +spite of Farmer's plea for him to lie still. + +For the first couple of seconds, though, it didn't help at all. The +throbbing pain doubled in intensity, and he thought his head was going +to fly off his shoulders. After the first couple of seconds the +throbbing pain died down, and he could feel new strength surging through +his body. It was then that he took a good look at Freddy Farmer, let out +a little startled cry, and impulsively reached out a hand. + +"Jeepers, Freddy!" he gasped. "You look like you've been through a meat +grinder, and--Holy smokes! Look at me, will you? I look even worse. My +tunic's in ribbons, and--" + +Dawson stopped talking and stared wide-eyed at young Farmer. The +English-born air ace returned his look and nodded slowly as he wet his +lips with his tongue. + +"Quite, Dave," he said in a strained voice. "Some dirty beggar chopped +us down and searched us from head to foot for something he _didn't_ +find." + +An icy chill swept through Dawson, and he swallowed hard. It was a +second or two before he could speak. + +"Those sealed envelopes, I bet!" he whispered. "We got rid of them just +in time. But, my gosh, Freddy! Who--" + +Dawson let the thought go unspoken because it seemed so utterly +incredible. + +"Yes, who?" Freddy Farmer echoed, and gave a little shrug of his +shoulders. "Somebody, that's certain. Gosh, he came close to killing us. +When I came to and saw you with your ripped tunic pulled up over your +head and your face pushed down into the dirt, I thought sure you were a +goner. Look, Dave, take off your helmet, if it doesn't hurt too much. I +want to see if it's more than just a bump. If your scalp's been cut, I +can patch it from this pocket Red Cross kit I carry." + +But Dawson had already explored under his helmet with very gentle +fingertips. He had two bumps side by side, not over an inch above a +point where two such blows would undoubtedly have paralyzed him for +life, if not killed him instantly. As it was, there were just the two +bumps and no wet or caked blood. + +"Just bumps, Freddy," he said, and forced a chuckle. "A couple of pips, +but you know me, Old Iron Head. How about you, though?" + +"I'm lucky," Freddy said, and tried to match Dawson's forced gaiety. +"Just one lump, but I'm sure the old noggin will ache for months. We'd +better bear this in mind, Dave. We can't stand another of these +attacks." + +"Says which?" Dawson mumbled. + +"We couldn't possibly be that lucky twice," the English youth explained. +"Blast this whole business, though! I don't like things I don't +understand. I definitely don't!" + +Dave Dawson didn't make any comment on that. He got slowly to his feet, +steeled himself while a dizziness swept through his head, and then began +a methodical search of his uniform pockets. Watching him, Freddy Farmer +waited until he had inspected their contents and had put them back. + +"Anything missing, Dave?" he asked. + +"Nothing, not even my money," Dawson replied with a note of grimness in +his voice. "So that proves it. Proves it wasn't a stick-up and plain +robbery. That we're both still alive and more or less kicking proves +murder wasn't the big idea, either. They were after something that we +didn't have any more. And--Sweet tripe, Freddy! That was over a couple +of hours ago. Look at the time, will you?" + +As Dawson spoke he thrust out his wrist watch. Ferry Farmer didn't +glance at the radium-painted dial. He simply nodded. + +"I know," he said. "I didn't enjoy our little nap at all. If you really +do feel up to it, Dave, what say we get on along back, what? Major +Parker may be wondering about us." + +"Yeah," Dawson said, and stopped short. "Major Parker, Freddy?" he said +after a long pause. "He knows that code of the colonel's. He delivered +that message to us, but swears he read only the signature. And he is the +only one, outside of those two Air Transport Command pilots, that we've +spoken to here. But heck! I'm just plain nuts. It just couldn't be!" + +"And I don't think it is, Dave," Freddy Farmer murmured. "I'd bet my +life it wasn't Major Parker. He--Half a minute, Dave! Here comes +somebody along the path! I can see two flashlights!" + +"Me, too!" Dawson answered quickly. "I can--" He stopped as the silence +of night was suddenly broken with a loud hail. + +"Hello-o-o-o-o! Dawson and Farmer! Where are you? Hello-o-o-o! Dawson +and Farmer-r-r-r!" + +"That's Parker!" Dawson cried. "Out looking for us. Let's go, Freddy!" + +Dawson took a couple of steps, then stopped and cupped his two hands to +his mouth. + +"Hello-o-o there, Major!" he bellowed. "We're coming!" + +As his call died away, he could tell by the movement of the beams of +light far back along the path that whoever held the flashlights was +coming on the run. He and Freddy walked toward the approaching lights, +and after a couple of minutes one of them was playing over him at close +quarters. Major Parker's dumbfounded comments were splitting the night +air. + +"Good grief, what happened to you two? I waited mess for you, but when +you didn't show up I got worried for fear you'd got lost. Somebody said +they saw you heading up this path, so we came after you. Good grief! +What happened? Are you badly hurt?" + +By "we," Major Parker meant himself and one of the field pilots, who was +carrying the other flashlight. On impulse Dawson gave the man, whose +name was Tracey, a searching look, but he saw only bewildered amazement +and sympathy in the sun-and-wind bronzed face. + +"We don't exactly know, sir," Dawson answered the major. "We were +heading back to the base when suddenly the lights went out. Somebody +jumped us from the sugar cane. When we woke up, we were as you see us, +but nothing was missing." + +"Nothing?" Major Parker asked sharply. + +"Not a darn thing, sir!" Dawson replied truthfully. "I don't get it. +And I don't like it, either. Thanks, though, for coming after us." + +Major Parker dismissed the last with a wave of his hand, and opened his +mouth as though to say something important. He seemed to change his mind +as he shot a quick glance at Tracey, because he gave a little shrug and +remarked, "Well, standing around here isn't helping anything. I'd better +get you two back so you can clean up. We've got some spare uniforms, and +it won't be hard to find your fit. Slugged, and not a thing missing, +huh? Well, that's a new one on me. Okay, let's get back--if you two +really aren't hurt badly?" + +"Just a bump or two, sir," Dawson assured him. "Nothing to write home +about, at all." + +"Quite," Freddy Farmer murmured. "Received worse than this in a crash or +two. We're quite all right, sir." + +Major Parker paused, scowled, and shot them both a keen, searching look. +He said nothing, though; he just shrugged, turned around, and started +leading the way back along the path that skirted the sugar cane +plantation. + + + + +CHAPTER NINE + +_Death Strikes_ + + +Brows furrowed in deep thought, Major Parker slowly packed tobacco into +his pipe, put the stem between his teeth, and struck a match. As he +applied the flame to the bowl, he raised his eyes and watched Dave +Dawson and Freddy Farmer putting away their second meal as his guests. +This time, however, it was not in the Officers' Mess. The trio were in +the major's own quarters, and Dawson and Farmer looked none the worse +for their recent experience. Uniforms that fitted them perfectly had +been found, and it had been a matter of a couple of minutes to transfer +their insignia and incidentals from their torn and dirt-smeared +uniforms. As a matter of fact, anybody stepping inside the major's +quarters at the moment wouldn't have thought anything amiss. That is, +unless he noticed the fixed scowl on the major's face. + +The major kept scowling until Dave and Freddy had fully satisfied their +craving stomachs. Then he poured coffee for the three of them and +offered cream and sugar. That done, he slipped a hand into his tunic +pocket, pulled out his copper disc and tossed it on the table. + +"What else do I have to do to convince you two?" he asked quietly. + +Dawson lowered his coffee cup and looked at the major in mild surprise. + +"What's that, sir?" he asked. + +Major Parker jabbed his pipe stem at the copper disc. + +"That," he said, "is the only identification I can produce until Colonel +Welsh arrives at midnight. That isn't far off, of course, but you two +ran into some trouble tonight. Bad trouble, I'd say, and--Well, I'm +supposed to be in charge down here, which automatically makes me +responsible for your safety. I fell down on the job, it seems. In other +words, I'd like all the details so that I can start the wheels turning +to round up this mysterious trouble-maker." + +Dawson smiled, gave a little twist of his head, and gestured with one +hand. + +"That's just the trouble, sir," he said pleasantly. "There aren't any +details, except the unpleasant ones that we've already told you. We were +heading back here when we were suddenly jumped and knocked cold. Whoever +did the job tore our uniforms to ribbons searching us." + +"And what do you suppose he was searching for?" Major Parker asked +shrewdly. + +"I don't know, sir," Dawson said quietly, and looked straight at him. +"Whatever it was, he didn't find it, because neither of us lost a single +thing." + +"That's quite right, sir," Freddy Farmer spoke up. "I just had a +thought, though. Perhaps robbery was the main idea, but something or +somebody scared the beggar off." + +Major Parker made a face as though he suddenly had a bad taste in his +mouth, and sighed sadly. + +"Look, Farmer, I'm all of thirty-three!" he said sarcastically, "I've +been around a little. Don't give me that kind of an explanation. It's +silly. Whoever it was had time to tear your uniforms to shreds, but _no_ +time to grab your money. That is, if it _was_ robbery." + +"Well, it was just a thought, sir," Freddy replied with a weak grin. + +"Then let's skip it," the major suggested laughingly. Becoming serious, +he said, "Don't think I'm trying to bust in on secret stuff. What isn't +my business _isn't_ my business. I've been attached to Intelligence long +enough to learn that. I ask for details simply because a couple of funny +things have happened around here lately. About ten days ago one of the +field laborers, hired by the British, was found dead with a bullet in +his brain. It turned out to be a Luger bullet. Three days ago somebody +broke into my office and tried to go through my private files. At least, +that's the way it looked to me--though my hunch might be all wet. Tell +me this, if you can: Did either of you get a look at whoever slugged +you?" + +"I didn't see a thing, or feel a thing, for that matter," Freddy Farmer +said with a shake of his head. "I was just walking along, and the next +instant I was out cold." + +Dawson started to shake his head, when suddenly he remembered. "I saw +his feet and legs up to his knees! As a matter of fact, he was +barefooted, but he wore pants. That's all I saw. Just his bare feet and +his trouser legs up to his knees." + +"Barefooted, eh?" Major Parker murmured. "That could well mean one of +the natives. There are certainly enough of them around here. Well, that +just makes this confounded business much more mysterious. I'll certainly +be mighty glad when Colonel Welsh arrives." + +"I guess that goes for the three of us, sir," Dawson added with a smile. + +"Yes, very much so," Freddy Farmer chimed in. + +Then followed a few minutes of silence, while each was engrossed with +his own thoughts. Presently Major Parker sighed faintly, knocked the +coals from his pipe bowl into an ash tray, and got to his feet. + +"I have to make a little nightly inspection tour about the place," he +said. "So, if you two will excuse me, I'll get on with the job. Don't go +away, though. I won't be long. I'll be back for another cup of coffee +with you. They certainly know how to make it down in this part of the +world." + +"All right, sir, we'll wait," Dawson answered for Farmer and himself. +"Unless there's something we can do to help? Doesn't seem quite fair +for us to eat your food, take up your time, and not do any--" + +"Forget it, Dawson," Parker interrupted. "I'm glad to have you here. +Well, be seeing you shortly." + +With a nod and another wave of his hand, Major Parker went outside and +left the two youths looking at each other. + +"I like Major Parker plenty," Dawson said after a while. "And it sure +makes me feel like a heel." + +"What does?" the English-born air ace wanted to know. "The fact that you +like him?" + +"Cut it out!" Dawson urged. "Of course not. I feel like a heel because I +can't come clean and tell him all that we know." + +"It isn't very much, if you ask me," Freddy said with a shrug and a +gesture. + +"I know, but just the same I wish I could tell him what little we do +know. I'm sure he knows that we're holding out on him. And like I said, +he's such a swell fellow. And not the least bit dumb, what I mean." + +"Well, you can't be dumb and work for Colonel Welsh, I fancy," Freddy +murmured. + +Dawson started to agree with him, but suddenly checked his words and +shot a quick glance at Freddy. The English-born air ace was toying with +his cup of coffee and didn't see the grin that tugged down the corners +of Dawson's mouth. + +"Well, there is one exception," Dave said. "I could give you his name +with one hand tied behind my back." + +"And so could I!" Freddy said without so much as glancing up from his +cup of coffee. "His name is Dawson! Thought you were being very smart, +little man, didn't you, what?" + +"Okay, pass the cream!" Dave ordered. "I know when I'm licked. I--Hey! +You hear that?" + +"Hear what?" young Farmer asked, and looked up quickly. + +"I thought I heard a shout and a couple of shots from outside," Dave +told him. "You didn't hear anything at all, Freddy?" + +"Not a blessed thing, except your confounded voice," Freddy told him. + +That was all the English youth did say, because at that instant they +both clearly heard wild shouting and the savage yammer of machine-gun +fire. For about half a second they sat perfectly still. Then as one they +leaped to their feet, whirled, and raced out the door of Major Parker's +quarters. Outside, it was dark, and the sudden change blinded them both. +But only for a moment, and at the end of that moment they saw two or +three moving lights over at the southwest corner of the base, and +several figures running across the field toward those moving lights. +Impulsively, Dawson reached for his holstered service automatic and +broke into a run. + +"Let's go, kid," he called back over his shoulder. + +The last was unnecessary, because young Farmer was in motion, too, and +right there at his elbow. Together they ran across the field and reached +the small group gathered about three figures holding powerful +flashlights. The beams were being played on something on the ground, and +as Dawson took a look he gasped and instantly pushed his way forward. On +the ground, and just being helped up by a guard corporal, was Major +Parker. The officer, in spite of his leathery tan, looked very pale. And +there was a trickle of blood running down from a cut on his forehead +just over the left eye. + +"Take it easy, sir; I'll get the ambulance," the guard corporal was +saying as Dawson reached the injured man. "And we'll get the guy that +did it, too." + +"Don't bother about that, Corp," a voice said. "I saw him running after +the major fired, and me and little Betsy, here, knocked him out. He's +over there and not talking to anybody. He'll never talk again, not that +bird!" + +Dawson had raised his head at the sound of the voice, and saw a +square-jawed American soldier not ten feet away. The soldier was holding +a sub-machine gun in the crook of one arm, and patting it affectionately +with his hand. He paused in his patting long enough to jerk a thumb to +his left. Dawson looked in that direction and started inwardly as he +made out the huddled figure of a dead man on the ground. The thing that +made him start was the fact that the dead man was barefooted. One +glance, and Dawson turned his attention to Major Parker, who was now on +his feet, gently pushing aside the guard corporal's efforts to keep +holding him. + +"It's all right, Corporal, thanks," Major Parker said. "And I don't want +any ambulance. Somebody loan me a handkerchief until I can get a real +patch for this thing." + +"I've a First Aid patch right here, sir," Freddy Farmer spoke up +quickly. "Here, let me put it on. There! I say, sir, what happened?" + +The major tested the First Aid patch with his fingers and grinned a +trifle stiff-lipped at Dawson and Farmer. + +"He seems to have gone in for numbers tonight," he said. "I was just +coming around the corner of the Non-Coms' mess over there, when I +thought I heard a sound behind me. I turned, but it was quite dark at +that spot, so I didn't see anything clearly. Just--well, just somebody +diving at me. I didn't bother to ask questions. I dropped and went for +my gun. That's what saved me a really nasty crack, I guess. It messed up +his aim, because he had to reach out farther. But I missed, too, when I +shot at him as we both fell to the ground. Singed him, though, because +he cried out. The crack he gave me made me see a few stars, so I missed +again as he jumped to his feet and started running. Private Marvin, +here, arrived on the scene just in time, and Private Marvin is the kind +who doesn't miss. Let's go take a look." + +The whole group moved over to the dead man on the ground. The flashlight +beams were played on him. Somebody leaned down and turned the corpse +over on its back. The dead man was dressed in cheap native clothing, and +his skin was burned almost as black as the night sky. There was +something about the features, particularly the wide forehead, that +arrested Dawson's attention. As he leaned closer for a better look, he +caught sight of a corner of white showing beneath a tear in the dead +man's shirt. On impulse, Dawson reached down and pulled. Out came a +white envelope, and Dave's heart leaped up into his throat. He didn't +have to look inside the envelope to know what was there. Instantly he +recognized it as the letter of authority Colonel Welsh had given Farmer +and him to carry. + +"Holy smokes!" he whispered to himself. "So he _did_ get something off +us. This! I'd forgotten all about this thing." + +"What thing?" Major Parker asked sharply, and stepped close. + +Dawson hesitated, but when he saw that the major and he were standing a +little apart from the others, he removed the letter of authority and +smoothed it out so the senior officer could read it. Major Parker did +just that. + +"But you didn't give me any--" he began, and stopped short as Dawson +nudged him quickly. + +"I know, sir," Dave said in a low voice. "We decided it best to destroy +them, after the message we got from Tiger. We did just that about five +minutes before your corpse there jumped us. He didn't find what he +wanted, but he did find this letter. No doubt he figured that we'd given +them to you, or, at least, that you had been given yours. He went after +you, and--" Dawson came to a halt and gave a little angry shake of his +head. "I seem to be doing fine, I don't think!" he grated after a +moment. "I guess you could almost say, sir, that I gave you that crack +on the head. I was responsible for it, anyway." + +"No, that's not true, Dave!" Freddy Farmer spoke in his ear at that +moment. "I'm the thoughtless blighter. Don't you remember? I began +carrying that letter at Puerto Rico. I confess I had forgotten all about +the blasted thing." + +Dawson looked hard at his pal and then shrugged. + +"Okay, you or me, what does it matter?" he sighed. "The major should be +plenty sore at both of us." + +"You can skip that, both of you," Major Parker spoke up instantly. +"After all, maybe it's a break in a way. The rat is dead, and that makes +one less of his breed to bother us. Ten to one he killed that field +laborer and searched my office. If so--" + +The major let the rest slide, for at that moment all heard the roar of +an approaching aircraft. It was coming in fast from the north, and as +Dawson stared in that direction, he caught sight of the winking green +and red running lights. A couple of moments later, the field lights were +turned on to light the long runway. Shortly after that an American B-25 +slid down to a nice landing, and went trundling over toward the +Administration Building. Dawson, glancing at his watch, saw that it was +exactly midnight. + + + + +CHAPTER TEN + +_Invisible Eyes_ + + +No sooner had the North American B-25 bomber braked to a full stop in +front of the Administration Building than the fuselage door swung open +and Colonel Welsh disembarked. The Intelligence officer's thin face was +deeply lined from worry and loss of sleep, but his eyes were sharp and +clear as he swept them over the group that had sprung to attention. When +his eyes came to Dawson and Farmer, a light of relief seeped into them, +and he gave a little nod of his head as a sign of recognition, and +perhaps approval. + +"Get inside, you two, at once!" the colonel ordered. And then, as his +eyes picked out Major Parker, he added, "You, too, Parker. Everybody +else, back to your posts!" + +With a million and one speculative thoughts dancing and racing about +inside their heads, Dawson and Farmer climbed up into the bomber, with +Major Parker at their heels. Once inside, they saw that the bomb +compartment had been fitted out as an aerial office. Instinctively they +headed that way. By the time they reached that compartment, Major Parker +had joined them. The senior officer wigwagged a finger to check any +questions that might be asked and waved the three of them to the little +seats fitted to either side of the fuselage. He seated himself behind a +small table bolted to the bomb compartment flooring and stared into +space as the B-25's engines were revved up a little, and the bomber +started to trundle forward. + +Automatically, Dawson braced himself for a take-off, but the ship did +not leave the ground. The pilot trundled the bomber over toward one of +the hangars, braked it to a stop, and cut his engines. A moment later, +the field's ground crew was busy filling the aircraft's tanks. Still +Colonel Welsh sat staring into space without speaking a word. The +suspense, and the mystery of it all, were like butterflies in Dawson's +chest. Again and again he glanced at the colonel, hoping to catch the +senior officer's eyes, believing that if he did so the colonel might +give him some kind of a sign that would at least relieve the tension. + +He had no luck, though. The colonel sat like a man of stone while the +B-25's fuel tanks were being filled to the brim. When they were filled, +the engines were started, and the bomber was trundled out to the +take-off end of the runway. + +"A take-off sure, this time!" Dawson thought to himself. "I wonder where +we're headed? In fact, I'm wondering a whole lot of things right now. +Something has certainly happened, because the colonel looks in a bad +way. He looks about as bad as I felt a few hours ago." + +But there was no take-off. When the bomber was swung around into the +wind, the engines were throttled to idling speed. Then and then only did +Colonel Welsh come out of his trance. He looked at Dawson and Farmer, +and reached out his hand. + +"Give me the rest of those envelopes," he said. + +Dawson shook his head and spoke quickly as a look of utter horror spread +over Colonel Welsh's face. + +"We haven't got them, sir," he said. "Right after receiving your code +message, we decided it was best to destroy them, so we did." + +Horror vanished from the Intelligence Chief's face and thankful relief +took its place. + +"Good lads!" he said. "Now give me a detailed report of your flight from +Washington." + +Dave Dawson glanced impulsively at Freddy Farmer, but the English-born +air ace shook his head and made a sign for Dave to do the talking. Dave +turned to Colonel Welsh and began to relate everything that had happened +from the Washington take-off to the moment of the colonel's arrival. He +didn't leave out a thing. However, in the event he might have missed +something, he shot a questioning look at Freddy Farmer when he had +finished. + +"No, I can't think of a thing to add," the English youth said. "You've +covered everything, I'm sure." + +During all the time Dawson was talking, Colonel Welsh sat leaning +forward slightly and listening as though his life depended upon every +word. Eventually he straightened up and looked at Major Parker. + +"Have you anything to add?" he asked. + +"Nothing, sir," the major replied. "Dawson covered my end of it all in +complete detail." + +"You had never seen the dead man before, Parker?" the colonel then +asked. + +"No, sir," Major Parker replied. Then, with a faint gesture, he added, +"I may have seen him, sir, in the course of my work, but the natives +here all look more or less alike." + +Colonel Welsh grunted, scowled down at the little table in front of him, +and suddenly shot a sharp look at Dawson. + +"Yes?" he asked. "You've got something on your mind, Dawson?" + +Dave started slightly, because he did have something on his mind and was +debating if he should mention it. He could feel the red seeping up into +his face as he looked at Colonel Welsh. + +"Just a hunch, sir," he said. "I'm probably all wrong. The dead man is +undoubtedly a native, as Major Parker says, but--" + +"But what?" Colonel Welsh pressed as Dawson let the rest go unspoken. + +"Well, his skin was dark like that of a native's, sir," Dave replied +after a quick apologetic look at Major Parker, "but there was something +about his features that sort of struck me as queer. The forehead looked +a little too wide for a native's, and I was suddenly struck by the +hunch that he was--No, I _must_ have been wrong!" + +"Never mind what you must have been!" Colonel Welsh said sharply. +"Finish what you were going to say! You had the hunch that he was--" + +Dawson hesitated a second and then took the plunge. "That he was a +German, sir!" + +A moment of tingling silence settled over the made-over bomb +compartment. Then Colonel Welsh broke it with an order to Major Parker. + +"Come with me and show me this dead man, Parker," he said. "Dawson, you +and Farmer wait right here for me." + +Three seconds later the colonel and the major had climbed out of the +bomber, leaving Dawson and Farmer to twiddle their fingers. + +"I am going stark, raving mad!" young Farmer suddenly exploded in a low, +vibrant voice. "If I don't find out something soon, I don't know what +I'll do!" + +"I'll join you in a throat-cutting act, pal!" Dawson said, and sighed +heavily. "If this isn't the most mixed-up business we ever got into, +then I don't know what! The colonel's been here half an hour, and we +don't even know why he came down here in the first place. We can thank +the gods for one thing, anyway." + +"What's that?" + +"That Colonel Welsh was relieved and not burnt up when I told him we had +destroyed those envelopes," Dawson replied. "Envelopes! Phew! I'll be +seeing those darn things in my dreams for the rest of my life. Gosh! One +would think they contained the complete plans of Allied High Command for +the invasion of the European Continent, or something!" + +"Maybe they did," Freddy Farmer said with a shrug and a sigh. "Maybe +they did." + +With that the pair lapsed into brooding silence. Each was perfectly +content to remain silent, because words were just a waste of breath now. +They had talked themselves black and blue in the face as to the what and +the why of this crazy business. For all their talking, they were right +back where they had started in regard to anything concrete and definite. +Why talk about it any more? It was far, far better to go quietly nuts +waiting for Colonel Welsh to return and throw a little light on the +subject. + +They sat and waited for a good fifteen minutes, mulling over their own +thoughts and listening absently to the even murmur of the idling +Wright-Cyclone engines that powered the North American B-25. + +At the end of that fifteen minutes, however, the colonel returned. To +Dawson's relief and pleasure, he saw that a lot of the worry had left +the Intelligence officer's face. In fact, there was an almost happy look +in his eyes. He came straight into the bomb compartment, seated himself +at his little table, and took the inter-com phone mike off the wall hook +at his side. + +"Take off, Captain," he spoke into it. "Fly north for twenty minutes and +then take up the course I gave you. Eh? Right!" + +The colonel put the inter-com mike back on the hook, looked at Dawson, +and smiled faintly. + +"Thank heaven for your hunch," he said. "You were absolutely right. He +was a German." + +"A spy, sir?" Dave blurted out before he could check himself. + +"Naturally," the colonel replied. "Just about the best in the Nazis' +gang. Colonel Baron Franz von Steuben is his name. Or was. Frankly, +we've been after him for a long time. The world is well rid of his kind. +What's the matter, Dawson?" + +"Major Parker, sir," Dawson replied, and reddened slightly. "I hope he +didn't think that I--" + +"Not a bit of it!" the colonel interrupted quickly. "The major admires +you for your hunch. He'd be the last one in the world who would want you +to keep it to yourself. As a matter of fact, he suspected that you might +feel embarrassed and asked me to give you his compliments and to say he +was sorry he couldn't go along with you." + +"To where, sir?" Freddy Farmer fairly shouted. And then he blushed so +flamingly that both Dawson and the colonel had to laugh. + +"That's all right, Farmer," the Intelligence officer said, still +chuckling. "Don't blame you at all. I can see it in both your faces that +you're practically ready to blow up with questions. Well, things have +happened that I didn't want to happen, so I guess it's time for me to do +a little explaining. Do you remember that technical sergeant in the +hangar at Bolling Field?" + +The two air aces nodded. + +"He's dead," Colonel Welsh stated grimly. "He, too, was a Nazi spy. And +working right under my very nose, which doesn't make _me_ feel very +proud. Shortly after your take-off, one of the mechanics who helped to +roll out your plane came to me with the information that the technical +sergeant had been standing right outside that office while I was giving +you your instructions. I can tell you that that was the closest I ever +came to having a case of heart failure. I got to work at once checking +up on that technical sergeant. I won't bother you with the details, but +we caught him cold. Complete with a powerful short-wave sending set, and +all the rest of it. That was _after_ he had had time to do his dirty +work, _if any_. I know, now, what that dirty work was, of course. Your +experiences, and Major Parker's, made the picture clear. He simply +flashed word to other agents to get you two by hook or by crook. He knew +your course, and he knew what you carried, though I'm still positive +that he didn't know the contents of those sealed envelopes. + +"Anyway, word was flashed along the network of Nazi spies on this side +of the Atlantic and to that U-boat lurking in the Caribbean. Heavens! +That was a daring stunt those devils tried." + +"I'm still shaking at how close it came to being successful!" Dawson +spoke up in a strained voice as the colonel paused. + +"Amen, and let's not think of that any more," the Intelligence officer +added almost fervently. "As soon as I learned the truth, I flashed you +a message to halt the flight and wait for me. I was too late at Puerto +Rico. I also took off in this plane at once to get down here and contact +you. I stopped at Puerto Rico, and Miami, too, and collected the two +sealed envelopes you had already delivered. Then I came on here and +found out that you two had used your heads. Just in time, too, thank +goodness. That you beat Colonel Baron Franz von Steuben to the punch is +something you can congratulate yourselves on for the rest of your lives. +If I had even dreamed that devil was down here, I would have had +nineteen different kinds of cat fits. But all's well that ends well. +And, although we've got to change our plans, we're still a couple of +jumps up on the Nazis." + +Colonel Welsh paused for breath and to take out his handkerchief and +wipe imaginary beads of sweat from his forehead. Both Dawson and Farmer +sat on the edges of their seats waiting for him to continue, but after a +moment or two of silence Dawson couldn't stand it any longer. + +"Can't you tell us a little about all this, Colonel? Just a little that +might help us--well, in case we got into another jam? Or are we on our +way back to Washington now? Is the job finished as far as Freddy and I +are concerned?" + +"No, we are not heading back to Washington," Colonel Welsh answered +quietly. "As for you and Farmer, the job is just beginning. Well, you've +earned the right to know. Since I was going to explain at Natal anyway, +I might as well explain now. You recall all that F.B.I. business in New +York? Remember my telling you of that list of names turned over to the +F.B.I. for checking?" + +"Could we forget, sir?" Dawson chuckled. "Freddy and I have been going +nuts trying to add two and two. We got a zero every time, and I don't +mean a Jap Zero, either." + +"Well, all that was simply a check and double-check, you might say," +Colonel Welsh said as his face became grave. "Every name on that +approved list was to be connected in some way with--" + +The colonel paused and ran his tongue across his lower lip. + +"Every man on that list," he began again, "is to have something to do +with a proposed trip by President Roosevelt to a war conference with +Prime Minister Winston Churchill at Casablanca in Morocco, North +Africa!" + +A moment of silence hung over the trio as the colonel finished speaking. +Then Dawson gave a little laugh and looked at Freddy Farmer. "Pick up +the marbles, Master Mind!" he said. "Pick them all up. You win!" + + + + +CHAPTER ELEVEN + +_Midnight Raider_ + + +"What?" Colonel Welsh exploded as he looked from Dawson to Farmer, and +back again. "What's this?" + +"Farmer, sir," Dave explained. "We made about six million guesses apiece +as to what this was all about. One of his was that the President was +going to North Africa, or beyond, for a conference with Prime Minister +Churchill and Stalin." + +"Nobody heard you make that guess, did they?" the colonel asked, +tight-lipped, as he fixed his eyes on young Farmer. + +"No, sir!" the English youth replied. "Nobody." + +"He's right, sir," Dawson spoke up quickly. "I remember when he made +that guess he spoke so low I could hardly hear him, and I was lying +right next to him. In case you're wondering, Colonel, it wasn't until we +were on our way back to the base that Colonel Baron von Steuben slugged +us. So it's certain he didn't hear Freddy." + +"Yes, of course you're right," the colonel said, and smiled at Farmer. +"So don't feel bad. It just gave me a start that you had hit the nail on +the head. You were partly wrong, though. Joseph Stalin will not be among +those present this time." + +"And those envelopes, sir?" Dawson asked when the colonel fell silent +and stared out the compartment window at the darkness of night sweeping +by. "They are still very hush-hush stuff, as far as we're concerned? +Could I ask if they contained information about the President's trip?" + +The senior officer turned from the window and looked straight at him. + +"You can, and I'll tell you," he said. "Each envelope contained the +route the President's plane is to fly, the exact time schedule, and the +codes to be used in case the aircraft runs into trouble, or danger, and +all that sort of thing. In short, as I told you in Washington, the Nazis +would give almost anything to get hold of one of those sealed envelopes. +With that information in their possession, they could have delivered a +terrible blow to the United Nations. Think of it! The death of the +President and members of the American High Command! It would be like +setting our war effort back to the day of Pearl Harbor!" + +The horrible thought made Dawson shiver in spite of himself, and he +thanked God that Freddy and he had destroyed their letters before von +Steuben had smashed them both to the ground. The President's death would +have been loss enough, but to have added the loss of the great leaders +of our military, naval, and air forces would have been world shaking +indeed. + +"And now, sir?" Dawson asked after several moments of silence. "Now +another plan is to be carried out?" + +Colonel Welsh didn't answer for a moment. He stared down at his two +hands folded on the edge of the little table, and the expression on his +thin face seemed to show a reluctance to answer that question. +Presently, though, he lifted his head and looked straight at the two +youthful air aces. + +"We are now headed for Casablanca," he began quietly. "With the extra +tanks of fuel we have aboard, we can make it easily. If we reach +Casablanca without any trouble, I will be as sure as a man can be that +the enemy has not learned anything of the President's plan to fly there +himself. If we don't--" + +The Chief of all U. S. Intelligence let the rest trail off into thin air +and made a little gesture with one hand. Dawson frowned and looked at +him earnestly. + +"I don't think I get what you mean, sir," he said slowly. + +"And neither do I, sir," Freddy Farmer spoke up. + +For a moment the colonel held his lips pressed together in a thin, grim +line, and a hard light glittered in his eyes. + +"In a thing like this," he said presently, "you can't afford to take +_any_ chances. You've got to be dead sure; as dead sure of everything as +it is humanly possible to be, from start to finish. I had utmost +confidence in your making the complete flight to Natal. And the way you +two did handle yourselves, when the odds were actually all against you, +proves that the confidence I had in you was justified. But in everything +there is ever present the little item of fate. A tiny little something +that is beyond man's power to see in advance, or even to counteract when +it happens. For example, that technical sergeant at Bolling Field. I +would have staked my life on that man. But, as things turned out, I was +completely mistaken. And so with you two, or with each of my agents at +the stops you were to make. Because of something you couldn't guard +against, or prevent before death came to you, the contents of one of +those sealed envelopes might have fallen into enemy hands. What I mean +is, one of the envelopes might have been opened, the contents read, and +then the envelopes resealed." + +"But, Colonel," Dawson protested, "one of us would--" + +"I know, I know," the colonel said, stopping him with a gesture of his +hand. "But look at it this way. Suppose von Steuben had knocked you both +out while you still had the envelopes? Suppose he had opened one, read +its contents, and resealed it so that you'd never have guessed? What +then? When you came to and found you still had the envelopes, you'd +never dream that they had been touched." + +"But I'd be plenty suspicious, sir!" Dawson interrupted. "I'd--" + +"Would you?" the colonel's quiet but firm voice stopped him again. "But +von Steuben was no fool! What if he stole your money and Farmer's money, +too? What then?" + +"I see what you mean, sir," Dawson said, and grinned sheepishly. "We +would have thought we'd been victims of some holdup." + +"Exactly," the colonel agreed. "A crazy little twist of fate over which +you had no control whatever. Yet the damage would have been done. So I +had to do what I could to find out if there had been any crazy twist of +fate. In other words, each of those sealed envelopes contained the +information, in code of course, that the _next_ bombing plane to pass +through would carry the President, and members of his party." + +Dawson blinked, and suddenly the truth hit him between the eyes. + +"What, sir?" he gasped. "You--you mean this B-25 is _supposed_ to be +carrying the President?" + +"I mean just that!" the colonel confirmed grimly. "_If_ enemy agents +have learned what was in those envelopes, they will believe that this +bomber is carrying the President as a passenger. The President has +already left Washington in secret, and it wouldn't take much checking +by enemy agents to find out that he isn't at the White House. Naturally +they'd believe he was aboard this plane." + +"Anything funny happen on your flight down, sir?" Freddy Farmer asked, +as the senior officer paused for breath. + +"Nothing that I noticed," Colonel Welsh replied with a shake of his +head. "But just because things don't happen doesn't mean that they +_won't_, in time. So, as I said, we won't know for sure until we arrive +at Casablanca." + +"And maybe not even then," Dawson mumbled to himself. + +Colonel Welsh gave the Yank air ace a sharp look, and then nodded his +head. + +"That's right," he agreed. "And maybe not even then. Just another reason +why an Intelligence man gets gray hair so early in life. You never can +tell about a job until it's all finished and you're working on another. +Then it's the same thing all over again." + +The trio lapsed into silence, but not for long, because the question +that had been plaguing Dawson just had to come out. + +"Supposing we make it to Casablanca okay," he said, "and you feel sure +that the enemy hasn't learned a thing about the President's trip, what +then? The sealed orders Farmer and I were to have delivered at the rest +of the stops are destroyed, and you say you collected the envelopes we +left at Miami and Puerto Rico. How will they know about the President's +plane when it does come through?" + +"A good question, but I've got the answer, Dawson." The colonel smiled +and pointed to a brief-case on his little table. "In there are +duplicates of the orders, _without_ the part about the next bomber +through being the President's plane. If we reach Casablanca safely, +we'll turn around and head south for Liberia, cross the South Atlantic +to Natal, and deliver one of those sealed envelopes to each of the stops +as we fly north to Washington. I've allowed sufficient time for us to do +that, in case that's the way it works out." + +"Well," Dawson remarked, and shifted to a more comfortable position on +his chair, "there's nothing like a two-way hop across--" + +But he never finished his sentence, because at that moment the pilot of +the B-25 came back into the made-over bomb compartment and spoke to +Colonel Welsh. + +"A surface ship just ahead, sir, sending up distress flares," he +reported. "Probably a merchantman with a torpedo in her plates. We're +about three hundred and fifty out, due east of Barbados. Do you want me +to radio the ship's position? You gave orders, you know, to maintain +radio silence." + +"Sending up distress flares?" Colonel Welsh queried with a frown. "What +good does she think flares will do? The captain of any other ship near +by would be a fool to come close to her. The U-boat might still be +lurking around." + +"I know, sir," the pilot said. "Maybe she hears us and wants us to send +out her position because her radio shack is gone. Maybe she thinks we're +a flying boat on patrol." + +For some unknown reason a sudden eerie chill rippled across the back of +Dawson's neck. He looked at Colonel Welsh and tried to convince himself +that this was none of his business, but that eerie chill forced him to +blurt out, "And it could be something _else_, sir! I mean, if we send +out the ship's position, our radio will reveal _our own_ position." + +The pilot of the bomber glared quickly at Dawson, and the corners of his +mouth stiffened. "It isn't fun to be torpedoed at night," he said +quietly. "I lost a brother that way." + +Dawson flushed slightly, but he didn't drop his eyes before the other's +stare. Before he could say anything, though, Colonel Welsh addressed the +pilot. + +"Circle her and continue to maintain radio silence, Captain," he said. +"Just before you pass her to port, drop a flare so that we can get a +good look at her. If she seems in trouble, then maybe we'll do something +for her. Meantime, though, I want all members of the crew to go to +battle stations." + +The bomber pilot's eyes widened in surprise, but he had sense enough not +to ask any questions. He nodded, glanced at Dawson, turned and went +forward to his compartment. Dawson waited until he was out of earshot, +and then gave Colonel Welsh an apologetic smile. + +"I'm sorry, speaking out of turn like that, sir," he said. "I guess the +captain must think I'm a little cracked." + +"Let him think so," the colonel remarked quietly. "All he knows is that +he's flying me to Casablanca for a meeting with my agents, and that it's +up to him and his crew to get me there. If he'd been through what you +have, he'd be the first to agree with you. Maybe the flare will tell us +something. If it is a torpedoed ship, I think I will take a chance and +have her position radioed. Poor dev--" + +That was as far as the colonel got. The savage yammer of aerial +machine-gun fire interrupted him. An instant later they all heard a yell +of pain from the pilot's compartment. Even before the echo had died +away, the North American B-25 heeled over on one wing and started to +slide off and down with both engines wide open. + +"The pilot's hit!" Dawson yelled, and lurched to his feet. "Pilot hit +and his co-pilot, too, I guess. By what? How the heck--" + +Dawson didn't finish, either. At that instant the night outside was +lighted with a brilliance like that of high noon. A terrific roar seemed +to slam into the B-25 from all sides and spin her around until she was +as helpless as a dried leaf in a gale. + + + + +CHAPTER TWELVE + +_Fighting Hearts_ + + +The crazy motion of the bomber knocked Dawson off balance and sent him +lurching heavily against the flare rack as he reached the navigator's +nook just aft of the pilot's compartment. The air whistled out of his +lungs, and balls of colored fire danced before his eyes. Fortunately, +though, his outflung hands caught hold of something, and he was able to +prevent himself from pitching headlong on his face. + +The B-25 was still flooded by brilliant light, and above the screaming +roar of the over-revving Wright-Cyclones, Dawson could hear the chatter +of aerial machine guns. He gave no thought to the thing that was +happening. He had but one idea in his head, and that was to fight his +way forward to the pilot's compartment. As he dived past the navigator's +nook, a hand grabbed him by the arm, and he heard voices, but he could +not understand the words above the din of other noises. With a savage +wrench of his arm he freed himself, and piled forward into the pilot's +compartment. + +One glance gave him a complete picture, and his racing heart seemed to +stand still. The glass of the pilot's compartment was shattered to bits. +The pilot was slumped over against the Dep wheel, and the weight of his +limp body was pushing the control forward so that the bomber remained in +its mad dive. Beside the limp pilot was the co-pilot, flopped over +against the side of the compartment and looking for all the world like a +man dead tired who had simply leaned over to brace himself and catch a +couple of minutes of sleep. That is, he looked like such a man except +for the crimson blood that gushed from a gaping wound in his neck just +below the left ear. + +After one look at the hideous sight Dawson flew into action. Bracing +himself behind the pilot's seat, he grabbed the limp figure by the +shoulders and pulled him back on the seat. Holding him upright with one +hand, he reached around and opened the catch of the pilot's safety +harness. That done, he braced himself again and eased the man to the +floor boards. The pilot's eyes fluttered open, and his lips sprayed +drops of blood as he tried to speak. Dawson didn't have time to listen. +He leaped into the pilot's seat, grabbed the control wheel with one +hand, hauled back on it steadily, and eased off the throttles with his +other hand. + +Little by little the crazy downward plunge of the B-25 eased off. The +plane began to climb back into the sky. There was still brilliant white +light all about. It had a silverish tint to it, and Dawson had the +impression that he was flying straight through a phosphorescent ocean. +In an abstract way be realized the white light was caused by flares that +had been dropped from high above the bomber and were bringing it out in +clear relief for a mysterious aerial night raider. + +"Where is it, and what?" Dawson gasped as he squinted his eyes in the +brilliant glare. "It's just one ship. I can tell it from the guns. But +what--" + +He cut the rest off short and heeled the B-25 way over on its wing and +brought it around and up in a climbing turn with the engines wide open. +He did so because he had caught a glimpse of a shadow boring in and up +at him from the left. Just a shadow, but he knew instinctively that it +was another plane. At the top of its climb, he whipped the bomber over +and around in the opposite direction. The bomber was neither a P-40 nor +a Lockheed Lightning, and his heart seemed to stand still in his throat +as he waited for the big craft to come around. With each passing second, +he expected to hear the savage yammer of guns blazing away at him. + +As a matter of fact, a moment later he did hear guns, but they came from +the B-25, not from the other plane. They came from the port side, and +impulsively he jerked his head around in that direction. As he did so, +he saw a sight that brought a wild cry of joy from his lips. Silhouetted +against the brilliant background of light was a Nazi-marked Arada AR-95 +twin-pontoon seaplane. He could see the silverish disc described by the +spinning propeller, but the aircraft seemed to be standing still. +Rather, it seemed to be held motionless in the air by twin streams of +tracer smoke that reached out to it from the B-25. + +It was motionless for only a moment, and then suddenly a sheet of flame +spewed out from under its engine cowling. Fire mushroomed out in all +directions, and in the wink of an eye, the Arada completely disappeared, +and there was just a great cloud of fire hanging in the flare-lighted +heavens. To Dawson the cloud seemed to hang not for seconds, but for +minutes. And then, as though an invisible cable had been cut, the cloud +of fire dropped straight downward. + +"Sweet shooting! Pretty!" Dawson heard his own voice yell. "And I've got +a hunch that it was good old Freddy who nailed her! If it--" + +He stopped short, as he happened to glance ahead and to the left. By now +the flares were burning out, and were down close to the water. Because +of that he was able to see the seven-or eight-thousand-ton tramp steamer +that was leaving a broad, churning wake as it made off at top speed +toward the darkness to the north. The surface vessel flew no flag, and +there was little to distinguish her from any of the thousands of tramp +steamers. + +She was no mystery to Dawson, however. One look at her racing away from +the light of the fading flares was all he needed to know the truth. That +ship was one of the few Nazi sea raiders left, and the Arada seaplane +had come from her decks. By looking carefully he could see a cradle on +the forward deck, and a huge hoisting crane that must have lifted the +seaplane over the side. + +"The dirty dogs!" Dawson grated as he glared down at the fleeing vessel. +"If only we had some bombs or depth charges aboard, what a finish we +could put to that sea murderer! We'd--" + +"Dawson! Thank God!" + +The words seemed to explode in his ears. He jerked his head around and +saw the strained features of Colonel Welsh. The Intelligence Officer's +eyes were wide with both anger and amazement. His lips moved silently +for a couple of seconds before he spoke again. "That was close! It would +have been too close, but for you, Dawson! What's that down--" + +"A Nazi raider that was carrying the seaplane," Dawson cut him off. "We +can't do anything about her now, though. Even our radio is smashed, so +we can't send out her position. But the pilot and co-pilot, Colonel! Get +help and get them aft. The pilot is still alive, I think, but this +chap--" + +Dawson stopped as he turned and looked at the co-pilot in the seat next +to his. Cold rage filled his heart, and his bitter hatred of all things +Nazi flared up again. Too many times had his youthful eyes looked upon +death not to recognize it now. Nothing in the world could help the +co-pilot. He had passed on to join his buddies in the airmen's Valhalla. + +"Better get to work on the pilot behind me!" Dawson said with a +sharpness he didn't realize was in his voice. "There must be a medical +kit aboard this bomber. I'll stick here and keep us going. Or do you +want to turn back?" + +"No, keep going!" the colonel replied. "It wouldn't do to turn back now. +Here, Corporal! Give me a hand with your pilot. Where's the medical +kit?" + +The last words were directed to one of the aircraft's crew who had come +forward into the compartment. Dawson paid no attention to him, for at +that moment the port engine started to kick up a bit, and he had to give +all his attention to getting it to run smoothly again. By then the glow +of the flares had faded out, and the B-25 was thundering on through the +darkness of the night. Dawson switched on the small-instrument light so +that he could keep a careful check on engine performance and hold the +aircraft to her course across the Atlantic. Only once did he take his +attention from his flying, and that was when the dead co-pilot was +lifted from his seat and taken aft. Once again red rage burned within +Dave, as it always did when one of his countrymen was killed. He gripped +the control wheel hard to prevent his hands from shaking. + +Presently somebody slid into the co-pilot's seat and touched him on the +arm. It was Freddy Farmer. + +"Well done, old thing!" the English youth said in a voice that shook +with feeling. "Fancy we've all got you to thank for saving our hides. +Personally, I was too scared to move for hours, and--" + +"Nuts!" Dawson interrupted with gruff affection. "Anybody can haul a +plane out of a dive. If it hadn't been for your sweet shooting, that rat +might have nailed us!" + +"Good grief, how did you know?" Freddy gasped. "You couldn't see me from +here!" + +"I didn't have to look back," Dawson chuckled. "I simply saw the kind of +shooting it was and knew at once you were behind the guns. How's the +pilot making out, or don't you know?" + +"Not too bad, for which he can thank his lucky stars," the English +youth replied. "He'll pull through all right, but I guess the chap will +be out of the war for some time. What kind of blasted business was it, +anyway, Dave? That beggar was waiting for us right up on top, with his +confounded flares. We were--well, as you would say, a sitting duck." + +"Yeah, and we were darn near a dead pigeon, too!" Dawson said grimly. +"But how, and why? Don't ask me, pal! I just haven't got the brains it +would take to figure out this crazy mess. To me it looks like one of +those little items of fate the colonel was talking about. Unless--" + +"Unless what, Dave?" Freddy Farmer pressed as Dawson fell silent. + +"Unless there's no connection at all," the Yank air ace finally +remarked. + +"I'm afraid that doesn't make much sense to me," young Farmer said. +"What do you mean, no connection?" + +"Well, figure it this way," Dawson replied. "Say that the President's +forthcoming trip to Casablanca is as much of a perfect secret as ever. +That--" + +"But that's silly!" Freddy Farmer cut in. "The fact that this plane was +mysteriously attacked means that some blasted Nazi agent found out what +was in one of those sealed envelopes. I mean, that the next bomber +through would have the President aboard." + +"Are you all through sounding off?" Dave snapped. "Or don't you want to +hear the rest of what I have to say?" + +"Sorry, and all that!" the English youth snapped right back at him. +"I'll be still. What were you going to say, Dave?" + +"Figure the President's trip business _out_," Dawson went on speaking +again. "Okay. So for what other reason should we be attacked by a +mysterious plane from a mysterious raider in the middle of the Atlantic? +I can think of only one, and this is it. Take it or leave it. The Nazi +U-boats aren't doing so hot for Hitler these days. We're sinking his +steel sharks left and right, and he's going to run out of them before +long. Okay. Where is a lot of our stuff going these days? To North +Africa. And a lot of it is being _flown_ over. Okay. The Nazis don't +stand a chance of going after our transports with their planes, like +they can on the supply route to England. So what do they do? They send a +sea raider out, fitted with a scout seaplane. The sea raider's detector +picks out one of our planes crossing at night, and the seaplane goes up +to high altitude and waits. Maybe those distress signals are part of +the gag to get our plane to go down for a look. Anyway, the seaplane +pilot drops his flares. They light up the target for him and also blind +those aboard the transport plane long enough for the Nazi rat to do his +stuff with his guns. And there you are. Take it or leave it!" + +"Just the point, Dawson," Colonel Welsh suddenly broke in. "I don't know +_whether_ to take it or leave it. I certainly don't!" + +"Oh, you there, sir?" Dawson gulped as he turned his head around. "I was +just--well--" + +"I know, and I'm glad I heard what you said," the colonel interrupted +him. "I was certain that they were laying for us because they believed +the President to be aboard. Yet I swear I don't see how they could +possibly have found out. I'd stake my life that only we three know the +contents of those sealed envelopes." + +"If I may say so, sir," Freddy Farmer spoke up, "I have a feeling that +Dawson has come very close to the truth, if he hasn't hit it exactly. +Frankly, sir, it was just too perfect for the Nazis to have planned it +this way. There--there just wasn't enough time, I'd say." + +"What do you mean by that last?" the colonel asked him. + +"I mean that if we had been attacked by a land-based plane, we could +take it that the Nazis had got wind of the truth and had come after us," +the English youth started to explain. "But that aircraft was from a +surface ship--a surface ship that was _directly_ in our path. Tell me +this, sir, if you will. On the way down, what did you plan to do when +you reached Trinidad?" + +"Eh?" the senior officer grunted. "Why, see you two, of course, and find +out what had happened, if anything. After I had heard what you had to +say, I'd decide what to do next. Why?" + +"Well, there you are, sir!" young Farmer cried. "That proves that +Dawson's idea must be right. Don't you see? Even _you_ weren't sure as +to where this aircraft would go next. You didn't even give the pilot his +course instructions until the very start of the take-off. So how could +the Nazis possibly have found out and radioed that surface vessel to +sail to a point _directly in our path_ in the time it took us to fly out +here from Trinidad? It's--it's silly, if you'll forgive me, sir." + +The colonel said nothing for a moment. Then he gave a long-drawn-out +sigh. + +"Yes, I guess you're right, both of you," he said. "The secret of the +President's trip must still be as safe as ever. Yes, it must be that +way. We just happened to bump into something that any plane flying this +route would have bumped into." + +"I sure hated to see that sea raider get away!" Dawson grumbled. "Talk +about lucky shots! That first blast got the radio set cold, unless the +radio man can fix it up, sir? I saw the shambles it was as I dived by +the navigator's nook." + +"No, no such luck," Colonel Welsh replied. "I asked him quite a while +back, and he said it was hopeless. The navigator, of course, has a +record of the exact position at the time, so we can report it when we +reach Casablanca." + +"How's the pilot, sir?" Dawson asked. "Were there any other casualties +besides that poor co-pilot?" + +"The pilot will pull through," Colonel Welsh replied. "The only casualty +was the co-pilot. Well, I'll go aft now to see if I can do anything for +the pilot. You two can get us through all right, eh? I mean--" + +"If the engines keep ticking over, we'll make it, sir," Dawson said +quietly. "The tanks were spared, praise be! So I think it will be all +good flying from here in." + +"Then I'll leave you to it," the colonel said. "And--and God bless both +of you!" + +Neither Dawson nor Farmer had a chance to say anything, because the +Intelligence officer quickly turned and went aft. + +"Well, you convinced even me with that swell sales talk of yours, +Freddy," Dawson eventually broke the silence between them. "I guess +maybe I did hit on the right idea, at that." + +"I think you did," the English youth echoed. Then with a chuckle he +added, "But I suppose I'll never hear the end of it from now on!" + +"Now ain't that gratitude for you?" Dawson groaned, and shook his head +sadly. "So help me, why I keep getting that food-craving hide of yours +out of tight spots, I'll never understand. I must be nuts, I guess!" + +"And for once," Freddy Farmer laughed, "I won't argue with you!" + + + + +CHAPTER THIRTEEN + +_Lurking Wings_ + + +For the hundredth time Dawson dug knuckles into his tired eyes, stifled +the yawn that struggled to get up out of his throat, and took a quick +glance at Freddy Farmer seated in the co-pilot's seat. And for the +hundredth time he wondered how the English-born air ace could go through +so much and still look as fresh as a daisy. + +"Boy, oh boy!" he finally blurted out. "How do you do it, anyway, +Freddy?" + +The English youth glanced his way with arched eyebrows. + +"How do I do what?" he wanted to know. + +"Look so doggone full of pep," Dawson told him. "Here I feel like the +last rose of summer after a steam roller has run over it, and you look +like a million bucks, or more. How come? Are you taking some very secret +vitamin pills that I don't know anything about, huh?" + +"Certainly not!" young Farmer replied at once. "I haven't got _that_ +old, yet. But would you like to know the truth?" + +"Well, if you insist on telling me, I suppose I've got to listen," +Dawson grunted. "So shoot." + +"Well, don't let my looks fool you," Farmer replied. "I may look fresh, +but I definitely am not that way inside. Fact is, I'm not quite sure +whether I am awake or asleep. And if you insist on knowing everything, +I'd be jolly glad if we would sight land." + +Dawson started slightly and shot him a keen look. + +"Meaning?" he asked. + +Young Farmer made a faint motion of his hand toward the milky sort of +world through which the B-25 was flying. The sun had been up for a long +time, now, but haze blurred the sun's rays and turned both sea and sky +into a drifting milky-tinted mass that made instrument flying absolutely +necessary. + +"Meaning that I'm wondering if my navigation has gone haywire," Freddy +said. "We should have made landfall half an hour ago, Dave. But there is +nothing but blasted water down there. How's our fuel?" + +"Okay, we've got plenty in the tanks," Dawson said. "If your navigation +is all cockeyed, then I'll eat this ship. Of course, you are a funny +sort of gink in lots of ways, my little man. But when it comes to +navigating, I'll take you every time. So relax, pal. What's a half hour +on an ocean hop? We probably bumped into a head wind, that's all." + +"Thanks, old thing," Farmer smiled at him. "And I certainly hope that +you're right. However, this whole blasted business has been so balmy +right from the start that I'm willing to expect almost anything. And, in +fact, I do." + +Dawson ignored that remark. Freddy had certainly hit the nail on the +head. Of all the jobs they had tackled, this one was certainly the most +mixed up and involved. It seemed so for the very simple reason that not +one thing had gone along as planned. At every turn something had popped +up to toss a monkey wrench into the works and necessitate a complete +revision of plans. Realization of that caused little fingers of ice to +pluck at Dawson's heart. The object of all this business was a safe +journey by air to Casablanca for the President and the American High +Command. With everything going haywire from the start, what other blows +of Fate might be struck once the President was on his way? + +"But I'm just tired, and letting myself get off the beam!" Dawson +mumbled. "The colonel's secret is still his secret. And--and that raider +business was just one of those things. Darn it! Nazi agents just +couldn't have found out anything!" + +"Just what I've been trying to convince myself of for hours," he heard +Freddy Farmer say. "But I'm still finding it a bit of a difficult job. +As you say, though, we're both so blasted tired. I feel as though I've +been in this aircraft all my life." + +"Yeah, me, too!" Dawson agreed. "I--" + +He stopped speaking, straightened up in the seat, and peered into the +milky-colored sky off to the left and a little bit ahead. He stared +until his eyes ached and smarted. + +"What's the matter, Dave?" Freddy asked presently. "Are we making +landfall?" + +"No," Dawson replied slowly, with a little shake of his head. "I guess +I'm just seeing things. I could swear that I saw a group of planes show +off there for a split second or so." + +"Planes?" young Farmer echoed excitedly. "What type? Maybe it's an +escort come out to meet us, and--But no, that couldn't be. Nobody knows +we're coming. Did you recognize them, Dave?" + +"That's just the point," Dawson complained as he continued to stare into +the milky mass that was the sky. "I'm not dead sure, but I think--Well, +if you want to know, they looked like Junkers Ju-88's to me. Yeah, the +big long-range babies the Nazis used against England and shipping in the +Atlantic. But maybe I was just seeing things." + +"You must have been, Dave!" Freddy said sharply. "It's my guess the +Nazis haven't any long-range bombers to spare against shipping in this +part of the Atlantic. We have far, far too much aerial cover for our +boats. Besides--" + +The English-born air ace didn't continue. He stared off to the left. +Dave sensed the sudden movement and impulsively turned his head to look +in that direction, too. As a result, they both saw the milky sky split +apart for a brief moment and reveal six Nazi Junkers Ju-88's winging +along on a course almost parallel with theirs. The haze and the milky +overcast parted just long enough for them to see the six-plane +formation, and then it promptly closed down and hid all from view. But +they had seen the ships and before Dawson took another breath he piloted +the B-25 down and away on a detour course toward the north. + +"You were right, Dave!" Freddy Farmer spoke first. "Absolutely right! +Those were Junkers, or I've never seen one in my life. And I've seen +plenty of them!" + +"Junkers, right enough," Dawson repeated with a nod of his head. "And +that bunch was the _second_ group! In short, there must be a whale of a +big Yank convoy that they are hunting for, or else--" + +Dawson stopped and shrugged, but Freddy Farmer wouldn't let it remain +that way. + +"Or else what?" he demanded. + +"Or else they are hunting for _all_ planes headed for Casablanca," +Dawson replied slowly. "Go aft and get the colonel, will you, Freddy? I +think he should be told what's going on." + +"Definitely!" young Farmer replied, and quickly slipped out of the +co-pilot's seat. + +During the next couple of minutes Dawson virtually "explored" every +square inch of the milky air all about the B-25 but he didn't sight any +planes. Then Freddy returned with Colonel Welsh, and Dawson reported +what they had seen. + +"They seem to be all around our course, sir," Dawson added. "Do you want +us to plow right on through, or continue to detour around this area and +come into Casablanca from the north? We've the fuel left to do it, if +that's what you want." + +The colonel didn't reply at once. It was very plain from the expression +on his thin face that the news of sighting Nazi aircraft disturbed him +greatly. + +"It can't be a convoy they're after," he finally said, "because there +isn't one this far south. And they can't be looking for any plane, such +as this one, because--" + +The Chief of U. S. Intelligence paused a second, shook his head, and +ordered, "Get on course for Casablanca, Dawson, and plow right on +through! With our radio gone, we're helpless to find out what's what--if +anybody happens to know. The sooner we get to Casablanca, the better. So +bang on through, but avoid action if it's possible." + +"Very good, sir," Dawson replied, and pulled the B-25 back onto her +original course. "By the way, sir, how's the pilot?" + +"Getting better by the minute," the colonel replied. "Lost a lot of +blood, but we'll take care of that as soon as we get to Casablanca. Push +on through, and I'll order the crew to remain at battle stations. This +is the darnedest mess I ever bumped into!" + +"If I've ever met up with anything more tantalizing, then I sure don't +remember it," Dawson remarked by way of agreement. "Okay, sir! +Casablanca it is, and on the run!" + +Colonel Welsh murmured something that Dawson didn't catch and, giving +the Yank air ace a pat on the shoulder, he swung about and returned to +his battle station aft. For the next twenty-two minutes Dawson and +Farmer didn't speak as the twin-engined North American B-25 prop-clawed +its way forward through the milky-hued heavens. Neither of them spoke +because anything they might have said would only have served to increase +their fears. Both feared they were lost, and not even headed toward +Casablanca. They feared that at any second a whole flock of those +mysterious Junkers might suddenly appear in the air before them and +open up with all guns. They feared that once more their plans were about +to be knocked into a cocked hat. + +"Jeeper, jeepers!" Dawson finally muttered. "I couldn't have a worse +case of jim-jams than I've got right now, even if I was actually +piloting the President's plane. I--" + +"Dave!" Freddy Farmer broke in excitedly. "I'll be blessed! Look!" + +The English youth's exclamation was quite unnecessary because Dawson was +already staring wide-eyed at one of the many so-called miracles of +weather. In other words, the milky air stopped abruptly, as though cut +off by a knife. One instant the B-25 was plowing on through the stuff, +and the next it was roaring out into clear air filled with brilliant +sunshine. Dead ahead was the coast of French Morocco, and the Port of +Casablanca glistening white in the sun! + +"So this guy Farmer is a punk navigator, huh?" Dawson shouted joyously. +"Like heck he is, what I mean!" + +"Luck, blasted luck, I swear it!" Freddy breathed, but there was a happy +smile on his face just the same. "Man! I never was so glad in all my +life to see a place as I am to see that spot ahead. Luck, absolutely +nothing but luck!" + +"Okay, have it your way," Dawson laughed. "But just keep right on having +this kind of luck. That's all I've got to say. Boy, oh boy! Dry land +ahead, and something to eat, and a place to lay down my weary head. +Oh-oh! Here come some of the boys to give us a look-see. See them, +Freddy?" + +"Of course," the English youth replied with a nod, and fixed his gaze on +the flight of Lockheed P-38 Lightnings that were sweeping gracefully up +off North African soil and streaking out to sea toward the B-25. + +In less time than it takes to tell about it, those high-speed fighter +aircraft were right on top of the B-25 and skipping and sliding all +about it as their pilots investigated. It took them but a couple of +moments to satisfy themselves. Then they throttled and dropped into +escort position. That is, all except one pilot. He slid out in front to +lead the way to the American-built air base on the north side of the +city. A few minutes later Dawson throttled his engines, and slid the +B-25 down to a feather-bed landing. At a signal from the Operations +Tower, he trundled the bomber in toward the small Administration +Building. There he killed his engines completely, took a deep breath, +and relaxed in the seat. A glance at the instrument clock showed that he +had been in the air for a little over twelve hours, but the way his +numbed body felt, it was as though he had been in the air for over +twelve hundred hours. + +"So this is Casablanca," he murmured, and absently unsnapped his safety +harness. "Well, I sure want to give it a look, but not right now. No, +sir! For the next thirty-six hours, and maybe longer, all I want is a +nice soft bed!" + +"Make that two, if you please!" Freddy Farmer added, and put a hand to +his mouth to cover the yawn he could no longer hold back. "Just +a--Oh-oh! Here comes a high-ranker in very much of a hurry. Now what, I +wonder?" + +Dawson looked toward the Administration Building and saw a trim major +general of the Air Force running toward the B-25. By the time he reached +it, Colonel Welsh was out of the plane. The two officers exchanged hasty +salutes, and the major general started to take Colonel Welsh by the arm +and lead him away. The colonel held back, however, nodded at the bomber +and said something. The major general nodded in reply and made a waving +motion with one hand. Then the pair turned and hurried over to the +Administration Building and disappeared inside. + +"Well, how do you like that?" Dawson gasped. "What about that wounded +pilot aft?" + +"That's why the colonel stopped," Freddy Farmer replied, and poked a +finger to the right. "Here comes the ambulance now. Let's get back and +see if we can lend them a hand. After all, this is his aircraft." + +"Right; let's go," Dawson agreed, and pushed his stiff body out of the +seat. "The least we can do is wish him all kinds of luck." + +They made their way back to the compartment where the wounded pilot was +resting on blankets laid out on the floorboards. There was some color in +his face, now, and his neck and the upper part of his chest was swathed +in bandages. Gathered about him were the members of his crew, each +trying to keep from looking at the blanket-covered body of the co-pilot +that lay on the far side of the compartment. + +Dawson crouched beside the wounded pilot and grinned cheerfully. + +"Lucky guy, Captain," he said. "A nice hospital, pretty nurses, and +swell food for you. How's for changing places, huh?" + +"I'll let you know after I've tried it for once," the other said, and +matched the grin. "And, Dawson--" + +"Yes, fellow," Dave prompted. + +"I'm a dope, Dawson," the pilot said. "I want to apologize for that +crack I made about losing a brother in a night torpedoing. It sure +turned out different. I didn't know the score, you see, so I thought you +were just--Well, I mean--" + +"Skip it, fellow, skip it," Dawson smiled, and gently pressed the +other's arm. "I didn't know the score myself, so I was just whistling in +the dark. But forget it, Skipper! You had a perfect right to think as +you did. Now here's the ambulance, so I'll stop talking. Good luck, +fellow. And if we can work it, we'll come say howdy to you in the +hospital. Good luck, anyway!" + +"Yes, a million in luck, old thing!" Freddy Farmer added as he stood +smiling down at the man. + +"I've already had the million in luck, thanks to you two," the pilot +said, as the ambulance medico came climbing into the B-25. "Be sure and +come see me, if you can. I want to thank you for bringing the ship +through. I'm kind of fond of her, you see, and--Well, you know how it +is, eh?" + +Both Dawson and Farmer nodded gravely. Being pilots, they knew exactly +how a fellow felt about his aircraft. Made of metal, and plastics, and +wood, and fabric, to be sure. But to its pilot, it was something human +and full of understanding. Something that couldn't be put into words, +because there are no words in any language that can adequately describe +the feeling a pilot holds in his heart for his plane. Dawson and Farmer +simply nodded gravely, and gave a hand in lifting the wounded man out of +the bomber and putting him in the ambulance. + +"A nice guy," Dave murmured as the ambulance pulled away. "I sure am +going to visit him if I get the chance." + +"Yes, and me too, if!" Freddy Farmer murmured. + +The remark caused Dawson to turn his head and glance sharply at his pal. + +"And just what do you mean by that?" he demanded. + +Young Farmer shrugged and nodded toward the Administration Building. +"That chap headed our way," he said. "I've a bit of a hunch that +something is up." + +"Huh?" Dawson gasped. "What--" + +He let the rest go as a field orderly came up on the run and saluted +smartly. "Colonel Welsh's compliments, Captains Dawson and Farmer," the +orderly said. "He asks that you report to him in the commanding +general's office in an hour." + +"An _hour_?" Dawson choked out, and then caught himself. "Very good, +Sergeant," he said hastily. "We'll be there." + +The orderly saluted and retreated toward the Administration Building. +Dawson groaned softly. + +"One hour, and off we go again! How much sleep can a fellow catch in an +hour, I'd like to know?" + +"About sixty minutes' worth," Freddy Farmer murmured. "Frankly, I prefer +to spend that time eating. Let's go hunt up the Officers' Mess." + +Dawson started to speak, thought better of it, and dropped into step +with Freddy. One hour, huh? And then what? But he was much too tired and +hungry to bother guessing up some answers. What would happen, would +happen. And, after all, what was one more hour in this mysterious +business? + +What was one more hour? The gods of war on high could have told him. +They could have told him it was just one more hour in which the Grim +Reaper could steal closer and make ready to strike a blow that would +stun the entire civilized world! + + + + +CHAPTER FOURTEEN + +_Goering's Snoopers_ + + +"Anything else I can get you, sir?" + +Dawson glanced up at the mess orderly standing by the table, shook his +head, and smiled. + +"No thanks, Corporal," he said. "I've had all I can hold. How about you, +Freddy?" + +"I'm finished, too," the English youth said with a contented sigh. "That +hit the spot, Corporal. My compliments." + +"Thank you, sir," the mess orderly said, and beamed his pleasure. + +"Tell me, where is everybody, Corporal?" Dawson asked, and waved a hand +at the empty mess room. "Out on patrol?" + +"Oh, no, sir," the orderly explained. "This is only a stop-over base for +pilots and equipment headed for the front. We don't fly any patrols from +here, sir, though a few of the pilots have been taking a whack at +Goering's Snoopers, whenever they get close enough." + +"_Goering's Snoopers?_" Dawson echoed with a puzzled look. "Do you mean +Nazi bombing raids on this place?" + +"No, sir," the other replied promptly. "And that's the funny part of it, +too. Not one of them has come within gun range of this place. Fact is, +only once since they started their funny business three days ago, have +we seen them. Then they were so high, they were no more than dots. I +heard one of the pilots say, though, that they were long-range Junkers. +Goering's Snoopers, we call them, because they seem to hang around all +the time, but do nothing. I wish we did have a regular squadron of +fighter planes here, though. Those Junkers get on my nerves. A darn +funny business, if you ask me, sir." + +Neither Dawson nor Farmer made any comment for a moment. They simply +exchanged glances, and each knew what the other was thinking. Thinking +of the mysterious flock of Junkers Ju-88's they had seen a hundred +miles or so off the coast. + +"Phantom ships, eh, Corporal?" Dawson finally spoke. "Any of the pilots +who went up after them lucky enough to nail one?" + +"Yes, I think so, sir," the orderly replied with a nod. "Day before +yesterday they say a P-38 pilot got one of them. It was way inland near +Marrakech. I heard the pilot had just enough gas to get back. It's +pretty bad country in these parts for forced landing, you know, sir." + +"But doesn't the C.O. know where the bombers are based?" Freddy Farmer +spoke up. "They're not coming here all the way from Tunisia, are they?" + +"I couldn't say, sir," the orderly replied with a shrug. "All I know is +what I hear around the base. There aren't many of us here. The base +isn't in full swing yet. But it won't be long, and then maybe we'll have +a fighter squadron here, in case them Nazis try to really start +something. Funny about them Snoopers starting to show up three days ago. +It doesn't make sense. But what does in this screwy war?" + +Neither Dawson nor Farmer had an answer for that one, so they just +shrugged, and pushed back their chairs. + +"Well, thanks for the fine meal, Corporal," Dawson said, and tossed a +bill on the table. "Here, have a time for yourself when you get a pass +to town." + +"I sure will, and thanks, Captain!" the orderly gulped when he saw the +amount of Dawson's tip. "Thanks a lot, sir. And I hope I'll be here next +time you pass through." + +"So do I, Corporal," Dawson smiled as he headed for the door. "And good +luck." + +"The same to you, sir!" the other called after him. "The same to you +both!" + +Outside the mess, Dawson glanced at his wrist watch and saw that it was +just about time to report to Colonel Welsh in the field commandant's +office. + +"Let's go, Freddy," he said. "What do you think of Goering's Snoopers? I +guess we spotted some of them, huh?" + +"No doubt," the English youth replied, and frowned. "And a very queer +business, if you ask me. Do you suppose, Dave--" + +"I wouldn't know," Dawson said as Farmer paused and frowned all the +harder. "But you may be right. I mean that the Nazis have got wind of +something, and Goering's Snoopers are sort of keeping an eye on things. +If so, that's not so good. Do you get what I mean?" + +"I do, and I agree with you completely," Freddy replied at once. "But +how in the world--Oh, blast it! I'm tired of trying to figure out +riddles!" + +They left it at that and walked in silence to the Administration +Building. A sentry met them just inside the door, learned their names, +and led them at once to the office of Major General Hawker, commanding +officer of the recently established U. S. Air Forces Base. The two +youths were admitted at once, and as Dawson looked at Colonel Welsh +seated to one side of the huge desk, his heart gave a nervous leap and +tried to slide up into his throat. The Intelligence Chief's face looked +like that of a ghost. Rather, it looked like the face of a man worried +sick; worried so sick he was seeing ghosts. However, with a tremendous +effort Colonel Welsh gravely presented the two air aces to Major General +Hawker who welcomed them with a smile and a few well chosen words. His +face, too, showed the nervous strain under which he was suffering. +Dawson, glancing from one to the other, felt the old familiar eerie +tingle at the back of his neck. The old eerie tingling that had never in +the past failed to serve as a warning of danger and death in the +immediate future. + +"Be seated, gentlemen, please," the major general was saying, and +gesturing a hand toward a couple of chairs. "I--Well, Colonel, I believe +you'd better begin the talking, anyway. These two officers have been +working with you since the start of things. So go right ahead, sir." + +Colonel Welsh nodded his thanks to the general and stared at Dawson and +Farmer with eyes haggard from worry and fear. + +"Bad news for us," he said bluntly. "The thing we tried to prevent has +come to pass in spite of our efforts. Where the leak is, I don't know. +Maybe I'll never find out. But that is not important, now. What is +important is the fact that the Nazis have learned of the war conference +to be held in Casablanca. In short, the Nazis know that President +Roosevelt is coming to Casablanca!" + +"You're sure, sir?" Dawson blurted out as the colonel paused for breath. + +"As sure as it's necessary to be," the Intelligence officer replied, +tight-lipped. Leaning forward, he tapped a map spread out on the top of +the desk. "Take a look at this and tell me what it means to you." + +Both Dawson and Farmer left their chairs to study the map. It was a +large-sized navigation map that included the eastern shores of the two +American continents and the western shores of the European and African +continents. The map was creased in many places, and there were many +smears of grease on its surface to indicate it had been used +considerably. What caught and instantly held Dawson's attention, and +Farmer's also, were the many penciled markings and notes on the map. At +first glance, they didn't mean much, but on second glance, their full +meaning was revealed. It was very startling, to say the least. + +Dawson jerked up his head and stared in half-stunned amazement at +Colonel Welsh. + +"This is an air navigator's chart, sir!" he exclaimed. "With a dozen +different courses plotted out from the States, from South America, and +from England, to here. _To Casablanca!_" + +"That's right," the Colonel said soberly. "Every course plotted on that +chart _ends_ at Casablanca! If you look closer, you will see where the +Nazi owner of that chart has penciled in the area off the coast of +Morocco that he patrolled." + +"Nazi owner, sir?" Freddy Farmer choked out. "You mean--" + +The English-born air ace stumbled over his words, and before he could +start over again, Colonel Welsh answered him. + +"That's right, Farmer. That chart was taken from the body of a dead Nazi +pilot, whose bomber was shot down in the Atlas Mountains about two +hundred miles from here." + +"One of Goering's Snoopers, eh?" Dawson murmured absently. + +Major General Hawker stiffened and glanced at him sharply. + +"What's that, Dawson?" the senior officer asked. "Where'd you hear about +Goering's Snoopers?" + +"The Officers' Mess orderly was telling us, sir," Dawson explained. "He +said there has been a group of Nazi bombers hanging around this base for +the last three days, but not too close. He said that your pilots had +nicknamed them Goering's Snoopers." + +"Oh, I see," the major general said with a nod. "That's right, they +certainly are Snoopers. But they'll be a whole lot _more_ than that--if +they get their chance!" + +The senior office emphasized the last by rapping a clenched fist on the +desk. + +"Then you know what they're up to, sir?" Dawson asked quickly. "I +suppose the colonel told you that we sighted them off shore? Is their +base near here, sir?" + +Dawson would have asked more questions, but the major general raised a +hand for silence and looked at Colonel Welsh. + +"Do you want me to do the talking, Colonel?" he asked. "Or would you +rather?" + +"No, go right ahead, sir," Colonel Welsh replied with a shake of his +head. "After all, you've been right here where it's all been going on. +Go right ahead, sir." + +Major General Hawker grunted and stared down at the desk top for a +moment, as though taking time out to choose his words. Presently he +looked up at Dawson and Farmer. Both youths were a little startled by +the glitter of seething anger in his eyes. + +"The North African campaign has progressed so rapidly and so +successfully," he began, "that we're way ahead of ourselves, you might +say. I mean that we've been so busy doing the big things that we've had +to let much detail work slide. For example, this base wasn't to be ready +for another month yet, but it is in operation right now. It has been for +the last three or four weeks. However, it is simply a port through which +equipment and personnel pass on the way to the battle fronts. The +working staff is very small, and we have no squadron, or even a flight +of planes and pilots of our own. I mean, based here for our protection. +That, of course, is because every plane and pilot is needed at the +front. Those of us who are behind the front must shift as best we can, +until there comes a lull in the main battle, and we've the time to start +tucking in the ends." + +The major general paused for breath. + +"So far, I've only given you a picture of conditions here," he continued +presently. "Well, about ten days ago I was secretly informed through +Colonel's Welsh's office that the President and Mr. Churchill were going +to hold a war conference here at Casablanca. Naturally, I kept that +secret. However, the Nazis must have got hold of that news somehow, +either here or in Washington. We'll probably never know which. Three +days ago those Junkers long-range bombers started putting in an +appearance. At first, I thought they were after convoys, but pilots who +sighted them off shore reported that they either kept at a safe +distance, or raced away to hide in the clouds before our planes could +reach them. In short, they did everything in their power to avoid air +battle. In addition, they went the limit to prevent any of our planes +from _following them back to their base_." + +"Just what do you mean by that, sir?" Dawson asked with a puzzled frown. + +The major general reached out a hand and tapped a finger on the +navigator's chart on the desk. + +"That plane and its crew were deliberately sacrificed so that the others +could get away," he said. "It happened yesterday morning. A Lockheed +Lightning pilot happened to be in the air, and he sighted the Snoopers +off shore. He requested permission by radio to give chase and engage +them. That permission was granted. The Snoopers had a good start on him, +however, and there were a lot of clouds, so the Lockheed pilot was +unable to catch up until the chase had gone a good two hundred miles +inland. When he started to close in, the pilot reported later, one of +the bombers dropped out of formation, turned back, and gave battle. It +put up a good fight, and by the time the Lockheed pilot had downed it, +the others had disappeared completely. Just before turning back to +fight, the German pilot dumped his full load of bombs, and they exploded +in the wilderness below. That didn't help him any. Well, the bomber +crashed, and _no one bailed out_! That struck the Lockheed pilot as +being queer and as there was some smooth ground close by, he landed to +take a look at his victim. He said it was not a pretty sight. _But_ +there were only three aboard, whereas a Junkers Ju-88 usually has a crew +of at least six. Not one of those three had made any attempt to leave +the plane as it fell earthward. Do you know why?" + +The senior officer paused and seemed to wait. + +"No, sir," Freddy Farmer spoke up impulsively. "Why, sir?" + +"Because there were _no_ parachute packs aboard the plane!" the other +replied at once. "In fact, the plane was stripped bare of everything +that was not absolutely essential to flying and fighting. There were no +identification papers on any of the crew, though the Lockheed pilot +could tell from decoration ribbons that all were veteran airmen. There +was nothing except this navigation chart. The Lockheed pilot said that +one of the men was holding it as though he had been about to destroy it, +but was stopped by the crash. By that I mean, in one hand he clutched +the chart and in the other a cigarette lighter. Anyway, the Lockheed +pilot brought the map back to me, and as soon as I took one look at it +I knew the reason for the constant patrolling of those Nazi bombers. I +know exactly what they are." + +"It sounds like a suicide outfit to me," Dawson murmured as the major +general paused. "They must be waiting for the President and his party to +arrive. Then they'll let go with the whole works, to say nothing of +their own lives." + +"There's no doubt about it!" Major General Hawker agreed grimly. "I'm as +convinced of that as though they had come and told me so. If they know +_when_ the President and Mr. Churchill will arrive, I don't know. +Perhaps they will receive that signal from somebody right here in +Casablanca. The way they have let convoys alone and have avoided air +battle, at the deliberate sacrifice of one of their own, is proof +positive that they are waiting for the one big opportunity. And even +though the President's life, and Mr. Churchill's life, were spared, the +loss of other lives would be almost as disastrous to the Allied cause. +In short, so long as that German suicide squadron remains in existence, +a terrible danger hangs over the entire civilized world. No matter how +many planes we have protecting the President and his party, some of +those bombers would be bound to get through." + +"But their base, sir, wherever it is?" Dawson spoke up as the other +paused. "If you could only find it, and--" + +"Exactly the point!" the major general interrupted. "If we could only +_find it_! The only thing I've got here that could out-fly the Junkers +Ju-88 is a Lightning. But the main difficulty is that I have no pilots I +can order out on such a mission. I mean, should they find the base and +radio its position, they wouldn't have fuel enough left to return. +They'd force land in the mountain wilderness and eventually die of +starvation or the heat. We've _got_ to destroy those planes--and _within +the next thirty-six hours!_" + +"Thirty-six hours, sir?" Dawson echoed, as his heart started to pound +against his ribs. + +The major general looked at him gravely, and nodded. + +"Yes," he said. "Just ten minutes before your plane landed I received +code word from Washington that the President and his party are _already +on the way to Casablanca!_" + +"Good gosh!" Dawson gasped before he could check himself. "Only +thirty-six hours and then Goering's snooping suicides can do their +stuff? Or try to do it? But--" + +Dawson suddenly checked himself and looked at Freddy Farmer. For a long +moment their eyes met, and then they nodded impulsively. Dawson turned +to Major General Hawker. + +"With your permission, sir," he said quietly, "Farmer and I would like +to locate that base and radio its position so that our bombers could go +over and wipe it out." + +As Dawson finished speaking, silence settled over the room. Colonel +Welsh broke it as he addressed his words to Major General Hawker. + +"Just what I told you, sir," he said. "And by God, they'll find it, +too--Bless them both!" + + + + +CHAPTER FIFTEEN + +_Death Takes Wing_ + + +For the tenth time, Dave Dawson checked his position and made absolutely +sure that he was where he was supposed to be. For the tenth time, +countless fears shot through his brain to taunt and jeer at him. He +wasn't at the agreed rendezvous point. His navigation was all cockeyed. +He was a hundred miles north of the point. He was a hundred miles south +of it. He was-- + +"Cut it out, fellow!" he ordered himself. "This is a fine time for you +to go haywire! You're simply here ahead of time. Your watch tells you +that. Freddy was held up a bit, that's all. Maybe he ran into a bit of +weather, or something. Maybe--" + +Or something? But what? That was the question! Freddy Farmer could fly +through the toughest weather made. He was that kind of pilot. It was +crazy to think that weather would hold up Freddy. But where was he? Why +wasn't he here? + +These tantalizing questions pounded in Dawson's brain like the booming +of big guns. He clenched his teeth and gripped the controls of the +Lockheed Lightning so tightly that the knuckles of his hands showed +white through the skin. That this was perhaps the last flight he might +ever make didn't bother him much. What did was the fear that Freddy and +he might fail in the successful completion of this vitally important +mission. And that fear was doubled when he realized that the odds were +all against them. Yesterday when they had volunteered for the job Major +General Hawker had told them in no uncertain terms that their chances of +finding the secret Nazi bomber base were about one in a thousand, and +their chances of coming back alive were about one in a million. + +Yes, the odds were all against them, but that didn't matter. They'd had +the odds against them before and had won out. So right after leaving +Major General Hawker's office they had selected two Lockheed Lightnings +on the field and flight tested them thoroughly. By then darkness had +settled, so they had gone to one of the field hutments and tumbled into +bed with their clothes on, so that there would be no waste of time in +case they had to make a night take-off in a hurry. + +Good fortune was theirs, however. They each had twelve solid hours of +sleep before word came that Nazi bombers were sighted off the coast. +Five minutes later they were both in the air, but instead of flying out +to sea, they carried out a prearranged flight plan. Dawson had flown +northward to circle around to the east and then southward to a point +over the middle of the Atlas Mountains. And Farmer had flown south with +the idea of circling eastward, and then up north to rendezvous with +Dawson. One of them would be sure to cross the path of the Nazis winging +back to their secret base. The instant one of them spotted the Nazis he +would code call the other over his radio and give his position and +course. The other would head that way at once, join up, and together +they would trail the Nazis to their base, and then code call Casablanca +where a hastily assembled squadron of American bombers was waiting. + +Yes, a very carefully thought out plan of action, except for one flaw. +And that one flaw was making itself known right now as Dawson coasted +the Lockheed about in the North African sky over the prearranged +rendezvous point. In short, he had not seen the Nazi bombers, and he had +not heard so much as a whisper over the radio, though he had called +Freddy Farmer several times for a check. No bombers! Radio silence since +Casablanca! So-- + +"So," Dave said to himself as he tried to still the fearful pounding of +his heart, "So something has happened to Freddy! He's bumped into +trouble, and his radio went haywire on him. Or he's lost and has missed +the Nazis completely. Or--or he's dead!" + +Dawson hardly realized that he had spoken the words until they were out. +Their echo in his ears caused his mouth and throat to go dry, and +fingers of ice to curl about his heart. He shook his head savagely and +pounded one clenched fist on his knee. + +"Stop it!" he ranted at himself. "Don't even let yourself think of it, +you dope! Freddy will show up, or call you. He's just got to. He's--" + +He cut the rest off short and stiffened in his seat as he caught sight +of a plane ripping through the air toward him. As he opened his mouth to +let out a shout of joy at meeting up again with Freddy Farmer, his +breath stuck in his throat. + +"But that can't be Freddy!" he mumbled as he squinted his eyes at the +oncoming plane. "That plane is coming from the east, and Freddy would be +coming up from the south. And--Hey! My gosh! That--that plane is +_German_! It's a Messerschmitt 109, a Nazi fighter plane, and heading +right my way!" + +He cut off the last with a vigorous shake of his head, as though to +clear his vision. However, when he took another look, the plane was +still a Nazi Messerschmitt 109, and it was still racing straight toward +him from out of the east. A moment later, though, just as Dawson +instinctively slid the guard off the electric trigger button of his +guns, the on-streaking Messerschmitt swerved southward, and its nose +went slanting up in a climb. + +"What the heck?" Dawson cried, as a faint sensation of disappointment +rippled through him. "Is he getting cold feet so soon? Or didn't he see +me?" + +A couple of moments later, his last thought seemed to be proven true. +The Messerschmitt pilot leveled off after he had climbed a couple of +thousand feet, and Dawson could tell by the decrease in the plane's +speed that the pilot has eased back to cruising throttle. No more than a +couple of miles separated the two aircraft now, and though the +Messerschmitt was perhaps three thousand feet higher than the Lockheed, +Dawson knew that he could close in on the Nazi in no time, if he wished +to. + +That was just the point. Where a few moments ago he had been ready and +eager for battle, he was now filled with a sense of caution. For one +thing, what was a Nazi ME 109 doing over the Atlas Mountains? Was it +close to its base--the same base used by the mysterious Junkers +bombers--or was the pilot lost and wandering about in the North African +heavens hundreds and hundreds of miles from where he should be? And for +another thing, why hadn't the Nazi spotted him? Was the pilot dead, and +was the aircraft simply flying itself until it ran out of gas? + +"Or is this a smart trick, and I'm too dumb to catch on?" Dawson +muttered the next thought aloud, and stared at the other plane that was +now circling slowly about in the air. "Is he waiting for me to come +piling in, because he has some special surprise package waiting, or +what?" + +As he mulled over the question in an effort to guess at an answer that +might be close to the truth, the Yank air ace searched the surrounding +skies. However, if he expected to see any other planes in the heavens, +he was doomed to disappointment. As far as he could see in every +direction there was nothing but sun-tinted blue North African sky and a +few mountains of clouds piled up here and there. + +"Maybe _I'm_ nuts!" he groaned, and gave a little shake of his head. +"Maybe I'm just seeing things. Or maybe I'm asleep and dreaming, but +don't realize it. Well, one German less is one German less, I always +say. So here goes for that bird tooting around up there. He'll--Well, +for cat's sake! Now what?" + +The last was because the Messerschmitt pilot had suddenly ceased his +coasting around and had swung onto a course due south at an increased +speed. And though Dawson gaped and stared in amazement, he let no "sky +grass" grow under his feet. He instantly swung south and opened up his +two Allison engines, but continued to maintain his altitude of some +three thousand feet below the other plane. + +For a full five minutes, the Nazi rocketed south with Dawson some two +miles behind him and holding steadily to the pace. At the end of that +five minutes, though, the Messerschmitt reached the edges of one of the +towering mountains of clouds in the sky. Impulsively, Dave opened his +throttles so that he would not lose the Messerschmitt in the clouds. The +action was unnecessary for the German pilot swerved to the east just +before he came to the clouds. Once again his abrupt change of speed +showed that he had eased back to throttle cruising. + +Anger took the place of amazement in Dawson, and he was on the point of +slamming up to give battle to the Messerschmitt, when suddenly twelve +Junkers 88 long-range bombers came sliding out from under the mountain +of cloud, looking for all the world as though they were rolling their +wheels across the peaks of the Atlas Mountains. + +So suddenly and so weirdly did they appear that for a second or so +Dawson was unable to realize what they were. When truth came to him, he +sat up stiff and straight in the seat and let out a yell of excited +relief. + +"Goering's Snoopers!" Dave cried. "There they are, the bums, as sure as +shooting! And on their way back to their base. No doubt of it, and, so +help me, that Messerschmitt must be some kind of a lone escort come out +to meet them and lead them home. Sure! There he goes sliding down, now. +But--but where is Freddy? Where is good old Freddy? He made his flight +south, so he must have crossed their path. He--!" + +He cut his own words off abruptly as a squealing noise sounded in his +earphones. It rose and fell, and rose and fell again. Although he worked +furiously over the tuning knobs of his panel set, he could get nothing +but the squeal's. That is, nothing but squeals for the next minute or +two. Then, suddenly, the squealing sound stopped, and a single spoken +word came through as clear as a bell. + +"Noswad!" + +That single word made Dave's heart pound furiously, because it was his +own last name spelled backwards; because it was the signal call Freddy +Farmer was to use when getting in radio contact with him. No sooner had +he heard the code call spoken once, than the squealing sound filled his +ears again. Whether it was Freddy's set or his that had gone haywire, he +could not tell at the moment. He simply put his lips to his own mike and +shouted Freddy's code call at the top of his voice. + +"Remraf! Remraf!" he shouted. "Can you hear me, Remraf? Over!" + +The only reply that he received was the continued squeal in his +earphones. Once again he called Freddy, but the result was the same. +Impulsively, he checked his own set as best he could, but found nothing +wrong with it. As a matter of fact, to make definitely sure that his own +set was in perfect working order, he sent out a signal call to +Casablanca Base and instantly received a reply that came in loud and +clear. + +"So that settles that," he grunted. "Freddy's set has gone haywire. He +probably picked up those Snoopers long ago and hasn't been able to +contact me up to now. He's around. I can't see him, but he must be +around somewhere doing his job of trailing those Snoopers back to their +base. With his eagle eyes, I'll bet a million bucks _he_ can see _me_!" + +His heart overflowing with joy at the knowledge that Freddy Farmer was +alive and still flying, Dawson left his set tuned as fine as possible +and gave all of his attention to the Messerschmitt-led air cavalcade of +Junkers 88's that was sliding through the air over the mountain peaks. +They were all well below Dawson's altitude now, and all he had to do was +to throttle to their speed and hug the sides of the cloud banks. True, +there was a small chance that he might be sighted, silhouetted against +the clouds as he was, but that was the chance he had to take. If he was +sighted, he knew that it would be the Messerschmitt 109 that would turn +back to drive him off, and so he kept his gaze on that plane and paid +little or no attention to the bombers. + +Eastward and then southward the Nazi planes flew, and then at the end of +some thirty-five minutes, they changed their course to the east again, +and then northward. Most of the Atlas Range was out of sight now. Ahead +lay barren country that looked as though nothing, not even a blade of +grass, had ever lived there. Farther ahead was the border line between +Morocco and French Algeria, but of course there was nothing to mark it. +Nothing, for as far as the eye could see there was only wasteland. These +barren lands of the western rim of the Sahara Desert seemed to shimmer +and tremble in the blistering heat of the sun. Even the banks of clouds +were gone now. They had been left over the Atlas Mountains, and the sun +blazing down made Dawson's throttles feel like red hot pokers, despite +the fact that he was some twelve thousand feet in the air. + +As a matter of fact, the constant glare of the sun, and the intense +concentration on the Nazi formation ahead and below him strained his +eyes to the utmost, and he began to see crazy objects and shapes that +were no longer there when he took a second look. + +It was because of this that he paid little or no attention to a +gray-green blur that appeared on the barren earth just ahead of the Nazi +planes. That is, he gave it scant attention until he suddenly realized +that the Nazi pilots had cut their throttles, and in follow-the-leader +style were circling around and down toward that gray-green blurr. +Shoving up his goggles, he dug knuckles into his smarting eyes, then +impulsively leaned forward as though that bit of movement would afford +him a better look. + +But whether or not it did, he certainly saw more than he had the first +time. The gray-green blur was a small group of shrub-covered hills that +rose right up out of the desert. That it was some kind of an oasis was +evident by the patches of pale green here and there. + +One thing was definite, however. To Dawson it was the only thing that +mattered. That gray-green patch on the seemingly limitless expanse of +shimmering and quivering Sahara was the secret base of Goering's +Snoopers! He had found it! There it was! The first two of the bombers +were already on the ground on the eastern fringe of the gray-green +patch. They looked like beetles as they moved along over the ground. + +A wild, fierce joy surged up in Dawson as he stared down at the place, +but when he happened to glance at his fuel gauges, a tiny icy shiver +went through him, and his joy was tempered by cold, hard reality. He had +fuel for about another half hour in the air. Fuel enough to take him a +fraction of the distance back to his Casablanca base. What he had +expected had happened, but only now did the full significance of it +descend upon him. + +"But we found it!" he shouted wildly as he put his lips to his flap mike +and reached out to tune his set to the Casablanca Base wave length. "And +that's what matters most. Now to tell Casablanca and--" + +At that moment Dawson's ears were filled with the savage yammer of +aerial machine guns and air cannon, above and behind him! + + + + +CHAPTER SIXTEEN + +_Blazing Doom_ + + +One, two, three seconds slipped by before Dawson could move a single +muscle. It was as though invisible hands of steel held him powerless. +Only his eyes and brain seemed able to function in that short space of +time. His eyes saw the top left section of his glass hatch melt away as +if by magic. His brain told him the shambles that was suddenly made of +his instrument board and radio panel would never in all this world +permit him to contact his Casablanca base. The golden moment had +come--and gone. + +Keeping alive was his prime concern now. The Grim Reaper was savagely +striving to cut life short for one Yank air ace! + +In three seconds Dave Dawson became a flying madman. Instinct, and +instinct alone, caused him to whirl the Lockheed up, over, and down in a +half roll. Hardly had he started the maneuver, than he kicked the ship +over on wing and came around back and straight up toward the sun-filled +sky. Not until he had reached the peak of his power zoom did he take so +much as a second for a look around. But now he did race his eyes about +the sky, and rage boiled up within him as he saw three German +Messerschmitt 109's pulling out of furious power dives, and prop clawing +around and up in an effort to "box" him in a perfect cross fire. + +"Not today!" he thundered wildly, and dropped the nose of his Lockheed. +"You had one swell chance, because I was too dumb a sap to think of +keeping eyes in the back of my head. That's the only chance you'll get. +You didn't make good, and now it's my turn. Hey! You there on the right! +How do you like _this_ for a tasty dish?" + +As he shouted the words, he touched right rudder a bit and slammed down +almost at the vertical, straight for one of the power-zooming +Messerschmitts. The German pilot must have thought that ramming was the +one idea Dawson had in mind, because the Nazi plane suddenly fell over +on its side and started to circle away to avoid a mid-air crash. But +ramming was not Dawson's idea. No, not while he had slugs for his aerial +machine guns and shells for his air cannon. However, he waited until the +last second before he gave the Nazi aircraft everything the Lockheed +had. The almost instantaneous result indicated that it was much, much +more than enough. One minute the Messerschmitt was curving away, and the +next it just wasn't there any more. That is to say, it was just a shower +of flaming and smoking embers falling away to the sun-scorched Sahara +far below. + +"One!" Dawson bellowed, and cut his fire. + +Yes, one! And that left two others in the sky. However, those two were +crafty veterans of the _Luftwaffe_, and they had not been wasting time. +Nor had their actions been with the idea of getting away from the wild, +mad flying Yank eagle. On the contrary, they had simply maneuvered to +await their time. And that time came as Dawson cut his fire and started +to wheel up out of his thunderous power dive. + +As he started up, those two let fly at him. Maybe both hit the mark, or +maybe one of them missed completely. But what did it matter? The mark +was hit, and the "mark" was Dawson's plane. The air all about him seemed +suddenly alive with tracer smoke, and the Lockheed Lightning acted as +though it was about to fly right out from under Dave. He was hurled back +against the headrest with a force that filled his head with winking +stars. Then the Lockheed whipped up over on its back, dropped its nose +and headed straight down like a meteor gone berserk. Thunder roared in +his ears, and before his eyes exploded and flashed all the color +combinations in the world. In his nose was the acrid stench of smoke. + +"Your turn, this time, pal!" he heard his own voice shout, as he went +hurtling downward. "No! No, it isn't, darn it! _You're_ not hit. +_You're_ okay! Hit the silk, you dope! Bail out! Hit the silk! If you--" + +He choked off the rest, or rather fear choked off his words, as he +suddenly heard the renewed bursts of savage aerial machine-gun fire. His +ship shot to ribbons, and falling to earth in flames, yet those two Nazi +vultures were still pumping death at him. + +"But why not?" he reasoned. "They're Nazis, aren't they? What else would +you expect these killing rats to do?" + +Even as the thought slipped across his brain, a new one crowded close on +its heels. Rather, it was a realization. The realization that there was +not one bit of pain in his body as he struggled to free himself from the +burning Lockheed. And also that no ribbons of tracer smoke were cutting +past him. So what were the Nazis shooting at? At each other, or-- + +Before he could finish the question he had managed to fight his way up +out of the pit, and dived headlong into sun-filled thin air. But it was +not his own movements that stopped his unfinished thought. On the +contrary, it was the sight of a wingless Messerschmitt 109 hurtling down +to its doom about three hundred yards from where his own body seemed to +hang in mid air. + +"Hey!" he gasped. "Did I get another one? Did I get two, and I'm just +finding out? But how the--" + +And he didn't finish that question either. He didn't, because at that +exact instant the gods of war, as though angered by the fact that he +still lived, tried one last time to finish him off. At any rate, at that +exact moment a piece of his riddled Lockheed Lightning flew off. +Straight and true as a ball pitcher's perfect strike it cut across the +air space toward him. He actually saw it coming out of the corner of his +eye, and he tried to duck as his body slowly tumbled end over end +downward. But he didn't succeed in ducking, or he didn't duck in time. +Something hit him a smashing blow on the side of his head, and the +entire North African sky blew up in a thunderous roar of sound! + +When consciousness returned to Dawson his first hazy impression was that +he was floating about in the middle of a great sea of black ink. But no, +not everything was that black. At regular intervals a faint yellowish +orange glow appeared before his eyes. But before he could get a good +look at it the glow faded away out of sight. Instinctively he tried to +get his brain to function; to get it to figure out what everything was +all about. However, for a long time he somehow just couldn't force his +brain to make that effort. He simply lived in a world of hazy snatches +of thought, and inky darkness lighted now and then by a yellowish orange +glow. + +Eventually, as though secret curtains had been pulled away inside his +head, memory came slipping back, and he began to discover and realize +things. The first realization was that he was hanging suspended in +mid-air and slowly swaying this way and that. The second realization was +that the darkness was the darkness of night. The third realization was +that there was a dull throbbing on the left side of his head. And the +fourth, and perhaps the most important realization of all, was that he +was dangling at the ends of the shroud lines of his parachute, which was +hopelessly fouled in the crooked and gnarled branches of a scrub tree. +By throwing his head way back he could look upward and see his fouled +'chute and the tree branches silhouetted against the billions of stars +that twinkled at him from high overhead. And when he looked down he saw +that rocky ground was not over three feet from the soles of his flying +boots. + +That realization filled him with great joy, but it also made him gulp, +and caused beads of cold sweat to break out on his forehead. Never as +long as he lived would he be able to remember that he actually had +pulled the rip-cord ring of his parachute whether or not that flying bit +of Lockheed wreckage caught him on the side of the head. But he must +have done that little thing, and by the grace of God and Lady Luck he +had not been allowed to strike ground while still unconscious. To have +done so, to have hit ground without being prepared for the landing +shock would unquestionably have resulted in a couple of broken ankles, +if not legs. Particularly because of the rocky soil under him. However, +one chance in a billion had come to pass, and his journey earthward had +been checked in the nick of time by the crooked and gnarled branches of +the scrub tree. + +"Or maybe it's just a dream!" he whispered hoarsely as he fumbled at the +snaps of his parachute harness. "Maybe it's just a cockeyed dream, and +I'm going to wake up stone dead!" + +The words he spoke, however, were just a means of letting off pent up +steam. He got the 'chute harness snaps undone, grabbed the straps with +both hands and slowly lowered himself until his feet touched solid +earth. However, his body had experienced so much swaying motion that his +sense of balance was all upset. And no sooner did his feet touch, and +had he let go of the harness straps, than he fell stumbling down onto +his hands and knees, and his brain started to spin furiously. + +For the next few moments he was content to sit on the solid earth and +wait for his brain to stop spinning and for fresh strength to flow back +into his body. Then finally he slowly arose and peered about in the +darkness. Just where he had come to earth he hadn't the faintest idea, +but it seemed a good guess that he must be somewhere in the region of +that weird group of shrub-covered hills that marked the spot where he +had seen those Junkers 88's go down to land. That guess caused countless +little fears to start pecking at his brain. How close to that secret +base was he? How come he had been left hanging unconscious on his +parachute shroud lines for the rest of the day? Where was Freddy Farmer? +Had Freddy really been trailing those bombers, too? Had he reported the +location to Casablanca base? Or was his radio truly dead, and did +Casablanca base still not know the truth? What time was it, anyway? Had +he been unconscious for just a few hours? Or had it been for a day and a +night, and had Goering's Snoopers already roared out from their hidden +base to do their devilish dirty work? + +Those and countless other soul-tantalizing questions whipped and spun +through his head as he searched about him in the gloom. Suddenly he +spotted the yellowish-orange glow once again. He judged it to be perhaps +a mile away, but he was unable to see the base of the glow because of a +rise in the ground. After one good look, though, he knew that it was +flame. Rather, a column of flame-tinted smoke that rose upward into the +night sky. Having seen that same sort of sight at night in other parts +of the world, he was pretty sure that the yellowish-orange glow was from +the burning wreckage of a plane. + +"Mine, or that Nazi I nailed?" he asked himself the question aloud. +"Or--Hey! I remember, now! _Two_ Nazis went down, and I know darn well +that I only got one of them. I--" + +He stopped short, caught his breath and held it as though not daring to +let himself speak. + +"Freddy?" the whisper finally came out from between his stiff lips. "Was +it Freddy who piled down and nailed that second Nazi? But--But what +then? Where did he go? What did he do? I know he didn't have fuel to get +back to Casablanca, but if _only_ his radio worked, and he was able to +tell them the story! Please, dear God, let Freddy have made good where +I--I failed." + +For a long minute he stood there motionless as though waiting for the +answer to his question to come drifting down through the night air. +Suddenly his hand flew to his holstered service gun, and he whirled +around and down in a crouch. Behind him, he had heard the crackling snap +of dry twigs, followed by the rattle of loose stones hitting together, +and the faint thud of something falling to the ground. + +With his finger crooked about the trigger, and his heart trying to +slam-bang its way out through his ribs, he waited for more sound. And +when it came to him, he didn't know whether to shout with insane joy, or +to break into crazy laughter. He didn't know which to do because the +sound he heard was a human voice; a hoarse whispering voice that was +filled with seething anger. A voice that said: + +"Blast, and eternally blast this confounded darkness!" + +For five full seconds Dawson was utterly unable to unhinge his frozen +tongue. The one-in-a-billion miracle left him completely speechless. It +seemed to knock everything out of his head and make all so unreal and +fantastic as to be absolutely impossible as an actuality. + +"Freddy! Freddy Farmer!" the words finally forced their way past his +lips. "Freddy! Can you hear me? Over here, Freddy! Over here!" + +As his voice died away to an echo, a tingling moment of silence settled +over everything. Then once again he heard Freddy Farmer's voice, like a +ghost voice from out out of the past. + +"Dave, Dave! Keep talking, old chap! I'll follow the sound of your +voice. Dave, old thing, are you all right? Don't move, Dave! Just keep +talking! I'll follow the sound of your voice!" + +"I'm okay, Freddy!" Dawson replied as hot tears of inexpressible joy +stung his eyes. "And, pal, this is the biggest moment of all, past, +present, and future. I'm over this way, kid. I can hear you now. Over +here, Freddy! Gosh, oh gosh! Am I glad to--" + +He never finished the sentence because at that moment a darker shadow +than the night suddenly materialized at his side, and in the next +instant the two air aces were hugging and thumping each other and +mumbling a lot of things that neither of them heard, much less paid +attention to. Finally, though, they ceased the greeting act and calmed +down. + +"Man, Dave!" Freddy Farmer panted. "I thought I'd never reach you. A +thousand times I swore I was lost and heading in the wrong direction. +Phew! What absolutely unbelievable luck! I'll never forget this as long +as I live. Not ever, I swear it!" + +"You and me both, Freddy!" Dave echoed the statement. "But look! You +were trailing those bombers? And it was you who nailed that +Messerschmitt right after I started down in a heap, and--But wait! Tell +me this, first. Your radio was okay, wasn't it? And you notified +Casablanca base, didn't you?" + +The air came out between young Farmer's lips in a whistling gasp, and he +grabbed hold of Dawson's arm. + +"Dave!" he choked out. "Dave! You mean _you_ didn't let them know?" + +Dawson was unable to answer for a moment. His whole body seemed to turn +into a solid chunk of ice so that he could hardly breathe. It required a +tremendous effort to get the words off his lips. + +"No, Freddy," he said. "Just as I started to tune in Casablanca, that +Messerschmitt bunch gave me the works and shot my set into splinters. +Then--then your radio _was_ out? I tried to raise you several times, but +couldn't." + +"The blasted thing went haywire after I'd been in the air only fifteen +minutes," the English youth replied. "I had half a mind to turn back to +Casablanca, but I didn't dare for fear the Junkers might be down my way. +They were. I sighted them coming in over Magador. They were hugging the +clouds. I gave them a few miles and then tagged along. I tried to raise +you, but I didn't get any answer, so I just carried on. About an hour +later I spotted you trailing a Messerschmitt. I tried to rise you again, +but still no answer. Then when we got close to here I saw those three +Messerschmitts drop down on you. I was above the lot of you, so I saw +everything. Man! I thought I'd die when you did nothing, and just let +them come down!" + +"Dumb ape that I am," Dawson said bitterly, "I was so interested in +watching the Junkers that I didn't think to keep an eye on my tail. I +heard your call once, Freddy, though I couldn't spot you. You did get +one of them, huh?" + +"I got both, with a bit of luck," young Farmer said quietly. "But not +before one of the blighters had put a bullet through my port engine's +oil line. All I could do was force land. I saw your parachute open, and +saw your silk foul in a tree near here. I tried to land as close as I +could, but messed things up something terribly. A blasted awful landing. +I was lucky not to have broken my confounded neck. I think I was knocked +out for a spell. Fact is, I'm sure of it, because it was late afternoon +when I collected my senses. I could see this bit of a hill where we are +now, so I started out for here. Good grief, what country! The Alps are +easier to cross than this bit of ground. When it got dark, it was just +three times as bad. But--Well, thank the Lord I finally reached you!" + +Dawson said nothing. He simply groped for Freddy Farmer's hand, found +it, and pressed it hard. + +"That was rotten luck for you, and just plain dumbness on my part," he +finally got out in a groan. "Those are the two reasons for our failure. +Gosh! If I had a knife, I think I'd be tempted to cut my throat. When I +think how close we came to preventing those bombers from raiding +Casablanca, I--" + +"But they haven't taken off yet, Dave!" Freddy cried excitedly. "It's +still not too late, if that's what you're thinking!" + +Young Farmer's words seemed to make Dawson's heart swell up and explode +in his chest. + +"What?" he gasped. "Haven't left yet? But it's well over the time limit, +Freddy! According to schedule, the President's party should have arrived +at Casablanca early this evening, and--" + +"Maybe it did, but the bombers haven't taken off!" young Farmer +interrupted. "While making my way here, I saw their hidden field from +some high ground. That was about an hour ago. They had a few oil pot +flares burning, and I could see the planes. All props were dead. They +haven't left yet, Dave. My guess is that the President's party has been +delayed a bit, and _they_ know it! And, Dave! There are more than just +Junkers there, too. At least half a dozen Messerschmitt single-seaters, +not counting the ones we got, and a two-seater Messerschmitt 110." + +"No kidding?" Dawson breathed, and swallowed hard. "Then that checks +with the thought I had. I mean, those bombers have a fighter escort to +protect their secret base in case a stray plane or two found it--like +what happened to us. But I think the big idea of their being here is to +sail out to give the bombers a better chance to get through when the big +moment comes. They must be 'Number Two Suicide Squad' because they'd +never get back here on the gas they carry!" + +"Absolutely!" Freddy Farmer replied at once. "No doubt of it. When the +bombers were sure of their target, they'd radio the Messerschmitts to +come on the jump and lend a hand. Dave, old thing, we're not all washed +up yet! Don't you understand?" + +"And how! I understand!" the Yank air ace said grimly, and got up onto +his feet. "Do you know the way to that secret field from here, Freddy?" + +"Yes," the other replied. "But it's about two hours of blasted hard +going. We've got to be very careful. I think the blighters have patrols +out hunting for us. I heard a few Jerry voices while I was making my way +here. By the way, that glow over there is your aircraft still burning. +Never knew a plane to burn so long." + +"So that's what it is, huh?" Dawson remarked absently. Then, reaching +out, he gripped Freddy Farmer's hand. "Let's go, pal," he said quietly. +"Don't ask me if I have any plans, because I haven't a one, yet. But +let's get to that field and decide when we get there. One thing is in +our favor, anyway. We're both still alive and kicking. If you ask me, +that's plenty for a starter!" + +"Quite!" Freddy Farmer echoed, tight-lipped. "We're both still alive, so +we're jolly well not licked yet!" + +"Check, and triple check!" Dawson grunted. "Let's go!" + + + + +CHAPTER SEVENTEEN + +_Vultures' Nest_ + + +Dawn was a faint gray line marking the point where the North African sky +met the North African Continent in the east. Just a faint gray line +heralding the coming of a new day, though the world was still shrouded +in the darkness of night. A new day. A new day of war. A new day--of +victory, or utter failure? + +The question was like a pin-point white hot flame burning in Dave +Dawson's brain as he and Freddy Farmer hugged the hard-packed ground +behind a clump of withered desert brush. Just seventy yards beyond the +desert brush was a long level strip of desert, flanked on both sides by +scrub-covered hills. Hills? They were little more than mounds of rock +and sand. As though Nature throughout the ages had thrust them up from +the bowels of the earth and covered them with scrub growth for a crazy +prank. They looked just about as natural in the middle of the Sahara as +a part of the Sahara would have looked in the middle of New York City. +Nevertheless, there they were. Another bit of the mysterious Sahara's +phenomena for man to study and wonder about. A desert oasis completely +surrounded by hills! Yet there it was for mortal eyes to view. + +However, the strange freak of Nature's handiwork held no interest +whatsoever for Dave Dawson or Freddy Farmer. What interested them +completely were the man-made things on that strip of desert valley. The +fifteen Junkers Ju-88's, the six Messerschmitt 109's and the single +two-seater Messerschmitt 110, that were pulled way back under perfect +camouflage covering on either side of the desert strip--the planes, and +the groups of shadowy figures that were walking about among them. + +For fifteen minutes the two youths had hugged the ground behind the +scrub bush and peered out at the weird yet deadly-looking scene in +silence. For one thing there was nothing to say. However, the main +reason for silence was that each was close to the point of complete +exhaustion and collapse. Not two, but three hours ago they had started +toward the spot where they now were. Those three hours had been the most +torturing and grueling of their entire lives. Three hours used to cover +a distance of but a little over a mile! Simple enough to think about, +but how far different the actual execution of that night-shrouded +journey. Cuts and bruises on their bodies were countless. Their uniforms +were in shreds and tatters, and there was an utter weariness within them +such as few men have ever experienced. A hundred times all that kept +them going over the rock-studded ground, with thorn-bush barriers every +other foot of the way, were their fighting hearts and savage +determination to win through in spite of all odds. + +And they _had_ won through, but were now forced to stretch out on the +ground and fight another battle--the battle for new strength and new +energy that would carry them forward to the most terrific struggle of +all. Yes, carry them forward to the struggle--and the successful +completion of an almost impossible task. + +"Freddy, I'm wondering," Dawson suddenly whispered, and touched the +English youth's prone body with his hand. + +"Yes, Dave?" came back the equally faint whisper. "Wondering about +what?" + +"If--" Dave began, and paused. "I mean, maybe we're all wet about this +business. There's not an engine out there ticking over, and it's darn +close to dawn. You'd think they'd be warming them up now, if they +expected to go out at a moment's notice. In other words, I'm wondering +_if_ Major General Hawker was right. If this bunch _really does_ have +any connection with the President's trip to Casablanca?" + +"I'm sure it must have, Dave," Freddy Farmer replied after a few seconds +of silence. "Everything absolutely adds up to that. In my mind, there's +no doubt about it. As for warming up the engines, the blighters are up +and about. No doubt they'll start them up any minute now. May be waiting +for a bit more light, you know. The point is, what are we--" + +The English-born air ace never finished that question. He didn't because +at that moment a figure garbed in the uniform of the Nazi _Luftwaffe_ +rushed out of a little camouflaged hut on the left side of the desert +strip and shouted orders at the top of his voice. He spoke in German, +of course, but both Dawson and Farmer knew the language, and so--and so +absolute confirmation of the truth was given them. + +"All pilots and crews report to _Herr Kommandant_ at once!" the voice +bellowed in a note of wild, frenzied excitement. "_Der Tag_ has come! +The signal has just been received from Casablanca. Your targets are +approaching there now. The American _Schweinehunds_, and the English +ones, too. _Der Tag_ has come! _Heil_ Hitler!" + +A brief moment of silence settled over everything. And then a +silence-shattering roar came from many throats. + +"_Heil_ Hitler!" + +Bombs were exploding in Dave Dawson's brain, and his heart was pumping +madly in his chest as he pushed up onto his hands and knees. + +"Freddy!" he got out in a choking gasp. "This is it! You hear what that +bird said? They've received word from some rat in Casablanca, just as +Major General Hawker thought they would. Freddy! It's up to us now, or +else! Those confounded bombers just _can't_ take off! And that's got to +be _that_!" + +"Absolutely!" the English youth echoed in a hoarse whisper. "And just +look at the blighters! Like blasted ants crawling all over those +planes, and--Dave! Do you see--" + +"Right!" Dawson cut in, and gripped his arm. "That Messerschmitt 110. +They're not touching it yet. Must be the _Kommandant's_ plane. Probably +going to tag along and watch the slaughter, but keep out of the way." + +"Yes, yes!" Freddy said excitedly. "But we--" + +"My idea all along, pal!" Dawson breathed fiercely. "That's not the rat +_Kommandant's_ baby, that's _ours_, Freddy! If we can only get it off +before they get us, we can pin the rest of those crates on the ground +like nobody's business. But, Freddy!" + +"Yes, Dave, yes?" the English youth asked impatiently. "What now?" + +"Just a thought," Dawson said in a quiet, steady voice that surprised +himself. "We'll get that baby off, and we'll raise merry heck with these +birds, even if it's the last thing we do. That's the idea! Maybe it +_will_ be the last. I have a funny feeling that we've had more than our +share of luck already. So--Well, if you'd rather we tried to swipe a +single-seater Messerschmitt apiece, so that--" + +"Rot!" young Farmer snapped angrily. "So that one of us might get away? +Meaning me? Not a bit of it, Dave! We started the balmy business +together, and by the Lord Harry we'll _finish_ it together, one way or +the other. So stop your silly talk, and let's get on with things. You +have your gun, of course?" + +"Right in my hand, kid," Dawson assured him. "And you're a pretty nice +guy, Freddy, if I haven't ever mentioned it before. Okay, together it +is. Keep low, and run like the dickens. If somebody gets in our +way--well, it will be just too bad for him. They're going half nuts out +there, now, so maybe we'll get the breaks and not be seen. Set, Freddy?" + +"Set, old thing," the English youth replied, and pressed Dawson's arm. +"Luck to us both!" + +"We don't count," Dawson said, and pressed young Farmer's arm in return. +"Luck to the Casablanca war conference, please God! Right! Here we go!" + +Dawson pressed Freddy Farmer's arm once more, then wheeled around, bent +way over almost double, circled the scrub bush, and went streaking out +onto the desert strip at top speed toward the Messerschmitt 110 parked a +good eighty yards away. Farmer bolted right after him. + +Perhaps it was Dawson's spinning imagination, or perhaps it was an +actual fact, but it seemed that no sooner was he out from behind the +scrub bush than the amount of light thrown forward by the swiftly +approaching day was tripled in intensity. He had the sensation that he +and Farmer stood out as clear and as huge as a couple of runaway horses, +and that every German eye was fixed upon them. In fact, had a hundred +machine guns suddenly opened up on them, he would not have been the +least bit surprised. With every racing stride he took, with every split +second that skipped by, he expected just that. + +However, there were no screams of alarm, and there were no blasts of +yammering machine-gun fire as the two youths covered forty yards in +their headlong dash and reached the first of the parked bombers. At that +point, Dawson swerved sharply to the left in order to avoid all notice +if possible. Then he swerved back to the right again without checking +his speed for a single instant. They had to pass four more bombers with +mechanics and pilots swarming all over before they reached the +Messerschmitt 110. They accomplished it in a matter of split seconds, +but to Dawson's high-pitched nerves and whirling brain, it seemed a +thousand years. It seemed as though he was only crawling over the +ground, and in slow motion at that. + +But the crazy thoughts he had were far from the truth. He was traveling +so fast that he virtually ran into the side of the Messerschmitt and was +bounced back, to bump up against Freddy Farmer's plunging body. They +caught hold of each other in an effort to maintain their balance. They +succeeded, but no sooner had they regained their balance and were +turning to scramble up into the plane than two uniformed Nazis came +running around the tail of the aircraft. + +The two Nazis saw Dawson and Farmer. Their jaws dropped, and they +skidded to a halt and reached for their holstered Lugers. But they might +just as well have tried to jump over the stars and drop straight down on +the two air aces. Dawson's gun barked once, so did Freddy Farmer's, and +there were two less Germans in the world. + +Before either of the dead Germans had hit the ground the two air aces +had whirled and had thrown themselves into the Messerschmitt's cockpit. +Though nothing had been decided between them, Dawson impulsively leaped +into the pilot's pit, and Freddy Farmer piled into the gunner's pit +aft. It was one of those unspoken agreements, and as Dawson landed in +the seat, his hands shot out for the engine switches, throttles, and +starter buttons. Two seconds later, the grinding of the starter gears +sounded like the loudest noise in all the world, and Dave's heart +pounded in wild fear that their two shots were bringing a horde of other +Nazis on the run. However, he didn't waste time looking about. He +hunched forward in the pit and concentrated every bit of his attention +and all his prayers on getting the two Daimler-Benz engines started. + +One second, one minute, one hour, or maybe a thousand years dragged by +before the two engines "caught" and roared in a mighty earth-shaking +duet of power. Dawson's heart leaped with wild joy, and for five +precious seconds he forced himself to let the engines run to warm up a +little before the take-off. At the end of five seconds, he eased off the +throttles, kicked off the wheel brakes, and let the Messerschmitt +trundle forward out of line with the other aircraft. No sooner was he in +the open and swerving left toward the long way of the field, than the +chattering yammer of a machine gun rose above the general roar, and he +heard the deathly whine of bullets passing overhead. He also heard a +wild yell from Freddy Farmer's lips, but he didn't dare twist around in +the seat and look back. He didn't because he was pointing the long way +of the desert strip now, and was ready to ram his throttles wide open. +In front of him was a milling mass of Germans. He was that a furious +attempt was being made by a Messerschmitt 109 pilot to trundle his +single-seater out of line and onto the desert strip to block the way! + +Stark terror gripped Dave's heart as he saw the nose of that +single-seater moving out toward the line of his take-off. He had +impulsively rammed both of his throttles wide open, and his aircraft was +leaping forward like a shell leaving the mouth of a cannon. Whether or +not he would pass that moving 109 in time was something that was in the +lap of the gods. + +Touch and go, and it was instinct more than sane thought that gave him a +new lease on life. As the Messerschmitt 110 rocketed forward toward the +milling mass of Nazis and the Messerschmitt 109 rolled out into his path +beyond, Dawson jabbed the electric trigger button of the ME's guns and +punched the air-cannon firing knob. Instantly the plane bucked and +jumped madly as the guns yammered and pounded, and it was all Dawson +could do to hold it on its straight take-off line. + +"Gangway, bums, or take it!" he roared at the top of his voice. "Leap +for your lives, or else!" + + + + +CHAPTER EIGHTEEN + +_Eagles Come Through_ + + +Words, crazy, insane words poured from Dave Dawson's lips as he held the +Messerschmitt 110 as steady as a rock and guided it forward at full +throttle. Perhaps his actions were as crazy and insane as his words. For +every German his guns sent spinning to the ground, two more seemed to +come bounding out of nowhere with blazing sub-machine guns in their +hands. The Messerschmitt 109 that was being rolled out to block his path +loomed up larger and larger with every split second until it seemed to +fill the entire desert valley almost directly in front of his prop. + +Yes, perhaps crazy, perhaps insane, and perhaps totally and hopelessly +mad. Dawson didn't have time to wonder about that, or to give it a +single thought. The only thought he held in his swirling brain was that +he had to get the Messerschmitt off and into clear air. If he didn't, +all was doomed. And the point was that getting the aircraft into the air +was but the beginning of things! + +"Up, up with you! Come on! Get off, _get off_!" + +Shouting the commands at the plane, he hauled back on the controls, held +his breath, and shut his eyes, as though that would help a little. An +eternity of suspense dragged by. At the speed he was traveling now, +there wasn't a hope in the world that Freddy or he would survive a crash +with that other German plane. It was now, or never. All, or nothing but +instant death. With the fate of the entire civilized world hanging in +the balance, was it life, or was it-- + +A mighty upward surge of the Messerschmitt caused Dawson's heart to +swell with joy. He opened his eyes and instinctively ducked because his +left wing and the nose of the Messerschmitt 109 seemed to be touching +one another. But not quite, thank God, and the 110 went prop-clawing up +close to the vertical. Prop-clawing upward as the withering fire of +enraged vultures below spewed up after it. + +"Made it, made it!" Dawson choked out, and instantly kicked the +Messerschmitt over on wingtip and pulled it around in a screaming turn. +"Freddy, we--" + +He cut short his words as sudden memory of Freddy Farmer's wild yell +came back to mind. It seemed as though he lived and died a hundred +deaths in the time it took to turn his head and glance back at the rear +cockpit. What he saw sent a flood of joy into his pounding heart. Freddy +Farmer was still alive and kicking. And very much so, too. He had his +rear guns swung around and down and was blazing away at the ground. One +of his bursts of bullets had already nailed one of the Junkers 88's, and +livid red flame was shooting upward from the giant aircraft. + +"First blood for you, Freddy!" Dawson screamed into the thunder of his +twin Daimler-Benz engines. "First blood for you, and how! Let's go, kid! +They think they've got a date at Casablanca. The heck they have, I'll +say! Here, you, a kiss from Casablanca!" + +As Dawson roared out the last, he dropped the nose of the Messerschmitt +like a rock and went piling down toward the row of parked planes. He saw +two Messerschmitt 109's taking off, but they were past his line of fire, +so he couldn't do anything about them. Nor could he do anything about +the ocean of ground fire that swept up toward him. Maybe their 110 would +be "drowned" in that ocean of machine-gun and rifle fire, but not before +Freddy and he had made that secret desert airdrome a shambles of burning +aircraft that would block off all other attempts to take off. + +With every cubic inch of air seemingly filled with death-whining bullets +from the ground guns, Dave rocketed the 110 recklessly downward and let +go with all his guns and air cannon. One, two, three huge Junkers 88's +seemed to crab sideways and then break out into flame before he was +forced to pull up out of his mad dive, or go roaring in to his doom. His +heart was smashing against his ribs, and his face was bathed in hot +sweat as he pitted every ounce of his strength against the downward +momentum of the Messerschmitt. Then, with but half a second to spare, he +got the nose up and went engine-howling for the dawn gray sky. + +"Dave! They are--" + +Whatever Freddy Farmer had to say was drowned out in a tremendous +thunder of sound. Sound that billowed up from the ground directly under +the power zooming plane. Sound that seemed to envelop the Messerschmitt, +to grab it with many hands and fling it cartwheeling end over end out +across the North African dawn. All the fireworks in the world popped and +crackled in Dawson's head. A thousand steel fists hit against his body +from every conceivable angle. The nose of the Messerschmitt and the +instrument panel started spinning until all he could see was a whirling +blurr. The air that he sucked into his lungs was as liquid fire, and it +seemed to dry up every drop of blood in his body. In a crazy, abstract +sort of way he knew that some of the Junkers bombs had let go before he +had been able to zoom out of range, and concussion had caught the +Messerschmitt to make it as helpless as a dried leaf in a cyclone. + +"Dave! Man your guns! Two planes got off! There they come down. From in +front--_from in front_!" + +Freddy Farmer's screaming voice seemed to tear away the blurred veil +that covered Dawson's eyes. His vision cleared, and he looked up to see +the two Messerschmitt 109's streaking down at him from in front. Freddy +Farmer's guns were already blazing away, but the angle was bad, and the +tracers were smoking well above the diving planes. + +Even as Dawson looked up and spotted the two planes, he was pulling up +the nose and fumbling for the electric trigger button on his control +stick. He found it, only to have his fingers slide off. When he looked +down, he saw that his hand was red and glistening from his own blood. +The sight stunned him for a second because he felt no pain. That is, no +acute pain. From head to foot his entire body felt numb and weak, but +there was no sense of pain whatsoever. He was even more astonished when +he saw that the front of his ripped and torn tunic was stained with +blood, too. + +One glance, however, was all he could take--one glance to see, realize +the truth, and be dumbfounded. Then he snapped his eyes upward, tapped +right rudder just a little to bring one of the diving planes into his +sights--and fired! + +The result? He saw what happened with his two eyes, but he did not know +whether his bullets and air cannon shells, or Nazi panic, caused it. It +seemed that he had hardly jabbed the electric trigger button when the +plane in his sights swerved violently off to the right. Maybe his burst +hit it and kicked it that way, or perhaps the unthinking Nazi pilot +swerved purposely to throw Dawson off his aim. But whether no or yes, +the 109 swerved violently to its right, and went side-slashing into the +other diving 109. One second there were two planes hurtling downward, +and the next they had locked wings, crumpled about each other like wet +paper, and then completely disappeared in an exploding ball of flame and +oily black smoke. + +"Good gosh, no!" Dawson gasped, and hurled the no over and around to +avoid the flaming inferno as it went plunging past. "Did I get him, or +did the guy go haywire? Hey, Freddy! Did you see that?" + +Silence greeted his question, and terror was his again as he twisted +around in the seat. What he saw brought no yell of joy to his lips. On +the contrary, it brought a sob of alarm, because Freddy Farmer was +slumped over like a sack of wet meal against the side of the cockpit. +One upstretched hand still clung to the trigger guard of the rear guns, +but the English youth's face was deathly pale, save where it was +spattered with drops of blood. His eyes were closed. + +"Freddy!" Dawson shrieked. "Freddy! Speak to me, pal! Oh, dear God, +_no_! Please, oh, please! Freddy! Freddy, boy!" + +Dawson's voice faltered, and the only sounds he made were dry sobs that +struggled up out of his throat. He turned front, and hot, stinging tears +fell from his eyes. On the ground was a sight that should have brought +shouts of joy to his lips and filled him with wild, surging happiness. +The secret desert-oasis field was now completely covered by clouds of +dirty black smoke that were slashed every few seconds by the bright red +and orange flames of newly exploding bombs. Each time a flash of flame +slashed its way up through the clouds of dirty smoke, bits of plane +wreckage came hurtling up after it. + +Yes, Goering's Snoopers were doomed. They would never fly to Casablanca, +or to any other place, for that matter. But that wonderful, thrilling +realization left Dawson untouched. Somehow, he was beyond all feeling. +His brain was numbed, his heart was dead, and there was hardly the +strength in him to go on living. His tattered tunic was now drenched +with blood. Drops of blood fell from his fingers curled about the +Messerschmitt's controls. A gray curtain seemed to hover before his +eyes, and it took every ounce of effort that he possessed to peer +through it and make out the instrument panel. + +"Can't be done, can't be done!" He heard his own mumbled voice as though +from miles and miles away. "We plastered them for keeps. But--but they +got old Freddy. And maybe they got me, too. Oh, dear God, I'm so tired, +so darn tired. I--I can't fly this thing back to Casablanca. I just--I +just want to quit now, and go to sleep. What does it matter, anyway? +Freddy's gone. And without old Freddy, I--" + +His mumbling voice trailed off, and there was nothing but the continued +thunder of the Daimler-Benz engines in his ears. Suddenly he heard +another voice. A voice? Or was it something inside of him speaking? + +"Quitting, huh? Just like that! You get a couple of scratches, and you +want to let down and quit. Isn't that just dandy? So Freddy's gone, huh? +How do _you_ know? You can't tell from here! But, no, you don't even +want to _try_ to get back to Casablanca, where maybe he could be saved +_if_ he's still alive. No! You just want to quit and make _sure_ that he +dies. Okay, quitter! There's hard earth down there. Dive in _and make +sure of death_!" + +The little voice kindled a spark of anger within him, and it flared up +into a bright hot flame. Quitter, huh? The heck he was! Maybe Freddy +wasn't dead! Please, God, let that be true! He'd get Freddy back. Honest +he would. He'd get Freddy back, no matter what. This wasn't the end for +either of them. Remember how they had once kidded that the Nazi was not +yet born who could polish off either of them? Well, that was true. Yes, +doggone it, that was _true_! Casablanca? Okay! You bet! It was hard to +move, and that darn gray veil made things hard to see. But he'd get +through just the same. Casablanca, here we come! Here we-- + +The wheels of the bullet-riddled Messerschmitt 110 touching hard ground +seemed to snap something inside Dawson's head, and drag him back from +another world. In a daze he looked about and saw that he was rolling +along the Casablanca field. Above him, the air was filled with Allied +aircraft. A sharp stab of fear passed through his heart when he realized +that this Nazi plane had been in the air with those other aircraft. He +vaguely remembered they had spotted him way out from Casablanca, closed +in, and then dropped into escort position. + +And now _he_ was down on Casablanca base! He'd made it, but he hadn't +realized it until just now! Could a pilot fly a course while +semi-conscious? Maybe he could, because Dave had very little +recollection of this flight except for the very start. And--Wait! +_Freddy Farmer!_ + +As the thought flashed through his brain, he lurched upward out of the +seat and looked back. Fresh fear and terror gripped him. Freddy was +still slumped lifelessly against the side of the pit. His face seemed +even paler, and it was covered with more dots of blood. Dawson started +to call out, when he heard the pounding of many running feet. He turned +his head in that direction and saw a large group of figures, led by +Colonel Welsh, racing toward the plane. He waved frantically with one +hand and called out. + +"Ambulance!" he shouted. "Get the ambulance at--" + +At that exact moment a dark cloud swooped down on top of him. A great +roaring started up inside his head. He knew that he was tumbling +headlong out of the pit and down onto the wing, but he was absolutely +helpless to do anything about it. Something, probably the wing stub, hit +him one last and final smash on the head, and there was nothing but +darkness, and utter silence. + +Dave Dawson found himself suspended in a world of clear, fresh-smelling +and soothing white when he again opened his eyes. It did not puzzle him +that all should be white, because his brain was too contented to bother +figuring it out. His whole body felt contented, too. A lulling warmth +enveloped him, and he did not care whether anything ever changed again. +This lulling warmth and this soothing contentment were all that he could +desire. + +However, that perfect spell of both mind and body was not long-lasting. +As complete consciousness finally returned, the aches and pains took +charge of his body, and his brain awakened fully with a terrible memory. + +"Freddy! Freddy Farmer!" + +Hardly realizing that his lips had gasped out his pal's name, he +struggled to push himself up. But even as he started the effort, other +hands were placed upon him and he was gently pressed down to his +original position. A position that he then realized was flat on his back +in a hospital bed. And then the face of the owner of those gently +pressing hands came into his vision, and he recognized Colonel Welsh. + +"Don't, son," the Intelligence Chief said softly. "Just let yourself go, +boy, and relax completely. Farmer is all right. Shot up a little, just +as you were, but he'll pull through with flying colors." + +"You're sure, sir?" Dawson choked out. "You mean it? You wouldn't kid +a--" + +"My word of honor," Colonel Welsh stopped him. "He's weak, yes, from the +loss of blood, just as you are. But he'll be all right, just as you'll +be all right after a period of mending and resting. And if you'll +promise to get another good sleep, I'll have you moved into Farmer's +room so that you can be together. And, son--" + +"Hey!" Dawson blurted out, as the thought suddenly came to him. "The +President's party, and--" + +He would have said more, but Colonel Welsh put a hand to his lips. +"Don't waste strength talking, son," he admonished with a smile. +"Believe me, everything is perfect. The war conference is under way +right now. And never mind giving me a report, either. Both you and +Farmer have babbled it all in the two days since you've been here. I +don't know what to say, Dawson. Wonderful isn't half the word that's +needed. I can only say that it is another great debt that civilized man +owes to you two. But for what you did, just you two alone, there's no +telling what terrible changes there might have been in this war. We +caught the Nazi agent here who sent the signal of the President's coming +to that secret base. He was one of von Steuben's men my agents had been +watching, hoping he would lead them to bigger fish. But it turned out +_he_ was the big fish here at Casablanca. We caught him at his hidden +radio, but the message had already gone through. He admitted it, even +boasted about it, saying that it was too late for us to do anything. No +matter how many planes we put in the air, some of those Junkers would +get through in time. That was no lie. Some of them, and maybe all of +them would have gotten through, because _we_ had no idea from which +direction they would come to deliver their attack. Or when, so that we +would be ready. But you and Farmer--" + +Colonel Welsh stopped talking, blinked his eyes, swallowed hard, and +smiled. + +"All I can say," he finally got out, "is that I thank God from the +bottom of my heart that you two are fighting on our side. And, son--" + +The Chief of U. S. Intelligence was about to add that the President of +the United States had said that he wished to see Dave Dawson and Freddy +Farmer before he left Casablanca and personally decorate them for their +brave and gallant service above and beyond the call of duty. But Colonel +Welsh decided to wait until another time, because what use is it to tell +a fellow anything when he is fast asleep with a happy and thoroughly +contented smile on his face? + + + + + ---- THE END ---- + + + + +_A Page from_ + +DAVE DAWSON WITH THE EIGHTH AIR FORCE + +After carefully checking the readings of his "black light" instrument +dials, Dawson raised his eyes and scowled out at the ocean of inky +darkness that seemed to sweep in on him from all sides. + +"Right on course, unless those instruments are haywire, which of course +they're not," he murmured. "But just the same, I'd sure like to get out +of these clouds. The darn stuff must stretch all the way to China!" + +As he spoke the words he absently fingered the switch button of his +radio, but when he suddenly realized what he was doing he snatched his +hand away as though the thing were red hot. + +"Radio silence at all cost, chump!" he growled at himself. "And stop +worrying about Freddy. He's somewhere right back there behind you. You +saw his ship as clear as could be only thirty minutes ago! So take it +easy." + +Yes, only thirty minutes ago Freddy Farmer had been right there at his +right rear in the other plane. Sure! But kingdoms have fallen, + + + + +Transcriber's Notes: +Page 92: Changed givin to giving +Page 127: Changed thanks to tanks +Page 144: Changed Washingtan to Washington +Page 146: Changed blust to blurt +Page 161: Changed tto to to +Page 180: Changed Georing's to Goering's + + + + + +End of Project Gutenberg's Dave Dawson at Casablanca, by Robert Sydney Bowen + +*** END OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK DAVE DAWSON AT CASABLANCA *** + +***** This file should be named 32331.txt or 32331.zip ***** +This and all associated files of various formats will be found in: + http://www.gutenberg.org/3/2/3/3/32331/ + +Produced by Greg Weeks, Roger L. Holda, Joseph R. 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