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+*** START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK 41718 ***
+
+                    DAVE DAWSON ON THE RUSSIAN FRONT
+
+                          _by_ R. SIDNEY BOWEN
+
+    _Author of_: "DAVE DAWSON AT DUNKIRK" "DAVE DAWSON WITH THE R. A.
+    F." "DAVE DAWSON IN LIBYA" "DAVE DAWSON ON CONVOY PATROL" "DAVE
+    DAWSON, FLIGHT LIEUTENANT" "DAVE DAWSON AT SINGAPORE" "DAVE DAWSON
+    WITH THE PACIFIC FLEET" "DAVE DAWSON WITH THE AIR CORPS" "DAVE
+    DAWSON WITH THE COMMANDOS"
+
+    [Transcriber's Note: Extensive research did not uncover any evidence
+    that the U.S. copyright on this publication was renewed.]
+
+
+    THE SAALFIELD PUBLISHING COMPANY
+
+    AKRON, OHIO   NEW YORK
+
+    COPYRIGHT, 1943, BY CROWN PUBLISHERS
+    PRINTED IN THE UNITED STATES OF AMERICA
+
+
+
+
+CONTENTS
+
+
+    CHAPTER                                        PAGE
+
+        I MYSTERY MAN                                11
+
+       II ROOM 1200                                  20
+
+      III FATE LAUGHS                                31
+
+       IV EAST OF DARKNESS                           42
+
+        V DOUBLING FOR DEATH                         53
+
+       VI EAGLES FOR MOSCOW                          63
+
+      VII YOU CAN'T SEE DEATH                        72
+
+     VIII NAZI LIGHTNING                             85
+
+       IX TNT TWINS                                  98
+
+        X EASTWARD TO WAR                           114
+
+       XI MOSCOW MAGIC                              129
+
+      XII THE LIVING DEAD                           144
+
+     XIII HIGH STAKES                               158
+
+      XIV SUCCESS OR SUICIDE?                       171
+
+       XV LAND OF THE DEAD                          187
+
+      XVI SATAN IS GLEEFUL                          199
+
+     XVII END OF THE BEGINNING                      212
+
+    XVIII ACES DON'T WAIT                           222
+
+      XIX HEADACHES FOR HITLER                      234
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER ONE
+
+_Mystery Man_
+
+
+"Okay, okay!" Dave Dawson growled, and rolled over to a more comfortable
+position in the hotel bed. "It's dear old England. A wonderful country,
+a great place. And you're tickled silly to be here. Okay, I agree with
+every word you say. God save the King, and there'll always be an
+England. _Now_, will you let a guy get some sleep?"
+
+"But you don't understand what it means to me, Dave." Freddy Farmer
+spoke through the darkness from the other bed. "This is my native land,
+my home, and I've--"
+
+"Gone completely screwy!" Dawson snapped. "Sweet tripe! You were here
+only two days ago. Two days you've been away, and you're sounding off as
+though you'd been away for a million years. Just a two day jaunt over to
+France, and the guy starts flag waving. My pal, much as I like you, you
+are a pain in seventeen different places at the same time. Go to sleep,
+you bow-legged Commando!"[1]
+
+[Footnote 1: _Dave Dawson With the Commandos._]
+
+"Just what I've said quite often," Freddy said placidly. "It takes an
+Englishman to really appreciate his homeland. Two years or two days,
+what does it matter? The joy that is his upon arriving back home is
+always the same. Do you see what I mean, Dave?"
+
+Dawson groaned, sat up in bed, and switched on the table lamp. But as he
+did so he took a quick automatic glance at the room windows to make sure
+that the blackout curtains were drawn and securely fastened. Then he
+hunched around in bed and glared at his closest and dearest friend in
+the world.
+
+"The day will come!" he snarled. "So help me, the day will come!"
+
+The English-born air ace blinked, and looked blank.
+
+"Eh?" he echoed. "What say, Dave?"
+
+"Just that the day will come, so help me!" Dawson answered, and leveled
+a stiff forefinger. "The day will come when I'll forget I like you, and
+will up and bust you right on your snoot. For cat's sake, Freddy! You're
+worse than a woman, from what I hear of them. Don't you ever shut up?"
+
+Freddy Farmer propped a hand under his head and grinned.
+
+"But I don't feel sleepy," he said. "I want to talk. Don't you? Now,
+really, you're not sleepy, are you, Dave? After all, we haven't had much
+time to talk since we got back from that Commando show in Occupied
+France. We've--I say! What's the matter, old fellow?"
+
+The last was because Dawson's hands had come up in an attitude of
+prayer, and his lips were moving soundlessly.
+
+"Just calling for strength," he told his pal. "For a second there I
+almost wished that you had been left behind, you doggone phonograph
+record. Look, pal, see these lines on my face? And these pouches under
+my eyes? Well, that's not from age. Just because I'm tired."
+
+Freddy Farmer stared hard, and his face flooded with sympathy. However,
+there was a very wicked gleam in his eyes.
+
+"I say, Dave, old thing!" he murmured. "I'm frightfully sorry, no end. I
+thought--well, as you Yanks say, that you could take it. I didn't dream
+that little Commando show in Occupied France would do you in so much.
+Put out the light, you poor fellow, and try to get some sleep. Want me
+to send down to the chemist shop for something to make you sleep?
+Drugstore, you call it in the States, don't you?"
+
+Dawson carefully settled himself in a sitting position, and then,
+clasping his hands in his lap, he started to count.
+
+"One--two--three--four--five--!"
+
+"I say, Dave, what's up?" Freddy Farmer cried in alarm.
+
+"When I get to ten, you'll find out!" Dawson barked. Then, with a heavy
+sigh, "Okay, okay, you want to talk, so what chance have I got? I
+couldn't sleep, now, if I were hit by a truck. But just one thing,
+Freddy Farmer: keep this night in your memory, always!"
+
+"Why, Dave?"
+
+"Just never mind, sweetheart!" Dave grunted. "Skip it for the present.
+As you were saying?"
+
+"Oh, so you want to talk, old thing?" the English youth echoed, and
+grinned maliciously. "Splendid! It is nice to be back in England, isn't
+it?"
+
+"I could answer that, but my folks brought me up to act like a
+gentleman!" Dawson snapped. "What else, Edison?"
+
+"Edison?"
+
+"The inventor of the phonograph," Dawson said. "Turn the record and put
+in a new needle!"
+
+"Well, I was wondering--" the English youth murmured, as he let the
+wisecrack sail right over his head--"I was wondering what next, Dave?"
+
+"More loss of sleep," Dawson flung at him, "because of more useless talk
+at three in the morning from a certain nit-wit. And, I do mean you!"
+
+"And the same to you, sir!" Freddy came right back at him, and made a
+face. "But I am still wondering what's going to happen next?"
+
+"Who cares, so long at it's action against those dirty Nazis," Dawson
+said.
+
+"Quite!" the English youth murmured. "But you're a very tired little
+fellow. Go on back to sleep. I'll tell you about it in the morning.
+That'll be time enough. Good night, Dave. Or rather, good morning."
+
+Freddy reached a hand toward the table lamp between the twin beds, but
+Dave grabbed hold of it in time.
+
+"Nix!" he said. "That look on your face makes me suspicious, young
+fellow. You've got something important on your mind. I can tell. Come
+on, now. Let's have it, pal."
+
+"Oh, I fancy it will keep until morning," Freddy Farmer said with a
+wicked grin. "Go get your beauty sleep. After all, it arrived after you
+had gone to sleep. So what's the difference?"
+
+By now Dawson was wide awake, and as he swung his legs out from under
+the covers there was a dangerous glint in his eyes.
+
+"Stop right there, pal!" he grunted, and leveled a finger. "What came
+after I'd gone to sleep? Do you tell me, or do I toss you through that
+window, blackout curtains and all?"
+
+"Oh no you don't!" the English youth cried as he leaped out of bed on
+the far side. "Calm down, young fellow, and I'll tell you. Stay put, or
+not a word will I tell you!"
+
+Dawson relaxed and sank back on his bed.
+
+"Okay, but it had better be good!" he growled through a yawn. "Okay,
+what's the big mystery?"
+
+"It was a phone call," Freddy Farmer said with a jerk of his head toward
+the instrument on the wall. "From the Air Ministry. We are to report at
+Room Twelve Hundred at eight o'clock in the morning."
+
+"Hey, they can't do that to us!" Dave cried. "We're supposed to be on
+leave. We--Did the chap at the other end say what it was all about?"
+
+Freddy Farmer shook his head and slid back into bed.
+
+"Not a word," he said. "Naturally, I asked questions. But that's all the
+good it did me. The chap was very brusque. Report at eight, and that's
+that."
+
+Dawson sighed and gave a sad shake of his head.
+
+"Not that I don't want to do my part in trimming the Nazis," he said,
+"but, my gosh, I could do with at least a couple of days leave. Why, I
+haven't even had time to see a movie in months. Oh, well, maybe it's for
+something unimportant."
+
+"I doubt it," Freddy Farmer said emphatically. "I guess you've forgotten
+Room Twelve Hundred at the Air Ministry, Dave."
+
+"Huh?" Dawson echoed, jerking his head up. "Room--? Holy smoke! That's
+Royal Air Force Intelligence! But it doesn't make sense, Freddy. We're
+not in the R.A.F. now. We're with the Yank forces!"
+
+"Quite!" the English-born air ace grunted. "But I fancy Air Ministry
+wouldn't have phoned that order if they hadn't first obtained permission
+of Yank G.H.Q. But what difference does it make, anyway, if it's Yank
+G.H.Q. or the Air Ministry? Either of them could detail a job to us.
+But the important thing to me is, what is it this time?"
+
+"The fellow on the phone didn't give you any kind of a hint?" Dawson
+persisted.
+
+The English youth shook his head.
+
+"Not the faintest," he replied. "We'll just have to wait and find out,
+I'm afraid."
+
+Dawson groaned and glanced at the clock on the night table. The hands
+showed him it was exactly sixteen minutes to four. Just four hours and
+sixteen minutes to wait!
+
+"Nuts!" he sighed, and slid down under the covers. "I wish I hadn't made
+you tell me, pal. Now there's a fat chance that I'll get any more sleep!
+You don't happen to have a deck of cards around, do you? We could kill
+time with some two-handed rummy."
+
+"Sorry," Freddy Farmer said. "Not a card. But I'll sing to you, if you
+like."
+
+"Never!" Dawson cried out in mock protest. "Spare me that, please, sir.
+Besides, I don't want to have the authorities piling in here to arrest
+you for impersonating the air raid sirens. Nix! I'll permit you to sing
+over my dead body. I'll--Oh, darn it! What do you suppose they've got
+cooked up for us in Room Twelve Hundred at the Air Ministry?"
+
+"How I wish I knew!" Freddy Farmer breathed solemnly. "But if past
+experience means anything, there's one thing we can bank on, no doubt."
+
+"Which would be?" Dawson grunted.
+
+"A messy job of some kind," the English youth opined. "They seem to save
+that sort of thing especially for us."
+
+"Check and double check!" Dawson murmured. "You've got something there,
+pal. And how!"
+
+And with that both boys lapsed into silence, and stared thoughtful and
+scowlingly up at the hotel room ceiling.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER TWO
+
+_Room 1200_
+
+
+Any period of time will pass if you'll just wait long enough, and so
+eventually it was eight o'clock in the morning, and the two air aces had
+paused before Room Twelve Hundred at the Air Ministry. They had paused
+by unspoken mutual consent. And now as their eyes met they both grinned,
+and lifted their right hands with the middle fingers crossed over the
+indexes.
+
+"Here's for luck, or something," Dave Dawson murmured with a wink.
+
+"Quite," Freddy Farmer echoed. "At least, I hope it won't be _bad_
+luck."
+
+For a couple of seconds more the two youths hesitated, and then Dave
+Dawson took a deep breath, turned the door knob, and pushed the door
+open. He entered the small outer office with Freddy Farmer right at his
+heels. A Flight Lieutenant seated at the small desk took one swift look
+at their American Air Force uniforms and recognized them at once.
+
+"Good morning, Captains," he said with a smile. "I'll tell Air
+Vice-Marshal Leman, and Colonel Welsh, that you are here."
+
+Both Dave and Freddy instantly stiffened and went wide-eyed. It was
+Dawson who found his tongue first.
+
+"What's that, Flight Lieutenant?" he got out. "Did I hear you say
+Colonel Welsh? You don't mean Colonel Welsh, chief of the U.S. Armed
+Forces Intelligence?"
+
+"That's exactly who I mean," the Flight Lieutenant replied. "He arrived
+in England by bomber yesterday. Just a moment, please, and I'll let them
+know you're here."
+
+The Flight Lieutenant went over to a huge solid oak door, knocked on it,
+and then stepped through and closed it behind him. Dave and Freddy chose
+that moment to gape puzzle-eyed at each other.
+
+"Well, what do you know!" Dawson finally breathed. "Colonel Welsh, who
+had us hauled out of the R.A.F. in the first place!"[2]
+
+[Footnote 2: _Dave Dawson With The Pacific Fleet._]
+
+"I know," the English youth echoed. "Fancy, meeting him here in London.
+Well, I guess that certainly means that something new has been cooked
+up for us. Good grief! His name was the farthest from my mind!"
+
+"You and me both!" Dawson said with a nod. "And it sure does mean that
+plenty's on the fire, if Colonel Welsh is over here. But it'll be good
+to meet him again. He always rated tops with me."
+
+"Quite!" the English youth murmured.
+
+And that's as far as he got. At that moment the Flight Lieutenant opened
+the huge solid oak door, and motioned for them to come into the inner
+office. They did, with Dawson leading the way, and so it was his hand
+that was grasped first by the thin-faced officer in the uniform of a
+U.S. Infantry Colonel.
+
+"Well, Dawson, I'm certainly mighty glad to meet you again!" the Colonel
+greeted him. "And you, too, Farmer. Neither of you has changed a bit."
+
+"Thank you, sir," Dawson smiled back at him. "And it's good to meet you
+again. This is certainly one big surprise."
+
+"Quite, sir," Freddy echoed as he, too, shook hands with the Colonel. "I
+hope you had a nice flight across."
+
+"A perfect hop," the senior officer said. "But I'm forgetting my
+manners. Air Vice-Marshal Leman, let me present Captains Dawson and
+Farmer. But perhaps you've already met?"
+
+The good looking Air Force officer, who had sat smiling behind a desk
+that seemed to fill half the room, got up instantly and came around it
+with his hand outstretched.
+
+"No, but I've certainly heard no end of things about you two," he said
+as he shook hands with both boys. "But who hasn't, for that matter?" he
+continued with a chuckle. "Including Adolf Hitler, of course. There,
+have chairs, Gentlemen. I can see it in your faces that you are
+wondering no end what this is all about. Well, Colonel, I fancy you'd
+better do the talking for us, eh?"
+
+The senior American officer smiled, nodded, and then waited until
+everybody was comfortably seated in chairs.
+
+"I've a job for you," he presently told the two youths bluntly. "And I
+want to say right here that it is probably the toughest assignment you
+ever received. Feel like taking a crack at something _really_ tough?"
+
+Dave Dawson leaned forward on the edge of his chair, and nodded eagerly.
+All thoughts of leave were gone from his brain now. Just the sight of
+Colonel Welsh had changed everything all around. He was more than ever
+anxious for action.
+
+"The tougher it is the better I'll like it, sir," he said with a grin.
+"Speaking for myself, of course."
+
+"Oh, you're jolly well speaking for me, too!" Freddy Farmer spoke up
+quickly. "Besides, you'd have to have me along to watch out for you, you
+know."
+
+Everybody chuckled at that remark, and then Colonel Welsh's thin face
+became very grave and serious.
+
+"I really meant that, just the same," he said with a grim nod. "This one
+is really tough, and your chances of pulling it off successfully are
+about one in six million, roughly speaking."
+
+"The odds have been pretty big against us in the past, sir," Dave said
+quietly. "But where are we heading this time, or shouldn't I ask yet?"
+
+"You may, and I'll answer it," Colonel Welsh replied. "This time it's
+Russia."
+
+That brought both youths up stiff and straight on the edges of their
+chairs.
+
+"Russia?" Dave gasped out.
+
+"Russia?" Freddy Farmer echoed incredulously. "Good grief!"
+
+"That's right, Russia," Colonel Welsh repeated. "But just where in
+Russia, the good Lord Himself alone knows. To be perfectly frank, it's
+quite possible that I'm sending you after no more than a handful of
+Russian air. That's why I say the odds against your success are about
+one in six million. However, if by any possible chance you do pull this
+one off, why then--"
+
+The American Intelligence Chief paused and made a little gesture with
+his hands.
+
+"Why then," he continued a moment later, "Civilization will owe you a
+far bigger debt of gratitude than it does now, even."
+
+Neither of the boys said anything. They just sat quietly, with their
+eyes fixed on the senior officer, and waited for him to continue.
+However, when the Colonel spoke again it was not to the boys. He
+addressed himself to Air Vice-Marshal Leman.
+
+"On second thought, sir," he said, "perhaps you'd better tell your part
+of it first. Then I'll take it up from there."
+
+The senior R.A.F. officer shrugged and nodded.
+
+"Very well, if you like, Colonel," he said. And then, turning to the two
+air aces, he began, "This all started back in the summer of 1939, just
+before Hitler started into Poland. Of course, anybody with half an eye,
+or half an ear, could have both seen and heard things that would have
+left no doubt of what the Nazis had up their sleeves. We of Intelligence
+knew perfectly well that no amount of appeasement would change Hitler's
+plans one single bit. We knew that the man was no more than a mad dog,
+and that only a bullet in the brain could stop him. However, the
+Government in power at the time thought otherwise, and tried to--Well,
+all that blasted business of the Munich meeting is dead history now. So
+it doesn't help anything to bring it out into the light again."
+
+The R.A.F. Intelligence chief paused for breath and to clear his throat.
+Then he made a little gesture with one hand and continued.
+
+"What I'm trying to bring out," he said, "is that though there was hope
+in certain quarters that something could be done to stop Hitler at that
+time, and without bloodshed, we of Intelligence were carrying on as
+though we were actually at war. Or at least on the brink of war, which
+of course we were. Anyway, our agents were all over Europe gathering
+every bit of information possible, and making underground contacts that
+might prove useful when, and if, the guns started firing. Well, one of
+my agents--and we'll call him Jones for the moment--had a rare bit of
+luck. It was one of those things that happen say once in a hundred
+years. It happened as a result of no effort of his part, either.
+It--well, it was simply a bit of absolutely lucky coincidence.
+
+"This Jones, having completed a small mission in Prague, in
+Czechoslovakia, was on his way by train to Krakow, Poland, when right at
+the borders of Germany, Czechoslovakia, and Poland, the train was
+wrecked. Split rails caused the wreck, and some sixty odd persons were
+killed. Fortunately, Jones was in one of the three cars that remained on
+the track, and he received no more than a severe shaking up. Well, it so
+happened that a Nazi trade mission on the way to Moscow was aboard the
+train, and two of its members were killed. That, of course, made it more
+than just an ordinary train wreck. According to Jones the whole place
+was alive with Nazi officials in no time at all. Actually the exact
+location of the wreck was a good mile within the Polish borders, but
+that didn't bother the Nazis any. They regarded it as German ground and
+took complete charge of everything at once. The Polish officials
+objected, but that's all the good it did them. Incidentally, the thing
+did not appear in the public prints, but as a matter of record that
+wreck was the first of the so-called border incidents that terminated
+with the Nazi invasion, and slaughter, of Poland."
+
+Air Vice-Marshal Leman paused again, and sat staring off into space as
+though choosing the words he would speak next. And when he did speak
+again there was just the faintest trace of bitter disappointment in his
+voice.
+
+"Whether the wreck was an accident, or was deliberately planned," he
+continued, "will never be known. However, the Nazis instantly took it as
+an act of sabotage and, in true Nazi fashion, started arresting people
+left and right. They arrested people who were actually on the train, as
+well as a lot of the male inhabitants of a small village that bordered
+that stretch of track. And anybody who even so much as offered a single
+word of protest was immediately clubbed half to death, and definitely
+regarded by the Nazis as one of the perpetrators of the so called crime
+against the Third Reich. Well, you can imagine what a madhouse that
+place was, with passengers dead and dying, others trying to do what they
+could for the injured, and the Nazi brutes pounding roughshod over
+everything and everybody. It was indeed a perfect pre-view of what was
+to come on a much more gigantic scale.
+
+"Well, Jones, being no more than shaken up a bit, joined those who were
+doing what they could to help the injured. He came upon one man who was
+pinned under the shattered end of one car. The man was conscious, but he
+was bleeding at the mouth, and his chest was horribly crushed. Jones
+took him for a German, but that didn't make any difference at the time.
+He started trying to get the pieces of the shattered car off the man and
+drag him free in case fire broke out. It was a pretty hopeless task. The
+slightest movement made the pinned man's face go grey with pain, and
+finally he begged Jones--and in perfect English, mind you--just to let
+him stay where he was. The intense pain of being rescued was too much
+for him. And no sooner had he spoken the plea than the surprising thing
+happened. The injured man whispered for Jones to bend close, and listen
+to what he had to say. Jones did just that, and the man said that he was
+a Russian by birth but had lived most of his life in Germany. He said
+that he had discovered a horrible plot to wipe the Soviet Republic from
+the face of the earth. That he had learned every detail of Hitler's mad
+plan to conquer and enslave the entire world!"
+
+The R.A.F. officer stopped short and smiled almost apologetically.
+
+"I know what you must be thinking," he said to the two air aces, who sat
+motionless and just a little bit wide-eyed. "You're thinking that
+perhaps I've gone a bit balmy, or that I'm reciting a bit from one of
+those crazy war stories that are being so widely read these days. But
+that's not true. All this actually _did_ happen. In short, over a month
+before the war actually started, one man pinned under a wrecked railroad
+train just inside the Polish border knew every detail of Hitler's entire
+war plan. And what's more, he gave _half_ of that invaluable information
+to the British Intelligence agent I've called Jones!"
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER THREE
+
+_Fate Laughs_
+
+
+The echo of Air Vice-Marshal Leman's last words seemed to hang in the
+air for long seconds. And then suddenly the echo faded out and the room
+was filled with a silence in which a pin could have been heard to drop.
+Dave Dawson gulped softly as he let the clamped air from his lungs, and
+inched forward on the edge of his chair.
+
+"Only half the information, sir?" he questioned. "So it didn't do Agent
+Jones any good?"
+
+The senior R.A.F. officer smiled sadly, and seemed to emphasize his
+feelings with a soft sigh.
+
+"Let me continue with the story, and I think your question will be
+answered, Dawson," he said. "Yes, the injured man gave Jones only half
+the information he had collected. But even that half didn't help any.
+You see, this man had written down everything that he had learned.
+According to Jones he must have done it with a needle point pen, and
+under a magnifying glass. It filled two sheets of ordinary manuscript
+paper, on both sides. It was sewn in his coat, and he got Jones to take
+it out for him. And then the man tore the two sheets in half and gave
+half to Jones. Then he tore his half to bits, put them in his mouth and
+swallowed them!"
+
+"Well, for cats' sake!" Dave Dawson blurted out before he could check
+himself.
+
+"Quite!" the Air Vice-Marshal said with a faint smile. "It was quite a
+mad thing to do, considering. But we must suppose that the poor chap was
+probably half mad from the pain he was suffering. And of course, Jones
+had naturally not revealed his true identity. Well, anyway, this man
+told Jones to get away from the spot as soon as he could, and reach the
+village of Tobolsk as soon as he could. Tobolsk doesn't appear on any of
+the maps, but it is a tiny village situated about eighty miles west of
+Stalingrad on the Volga. He told Jones to deliver his half of that
+precious information to a farmer who lived in Tobolsk. And--well, that's
+where the real hard luck began to set in."
+
+"Beg pardon, sir?" Freddy Farmer murmured as the senior officer suddenly
+lapsed into silence and sat scowling darkly down at the top of his
+desk. "You mean, sir, that Agent Jones wasn't able to contact this
+farmer in Tobolsk?"
+
+"I mean much more than that!" the other replied with a grimace. "I mean
+that everything simply went from bad to worse. To begin with, Jones was
+unable to catch the name of the man he was to contact in Tobolsk. He
+asked the injured man to repeat it, but it wasn't repeated. The man had
+become unconscious. Jones had no chance to try to revive him, or to wait
+for the man to regain consciousness either, for at that moment a party
+of Nazis swept down on him, thrust him to one side and started getting
+the injured man out from under the wreckage. It seems that they had
+suddenly decided that the poor devil had had an active part in causing
+the wreck. I know that sounds incredible. But I ask you, is there
+anything sane about the Nazi mind, let alone their actions?"
+
+"Not the ones I've run up against," Dawson grunted with a shake of his
+head.
+
+"Definitely not!" Freddy Farmer agreed. "But what rotten luck for Agent
+Jones!"
+
+"And only the beginning!" Air Vice-Marshal Leman growled in his throat.
+"As Jones stood there quite helpless, the Nazis hauled that poor chap
+out from under the wreckage and whisked him away, just like that. There
+was absolutely nothing Jones could do about it without getting into
+trouble himself. After all, he certainly couldn't take any chances of
+being arrested. Himmler, of course, knew full well that we had our
+agents all over Europe, and with war just around the corner it would be
+all up with any of the poor chaps who were caught. War or no war, we'd
+certainly never hear from them again. And we couldn't very well admit
+that they were agents of ours and ask the German Government to release
+them. Once an agent goes out on a mission he is absolutely on his own.
+If he gets into a tight corner it's up to him to get himself out of it.
+To assist him would simply tip our hand, and unquestionably disrupt our
+entire espionage system. And--"
+
+The R.A.F. Intelligence officer stopped short with a little laugh.
+
+"But I'm a fine one to be telling that to you two chaps, who have
+actually experienced the situation more than once," he said. "Of course
+you understand what Jones was up against. His hands were tied, and he
+simply couldn't make any move without walking straight into the clutches
+of the Nazis. However, his very good judgment didn't gain him a single
+thing. He _was_ arrested by the Nazis!"
+
+"Arrested?" Freddy Farmer gasped. "Good grief! What for?"
+
+"For the same reason other passengers aboard the train were arrested,"
+the Air Vice-Marshal replied. "Simply for no good reason at all, other
+than the fact that the Nazis figured they weren't functioning according
+to plan unless they made some arrest. Anyway, Jones was presently
+arrested along with the others, perhaps because he was seen talking to
+the injured man. At any rate, they arrested him and herded him into one
+of the several police vans that had mysteriously appeared out of
+nowhere. Just picture what must have been going on in his mind! Stuffed
+down in one of his pockets were two halves of sheet paper containing
+data on Hitler's war plans for ultimate world conquest. And there he was
+in a Nazi prison van under guard, and being driven _back into Germany_."
+
+"Not so good!" Dawson grunted impulsively. "Right behind the old eight
+ball, and how!"
+
+"Eh?" the R.A.F. Intelligence chief echoed with arched eyebrows.
+
+"An American expression, sir," Colonel Welsh spoke up with a chuckle.
+"Dawson means that Jones was certainly between the devil and the deep
+blue sea. Right out on the end of the limb, so to speak."
+
+The Air Vice-Marshal blinked just a little at that string of descriptive
+adjectives, but decided to let them ride without further explanation.
+
+"Yes, Jones was very much in a bit of a spot," he said with a nod. "He
+had the two halves of paper, but of course he'd had had no time to
+examine them yet. Fact is, he had no way of knowing whether what he'd
+heard was true or not. Perhaps those torn halves of paper in his pocket
+with all the minute writing didn't mean a thing to anybody. In short, it
+might be best to wad them into a ball and toss them unseen over the side
+of the police van, and forget the whole thing. Whether they contained
+things of importance or not would certainly make no difference to the
+Nazis should those blighters find them on him. The Nazi beggars are
+thorough, if nothing else. As you say in America, they don't overlook a
+single bet. They do things automatically, and take care of the
+questioning part of it later."
+
+"And lots of times they don't even bother with the questioning part!"
+Dawson spoke up, with a knowing nod. "They may be butchers and
+murderers, but they aren't anybody's fools."
+
+"Far from it," the Air Vice-Marshal agreed instantly. "So it was very
+touch and go with Jones. Should he get rid of the stuff and pay
+attention to saving his own skin? Or should he risk everything until he
+had a chance to make what he could from the writing on his two torn
+halves of paper? Well--well, permit me to say that he was a British
+Intelligence officer, so the decision he made is obvious. He took the
+chance on keeping the two halves. And for once luck was with him. Unseen
+by the guard on the van, he managed to wad the two halves of paper--they
+were very thin sheets--into a ball and hide them in his left armpit
+under a patch of gummed skin tissue that all agents carry--as you two
+chaps well know."
+
+The senior officer stopped talking as though waiting for the two air
+aces to nod. And then he continued on.
+
+"Well, Jones, and those with him, were taken to the town of Opelln
+inside Germany, and thrown into jail. For thirty hours they had neither
+food nor water, and four unfortunates died. Or perhaps they were
+fortunate in being able to die, considering what the others suffered
+later. Anyway, Jones was unmolested for thirty hours. And you can be
+sure he made full use of them. He borrowed a pair of thick lens glasses
+from one of the other prisoners, and using a lens as a magnifying glass,
+he read what his two halves of paper contained. And I will say right
+here that it was the most exciting bit of reading that Jones or any
+other man ever perused. Before his eyes was revealed a good part of what
+Hitler intended to do. _And_, mind you, exactly what he _has_ done since
+the start of the war! Of course, with only half of it there, Jones was
+unable to learn definite details. He could only read what he could read,
+and guess at what the other half contained. But had Jones been able to
+turn his newly gained knowledge over to us, the--well, I can tell you
+that the history of this war thus far would have been completely
+different from what it has been."
+
+"You mean he didn't turn it over to you, sir?" Freddy Farmer blurted out
+on impulse.
+
+"He didn't have the chance, worse luck!" the other replied, and rubbed
+one clenched fist into the palm of his other hand. "But he did do the
+only thing he could do. During those thirty hours he was left unmolested
+he not only read every one of the unfinished sentences, but he memorized
+every single word before destroying and disposing of the two torn halves
+of paper. However, Fate, you might say, was still giving him a black
+look. At the end of the thirty hours the prisoners were herded into the
+prison head's office and questioned. Questioned, and knocked about from
+here to there when they didn't, or couldn't give answers that satisfied
+their captors. Jones was no better off than any of the others. In fact,
+it developed that he was worse off. An answer he gave to one question
+didn't please the Nazi overlord, who lost his temper and struck Jones in
+the face with his fist. Jones, to save himself from toppling over
+backwards, flung up both hands, and his right hand unfortunately whacked
+one of the lesser Nazi officials in the face. And that tore it, of
+course. Jones wasn't questioned any more. He was promptly jumped on,
+half beaten to death, and then chained hand and foot, and sent off to a
+Nazi internment camp."
+
+The senior R.A.F. officer stopped short. His lips stiffened, his two
+hands bunched into rock hard fists, and there was the bright glint of
+cold steel in his eyes.
+
+"I need not describe to you the things Jones went through, and suffered,
+after that!" he finally grated out through clenched teeth. "The
+so-called routine of a Nazi internment camp is well known all over the
+world by now. But I come to the end of my part of this story. Six days
+ago, Agent Jones arrived back in England. He was the mere shadow of the
+man I sent into Europe over three years ago, but the British spirit,
+like the American spirit, knows no such thing as defeat. He never gave
+up. He tried to escape three times, and was caught. He himself says that
+he'll never know how he managed to go on living from one attempt at
+escape to the next. But the fourth time he made it. His escape is a
+hair-raising story in itself, but it's unimportant here, so I won't
+bother with it. But he did return to England six days ago, and he was
+able to put down on paper every one of those words he had memorized."
+
+"Stout fellow!" Freddy Farmer cried enthusiastically. "He certainly
+deserves the Victoria Cross, if ever a chap did. So now all that
+invaluable information is ours!"
+
+Air Vice-Marshal Leman smiled sadly and shook his head.
+
+"No, Farmer, it isn't," he said slowly. "We only have half of it. And
+the half we have is practically useless without the other half. Like
+Jones when he first read it, we can only guess at what the other half
+reveals. We don't _know_. And guesses in war are quite often as useless
+as no information at all."
+
+"But, my gosh!" Dawson cried. "You mean, sir, he went through all that
+for nothing? That he might just as well have tossed the whole thing
+overboard in the first place?"
+
+"No, not quite, Dawson," the Air Vice-Marshal said. Then, looking over
+at Colonel Welsh, he added, "I guess you'd better tell the last half of
+our story, sir."
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER FOUR
+
+_East of Darkness_
+
+
+As one man, Dave Dawson and Freddy Farmer swiveled around in their
+chairs and stared expectantly at the chief of the American Intelligence
+services. He did not return their look for a moment or two, however. As
+Air Vice-Marshal Leman had done once or twice, he scowled silently off
+into space as though thinking up the exact words he wanted to say.
+Eventually, he seemed to decide on them, and leveled grave eyes at the
+two youthful airmen.
+
+"Just as Air Vice-Marshal Leman has said," he began slowly, "what little
+we know of all this Tobolsk business is practically useless without the
+other half of it. It was the worse kind of luck for Agent Jones not to
+catch the name of the man he was supposed to contact in Tobolsk. True,
+Tobolsk is well behind the Nazi lines at the moment. And also, it is
+quite possible that he may be dead. As a matter of fact, we have every
+reason to believe that this unnamed man is dead, or at any rate, that
+he no longer lives in Tobolsk."
+
+"And what do you mean by that, sir?" Dave wanted to know when the other
+didn't continue at once.
+
+"From certain developments that have recently come to light," the
+Colonel replied. "From--well, from the American angle of this crazy,
+mixed up mystery. Contrary to general belief, Yank Intelligence was more
+than a little active long before the Japs pulled the knife on Pearl
+Harbor. We knew just as sure as the earth grew little apples that Uncle
+Sam would be in this war up to his ears before very long. So we did what
+we could, short of causing the State Department to come down on us with
+both feet. And--well, to use an expression that groans with age, it
+certainly is a small world. And there is nothing so baffling, or so
+helpful, as coincidence. It pops up in the darnedest places, if you get
+what I mean?"
+
+"I can guess close enough, I think, sir," Dave said with a grin.
+"Tobolsk again?"
+
+"Take a bow, son," Colonel Welsh grinned back at him. "You just about
+hit that nail right on the head. Tobolsk again is correct. One of my
+agents was working with Russian Intelligence until a few days ago. He
+was actually on the lease-lend end of the business, on the look-out for
+sabotage along the supply routes leading up through Iraq and Iran from
+the Red Sea. Well, to get on with the actual story, he was on his way
+from Baku to Moscow by air when the plane he was in ran smack into a
+storm, came out of it nobody knew just where, and bumped head on into a
+flock of German Messerschmitts. And the plane--it was a Russian
+craft--got shot down. My agent was the only one who came out of the
+crash alive. He must have been born under a lucky star, because he
+didn't so much as receive even a goose egg on his head, or a scratch any
+place.
+
+"The aircraft crashed just before dark, and my agent didn't have the
+faintest idea where he was, save that he was in the middle of some
+woods. Anyway, he used his head and put as much distance as he could
+between himself and the crashed plane. But after a while it got so dark
+that he couldn't tell but what he might be just going around in circles.
+At least he realized that he was still in the woods. So he sat down to
+wait out the night. And lucky for him he did. When daylight came again,
+he saw to his horror that he was less than a hundred yards from the end
+of the woods, and an equal distance from a German panzer division
+obviously camped and resting up from recent action at the front.
+Naturally, he realized then that he was well behind the Nazi lines. But
+he still didn't know at what part of the front."
+
+Colonel Welsh paused and smiled grimly.
+
+"There he was smack in the middle of the Germans, and wearing a suit of
+clothes he had bought in Moscow a month before," he continued presently.
+"It so happened that he didn't have any money. Nor did he have a gun of
+any kind. All he had on his person were identification papers that would
+have slapped him up against a firing squad wall five seconds after the
+Nazis got their hands on him. So his first job was to destroy all his
+identification papers. And his second job to make sure the Nazis didn't
+lay hands on him. Well, we can skip the next few days. He spent all of
+them, nights included, dodging Nazi patrols, and getting out from under
+the hand of Death reaching for him. And then came the night of
+coincidence, we'll call it.
+
+"He was groping his way northward across a field, with the idea of
+somehow slipping through the Nazi positions to the Russian side, when
+suddenly the ground seemed just to drop out from underneath him. One
+instant he was groping his way along, and the next he was out cold as an
+iced fish. When he opened his eyes again he found himself in the cellar
+of a bomb and shell blasted farm house. He was stretched out on a smelly
+mattress, and a couple of thread-bare blankets were over him. He took
+stock of what was what and realized instantly that he wasn't in Nazi
+hands. Nazis don't give blankets to prisoners they pick up at night.
+Anyway, my agent decided to stay right where he was, and wait for
+whatever was to happen next. And a body full of aches and pains helped
+him a lot to decide to do just that."
+
+The Chief of U.S. Intelligence let his words come to a halt, and it was
+all Dawson and Freddy Farmer could do to refrain from telling him to
+hurry up and get on with the rest. They held their tongues, however, and
+waited with pounding hearts and tingling nerves.
+
+"An hour or so later," Colonel Welsh finally continued, "an old man came
+down into the cellar holding a chipped bowl of some steaming liquid. It
+proved to be a bitter kind of tree root broth, but just the same it
+tasted mighty good to my agent. He accepted it, and drank it down
+without a word. Then he took a good look at this man and saw that he
+wasn't so old after all. He was no older than my agent, but war had made
+him look three times his true age. My agent's first questions were
+concerning what had happened to him, and how he had come to be there. My
+agent, of course, spoke Russian, but it developed that this man with the
+root broth spoke English, too. The long and short of it was that in the
+dark my agent had simply stepped down an uncovered, abandoned well. Why
+he hadn't broken his neck is something that nobody will ever be able to
+explain. Anyway, this man, who said he was a Russian, and named Ivan
+Nikolsk, said that he had found my agent at the bottom of the well. And
+that he was about to shovel dirt in on top of him, thinking him to be a
+Nazi, when he saw that my agent's clothes were Russian made. So he
+hoisted my agent up out of the well and took him down into the cellar.
+And that was that. Nikolsk simply believed that he was saving the life
+of a brother Russian. And he'd hide him from the Nazis, who were all
+about, at least until he'd found out more about the man whom he had
+pulled from the abandoned well."
+
+The Colonel paused to shrug slightly, and make a little
+this-probably-sounds-nuts gesture with one hand.
+
+"Well, the two of them started talking back and forth, of course," he
+resumed his story presently, "and my agent learned a few things about
+his lifesaver. One, that Nikolsk had been born in Moscow but had lived
+most of his life in Germany. And two, that Nikolsk had almost lost his
+life in a railroad train wreck just before the invasion of Poland. And
+three, that--"
+
+"Good grief!" Freddy Farmer interrupted with a gasp. "The same chap that
+Agent Jones met!"
+
+"One and the same," Colonel Welsh admitted with a nod. "He told my agent
+how he had been arrested by the Nazis and thrown into prison, where he
+almost died as the result of his train wreck injuries. But he survived,
+somehow. He survived the questioning and beatings he received. And, like
+Jones, he refused to let a Nazi internment camp finish him off for good.
+He managed to escape almost three years later and make his way out of
+Germany, and across German-occupied Poland and German-occupied Russia to
+the little village of Tobolsk. There he hoped to meet a life-long
+friend. But he never met him. When Nikolsk finally arrived, his friend,
+and most of the village's inhabitants, had simply disappeared from the
+face of the earth. But--"
+
+Colonel Welsh leaned forward slightly and tapped a forefinger on the
+desk top.
+
+"Ivan Nikolsk had survived things that you could not even put into
+words, for there are no words in any language to describe them
+adequately," he said. "But though he came out of it all with his life,
+he came out of it with only part of his brain. It didn't take my agent
+long to see that Nikolsk went off the beam completely every now and
+then. He would be making sense, when suddenly his speech would start
+rambling all over the place. And even then, almost a year later, he had
+the certain belief that his friend would return to Tobolsk, and he would
+be able to see him."
+
+"Did he tell your agent _why_ he wanted to see his friend?" Dawson asked
+eagerly.
+
+"No," Colonel Welsh replied. "That's one of the questions he wouldn't
+answer, though my agent asked it more than once as he heard more and
+more of the strange story. It's funny, but though Nikolsk had saved my
+agent's life, and believed him definitely on Russia's side, he couldn't
+get it out of his head that my agent might rob him of his great secret.
+Yes, you're guessing it. Nikolsk's secret knowledge of the Nazi war
+plan that he had learned while in Germany. Oddly enough, he told my
+agent every detail of his meeting with Agent Jones. Of how he had torn
+the secret information in half, given half to Jones, and destroyed the
+half that he kept. He told my agent all that, but he wouldn't tell him
+_one word_ of what the information was about. And do you know _why_?"
+
+"Didn't trust your agent, obviously," Freddy Farmer spoke up.
+
+"Yes, that's my guess, too," Dawson added.
+
+"No," Colonel Welsh said with a vigorous shake of his head. "True, he
+didn't tell my agent what his half of the information was because he was
+afraid of being betrayed. But he wouldn't reveal anything about the
+other half--_because he had forgotten it_!"
+
+"Forgotten it, for cat's sake!" Dawson exploded. "But--?"
+
+"Just what I am about to explain," Colonel Welsh cut in. "He swore blind
+that what he knew was of no use at all without the half that he had
+given to Jones. And to get it all together he had to see either Jones or
+his friend. He felt that Jones was dead, but--but he still held to the
+crazy belief that his friend would return to Tobolsk one day, and that
+together they would place in Joseph Stalin's hands something more
+valuable than a hundred armored divisions, or a thousand squadrons of
+aircraft!"
+
+As the echo of the last died away, a tingling silence settled over the
+room. Dawson had the insane urge to pinch himself hard just to make sure
+he wasn't sleeping through a very cockeyed dream. He knew, and had seen
+for himself, many of the upside down things that come out of war. But
+this dizzy tale was a new high for everything. When he tried to mull it
+over, and gain some sense from it, it simply made his brain hurt.
+
+"This is certainly something, sir," he mumbled, and gave the Colonel a
+searching look. "And you are going to say that your agent didn't learn a
+darn thing, and had to leave it that way? Gosh! I think I would have
+slung Nikolsk over my shoulder and high-tailed to Moscow as fast as I
+could, and counted on Joseph Stalin, himself, getting him to talk."
+
+"Don't worry," the Colonel said, with a grim, smile, "my agent thought
+of that idea, too. But, of course, it was impossible. He even suggested
+the idea, but Nikolsk would have no part of it. He insisted that what
+little he might be able to tell Stalin wouldn't help at all. He _had_
+to wait for either his friend, or Agent Jones, to turn up. And he was
+going to park right there in Tobolsk, keeping out of the way of the
+Nazis, until either of those things happened."
+
+"So I would say," Freddy Farmer spoke up as though talking to himself
+aloud, "that this friend was the _third_ man who possessed part of the
+original information. Either that, or Nikolsk had sent another copy of
+all of it to him, in case something should happen to him. And Jones
+showing up with a torn half would prove to the friend that Nikolsk was
+finished. And--"
+
+"No doubt the truth of the matter, Farmer," Air Vice-Marshal Leman took
+up the talking. "This friend was in the know about some of the business,
+if not all of it, no doubt. But Moscow had received not one single word,
+which proves what we fear. Namely, that Nikolsk's friend is dead, and
+will never return to Tobolsk."
+
+"But there is still Agent Jones!" Dawson cried eagerly.
+
+Colonel Welsh and Air Vice-Marshal Leman exchanged a long look. And it
+was the R.A.F. Intelligence chief who finally spoke.
+
+"Yes," he said softly. "There is still Agent Jones."
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER FIVE
+
+_Doubling for Death_
+
+
+For a long, long minute Dawson waited for Air Vice-Marshal Leman to
+continue. But the R.A.F. officer seemed to have said his bit, and that
+was that. He lapsed into silence and stared fixedly down at his hands
+folded on the desk. Dave started to put the obvious question, but before
+his lips could form the words Colonel Welsh broke the silence.
+
+"Yes, there is still Agent Jones," he said. "But it isn't so simple as
+all that. I mean, it isn't just a question of flying Jones over to
+Tobolsk and letting him get together with Nikolsk. Ivan Nikolsk has done
+the disappearing act again. And in addition, we have the very strong
+hunch that friend Himmler's Gestapo has entered into the picture."
+
+"He's disappeared, sir?" Freddy Farmer choked out. "What blasted rotten
+luck! But isn't there something that can be done? I mean, have you any
+idea where Nikolsk might be? And--?"
+
+"One thing at a time, Farmer," Colonel Welsh said with a chuckle, and
+held up his hand. "Not so fast, son. The thing's a mess right at the
+moment, but we have hopes."
+
+"Sorry, sir," Farmer said, as the red rushed up his face to the roots of
+his hair. "But it was a bit of a let-down after getting all warmed up,
+you know."
+
+"Well, that's the way with war," the American Intelligence chief said
+with a smile. "But to get on with my story. Just now I jumped ahead. So
+I'll go back to my agent in Tobolsk. Well, he stayed there in Nikolsk's
+cellar for four days. By the end of four days he had all his strength
+back, and falling down the empty well shaft was just an unpleasant
+memory. During those four days and nights Nikolsk was constantly with
+him, for the reason that a lot of Germans moved into the village. And
+from what Nikolsk could see they were there for some mysterious reason.
+I mean, they didn't camp, and they didn't have much equipment with them.
+Fact is, they were mostly Gestapo men in uniform.
+
+"So for four days and four nights my agent and Nikolsk hugged that
+cellar and prayed to their gods that the Germans wouldn't stumble over
+them. And whenever he had the chance, my agent went to work questioning
+his new found Russian-friend, but, sorry to say, he didn't even get to
+first base. The instant those Germans showed up Nikolsk closed up like a
+clam. Matter of fact, my agent says that he was practically blue with
+fear most of the time. He seemed to think that the Gestapo boys were
+after him."
+
+"Were they?" Dawson asked quietly as the other paused.
+
+Colonel Welsh shrugged and dragged down the corners of his mouth.
+
+"Yes and no," he said. "We don't know anything for certain. The next day
+Nikolsk left the cellar and didn't return. My agent waited a day longer,
+and then decided that it was time for him to be moving. He had some
+tattered peasant clothing that Nikolsk had given him, and he slipped out
+at night and continued his journey northward. In two days he was on the
+Russian side of the war. And as luck would have it, he bumped into a
+tank officer he knew. The rest was easy. A plane took my agent to
+Moscow. And after a day in Moscow he came on down here to London and
+reported to me. That was last night. When I heard his story I got in
+touch with the Air Vice-Marshal here. We went into a huddle, and--well,
+that brings us up to the present moment."
+
+A hundred thousand questions had been leaping around in Dave Dawson's
+brain. So when the Colonel stopped talking he got the first one out as
+soon as he could.
+
+"What about your Gestapo hunch, sir?" he asked. "Just how do you mean
+they've entered the picture? Only because of the Tobolsk business?"
+
+The American Intelligence chief gave an emphatic shake of his head.
+
+"No, not that alone," he said. "My agent stated that he was dead certain
+that he had been followed in Moscow. And that he is being followed right
+here in London. True, he's taken all kinds of measures to trip up
+whoever has been shadowing him. But the lad seems to be very clever. My
+agent can smell him, you might say. He can even feel eyes watching him.
+But he hasn't yet been able to get a look at this so-called shadow of
+his. And you can add to that, sir, eh?"
+
+As Colonel Welsh spoke the last he turned and nodded at Air Vice-Marshal
+Leman. The R.A.F. officer nodded gravely, and the corners of his mouth
+tightened slightly.
+
+"Quite!" he grunted, and looked at the two youthful air aces. "The
+blasted thing is the most incredible mess I've ever bumped up against.
+Truly fantastic. You'll be sure I've gone balmy when you hear this, but
+it is the absolute truth. Agent Jones has also been followed ever since
+he returned! What's more, his flat over on Regent Street has been
+entered and thoroughly searched at least twice, to his knowledge. And
+once--though he can't say for sure--a half-hearted attempt to kidnap him
+was made. At least, he was grabbed during a blackout, and he received a
+blow on the head that didn't quite stun him. Of course, it might just
+have been one of those countless blackout accidents. He may have bumped
+into a couple of skitterish chaps, and they may have got a little bit
+out of hand. When the blow didn't stun him, and he wrenched himself
+free, the two other chaps had disappeared. So there's no way of telling
+whether it was an accident or the real thing."
+
+"But it must have been an accident!" Dawson spoke up with a frown. "And
+after what Jones went through, maybe his imagination is playing him
+tricks. I mean, maybe he just thinks that he's being followed, and
+thinks that his place was searched. I--"
+
+Dawson cut himself off short, and suddenly felt like kicking himself. A
+funny look had leaped into Air Vice-Marshal Leman's eyes. And there was
+also a funny expression on Colonel Welsh's face. Dawson had the instant
+belief that he had spoken out of turn and put his foot into it.
+
+"You don't agree, sir?" he asked the R.A.F. officer lamely.
+
+The funny light faded from the other's eyes, and he shook his head.
+
+"No, I don't agree; Dawson," he said quietly. "True, I realize that it
+seems silly to think that the Gestapo got wind of Agent Jones, or
+Nikolsk, or Colonel Welsh's agent. The whole thing covers a period of
+about three years, but--well, I have to give credit to Himmler's gang of
+murderers for one thing, at least. They never forget anything. And they
+never give up the hunt. How they found out about Ivan Nikolsk, and his
+connection with Agent Jones, and his connection with the Colonel's
+agent, are three things we'll probably never learn. But the fact remains
+that the Gestapo has pulled many things out of thin air in times gone
+by. It is one of the smoothest working and one of the cleverest
+organizations in the history of man. So we would be plain blasted fools
+to brush any thought aside as being impossible of accomplishment. No,
+far better for us to assume that the Gestapo has wind of what's up, and
+to make our own plans accordingly."
+
+"Check and double check on that, sir," Dawson said respectfully. "And
+with your permission, I'd like to withdraw that crazy remark I just
+made."
+
+"Granted at once, Dawson," the Air Vice-Marshal said with a pleasant
+smile. "Matter of fact, I really don't blame you for making it. Would
+have done so myself, if I didn't know all the facts."
+
+A couple of minutes of silence settled over the room, and then it became
+too much for Freddy Farmer. He inched forward on the edge of his chair,
+and looked straight at the Air Vice-Marshal.
+
+"Beg pardon, sir," he said, "but may I ask why Dawson and I were ordered
+to report to you? I mean, is there something we can do to help
+straighten out the mess? And, if so, I can say for both of us that we're
+only too eager to try anything."
+
+"Old fire eater Farmer," Dawson said with a chuckle. Then, glancing at
+the Air Vice-Marshal, he added, "He took the words out of my mouth, sir.
+I've been wanting to ask that question ever since we came in here."
+
+The Chief of R.A.F. Intelligence didn't reply at once. He looked over at
+Colonel Welsh, and a special kind of look seemed to pass between them.
+Then finally, the American officer spoke.
+
+"Yes, we had good reason to send for you two," he said. "And there is a
+way that you can help--I hope."
+
+"Those last two words don't sound so good, sir," Dawson spoke up with a
+grin. "You mean, there's nothing definite?"
+
+"No, I don't mean that," the Colonel replied. "I mean--"
+
+The senior officer paused, and scowled heavily as though he were
+reluctant to let the rest come off his lips.
+
+"No, I don't mean that," he repeated presently. "You two can help us,
+and more than you realize at the moment. However--well, to give it to
+you straight, it might turn out to be a dirty trick on both of you. Your
+war service might suddenly end with a bang, or worse."
+
+Dawson swallowed hard at that remark, but managed to keep a grin on his
+lips.
+
+"We've flirted with that kind of a situation a couple of times before,
+sir," he said quietly. "So maybe Lady Luck wouldn't leave us cold all of
+a sudden."
+
+"Quite!" Freddy Farmer echoed. "At least, it wouldn't be anything new
+and novel to us, if you know what I mean?"
+
+"I do," Colonel Welsh said with a chuckle. "But it so happens that this
+would be a new and novel item. That is, unless you've acted as decoys of
+the real thing in the past?"
+
+"Huh, decoys?" Dawson gulped. "How's that again, sir?"
+
+Colonel Welsh leaned forward and rested his forearms on the end of the
+desk.
+
+"Obviously," he said, "the thing we want to do, and as soon as we can,
+is to get Ivan Nikolsk and Agent Jones together. Though Nikolsk has
+disappeared for the moment, we feel very strongly that he is not very
+far from Tobolsk. As my agent stated, his one and only aim in life was
+to meet his friend, or Agent Jones, at Tobolsk. Therefore there is good
+reason to believe the Gestapo simply scared him into some other place of
+hiding, and not too far away. So if Agent Jones should go to Tobolsk,
+the chances are that he would meet up with Ivan Nikolsk sooner or
+later. My agent and Agent Jones have checked, and the appearance of
+Nikolsk hasn't changed much. I mean that Agent Jones is certain that he
+would recognize him at once. And he is also certain that he can fully
+establish his identity to Nikolsk."
+
+"And our job is to fly Agent Jones to Tobolsk, and land him safely, eh,
+sir?" Freddy Farmer spoke up excitedly.
+
+"No, definitely not," Colonel Welsh replied evenly. "Your job will be to
+take the Gestapo boys off the necks of Agent Jones, and get them all
+wrapped up in the task of chasing you!"
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER SIX
+
+_Eagles for Moscow_
+
+
+Had Colonel Welsh calmly pulled out an automatic and fired the whole
+clip through the ceiling of Room Twelve Hundred, Dave Dawson and Freddy
+Farmer wouldn't have been half so surprised as they were right at the
+moment. Like two sitting statues of stone, they froze motionless, and
+gaped wide-eyed at the Colonel. A billion questions spun around in their
+brains, but for several seconds neither could have made his lips speak
+words; not for a million dollars in cold cash.
+
+In time, though, Dawson succeeded in getting his tongue back into
+working order.
+
+"Sweet tripe!" he exploded. "That is a new one for us! Decoys for the
+Gestapo rats! Gosh!"
+
+"It doesn't meet with your approval, Dawson?" Air Vice-Marshal Leman put
+the question with a slight frown.
+
+"Sure, one hundred per cent, sir," Dave came right back at him quickly.
+"But it was so sudden like--well, it's sort of got me still swinging at
+thin air. One right on the outside corner that I didn't even see the
+pitcher let fly."
+
+"Eh, what?" the senior R.A.F. officer grunted with a blank look on his
+face.
+
+"Another American expression, sir," Colonel Welsh explained immediately.
+"Dawson means I took the wind out of his sails. Caught him flat-footed
+off the bag, you might say."
+
+"Oh, yes, quite!" the English officer murmured, but didn't exactly lose
+his blank look. "Well, I'm glad that you approve, because we are
+definitely counting on you two for help. If this bit of a mission is
+completely successful, there's no telling how much it may change the
+course of the war in our favor, you know."
+
+"If it can be done, we'll both do our best to hold up our end, sir,"
+Freddy Farmer murmured.
+
+"And you can say that again for me," Dawson added his bit. Then, turning
+to Colonel Welsh, he asked, "What's the plan, sir? Or shouldn't I ask
+that now?"
+
+"You should, and I'll answer it," the American Intelligence chief
+replied. "Here is the picture as we've doped it out. You two, whether
+you admit it or not, are not exactly unknown to the Gestapo. Ten to one
+the Gestapo knows that you are here in London. In fact, it's almost an
+even money bet that Gestapo agents in London know that you are here in
+this office right now."
+
+"Gosh!" Freddy Farmer breathed softly. "That doesn't give a chap a very
+pleasant feeling. But go on, sir."
+
+"What I'm working up to is this," the Colonel continued. "If the Gestapo
+has wind of the Tobolsk business, and I'll bet a year's pay that they
+have, they are going to be just a bit more excited to learn that you two
+have been brought into the picture. And it is our plan to bring you into
+the picture right out in broad daylight, so to speak. In other words,
+the Air Vice-Marshal here, you two, my agent, and Agent Jones and myself
+are going to have lunch as Simpson's at the Savoy Hotel this noon. Then
+we are all coming back here for a short while. Tonight you two will
+travel to Aberdeen in Scotland. There you will board a bomber that will
+fly you direct to Moscow. When you reach Moscow the Soviet Intelligence
+will take over. You will disappear from sight, and you will remain out
+of sight for a bit. Then at the right time you two and a Russian
+Intelligence officer, who knows every square inch of the Tobolsk area,
+will take off by plane and head down the front to the village of Urbakh,
+which is on the Russian side of the front."
+
+The Colonel paused a moment to catch his breath and shift his weight on
+the chair.
+
+"Meantime," he presently continued, "Agent Jones will also be making a
+little journey. You see, we hope that you two will be able to draw the
+Gestapo away from Jones. He will be sneaked out of England by air, and
+go to Gibraltar, and on to Alexandria, and up through Iraq, and Iran,
+and up through the Caucasus to the village of Urbakh. There he will meet
+your party coming down from Moscow, and--well, from that point on, our
+plan is only general. You, of course, will have to make your own plans
+from hour to hour, according to how the situation shapes up. The goal,
+of course, is for all of you to get over into Tobolsk behind the Nazi
+lines and contact Ivan Nikolsk, and learn what he has to say, in the
+event you can't get him out of there by air."
+
+"Zowie!" Dawson breathed aloud without thinking. "Just like that, huh?
+I--Sorry, sir."
+
+Colonel Welsh gave a little wave of his hand to signify that Dawson's
+comment was taken in the right spirit. In fact, he grinned, and nodded
+his head vigorously.
+
+"Zowie is right!" he echoed. "I'll admit that the assignment appears so
+screwy, and dizzy, that a man would be a fool even to give a thought to
+its turning out even partially successfully. But on the other hand,
+that's something in our favor in a way. It's such a screwy idea that
+maybe even the Gestapo wouldn't believe we'd try to pull it off. You
+see, our hope is that they'll think that you're going to Moscow to turn
+over valuable information to Soviet Intelligence. In short--well, to be
+very blunt and brutal, it is our hope that the Gestapo will fall all
+over themselves trying to _stop you two from reaching Moscow_, and in
+their efforts will forget all about Agent Jones."
+
+"Well, I wish them luck, I don't think!" Dawson said more cheerfully
+than he felt. "At any rate, there should be some fun in beating those
+murdering bums to the punch. Check, Freddy?"
+
+"Quite!" the English-born air ace managed to get out. "I've always
+wanted to visit Moscow, too."
+
+"Well, our prayers will be that you'll have that opportunity," Colonel
+Welsh said almost fervently. "If you can shake them off at Moscow, even
+if they suddenly realize they've been very nicely duped, and guess the
+real truth, we hope there'll not be enough time for them to do anything
+about it."
+
+"There's one thing I don't quite catch, sir," Dawson said after a couple
+of minutes of general silence. "The trip over the Nazi front to Tobolsk.
+There'll be four of us in the party, and, we sincerely hope, five of us
+coming out. That's quite a crowd to be charging about behind the German
+lines, to my way of thinking."
+
+"I agree with you in principle," the American Intelligence chief
+replied. "But this is one of those occasions where we're banking on the
+idea of safety in numbers. In the first place, there must be someone
+along who knows that area like the palm of his hand. That's where the
+Russian Intelligence officer will come in. He'll know the best place to
+land, and where to hide the aircraft from prying Nazi eyes. Secondly,
+there has to be the man to contact Nikolsk. That's Agent Jones, of
+course. Thirdly, or it should be secondly, Nikolsk will have to be
+found, and that's where the Russian Intelligence officer will come in
+handy again. He'll be able to hunt around while the rest of you lie
+doggo and wait. And lastly, there must be a pilot to fly the plane in,
+and to fly it out again. That's where you two come in. Double insurance,
+if you get what I mean?"
+
+"I get it, sir," Dawson said grimly. "You hope that both Freddy and I
+will fly in, but there _must_ be one of us left to fly the ship out,
+eh?"
+
+"I mean just that," Colonel Welsh said, and there was no smile on his
+thin face now. "One of you has _got_ to come back!"
+
+"And _both_ of us will!" Dawson replied instantly.
+
+"Definitely!" Freddy Farmer echoed, and seemed content to let it stay
+like that.
+
+"Well, that's the picture in more or less detail," Colonel Welsh said
+with a glance at his watch. "We'll talk over some more of the details
+again. Right now, though, I guess we've done enough talking. Let's break
+up this meeting, and think things over. Maybe all of us will have things
+to add later. That agreeable with you, Air Vice-Marshal?"
+
+"Quite," the senior R.A.F. officer said with a nod. Then, glancing at
+Dawson and Farmer, "All the luck in the world, you chaps. And I need not
+tell you how I admire you both, and envy you, too, if you must know the
+truth. I'd give every one of my stripes of rank to be able to go along
+with you."
+
+"Thank you, sir," Dawson said for them both. Then, with a pointed glance
+at the decoration ribbons under the tunic wings of the Air Vice-Marshal,
+he added, "And we'd like nothing better than to have you along, sir."
+
+"See here, what about me?" Colonel Welsh snapped with a half grin
+tugging at the corners of his mouth. "Am I supposed to be an old woman,
+or something?"
+
+"Just Dawson's nasty manners, sir," Freddy Farmer spoke up with a
+straight face. "He'll never learn. But I can assure you that his words
+really included you both."
+
+"And how, sir!" Dawson exclaimed hastily. "I figured you'd take that for
+granted."
+
+"Well, that's a little better!" Colonel Welsh growled in mock annoyance.
+"But you'll never know, Dawson, how close you came to having to pay for
+that lunch this noon. But of course, I understand, now. So I'll let you
+off this time, and pay for it myself."
+
+Dawson blew air through his lips, and went through the act of wiping
+beads of sweat from his brow.
+
+"Boy, did I come close to having to wash a mess of dishes!" he breathed.
+"Because, if the truth must be known, I've got all of three shillings in
+my pocket!"
+
+"As though that were unusual!" Freddy Farmer shot at him. "Just name the
+day when your pay wasn't all spent before you received it."
+
+"Quite!" the Air Vice-Marshal broke into the conversation. "But that's a
+well known R.A.F. habit, of course. Well, Gentlemen, shall we disband,
+eh, and meet later at Simpson's, what?"
+
+And nobody put forth any objections.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER SEVEN
+
+_You Can't See Death_
+
+
+Like A black steel snake with a single yellow eye, the "Flying Scotsman"
+went roaring northward over the steel rails that led to Aberdeen. In
+their compartment, four cars back from the engine, Dave Dawson and
+Freddy Farmer tried to lose their thoughts in the newspapers and
+magazines they had bought before leaving London. But it was just about
+as easy to do that as it is for a man to shave with an electric razor in
+a thunder storm.
+
+However, the two air aces stuck grimly to it for well onto two hours,
+until finally Freddy reached the end of his string. He flung the
+magazine across the compartment they shared alone, and heaved a long,
+loud sigh.
+
+"This is without question the balmiest war ever!" he proclaimed with
+vocal emphasis.
+
+Dawson looked up from his newspaper, nodded, and tossed it to one side.
+
+"At any rate the screwiest one I ever fought in," he said. "So you
+haven't been reading either, huh?"
+
+"On the contrary, yes," Freddy replied. "But the same blasted paragraph
+over and over again. I just can't seem to concentrate."
+
+Dave glanced at the thick blinds that covered the windows and smiled
+faintly.
+
+"I guess nobody could blame you for that, considering," he murmured.
+"We've been handed some sweet jobs, since we elected to take our own
+personal swings in this war. And each time has seemed tougher than any
+of the others. But this--this really is tops for cockeyed assignments.
+Know something, Freddy?"
+
+"What?"
+
+"We stand _less_ chance of pulling this thing off than Mussolini stands
+of being made King of England," Dave said.
+
+"And don't I know it!" Freddy Farmer groaned. "I swear I don't know
+who's craziest--Leman and Colonel Welsh for putting the proposition up
+to us, or us for accepting it. Why, good grief, Dave--"
+
+The English youth seemed unable to continue, so he just left the rest
+hanging in mid-air, and scowled unseeingly at the single light in the
+compartment ceiling.
+
+Dave nodded, but didn't speak, because he was thinking the same thoughts
+as his war pal. And none of them were happy thoughts. True, they would
+go all out to pull off this miracle that had been dumped in their laps,
+but he realized in his heart that their chances were thinner than tissue
+paper. And every click of the coach wheels on the rail breaks added just
+another exclamation mark to that thought.
+
+To be truthful with himself, he had actually believed that their chances
+of success were not much less than fifty-fifty. But that had been during
+the luncheon at Simpson's. There he had met Agent Jones, and Colonel
+Welsh's agent, who was introduced by the name of Brown. And something
+about both men had touched a hidden note within him, and filled him with
+a savage desire to succeed, and the partial belief that all might come
+off well, at that. During the luncheon no word, of course, had been
+spoken of the secret double mission about to be undertaken. But when
+they had all returned to Air Vice-Marshal Leman's office, they had gone
+into the whole thing in minute detail. At that time Freddy and he had
+heard both stories of Tobolsk first hand. And though little was added
+they had not already heard, hearing the stories from the lips of the men
+who had gone through it all simply made Dave want more than ever to
+deliver all the valuable information into the right hands. Maybe it was
+to help repay Jones and Brown for what they had suffered. Or maybe it
+was because he believed that success might shorten the war considerably.
+He couldn't make up his mind which idea appealed to him most. He only
+knew that, when Freddy and he had finally parted company with the
+others, he wanted to come through with flying colors this time more than
+he had ever wanted to in his entire war career.
+
+"Say, Freddy!" Dave suddenly broke the silence. "In case I haven't asked
+it yet, have you seen any Gestapo lads tagging along after us?"
+
+The English youth shook his head and made a face.
+
+"Not so much as a tiny peep at one," he replied. "And that gets me to
+thinking. It would be a very bad joke on us if the blighters saw through
+our little game, and left you and me strictly alone."
+
+"A bad joke, yes," Dawson said with a grin. "But at least we'd be sure
+to see Moscow. And that was the big attraction in this to you, wasn't
+it? Or rather, isn't it?"
+
+"Oh, quite!" Freddy snapped at him. "Just to see Moscow. _I'm_ really
+not interested at all in this business about Ivan Nikolsk. But
+seriously, though, I had a feeling that something might be tried before
+the train left. But nothing was. Frankly, I'm a little worried."
+
+"Hard-boiled Farmer," Dawson grinned. "Never happy unless he has a fight
+on his hands. Stop worrying, pal. Something tells me you'll have plenty
+of chance for action before they ring down the curtain on this job."
+
+"Here's hoping," Farmer mumbled. "But I'm still a little worried.
+Frankly, I never ask trouble, let alone danger, to come my way. But for
+once I wish we'd see a bit of it. Such as some beggar coming barging
+through that compartment door, there, with a gun in his hand."
+
+"What a pretty thought!" Dawson grunted. "Do I get it that you've
+suddenly got tired of living, pal? Or are you just a little more goofy
+than usual?"
+
+"Neither!" the other told him shortly. "I simply mean that if something
+_did_ happen to me, I'd feel a little bit better."
+
+"Why, then, just move your jaw this way, my friend," Dave said, and
+lifted his clenched right fist. "Always glad to oblige an old, old
+pal."
+
+"The funniest man on earth, for fair!" Farmer snorted. "You'd make
+millions on the stage--maybe. You nit-wit, don't you get the point?"
+
+"What point, Master Mind?" Dawson shot back at him. "Do you mean
+that--Oh, oh, I get it. If something happened to us, that would mean
+that our unseen Gestapo boys were biting at the bait, huh?"
+
+"Splendid!" Freddy Farmer cried in mock joy. "I always knew that that
+brain of yours would come up with the right answer at least once during
+your life. Quite! That's exactly what I mean. I wish something would
+happen that was connected with us. It would certainly make me feel
+better."
+
+"Well, maybe something will after we get off this train," Dawson said,
+and stifled a tiny yawn. "Maybe our friends don't like to do things on
+trains. Maybe ... Hey! We're slowing up for a station stop. Wonder what
+place it is? Let's have a look. Snap off the light, sweetheart."
+
+Freddy Farmer whipped up his hand, and the compartment was instantly
+plunged into pitch darkness. Both boys felt their way over to the window
+and lifted up the blackout blinds. It took a few seconds to accustom
+their eyes to the even deeper darkness outside. And then they saw that
+the train was passing the outskirts of a fair sized town, and obviously
+slowing down for an eventual full stop.
+
+"My guess is that it's Edinburgh," Freddy Farmer said, with his nose
+pressed against the glass. "We've been on this thing long enough to get
+there, I fancy."
+
+"There and back, I'd say," Dawson grunted, and squinted his eyes.
+"There! I just saw a sign, but it could say Broadway and Forty-Second
+Street, for all I could read. Well, so what, anyway? Let's just say it's
+Edinburgh, and let it go at that. You can't see the end of your nose in
+this blackout."
+
+"No, wait!" Freddy Farmer cried out as Dave started to turn away from
+the window. "It's not Edinburgh. Just some small place. I guess it must
+be a signal stop. No, it's definitely not Edinburgh yet."
+
+"Okay, that's what I said," Dawson grunted. "Haul down the blinds, and
+let's put on the light. In this war, I want all the light I can get,
+when I can get it."
+
+"Half a moment!" Freddy called out, with his nose still jammed against
+the window glass. "Yes, just as I thought. A signal stop. Two chaps are
+getting on at the rear. Just saw them now as the train came to a stop.
+See? And now we're off again!"
+
+All of which seemed to be quite true. The train had stopped for only the
+fraction of an instant, just long enough to let two passengers swing
+quickly aboard. And now it was on its way again, and picking up speed
+fast. After Freddy had hauled the blackout curtains down into place, and
+snapped on the light again, Dave chuckled and gave a little shake of his
+head.
+
+"Now what's biting you?" the English-born air ace wanted to know.
+
+"Nothing special," Dawson replied, and stretched out comfortably on the
+cross-wise seat. "I was just thinking of how a guy does crazy things
+when there's something on his mind."
+
+"Meaning me, I suppose?" Freddy challenged with a dark scowl.
+
+"Meaning both of us," Dave replied. "Just these last few minutes. The
+train slowing down, and whether or not it was Edinburgh station. What do
+we care? We don't. But we act as though the thing were of great
+importance. See what I mean, pal? When you've got something big on your
+mind, it's human nature to grab at something small just for a change of
+scenery, you might say."
+
+"Yes," Freddy Farmer said.
+
+And that was all he said, for at that moment the compartment door was
+rolled back and the conductor came inside, rolling the door shut behind
+him.
+
+"Travel vouchers, please, Gentlemen," he said, and held out his hand.
+
+Both Freddy and Dave dived hands into their tunic pockets, and came out
+with their respective travel voucher slips. They handed them over for
+inspection, and the conductor stared at them long and hard. Finally he
+lifted his eyes and looked at them each in turn.
+
+"These aren't in order," he said with a gesture of impatience. "The date
+stamped on them is too light. I can't read it."
+
+Dawson was tempted to tell him that that was simply his tough luck. But
+he decided that a train tearing through the blackout was no place for
+wisecracks. And after all, the conductor was only doing his job.
+
+"They were stamped today, sir," he said instead. "At the Air Ministry. I
+saw it done myself. So did Captain Farmer. You can take them as being
+all in order."
+
+That last seemed to be the wrong thing to say. The conductor's eyes
+flashed and he shot a stern look at Dawson.
+
+"Oh, I can, can I?" he snapped. "Very nice of you to tell me, I'm sure.
+But I have my orders, and I know what they are. All travel vouchers must
+be in order for people to travel on _my_ train. I'll have to ask you to
+come along with me and see the Company Inspector, who is in the next to
+one car back. You can make your explanations to him. And if he says it's
+all right, then it'll be all right for me."
+
+"And that will be just ducky!" Dawson growled, and got up off the seat.
+"Okay. If it will take a great load off your mind, my friend, then we'll
+go back and see the Inspector. But on second thought, let's have the
+Inspector come see us. What do you say, Freddy, huh?"
+
+"Oh, come off it, Dave!" the English youth growled. "Why make a mountain
+of it? The chap is just doing his job. So let's go back and straighten
+it all out with the Inspector. Besides, a bit of a walk wouldn't do
+either of us any harm."
+
+"For that reason, I agree," Dawson grunted, and stepped through the
+compartment door that the conductor had rolled open.
+
+Leading the way, he headed for the end of the car, and, unlike in the
+vast majority of English trains, the end door and passageway that
+permitted travel from car to car. But just as he was stepping into the
+next car a figure suddenly appeared out of nowhere directly in front of
+him, and something blunt and hard was jammed against his chest.
+
+"One sound, and there'll be a dead man under the wheels!" a voice
+hissed. "Stand right where you are!"
+
+Dave froze stiff, and then was almost knocked off balance as Freddy
+Farmer came bumping into him from behind. For a split second he half
+expected to hear the English youth comment volubly on the situation. But
+he didn't hear a sound. He only felt his pal stiffen, and that was more
+than enough to tell him that one fake conductor had unquestionably
+rammed a similar blunt hard object into Freddy's back, and whispered a
+few words of warning, too.
+
+For a long moment the whole world seemed to stand still for Dave. He
+knew that he was straining his eyes for a glimpse of the figure blocking
+his path, but in the bad light he could see nothing but a vague
+silhouette. Then suddenly he saw the figure's hand reach up and yank
+hard on the emergency cord. Almost instantly the speed of the train fell
+off as the engineer up ahead slammed on the brakes. The jolting and
+jarring lurched Dave forward, but he was prevented from going on his
+face by the blunt, hard object still digging into his chest.
+
+"I am going to open the side door!" the voice suddenly whispered in his
+ear. "Get in front of me, and, when I order, jump off the train. But do
+not try to run away. I will have both eyes on you. And I am a perfect
+shot, even in the dark. You understand?"
+
+"You've still got the ball, my rat friend!" Dave grated, and took two
+steps toward the edge of the platform.
+
+The train was almost at a dead stop now, and cool evening air rushed in
+through the open car door. He stared up at the few stars he could see in
+the black heavens, and mentally kicked himself hard. Nobody had to send
+him a telegram to explain what this was all about. He and Freddy had
+walked right into a perfect trap with their eyes and ears wide open. A
+neat trick, that conductor stunt. If he ever got out of this he should
+keep it in mind. A stunt like that might come in handy sometime. In war
+you never can tell.
+
+But serious as the situation seemed, and unquestionably was, there was
+still one very satisfying thing about it: an item to which he'd given
+more than a little thought since Freddy and he had pulled out of the
+London station. It was the problem of just what they could expect should
+the unseen Gestapo boys get on their trail. Now he knew. That is, he
+knew now that it wasn't instant death they could expect. And praise be
+to the Fates for that small favor. No. Removing Freddy and him from the
+picture wasn't the goal of those who were after them. It meant that the
+bait had been perfect. The little play had been acted out to absolute
+perfection. In short, one Freddy Farmer and one Dave Dawson were wanted
+_alive_. Yes, very much alive, because it was the information that they
+were supposed to possess that was wanted most.
+
+And so it wasn't to be murder. It was to be the slightly less important
+crime of kidnapping. And--
+
+"Jump! And, remember my warning!"
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER EIGHT
+
+_Nazi Lightning_
+
+
+As the night sky suddenly seemed to explode right on top of Dawson's
+head, and fill his brain with millions of spinning balls of colored
+light, he had the crazy thought that the order had certainly been a
+waste of words. And then he went flying out into the darkness. Instinct,
+and instinct alone, caused him to fling out his hands and bend his
+knees. For a long moment he seemed to hang motionless in the middle of
+nothing. And then Mother Earth came up to meet him.
+
+He hit on all fours on the track embankment, and he was too stunned to
+do anything about it. He could only let his body roll over and over like
+a barrel rolling downhill, until his progress was stopped short by a
+heavy clump of thorny bushes. And even then he could still do nothing
+about it. The balls of colored light were still spinning around inside
+his head, and to add to it all a couple of hundred heavy caliber guns
+were sounding off in his brain. Fighting for control of his senses, and
+gasping for breath, he remained right where he was, too all in and
+befuddled to care whether school kept or not.
+
+However, he did not remain motionless for very long. Only a moment or
+two after he had crashed to a full stop up against the thorny bushes,
+hands of steel came out of nowhere, grabbed hold of him, and yanked him
+savagely up onto his feet.
+
+"Walk straight ahead, and do not be slow about it!" a voice snarled in
+his ear. "Cry out, and it will be your last sound in this world! Move
+along!"
+
+One of the steel fingered hands let go of Dawson, though the other kept
+a tight grip on the back of his neck. And almost in the same instant he
+once again felt the familiar pressure of a blunt, hard object jammed
+into the small of his back. For a split second he hesitated, but only
+long enough for the sane side of him to point out that any show of
+resistance at this point would probably be plain suicide. Where Freddy
+Farmer was, and what had happened to his war pal, he did not know.
+However, this was not the moment to do anything about it.
+
+And so, choking back the words of blazing anger that rose to his lips,
+and beating down the mad urge to whirl upon his unknown captor, gun or
+no gun, he started walking straight ahead through the darkness. In less
+than a minute his feet told him that he had reached some kind of a
+country lane. His captor swerved him onto it, and gave him a hard jab
+with the gun as a signal for greater speed. Dawson obeyed because there
+wasn't anything else he could do. But most of the spinning balls of
+colored light had faded from his brain by now, and he was better able to
+take stock of the situation.
+
+It wasn't a very pleasant picture. In fact, it was most unpleasant, and
+twice as maddening. Why, not over twenty minutes before Freddy Farmer
+and he had been tearing along by train toward Aberdeen, _and_
+complaining of the fact that things were going along too smoothly. Well,
+Freddy had surely got his wish. Things had happened, and happened with a
+bang. There was no doubt, now, that Gestapo agents in London had grabbed
+at the bait thrown out by Colonel Welsh, and taken it hook, line, and
+sinker. So what?
+
+So a well planned stunt had back-fired almost before it had been put
+into execution. And it had been done so easily and so simply, too. That
+was what made Dawson see red as the steel fingers and the business end
+of a gun prodded him along a night-shrouded country lane. Nobody had to
+explain to him that the two Gestapo agents had boarded the train at that
+whistle stop. And nobody had to explain to him, either, that they had
+timed every move to perfection. The emergency cord had been yanked at
+the right moment so that the train would come to a stop at the right
+place. The way in which "Steel Fingers" shoved him forward was proof in
+itself that this country lane was well known to him, and a definite part
+of this kidnapping escapade. Yes, it had been simple, and a cinch. Like
+rolling off a log. Or better, rolling off a railroad track embankment.
+
+At that moment the shrill sound of a locomotive whistle came to Dave's
+ears. And almost immediately he heard the distant snorting and puffing
+of the Flying Scotsman getting under way again. Those sounds chilled his
+heart just a little bit more, and fanned into flame the smouldering
+anger in his breast. He could feel his face grow hot with the shame of
+having walked into this little trap so doggone blindly. He wondered how
+Freddy was taking it, if his pal was pleased that his wish for action
+had been granted. But more than that, he wondered how Freddy was, and
+_where_ he was.
+
+As though the gods of war had simply been waiting for him to start
+wondering in earnest about Freddy Farmer, the steel fingers gripping him
+by the back of the neck suddenly tightened and jerked him to a halt. He
+was spun around to face the shadowy figure of his captor, but the barrel
+of the gun was quickly moved from the small of his back to a point on
+his chest directly over his heart. And the harsh voice spoke
+again--almost invitingly, it seemed to him.
+
+"Don't move a muscle! Not a muscle!"
+
+Dawson remained motionless as ordered, but he strained his eyes in the
+darkness for a glimpse of his captor's face. He might just as well have
+tried to study a sheet of black paper at the bottom of a coal mine at
+midnight. He could only see that his captor wore a snapped down brim hat
+pulled low over his eyes. The face could be that of a Jap, for all he
+could tell.
+
+However, he knew that the man was not a Jap. The voice had disproved
+that. Yet, at the same time, the sound of that harsh voice had built up
+the fires of rage in Dave, for the simple reason that he felt sure that
+his captor was _not_ a German. At least he felt pretty sure. He had the
+strong belief that his captor was English. The harsh voice had the
+Midlands twang, that is so much like the New England twang. Of course,
+he might be dead wrong, but--
+
+The rest of his rambling thought flew off into oblivion as two shadows
+suddenly emerged out of the gloom, and he saw that one of them was
+Freddy Farmer, and, right behind his pal, the man in a train conductor's
+uniform.
+
+"You okay, Freddy?" he asked quickly.
+
+For an answer to his question the gun was practically shoved through his
+ribs, and a hand smacked him across the face.
+
+"Silence!" Harsh Voice rasped at him "One more sound _will_ be your
+last!"
+
+"I'm all right, Dave," Freddy Farmer said, almost as an echo to the
+threat of violence. "I saw H-Sixty-Four drop off the train, so these
+blighters won't last very long."
+
+The last caused Dave to blink hard in the darkness. For three or four
+seconds he wondered what in the world Freddy meant, and if his pal had
+received too hard a crack on the head. Then in a flash the truth came to
+him. And almost in the same instant it was confirmed by the one with the
+harsh voice.
+
+"What's that?" the blurred figure demanded. "Who is this H-Sixty-Four?"
+
+Dawson leaped at the opening and chuckled softly in spite of the risk.
+
+"You'll find out, and fast, tramp!" he snapped. "Think we would have
+fallen for that conductor gag if we hadn't been expecting it, or
+something like it?"
+
+"Quite!" Freddy Farmer quickly took up the play. "And the laugh is
+really on you chaps. _It's_ on its way to Aberdeen now. If you don't
+believe me, then search us. And--Did you hear that, Dave?"
+
+Dawson started to open his mouth, but a hard hand was clamped over it,
+and the gun barrel felt like a knife in his chest. A voice whispered
+softly, but it didn't come from the owner of the hand clamped tightly
+over his mouth. It came from Freddy Farmer's captor.
+
+"Get along with them to the place! Stohl will get the truth out of them.
+If your swine makes a sound, give him one and carry him on your
+shoulder. We've got to get away from here, whether they're lying or not.
+I don't like it!"
+
+"Yes, this is Stohl's business," the one with the harsh voice hissed
+back. "Our job is only to deliver these two. Come on!"
+
+And then began another walk up the night-shrouded lane, although it
+could hardly be called a _walk_. Steel Fingers forced Dave along at a
+rapid rate, and the gun that had returned to the small of his back was
+sufficient urging to make him hold the fast pace. However, there was
+just a little more joy in his heart now. Just a little, to be sure.
+Freddy and he were still helpless prisoners, but Freddy's fast thinking
+had at least changed the picture a little. It had put a little fear in
+the minds of their captors. Or at any rate, it had caused them to
+believe that their plan had not turned out exactly the way they had
+expected. Obviously, their job had been to nail Freddy and himself. A
+third person hadn't been counted on. And Freddy Farmer's lie had touched
+off the jitters a little bit, anyway. And when your enemy starts getting
+the jitters, there's no telling what can happen.
+
+Maybe yes, maybe no! But Dawson clung hard to that tiny thread of hope
+as he was shoved and prodded forward along the night-shrouded road.
+Several times he was tempted to trip himself up purposely, and take his
+chances of his captor tumbling down on top of him. But the thought of
+Freddy Farmer and the conductor right behind curbed the crazy urge. If
+just Harsh Voice and he were alone--But, of course, the conductor had a
+gun, too. And besides, there was no way of letting Freddy know that it
+had been no accident.
+
+"Save it!" he told himself grimly. "Play it out the way it's going. One
+thing is certain. These tramps don't _want_ to kill us. Which, of
+course, means that they've received orders _not_ to. So just bide your
+time--and maybe it'll come along!"
+
+And so, with the decision fixed firmly in his mind, he let himself be
+led through the night for another good ten minutes. At the end of that
+time he was suddenly guided off the country lane to the right, and into
+some woods. But once again it became instantly evident how thoroughly
+this kidnapping had been planned. He didn't go bumping into any trees or
+bushes. On the contrary, there was a winding path under his feet, and he
+was guided forward at practically the same speed, as though his captor
+had the eyes of a cat.
+
+And then without warning the woods stopped and opened up into a
+clearing. In the center of the clearing was a small house. Rather, it
+appeared to be little more than a shack. Not so much as a pin point of
+light showed anywhere, but of course that didn't mean a thing. In the
+British Isles they _observe_ the blackout, and constantly.
+
+Dawson was led right up to the front door of the shack, and then yanked
+to an abrupt halt. Almost before he could realize what was taking place,
+his captor whipped out with his gun and rapped sharply three times on
+the door. Then the gun came right back to the small of Dawson's back.
+Standing perfectly still with his gaze fixed on the night-shrouded door,
+Dawson heard Freddy Farmer and his captor come panting up to a halt. And
+then there was the sound of the door opening, although no light cut
+through into the darkness. The door simply swung all the way back, and
+an instant later the black oblong where the door had been spoke words.
+
+"Come in, at once! Don't just stand there, fools!"
+
+The sound of that voice in the darkness sent a little cold shiver
+rippling through Dawson. It was gone in an instant, but not before he
+was dead sure that the words had come from a Nazi throat. He had had the
+feeling all along that his captor and Freddy's conductor were English.
+Yes, English-born rats who would sell out their country for gold.
+History has proved time and time again that there are rats like that in
+every nation on the face of the earth. But the man who had spoken from
+the darkness was one hundred percent Nazi breed. The tone of his voice
+indicated as much, and Dave was sure that one look at his face, the set
+of his eyes, the slope of his forehead, and the width of his jaws would
+be the final proof.
+
+And that final proof was revealed no more than twenty seconds later.
+Just time enough for Freddy and himself to be herded in through the
+doorway, for the door to be slammed shut, and a match touched to the
+wick of an oil lamp on a table in the middle of the room. For a moment
+the sudden change from pitch darkness to light threw Dawson's eyes all
+out of focus. Presently, though, he was able to adjust his vision, and
+get his first look at his captors.
+
+His hunch was correct. The faces of the pair that had boarded the Flying
+Scotsman at that signal stop were typically beefy British red; the faces
+of men who spent most of their lives outdoors in a climate that could be
+damp and clammy one day, and windy and icy the next. And the third man,
+the one who had spoken from within the night-shrouded doorway, was
+thoroughly German. His face had that moon-shaped, brutish look, his
+eyes the look of something vile and treacherous. And the very air about
+him smelled of things foul and evil.
+
+"Good!" the man suddenly broke the silence, and smirked with pleasure.
+"Those are the two. For once you did not bungle my orders. I am
+delighted. Put them in those chairs, and keep your eyes on them. You had
+no trouble, no?"
+
+The two kidnappers hesitated, and glanced at each other. Then quick as a
+flash Dawson laughed aloud.
+
+"Nope!" he said. "No trouble at all--_yet_!"
+
+The one who had been referred to as Stohl half whirled and fixed blazing
+gimlet eyes on Dawson.
+
+"Hold your tongue, swine!" he snarled. "You will speak when I order you
+to. Now, you, answer my question!"
+
+A tiny note of worry was mixed up in the snarl directed at the two
+kidnappers, and hope began to surge up in Dawson. He and Freddy had been
+shoved down into a couple of chairs, and they had a good look at the
+beefy-faced pair. At that moment the one in conductor's uniform spoke.
+He seemed to have to force the words off his lips one at a time.
+
+"No trouble, _Herr_ Stohl," he said. Then, stabbing his eyes at Freddy,
+he continued, "But that one there spoke of an H-Sixty-Four dropping off
+the train. And he said, also, that something was on its way to Aberdeen
+now. They dared us to search them, but we did not wish to waste time.
+I--perhaps there is some place you wish me to go now, _Herr_ Stohl? I
+mean--"
+
+"I know what you mean, you swine, you sniveling dog!" the Nazi
+exclaimed. "I knew you had not the courage of a snail. So you wish to
+run away now, eh? You are afraid of your own shadow, is it not so? Bah!
+I have no use for jellyfish like you. So _go_!"
+
+As the last word left his lips the Nazi's hand streaked into his jacket
+pocket and out with the speed of lightning. Dawson's eyes saw the
+revolver with the silencer fitted to the barrel. And his ears heard the
+faint _pop_ that it made. But not until the man in conductor's uniform
+turned slowly around and then crumpled to the floor in a motionless heap
+did his brain actually grasp what had happened.
+
+"And _that_ for a swine dog with water for blood!" Stohl rasped, and
+swung his gun to point straight at the other kidnapper's chest. "Well,
+Bixby? You would like to join the swine, eh?"
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER NINE
+
+_TNT Twins_
+
+
+For five long seconds the whole world seemed to cease revolving, as the
+man addressed as Bixby went white as a sheet and struggled frantically
+for the use of his tongue. His eyes went mad with fear, and sweat poured
+down his face. He had his own gun in his hand; but he seemed not to
+realize that fact. His fear-streaked, glassy eyes were fixed upon Stohl
+as though the Nazi were some kind of a powerful magnet that he could not
+resist.
+
+And then without warning the half screamed words came out with all the
+turbulent fury of flood waters rushing through a broken dam.
+
+"No, no! Please don't shoot me! Don't shoot me, _Herr_ Stohl! I am not
+like him. I want to stay. I want to help. I swear it to you. Do not
+shoot me, for Heaven's sake!"
+
+The Nazi gave him a long, hard stare, and then smirked broadly.
+
+"Good, then!" he rasped. "But see that your tongue does not make the
+same mistake as did that dead fool's. Now, what about this H-Sixty-Four?
+And what about something on its way to Aberdeen?"
+
+Fear still had the man named Bixby by the throat, and the words he spoke
+sounded like small stones sliding down a tin roof.
+
+"I know nothing about it but what he said," he finally choked out, with
+a gesture toward the dead man. "I don't know what it all means. Those
+two, there, can perhaps tell you. I do not know."
+
+The Nazi scowled for a moment, as though he were debating whether to
+believe Bixby or not. Then he muttered something under his breath, and
+half swung around to Dawson and Freddy Farmer.
+
+"Very well, then!" he rasped out. "You will tell me what it was all
+about, eh?"
+
+Dave hesitated a moment to give Freddy Farmer a chance to say what he
+might have to say. But the English youth remained silent. Dave glanced
+at him out of the corner of his eye, and saw that Freddy seemed not to
+have heard the question. The English-born air ace sat half slumped in
+the chair, with his eyes fixed on the oil lamp of the table, and a
+completely uninterested and almost vacant look on his sun and
+wind-bronzed face.
+
+"Can't you guess?" Dave snapped, switching his gaze to the Nazi's face.
+"Do you think United Nations Intelligence is as dumb as your Gestapo?
+Figure it out for yourself. It's simple!"
+
+The Nazi didn't like that, and the savage, animal look that leaped into
+his eyes made Dave just a little bit sorry that he had been so flip with
+his reply. This Nazi was obviously the kind of snake who could take so
+much, and then would go off the deep end, regardless of the consequences
+of his hair trigger temper. However, the German held his boiling rage
+under control, and did no more than take a bead with his silencer fitted
+revolver on a point squarely between Dawson's eyes.
+
+"Your tongue is begging for your death!" he said in a voice trembling
+with suppressed rage. "Speak again that way, and it will be granted!
+Now, take your choice!"
+
+Dave Dawson looked straight into the muzzle of certain death, and at the
+same time forced a grin to his lips.
+
+"Maybe it's _you_ who has the choice, _Herr_ Stohl," he said slowly and
+deliberately. "Your agents have letters and numbers to identify them,
+don't they? Well, so do our agents. And if that doesn't mean anything to
+you, here's the tip-off. What you want, my pal and I _were not carrying
+on us_. H-Sixty-Four had it, see, Stohl? _But_ if anything happened to
+us, H-Sixty-Four was to pass it on to a _fourth_ person on that train,
+and come to our rescue. That's right! I said _rescue_! In case you don't
+know, British Intelligence thinks there are too many of your kind on
+this island. They are doing something about it. And so--"
+
+Dawson didn't finish the rest. He had the sudden fear that he had spoken
+too much nonsense already. So he left the rest hanging in thin air. The
+Nazi bored him with his eyes, and in those eyes Dawson saw clearly the
+shadows of worry, doubt, and frank disbelief. And as frank disbelief
+gradually blotted out the other two Dawson realized that death was
+coming closer and closer. This Stohl was no fool. What Dawson had said
+had worried him at first, but now he was beginning to see through it and
+recognize it as just so many useless words. Which it was.
+
+"A very good try, _Herr_ Captain Dawson!" the German suddenly barked.
+"Yes, of course I know you, and your swine comrade, too. In fact, _I_
+know everything. You fools--to think you can keep secrets from the
+Gestapo! I know that you were on your way to Aberdeen. I know that at
+Aberdeen a British bomber is awaiting you. And I also know that the
+bomber is waiting there to fly you to Moscow. But neither you nor your
+swine comrade will ever reach Moscow!"
+
+Dawson's heart was a solid lump of ice in his chest. He wanted to
+believe that he hadn't heard a single word spoken. He wanted to believe
+that it would have been absolutely impossible for Gestapo agents in
+London to learn even that much of Freddy's and his mission. He wanted to
+believe that he was simply thinking of those things in his mind, and so
+shouldn't take the words as having come from the lips of the Nazi,
+Stohl.
+
+Sure! He _wanted_ to believe all that. But he couldn't! More than once
+in the past had he been in situations where the Nazi Gestapo had learned
+things that were believed to be cast iron secrets. More than once had a
+supposedly loyal Englishman, or American, in an important post, turned
+out to be nothing but a black-hearted Nazi. And so to hear those words
+from Stohl's lips did not shock him so much as sicken him and stir up
+the bitterness of war within him. What pair of ears in Air Ministry had
+heard of this part of the plan, he would probably never know. But that
+made little difference now. That is, save for one terrible possibility.
+That a Nazi pair of ears had heard _all_ of the plan. That even now
+Jones was a prisoner, and--
+
+"But no, you dope!" his brain screamed at him. "Catch hold of something,
+and stop going haywire. If the Nazis knew _all_, why should they bother
+about Farmer and you? They wouldn't! Agent Jones would be their man,
+because Agent Jones is the one key to the success of this whole thing.
+He alone is the one to contact Ivan Nikolsk. So snap out of it, and just
+let this Nazi go on fishing!"
+
+His thoughts boosted his spirits, and gave him some encouragement and
+hope--but not a terrible lot. The fear still lingered that the Nazis
+_did_ know all about the Tobolsk business. Yes, the fear that possibly
+the Nazi plan was to put Freddy and him out of the picture, just in
+case. Right! Just to make _sure_!
+
+Brushing the taunting thoughts from his mind, Dawson eyed the Nazi
+coolly.
+
+"All right, have it your way," he said evenly. "So we don't see Moscow.
+But _that_ doesn't matter, _now_. Like you, _Herr_ Stohl, we play the
+part assigned to us, and let _others_ do the rest. I'm not denying a
+thing. You win this round. My pal and I seem to have been put out of the
+picture. Okay. In war a man has to take his chances--and trust to luck."
+
+As Dawson finished speaking he half shrugged and made a faint gesture
+with one of his hands. But inwardly he was praying hard, and as he
+studied the Nazi's face he had the feeling that his prayers were being
+answered a little. His complete about-face wasn't setting so well with
+_Herr_ Stohl. The German obviously hadn't expected so sudden an
+admission of defeat, and it puzzled him not a little. He searched
+Dawson's face for some hidden answer, and unconsciously let his gun sag
+until it was pointed toward the floor.
+
+That was the moment for which Dave was waiting, to stake all on one
+swift lightning-like bit of action. However, the Yank-born air ace, in
+his own eagerness to befuddle Stohl slightly and get him off guard for
+the moment, had forgotten one very important item. And that item
+happened to be Freddy Farmer, in the flesh. Freddy was playing his own
+kind of game, too. And even as Dave coiled his muscles for a diving
+leap at _Herr_ Stohl's legs, Freddy Farmer was way out ahead of him.
+
+From a man half slouched, down in a chair, the English youth became a
+roaring tornado of savage action in nothing flat. Dave had just a split
+second in which to see Freddy's arm move like a striking cobra; to see
+something sail out of his hand. And then the oil lamp on the table went
+crashing off and down onto the floor. Just what else Freddy Farmer did,
+Dawson didn't have time to see. He didn't, for the simple reason that
+putting his own Commando training and actual experience to good use
+required all of his attention.
+
+Like a shot from the mouth of a gun, he hurled himself up onto his feet,
+and off the floor, to sail straight forward and low down. He heard Stohl
+cry out in alarm and rage. Then Dave's shoulder crashed into his knees,
+and the German went over backward and down like a felled ox. But even as
+Dave crashed into the Nazi, he kicked outward with his left foot. It was
+a case of nailing two birds with one stone, so to speak. And he
+succeeded. His booted left foot caught the half stunned Bixby in the
+stomach, and doubled him over with pain split seconds before he could
+snap out of his trance and make use of the gun he held in his hand.
+
+Then down on top of _Herr_ Stohl crashed Dawson. He tried to protect
+himself as much as possible, but his momentum was terrific, and new and
+brighter stars began to whirl about as his forehead slammed down on the
+boards. Every nerve and muscle in him went limp and jelly-like. He was
+sure he heard the faint _pop_ of the Nazi's revolver, and thought he
+felt a white hot spear of flame cut across the top of his shoulder. But
+he was too stunned to be sure of anything, save the fact that the whole
+wide world was now a glowing red, and that acrid smoke was driving every
+ounce of air out of his lungs, and burning their walls to a crisp.
+
+In a vague, abstract sort of way he realized that the oil lamp crashing
+down onto the floor had sprayed burning oil in all directions, and that
+the floor was fast becoming a seething sea of fire. He realized all
+that, and even saw it with his own dazed eyes, but his whole body seemed
+to be clamped fast in a gigantic vise, so that he couldn't move an inch.
+
+Then suddenly some great weight crashed down on top of him. In the same
+instant a gun roared out sound. The weight dropped down on his back,
+went limp, and rolled off him onto the floor. The sudden bit of
+mysterious action seemed to release a hidden spring within him. Strength
+rushed back into his body, and his muscles ceased to be limp any more.
+Hardly realizing that he had done so, he scrambled up onto his feet, and
+leaped back from a tongue of flame. He crashed into Freddy Farmer, but
+the English youth grabbed hold of him and checked him from tumbling down
+onto the floor again.
+
+"This way, Dave!" he heard Freddy shout. "Nice work, old chap. I'm sure
+he was dead before he even fired his gun. Broken neck, you know. And
+good riddance. Come along, pal!"
+
+The words made little sense to Dave, but his aching lungs were too empty
+of air to make questions possible. Besides, Freddy Farmer had him by the
+arm and was dragging him over to the door of the shack. He had just time
+enough to glance back and see the still form of Bixby, with a bullet
+hole square in the middle of his forehead, the still, motionless figure
+of Stohl with his head twisted around in a horrible position, and the
+seething, hissing pool of burning oil that was lapping its way across
+the floor boards. Then Freddy Farmer yanked open the shack door, and
+they both leaped through and out into the dark night.
+
+"Keep going!" the English youth barked sharply as Dave started to pull
+up to a halt. "That whole blasted thing is going to be a torch of flame
+in no time at all. And we haven't time to answer questions for a lot of
+Air Raid Wardens and Auxiliary Police chaps. We want to get away from
+here fast!"
+
+Dave didn't bother to question that because it had all made good sense
+on his spinning brain. So he simply gulped night air into his aching
+lungs and raced along through the night at Freddy's side. No less than a
+thousand times, it seemed, they tripped over tree roots, rocks, and
+shrubs, and almost went flat. But somehow they both managed to keep
+their feet, and presently they broke through some shrubbery and out onto
+the smoothness of a well paved road. There they pulled up to a halt by
+silent mutual agreement. And by the same kind of agreement they slumped
+down by the side of the road and fought to regain their breath.
+
+Finally Freddy Farmer was able to talk without wheezing out the words.
+
+"Well, that's a score for our team, what?" he said. "A bit risky while
+it lasted, though. Anyway, those three dirty blighters will have no more
+to do with this war, thank heaven!"
+
+"Me, I say, thank _you_!" Dave corrected. "Sweet tripe! You sure are
+learning fast, pal. You were way ahead of me that time. Fact is, I'm
+still not sure just what did happen. What about what broken neck? And
+who shot that Bixby?"
+
+"Guilty," Freddy Farmer said grimly. "He was just about to have a go at
+you when I put an end to his dirty work. I guess you must have stunned
+yourself going down on that Stohl. But what a beautiful tackle, Dave!
+Don't ever try it on me, even in fun. I wouldn't want my neck broken the
+way his was. Just as I got hold of the gun, and was turning around, I
+saw him fire. But I'll swear he was stone dead at the time. Well, it
+looks like we both had the same thought at the same time, eh? I'd been
+playing doggo for what seemed like hours, waiting to have a go at that
+oil lamp."
+
+"With what, I want to know?" Dave asked. "I thought I saw something fly
+out of your hand. What was it?"
+
+"A rung of the chair they'd pushed me into," Freddy said quietly.
+"Rickety old thing, it was. Blessed wonder it held me up. The two of
+them were so interested in you, old chap, they didn't even see me work
+it loose. Well, they're done with, and we've got to be getting along.
+When the Flying Scotsman arrives at Aberdeen without us--"
+
+"It will, anyway," Dave said, and grabbed hold of Farmer's arm, "so one
+more question won't change anything. About the gun you said you got hold
+of--what one?"
+
+"This one," the English youth, replied and held out a small bore
+automatic. "It's that conductor beggar's, of course. When he fell to the
+floor this slid out of his hand. Nobody paid any attention to it. But I
+did. Oh, quite! That's what I had my eye on all the time. It, and that
+oil lamp on the table. And thanks to your bit with _Herr_ Stohl, I had
+the chance to dive for it and get it in time. Good gosh! Did you think I
+simply planned to fight my way out of that mess with my bare hands?"
+
+Dave Dawson chuckled, gave him a friendly slap on the back, and got up
+onto his feet.
+
+"Darned if you couldn't have done that, too, pal," he said. "Like I
+always say, just the guy to have along when you get into a jam. And,
+Freddy, that _was_ a jam! A tough one. Remind me next time, same which I
+hope there won't ever be. Because next time it'll be my turn to be the
+fair-haired hero. Yes sir, Freddy! You're something. And I don't mean
+maybe!"
+
+"Rot!" the English youth snorted, but his face beamed with pleasure.
+"After all, it took the two of us to get the two of us out of it. And,
+frankly, I didn't think much of our chances for a while. That--that
+double talk of ours didn't make any impression on that Stohl. He's no
+fool."
+
+"Was no fool," Dave corrected, and drank in the night air. Then, half
+turning, "Boy! See the reflection of those flames. Ugh! A horrible end
+for rats, even if they were rats. Let's get going. But heck! Which way?
+I haven't the faintest idea where we are."
+
+"I think I know," Freddy Farmer spoke up, and pointed along the road to
+his left. "Ahead, there, is a town called Leadburn, unless I'm
+completely mistaken. This is the Old North Road, anyway. I'm positive of
+that. But let's go off here to the left. It's toward the north, anyway.
+We'll hunt up the Military Commandant of the first town we come to, and
+get him to loan us a car."
+
+"What a sweet hope!" Dave grunted. "We just ask him and he agrees
+to ..."
+
+"Of course not, stupid!" Freddy Farmer snapped. "I say, you _must_ have
+got quite a blow on your head, to think I'd try anything that silly."
+
+"Okay," Dave sighed as he dropped into step. "Just what kind of magic do
+you intend pulling to get a Military Commandant to loan a car to a
+couple of strangers with dirty uniforms, and dirtier faces, too? And in
+war time?"
+
+"You just don't know me, that's all," Freddy commented with a chuckle.
+
+"Know you?" Dave snorted. "If _I_ don't, then _who_ does?"
+
+"You!" the English youth shot right back at him. "But don't throw that
+brain of yours out of gear wondering, my good fellow. I'll explain. It
+will be all very simple. The telephone, see? A telephone call to the Air
+Ministry. And if the Air Ministry doesn't clear the fog of doubt and
+suspicion over us--why then--"
+
+"Why then we walk to Aberdeen," Dawson interrupted. "But take a bow,
+son. You've really got something there, at that. My error."
+
+"Granted," Freddy Farmer said sweetly. Then with profound relief echoing
+in every word, he said, "Well, anyway, they took good hold of the bait.
+And what's more, we landed them right into the boat. Now we shouldn't
+bump into any more trouble until we leave Moscow for Urbakh, and
+Tobolsk. If even then."
+
+"Yeah, sure," Dawson said absently. "But me, I've learned never to count
+on even a sure bet in this crazy war. Three Gestapo rats are dead and
+gone out of the picture for us. But there are lots and lots of other
+Gestapo rats still alive and kicking. And between you, me, and this town
+I hope we reach darn soon, I've a hunch that we've only seen a little of
+the _beginning_ of trouble on this cockeyed mission."
+
+And as the echo of Dawson's comment died away, the gods of war in their
+high places of hiding nudged each other, grinned wickedly, and nodded
+their heads in complete and absolute agreement with all that had come
+off Dave Dawson's lips!
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER TEN
+
+_Eastward to War_
+
+
+A cold, dirty grey fog hung over the Royal Air Force Depot, at Aberdeen,
+Scotland, like a soggy blanket just about ready to drop. Ceiling was
+about eight hundred feet, and visibility was about a third of a mile, if
+you had good eyes. Far to the east the sun of a new day was dawning. But
+you would never have been able to tell by looking in that direction.
+There was nothing but dirty grey fog stretching out to the four
+horizons. Only there weren't even any horizons. There was just fog, and
+more fog.
+
+The state of the weather, however, had not put any damper on plans for
+R.A.F. activity. At every dispersal point about the Depot field were
+aircraft of all types being made ready for the day's aerial smash
+against the Axis forces on the Continent. Planes of every description,
+ranging from sleek, powerful Supermarine Rolls Royce "Merlin" powered
+Spitfire Mark V's to the gigantic death dealing Lancaster bombers. And
+swarming all over them, like so many industrious ants, were the R.A.F.
+mechanics. The riggers, the fitters, the armorers, and the countless
+other members of the ground crews that keep the planes in the air.
+
+Over in one corner of the field, though, was a lone Vickers "Wellington"
+bomber. And grouped under one of its huge wings were five airmen dressed
+for the skies. Three of them wore R.A.F. uniforms, but Dave Dawson and
+Freddy Farmer still wore their U.S. Army Force uniforms, though they
+were not in the best of condition as a result of the boys' recent
+experience with three worshipers of Hitler, who wouldn't be around any
+more.
+
+As a matter of fact, it had been their torn and mud-smeared uniforms
+that had come close to delaying their arrival at the Aberdeen R.A.F,
+Depot indefinitely. Following Freddy Farmer's plan of action, they had
+walked three miles along the Old North Road to a town which did turn out
+to be Leadburn, just as the English-born air ace had guessed. Patroling
+Home Guards stopped them, and after considerable argument they were
+taken to the quarters of the town's Military Commandant. That gentleman
+was awakened from a deep sleep, and he didn't like it at all. He didn't
+even like it a little bit. And being that kind of an officer, he felt
+that the two youths should be tossed into the local clink for the rest
+of the night, and their case looked at in the broad light of day.
+
+But at that point both Dave and Freddy went to work on him, so to speak,
+much to the silent amusement of the Home Guards. At any rate, they
+convinced the Commandant that he should phone the Air Ministry. He did,
+and that changed everything, instantly. The boys couldn't hear what was
+said at the other end of the wire, but they didn't have to. The sullen
+annoyance in the Commandant's face changed at once. His eyes widened to
+saucer size, and his face turned a deep brick red color that went right
+up into his hair. He almost got his tongue tangled up in his teeth
+telling the person at the other end of the wire that he would "do that
+at once." And when he finally hung up, his forehead was dotted with
+beads of nervous sweat.
+
+And so the boys got action, plus! In less time than it takes to tell
+about it the Commandant's own car was turned over for their use. And
+they were given a Corporal, who knew the roads well, to handle the
+wheel. And that was exactly what the Corporal did, and then some. He
+was ordered to make the run north to Aberdeen Depot as fast as he could,
+and hardly had he shifted gears before both boys realized the man
+planned to do even better than that. He was indeed an expert driver, but
+even experts break their necks sometimes. And what worried Dave and
+Freddy as they shot northward through the night was that the driver
+would not only break his own neck, but theirs as well!
+
+Lady Luck rode with them, however. And in due time they passed through
+the Aberdeen Depot gates, and were conducted over to the Depot
+Commandant's office. He had been waiting for them, and getting new grey
+hairs with every passing minute. Of course the Flying Scotsman had long
+since arrived at the station, and when they were not found aboard, the
+Commandant had more or less taken it as his personal responsibility. And
+so his joy was great and his relief unbounded when finally the two
+youths did show up. He took them under his wing at once, and got them a
+good meal and something hot to drink. Then he chatted with them for a
+bit, and it was all the two youths could do to stop from grinning in his
+face. Naturally, the Commandant knew nothing, save the fact that they
+were to be flown to Moscow, and so naturally he dropped a casual
+question here and there in an effort to add to his knowledge.
+
+But neither Dave nor Freddy were having any of that. As a matter of
+fact, if either of them was tempted to give their host a tip as to the
+nature of their mission, they had only to think of that little business
+aboard the Flying Scotsman to be easily able to kill such an intention
+right then and there. If German agents had big ears in London, they
+would certainly have big ears in Aberdeen. And the conviction that of
+course there weren't any Nazi agents way up there in Aberdeen was just
+about the stupidest idea one could have. Nazi agents are like
+cockroaches. You'll find them around, no matter how many you kill, until
+you've found the nest and burned it out. And the Gestapo nest was in
+Berlin.
+
+However, the hour or two with the Depot Commandant passed pleasantly
+enough. And then the pilot, navigator, and radioman of the Moscow-bound
+bomber reported at the Commandant's office. The pilot was a Squadron
+Leader named Freehill, and the ribbons under his wings proved that he
+had won his rank the hard way. The navigator was a Flight Lieutenant
+named Parsons, and he had a ready smile and a hearty handshake that
+made both Dave and Freddy feel glad that he was going to be along on the
+flight to Moscow. The radioman was a cheery-faced sergeant named
+Dilling, who looked as if he should be on the vaudeville stage rather
+than inside a Wellington bomber. All three of them seemed rather
+mysteriously tickled about this coming flight to Moscow, but it was not
+until later, when they were all taking it easy under the Wellington's
+wing, while the twin Bristols were warming up, that Squadron Leader
+Freehill explained the reason for their secret joy.
+
+"This aerial taxi business has almost got us down," he said out of a
+clear blue sky. "But not this trip we're to make with you chaps. You're
+a blessing, if there ever was one, or two, rather. It should be a bit of
+all right this time, I'm sure."
+
+"Here's hoping, anyway," Dave said with a grin. "But I don't know what
+you're talking about. What do you mean, this trip is to be different?"
+
+"A difference of about two thousand miles, for one thing," the other
+replied with a chuckle. "And a good chance to see a Jerry or two, for
+another. Or at any rate, so I hope. You see, most times we're blasted
+chauffeurs for some war correspondents, or some brass hats, or political
+big wigs, headed for Moscow to chat with Stalin and all the lads. Very
+valuable cargo, you know. And we must get them there without grey hairs,
+or them getting their feet wet. So we have to fly a course north to
+within six hundred miles of the Pole, and then around the tip of Norway
+and down into Russia through Murmansk and Leningrad. Like flying through
+an ice box. Terribly cold. And no end boring, too. Except for Parsons,
+here. He's kept pretty busy making sure we don't end up in Greenland or
+some such other place."
+
+"Quite!" the navigator echoed with a faint chuckle. "Takes me a week to
+rest my poor brain after one of those thirty-two hundred mile hops. No
+fun at all, really. You two chaps we are taking across as the crow
+flies. Wouldn't be at all surprised if a Jerry or two came up for a look
+at us. They're frightfully worried about R.A.F. planes over their heads
+these days, you know."
+
+"Don't I hope a few do come up, though!" Sergeant Dilling spoke up with
+a broad grin. "It's so long since I had a Jerry in my sights I'm worried
+for fear I won't be able to recognize one of the beggars. It will be
+wonderful, no end, to spill one of the blighters down in a mess of
+flames. At least it will give me the feeling that at last I'm doing
+something to earn my pay."
+
+"Well, we want to get to Moscow all in one piece," Dave said with a
+little laugh, "but I can't say that I'd be too mad if a couple of
+Messerschmitts did put in an appearance. How about the weather, Squadron
+Leader? Does this stuff go very far out?"
+
+The Wellington's pilot grinned, and winked one eye.
+
+"Far enough out," he replied. "According to the latest reports we'll
+have it all the way to the Norwegian coast. There it's supposed to be
+visibility unlimited. I certainly hope so. Don't want bad weather to
+keep the Jerries on the ground."
+
+The Squadron Leader paused and glanced at his wrist watch, and then over
+at the engine filters climbing down out of the bomber.
+
+"Well, I fancy its about time to get on with it, chaps," he said, and
+tightened the chin strap of his helmet. "In with you. And a good time
+for all of us. The dinners will be on me when we reach Moscow."
+
+A couple of minutes later the five were aboard the bomber, and the
+Squadron Leader was running up the engines for a final instrument
+check. Then he spoke into his inter-com mike and received an all-set
+okay from each of the other four. That done with, he kicked off the
+wheel brakes and started to trundle the giant bomber out onto the field
+and down to the far end of the take-off runway. He had hardly started
+taxiing, however, when the Operations Officer in his tower blinked the
+"Stop" signal with his Aldis signal lamp, and a figure was seen to come
+dashing out the Depot Office. It was the Depot Adjutant, and he held a
+sheet of yellow paper in his hand. Dave took a look at the yellow sheet
+waving around in the wind, and swallowed hard. All of a sudden tiny
+little balls of cold lead were beginning to bounce around in the pit of
+his stomach. Why he should suddenly experience the strange sensation, he
+had no idea. However, the sight of the running Depot Adjutant, and the
+sheet of yellow paper he carried in his hand, seemed to strike him as a
+very definite reminder that this was not to be any joy flight, but
+rather, a deadly serious mission to be carried out on the wing.
+
+And a moment or two later, when the Adjutant climbed aboard the bomber
+that Squadron Leader Freehill had braked to a halt, and came back into
+the bomb compartment where the Yank and Freddy were parked, the lumps of
+lead in Dave's stomach began to bounce around more than ever.
+
+"For you, Captain Dawson," the Adjutant said, and held out the yellow
+sheet of paper. "From the Air Ministry, special code. Afraid for a
+moment that you'd be off before we could decode it. But here you are,
+anyway."
+
+Dave took the yellow sheet of paper and held it so that he and Freddy
+could read it together. It had been sent by Air Vice-Marshal Leman, and
+its contents were not what you could call very encouraging, considering.
+It read:
+
+     "Reason to believe mission known, and attempts will be made to
+     prevent accomplishment at all cost.
+
+     "Placing you in command, and ordering you to use your own judgment
+     whether to continue. However, second part already enroute, and will
+     attempt to carry on alone if necessary. Train incident undoubtedly
+     small indication of coming events. Flight course perhaps known, so
+     suggest that change be made when in air. All decisions left to you
+     and Farmer. Good luck, regardless of what you decide to do."
+
+Dawson read the decoded message through twice, and then looked quietly
+at Freddy Farmer. The English-born youth returned his look, and there
+was the glint of grim determination in his eyes. Dave grinned, and
+nodded.
+
+"Just what I'm thinking, too, pal," he grunted.
+
+"What do you mean?" Freddy wanted to know.
+
+Dave tapped the sheet of yellow paper, and shrugged.
+
+"Mighty nice of him to give us an out, if we wanted one," he said. "But
+we don't. We still want to see Moscow, huh?"
+
+"Very much," Freddy grinned back at him. "Fact is, I'd be delighted to
+let the blasted Nazi lads try and stop us. We'll carry on just as the
+second part is doing."
+
+Dave nodded complete agreement. Of course, the "second part" referred to
+Agent Jones' trip to Urbakh via the southern route. Jones had left
+already, and if he didn't contact Dave and Freddy at Urbakh he would
+attempt to reach Tobolsk by hook or by crook on his own. However, Dawson
+and Farmer had no intention of letting Agent Jones be forced to do that.
+
+"Check and double check," Dave grunted, and handed the yellow sheet to
+Squadron Leader Freehill, who had come aft from the pilot's
+compartment.
+
+The senior officer read the message, looked very unhappy for a moment,
+and then smiled slightly at Dawson.
+
+"A pleasure to take orders from you, old chap," he said easily. "But
+what are they? Do we go, or do we stay?"
+
+"We go," Dave said quietly. "And the sooner the better."
+
+"Right you are, Skipper!" Freehill said happily. Then with a faint
+frown, "But the course?"
+
+Dawson opened his mouth to speak, but on second thought checked the
+words about to come out of it.
+
+"I'll give you the new course as soon as we are in the air," he said.
+Then turning to the Adjutant, he said with a grin, "Thanks for
+delivering the message. Will you please communicate to the Air Ministry
+that we are continuing as originally planned, but will make changes in
+the flight course?"
+
+"Quite, of course," the Adjutant replied, and turned toward the belly
+door. "Good luck, chaps."
+
+As soon as the Adjutant was clear of the plane, Squadron Leader Freehill
+went forward and got the Wellington into motion again. Dave went
+forward with him and dropped into the co-pilot's seat. Neither spoke a
+word until the bomber was clear of the ground and prop-clawing up
+through the dirty grey fog. At five thousand it came out into a tunnel
+of clear air between two layers of overcast. There Freehill leveled off,
+pointed his aircraft in a general easterly direction, and turned in the
+seat to look at Dave.
+
+"Well, what's the decision on the course, Skipper?" he asked. "Better
+let Parsons know as soon as possible, so he can begin plotting for us."
+
+Dave looked across at him and grinned.
+
+"There's no new course, Squadron Leader," he replied. "Hop her along
+just as you'd planned."
+
+The other's eyes popped a little, and his jaw sagged in befuddled
+amazement.
+
+"I say, did I hear you?" he echoed. "The original course? But that
+message from Air Vice-Marshal Leman said that that course might be
+known. And--"
+
+"And I hope it is, frankly," Dave replied. "It always throws the Nazis
+out of step when you do _exactly_ what they expect you to do."
+
+"Oh yes, quite," the bomber's pilot grunted with a frown. "But I'm
+afraid, old chap, that I don't quite follow you."
+
+"Well, it's like this," Dave said, and made a little gesture with one
+hand. "Of course you can guess by now that Farmer and I are on a little
+business that would, and does, interest the Nazis plenty. They want us
+to stay home, but we're not going to. Anyway, in this cockeyed war you
+can look for enemy agents any place, and usually find them. By that, I
+mean that ten to one Nazi agents back at Aberdeen know darn well I got a
+message from Air Vice-Marshal Leman. And ten to one they know what was
+_in_ the message. So, from Leman's warning and suggestion, they are
+bound to figure that we'll fly a different course. So we just fool them,
+and don't."
+
+"Good grief!" the Squadron Leader gulped. "You mean, of course, they
+knew of our original flight course?"
+
+"I don't know for sure, naturally," Dave replied with a shrug. "I'm just
+playing it that way. And besides--"
+
+"Besides, what?" the Squadron Leader prompted when Dave didn't continue.
+
+"I don't like the weather six hundred miles from the Pole," Dawson said
+with a grin. "Also, you fellows are counting on a little Jerry plane
+action. Farmer and I wouldn't want to cheat you out of your fun. Nor
+would we want to cheat ourselves out of it."
+
+The Squadron Leader beamed silently for a moment. Then he gave a little
+shake of his head, and an emphatic grunt.
+
+"I don't know a thing about your mission, Dawson," he said. "But there
+is one thing I _do_ know. And definitely so!"
+
+"Which would be?" Dawson echoed.
+
+"That you'll accomplish whatever it is," the other replied firmly. "And
+with flying colors. You two are just the type. And your past record
+jolly well proves it, too!"
+
+"Thanks," Dave said quietly. And silently wished that at the moment he
+felt equally as confident of success.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER ELEVEN
+
+_Moscow Magic_
+
+
+Freddy Farmer heaved a long sigh, and shifted, around a little so that
+he could glance out the bomb compartment window. But what he saw was
+exactly the same picture he had seen ten minutes before. In fact, it was
+the same picture he had been looking at for the last two hours or more.
+Nothing but mass upon mass of dirty grey clouds through which the
+Wellington bomber prop-clawed, as though it could go on forever, and
+still there'd be clouds.
+
+"Great grief!" the English youth suddenly groaned. "I've seen enough
+clouds to last me for the whole war. And two or three other wars, for
+that matter."
+
+"You and me both!" Dave Dawson grunted, and squinted out the little
+window on his side. "Talk about your blind flying! This sure isn't any
+fun for Squadron Leader Freehill, and Navigator Parsons, up front. I'm
+glad I'm a passenger on this trip."
+
+"Not me!" Freddy said with a shake of his head. "I'd much rather be
+doing something, instead of just looking at this stuff. However, I
+suppose we shouldn't complain. With this soup all around, any Jerry
+planes on the prowl are bound to miss us."
+
+"Unless they should happen to plow into us head on!" retorted Dawson
+with a grin. "I guess Freehill isn't very happy. He probably figures, by
+now, that we're bad luck. He was counting on a brush or two with Jerry
+planes. If this stuff holds all the way to Moscow, he'll have all he can
+do to find the field and get us down okay. He--What's on your mind,
+pal?"
+
+Dawson checked himself, and then spoke the last because Freddy Farmer
+had suddenly stiffened, and pressed his nose against the glass of the
+compartment window. For a full thirty seconds the English-born air ace
+acted as though he hadn't heard. Then he turned from the window and made
+a face.
+
+"Just my imagination going a little haywire from it all, I fancy," he
+said. "Thought for a moment there I'd spotted Messerschmitt wings
+through a break in the stuff. But it must have been shadows. It wasn't
+there the second look I took. Well, I wonder just where we are, and how
+far from Moscow?"
+
+Dawson glanced at his wrist watch and shrugged.
+
+"Another hour at least, I guess," he said. "Longer, if we've run into
+head winds. Let's go forward and find out from Freehill."
+
+"You go," Freddy Farmer suggested with a yawn. "I'm quite comfortable,
+thanks, though terribly bored. Find out all the details, my good fellow,
+and then report back to me. There's a good chap."
+
+"And who was your valet last year?" Dawson growled, and got up onto his
+feet. "Nuts, I'll report back to you! You can just stay sprawled out
+there, and wonder."
+
+"Sorry, old thing," Freddy Farmer grinned after him, "but I can't be
+bothered doing even that. Let me know, anyway, when we arrive at Moscow.
+I wonder if Stalin will be there at the airport to meet me?"
+
+"He won't!" Dawson snapped, and started forward. "Stalin has sense!"
+
+Leaving Freddy to mull that one over, Dawson made his way along the
+catwalk to the navigator's compartment. Flight Lieutenant Parsons was
+bent scowling over his chart table, so Dave didn't pause to ask
+questions. He continued on by and finally slipped into the co-pilot's
+seat. Squadron Leader Freehill glanced over at him and grinned sadly.
+
+"Looks like a bit of a washout for our hopes, what?" the pilot murmured,
+and let go of the controls long enough to wave a hand at the walls of
+cloud that pressed in from all sides. "Don't mind, do you, if we finally
+sit down in Iceland, or some place like that? Old Parsons is about ready
+to cut his throat. Mostly instrument and dead reckoning now. We don't
+dare open the radio and ask for a bearing. The Russians probably
+wouldn't give it to us, anyway. It would reveal their station locations,
+too. Well, we've got plenty of gas, anyway."
+
+"Now I'm all cheered up," Dawson replied with a grin. "I had thought
+that maybe you had no idea where you were."
+
+"Oh, perish the thought!" the other said with a chuckle, and pointed a
+finger downward. "Always know where I am. The ground is that way,
+straight down eighteen thousand! But don't ask me who owns that
+particular bit of it. Blast this stuff, though! When in the world are we
+coming out of it?"
+
+Dawson only half heard the last. What he took to be slight movement off
+to his left had suddenly caught and held his attention. He stared hard
+at the spot, but for all of his effort he could see nothing but dirty
+grey clouds. True, they were a bit lighter in spots: an indication that
+the sun was doing its best to burn a path through. But the stuff was
+still too thick for the sun's efforts to make more than a faint glow
+here and there. However, just as Dave was about to turn his head and
+look at Squadron Leader Freehill, he caught a glimpse of movement again.
+And this time he saw something that brought him up straight in the seat,
+and started his heart to hammering against his ribs.
+
+Just off the right wing, and no more than a hundred feet below, half of
+a German Messerschmitt wing had cut out into clear air, and instantly
+cut back in out of sight again. But he had seen the square-tipped wing,
+clearly. And he had also seen the black cross outlined in white. So
+Freddy Farmer's imagination hadn't been going haywire! There was a Jerry
+ship up there in the air with them! But for what reason? Was the Jerry
+lost, and milling around trying to find his way home? Or was he playing
+cat and mouse with the Wellington, and keeping tabs on its flight almost
+due eastward?
+
+Dave asked himself the question, but he didn't bother guessing around at
+the answer. Instead, he kept his eyes on the spot where he had seen the
+Messerschmitt wing, and reached out with his near hand to rap Freehill
+on the arm.
+
+"We've got company, sir!" he called out. "Just saw a hunk of
+Messerschmitt One-Ten wing cut up into clear air off to starboard and
+down a hundred feet."
+
+"Really?" came the excited answer. "Do you think he spotted us? Could be
+one, you know. Parsons figures that we're about over the middle of
+Occupied Latvia. Just one, eh?"
+
+"Just one, I saw," Dawson replied, and continued to bore the dirty grey
+clouds with his eyes. "Maybe he's some lost Nazi tramp, or maybe he's
+up here on purpose looking for us. How about buzzing Sergeant Dilling to
+spin his wave length dial? Maybe he'll pick up that bird talking to
+ground stations--or some of his pals in the air with him."
+
+"Splendid idea!" Squadron Leader Freehill said instantly. "I'll do that.
+Stand by, half a moment, and keep your eyes skinned."
+
+Dawson heard Freehill mumbling words over the inter-com to the
+Wellington's radioman, but he didn't bother straining his ears to catch
+each word. He kept his head turned to the right, and his eyes roaming
+about the masses of dirty grey clouds. Perhaps four minutes dragged by,
+and then suddenly he felt Squadron Leader Freehill's hand on his left
+shoulder.
+
+"Top-hole idea, that!" the British bomber pilot shouted. "Just got a
+reply buzz from Dilling. He picked up a little something. Seems the
+beggar is up here tailing us, and keeping the ground informed. That
+means there must be clear air soon, and the beggars will be there to
+meet us. Splendid, I say! They'll wish they hadn't, I fancy!"
+
+Dawson grinned, stiff-lipped, but didn't say anything for a moment, or
+two. It wasn't that he didn't welcome a scrap with Nazi planes. Well,
+not exactly. The point was that Freddy and he didn't have time right now
+to mill around the sky with Nazi pilots. This wasn't a patrol with a
+chip on his shoulder. This was an emergency flight to Moscow, and the
+sooner they got there the better it would be. No, a mess of Nazi
+Messerschmitts suddenly blocking the way wouldn't be a diversion that he
+would exactly welcome now. Freddy and he had a mission to carry out, and
+to get shot down, and be forced to bail out over enemy-occupied
+territory, would of course knock the whole carefully worked out plan
+high, wide and handsome. No! To be truthful, he wanted very much _not_
+to meet any German planes this trip. For once he had no desire to give
+battle to Hitler's black-winged vultures. He wanted only to arrive
+safely in Moscow, and as quickly as this Wellington bomber could get him
+there. However, if--
+
+He had automatically slipped on the co-pilot's inter-com head phones, so
+at that moment he heard Freddy Farmer's sharp, clear voice.
+
+"A Jerry One-Ten dead astern of us, Squadron Leader!" Freddy reported.
+"I'm at the tail gun now. The blighter knows we're here. Shall I open
+fire?"
+
+Freehill glanced over at Dawson and caught the Yank's quick nod and
+grin.
+
+"Blast the beggar, of course!" he called back. "Shoot the Iron Cross
+right off his tunic, old thing. And--"
+
+And that was all Squadron Leader Freehill said for the moment. He cut
+himself off short, and for a very good reason. The wall of dirty grey
+cloud suddenly ended as clean as a whistle. The Wellington went zooming
+out into a world of brilliant sunshine--and considerably more than
+that. To Dave, snapping his eyes forward, it seemed as though half the
+German Luftwaffe were milling around in the air directly ahead. He took
+one swift glance at the aerial picture, and then jerked off his
+inter-com phones, tore out of the co-pilot's seat, and went charging
+back to the blister gun turret amidships.
+
+By the time he had reached the blister and was swinging his twin guns
+into position, the air all around was alive with German planes, and the
+entire heavens shook and vibrated with the savage snarl and yammer of
+aerial machine guns, plus the louder, deeper note of aerial cannon fire.
+
+As though Lady Luck had simply been waiting for Dawson to swing into
+action, the square-cut wings of a One-Ten came smack into his sights.
+Instantly he jabbed the electric trigger button, and the One-Ten just as
+promptly acted as though it had suddenly flown right into a brick wall.
+Both its wings came off as though sliced by a knife. The fuselage rolled
+over twice, and like a crazy rocket went zooming upward to smash square
+into a second One-Ten banking off to the side. A burst of flame followed
+the mid air crash, and the whole blazing mass went slithering down out
+of sight, leaving behind a long trail of oily black smoke.
+
+The instant the mid-air crash took place, Dawson whipped his eyes off it
+and swung his guns to bear on a third One-Ten. Before he could press the
+trigger, though, he heard Freddy Farmer's guns in the tail start
+snarling. And the Messerschmitt simply wasn't there any more. It was
+just a shower of pieces falling downward through the golden sunshine.
+
+No cheer of joy broke from Dawson's throat, though. There were three
+One-Tens down, and maybe a couple of others that Freehill and Sergeant
+Dilling and Flight Lieutenant Parsons had nailed. But there were still
+ten times that number of German planes still twisting and boring in, and
+raking the Wellington from spinning props to rudder post with their
+furious fire. Dawson wasn't sure, but he thought he could feel the
+bomber shake and tremble as each new burst of bullets tore into it.
+
+He didn't bother to look around, though, for any signs of damage. He was
+too busy holding up his end of the terribly uneven fight, smacking and
+slapping away at anything winged that came into his sights, and silently
+damning the invention known as the aircraft detector. The aircraft
+detector, of course, explained the presence of all those German planes.
+The Nazis, if Air Vice-Marshal Leman's wire was to be believed, knew
+that the Wellington would be heading for Moscow. Maybe they hadn't known
+the route to be flown in advance. But they didn't have to know it.
+Aircraft detectors all up and down the German-occupied coast of Europe
+would have been constantly on the alert. Any aircraft heard that could
+not be identified as Nazi would have been investigated instantly, of
+course.
+
+That explained that lone Messerschmitt flirting about with the
+Wellington in the clouds. Its pilot had spotted them, judged their
+course, and communicated with ground stations. And--and there were the
+aerial butchers waiting for the Wellington the instant it came
+prop-clawing out into clear air.
+
+"So if you want it this way, then okay!" Dawson roared impulsively, and
+let fly at a brace of One-Tens cutting around to catch the bomber in a
+cold meat cross-fire.
+
+Perhaps, if they had been given a few seconds more, the Nazis would have
+succeeded in their goal. But Dawson's deadly fire put an end to the
+attempt, and a very speedy end, too. A two second burst caught the
+One-Ten on the left square in the cockpit. The pilot died instantly,
+and so he couldn't control the One-Ten from veering off drunkenly to the
+other side. Too late the other Messerschmitt pilot saw what was headed
+his way. True, he made a very good try, but it wasn't any better than no
+try at all. The One-Ten with a dead pilot at the controls whanged up
+into his belly, and speared him like a fish. Seconds later there was
+just a great big ball of seething flame flip-flopping down into
+oblivion.
+
+"Seems to be the day for Nazis ramming into each other!" Dave gasped
+out, and swung his guns for a new target. "Well, that's--Hey! Well, what
+do you know? Hey, _everybody_! See what we've got to help us. Boy, oh
+boy!"
+
+Dawson wildly shouted other things, but in his great joy he didn't even
+know what he said. All he was conscious of was the very delightful fact
+that there were other besides German wings in the air about the
+Wellington. There were planes with the Red Star of the Soviet Air Force
+on the wings and fuselage. They were the swift and deadly Russian "Rata"
+One-Sixteen B pursuit aircraft, powered by special 1,000 hp.
+M-Sixty-Three engines of Wright "Cyclone" design. Out of the sun they
+had come like so many crazed hornets on the rampage. And even as Dave
+saw them, four German Messerschmitts simply broke apart in the air and
+fell away out of sight.
+
+It was one of the most perfectly executed aerial attacks Dawson had ever
+witnessed. Each Russian pilot seemed to know just which Messerschmitt he
+was to handle. And he went right smack at his victim and did the job
+with the least amount of bullets possible. In fact, the arrival of those
+Soviet Ratas was almost as though invisible hands had swept an invisible
+broom across the skies, and taken three fourths of the German
+Messerschmitts along with it. The other fourth that was missed by the
+invisible broom didn't hang around for a second sweeping. Every
+Luftwaffe pilot dropped the nose of his plane, and got out of there as
+fast as his screaming engine could take him. A flight or so of the Ratas
+gave chase, just to keep the Messerschmitts on their way, while the
+other Rata pilots took up close escort position on all four sides of the
+Wellington, and above it.
+
+A little over half an hour later Squadron Leader Freehill sat the
+bullet-riddled Wellington down at the Moscow airport as lightly as a
+feather floating on a strip of velvet. A few of the Ratas landed
+alongside, and the aerial cavalcade taxied over to the huge camouflaged
+hangars. Both Dawson and Freddy Farmer were up front with Freehill by
+then, and they all saw the small group of high Soviet military officials
+who were waiting for the Wellington to taxi in.
+
+"Either of you chaps the President of the U.S. in disguise?" the
+Squadron Leader asked with a chuckle. "Quite a reception committee here
+to greet you. That tall, dark chap on the left is none other than
+Colonel General Vladimir, in case you don't know."
+
+"I didn't," Dave grunted.
+
+"Nor did I," Freddy Farmer echoed.
+
+"Well, as the Yanks would put it," the Squadron Leader said, "Stalin and
+Vladimir are the two chaps who really make the Soviet tick. Vladimir has
+more titles, and is in charge of more things, than you could shake a
+stick at. That he is here to meet you two chaps must mean that you are
+very important lads in this war business."
+
+"That lets me out," Dawson grinned. "Of course, maybe the Russians have
+suddenly decided to learn to drink tea, and that's why Farmer is making
+this trip. I wouldn't know. My job is simply to trail him around and
+see that he doesn't get into trouble. You know, international
+complications?"
+
+"Rot!" Freddy snorted. "Why not tell the Squadron Leader the truth? Tell
+him that the Russians are simply anxious to see a crazy, balmy Yank who
+somehow manages to keep on missing Nazi bullets. And that I'm along to
+prevent the Russians from putting you in a museum!"
+
+"Well, I was wondering about your secret," Freehill laughed. "Now I
+know, definitely. Anyway, I fancy we'll be parting company soon. But all
+kind of luck, chaps. And if you happen to be going back by this way, I
+wish you'd let me know. I'll put in the request to pilot the return
+trip. Didn't get half the Jerries we could have, if the Russian chaps
+hadn't shown up, you know. Maybe we can do better next time, what?"
+
+"Well, we can try," Dawson said absently, and stared at the group of
+Russian officials who were now walking out toward the taxiing bomber.
+
+"Yes, quite!" Freddy Farmer also murmured absently. "A very nice bomber
+team we make. Quite!"
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER TWELVE
+
+_The Living Dead_
+
+
+The Russian Staff car reminded Dawson of a Ford. As a matter of fact, he
+was pretty sure that it was a Yank Ford made under license in a Soviet
+factory. However, he didn't let his thoughts dwell on the car too long.
+For one thing, the uniformed driver seemed to be attempting to smash
+every existing speed record. And for another thing, the instant Freddy
+and he had climbed down out of the Wellington things had happened like
+exploding firecrackers.
+
+Colonel General Vladimir had stepped forward, introduced himself, and
+greeted them warmly. Then almost before they could return the greeting,
+the Russian had steered them right by the other officials and into the
+Russian-made Ford. At a word from the Colonel General, the uniformed
+chauffeur had shifted gears, and away they had gone.
+
+At first, Dawson hadn't minded these strange actions very much because
+the car roared through the heart of Moscow and he was able to get his
+first view of the Kremlin, and Red Square. But that had been half an
+hour previously, and by now the car was approaching empty country that
+held no interest or attraction for him. And so he began to wonder in
+earnest why this sudden mysterious move, and also why the Colonel
+General, seated between Freddy and him on the back seat, was content to
+stare out through the windshield in stony silence.
+
+Suddenly, though, as the car spun around the corner of some woods and
+onto a long straight road, the Russian official seemed to let go a
+little sigh of relief, and relaxed slightly. He barked an order in his
+native tongue to the driver, and immediately the speed of the car was
+reduced by a good third. The Colonel General looked at Dave and Freddy
+each in turn, and smiled pleasantly.
+
+"Your heads are crammed full of questions?" he said with a chuckle. "Is
+it not so?"
+
+"Well, I was wondering just where the fire was," Dawson replied. "I
+mean, of course, why all the hurry?"
+
+"Yes, quite," Freddy Farmer murmured. "Has something unexpected
+happened, Colonel General?"
+
+"That is the reason for the haste," the Russian replied with a little
+gesture. "So that the unexpected would _not_ happen, you see? In the
+Soviet we do not take unnecessary chances. It is stupid to do such
+things. So when you arrive we do not give ears the chance to hear much,
+or eyes the chance to see much. I would swear that there is not one
+Gestapo secret agent in all of Moscow, but I am not content with just
+_believing_ so. All men can be wrong. So I take no chances, in case I am
+wrong. This mission you are on means much to Russia. There is no telling
+how much it will mean. So it is only natural that we do all in our power
+to give you the aid you need, and to protect you as long as we can. Your
+pardon one moment, please."
+
+The Colonel General leaned forward and rapped out some obvious orders to
+the driver. The man at the wheel nodded his head to show that he had
+heard and understood. Then the Russian sat back on the seat again, and
+addressed himself to the two boys.
+
+"Tomorrow, I am afraid," he said, with an odd little half-smile, "there
+will be harsh things said about Russia by her allies. Your England and
+your United States will not be pleased to learn that you two died while
+under our care."
+
+"Huh?" Dawson gulped out as the other paused, and seemed waiting. "I
+mean, what did you say, Colonel General? Something about Farmer and me
+getting killed?"
+
+"Exactly," the other nodded with the odd little smile still on his lips.
+"Burned alive in an automobile wreck. Fortunately, though, I will manage
+to escape with my life. I will be most brokenhearted when I give out the
+statement to the representatives of the Foreign Press in Moscow. And
+there will be an expression of deep sorrow from Premier Joseph Stalin,
+too. It will, indeed, be a sad affair, that meeting with the press
+tomorrow."
+
+The Russian lapsed into sudden silence again, and Dawson wasn't sure
+whether he should take it just as a cockeyed dream, or jump out of the
+car in case the world had actually gone upside down all of a sudden. He
+did neither, of course. Instead he shot a quick hard side glance at the
+Russian, and caught the faint grin that tugged at the corners of the
+officer's mouth. Then he found himself looking straight into a pair of
+twinkling black eyes.
+
+"I am what you call in America a mad Russian, eh, Captain Dawson," the
+Colonel General suddenly boomed out. "Forgive me, but it is like me to
+say strange things and watch people's faces. However, it is a little
+true. You and your gallant comrade are to die in a burning automobile
+wreck. That is, as far as the rest of the world is concerned. It is like
+this. Our enemies know more about this mission of yours than we would
+like them to know. Twice they have done what they could to remove you
+and your friend, Captain Farmer. Oh, yes. I know about that train affair
+in Scotland. Since then Air Vice-Marshal Leman has communicated with
+Soviet Intelligence. And your recent air battle was no accident,
+either."
+
+"And but for the very welcome arrival of your planes, it might have
+ended the wrong way, too!" Dave spoke up quickly.
+
+Colonel General Vladimir nodded, and beamed his thanks.
+
+"A compliment twice over, coming from a war pilot of your record,
+Captain Dawson," he said gravely. "Ah, yes! Once many people laughed at
+the mention of Soviet planes, and Soviet pilots. But they are not
+laughing any more. Particularly the Nazi Luftwaffe. But, as I was
+saying, twice the Nazis have tried to remove you, and have failed. They
+know that you have reached Moscow. Your next destination perhaps they
+know, and perhaps they don't. However, we will attempt to cause them to
+lose interest in you both. Lose interest because they believe you are
+both dead. The results of crude Soviet bungling, they will no doubt
+scream over their propaganda radios. But let them! It does not matter if
+it all helps you to complete your delicate mission successfully."
+
+The Russian paused, nodded for emphasis, and lapsed into silence again.
+Freddy Farmer didn't like that, and did something about it.
+
+"Just how are you to arrange for us to burn up in a car wreck, Colonel
+General?" he asked bluntly.
+
+The Russian shrugged, and gestured with both of his hands, palms upward.
+
+"That will be very simple," he said. Then, nodding ahead, he continued,
+"In a few moments, now. Just around that turn you see up ahead. There
+will be a car waiting for us, just off the road. You will change to it,
+and this one will be driven into a tree so that it will be suitably
+wrecked, and then touched off with a match. This driver will then
+continue on with you in the hidden car, and leave me to explain things
+to the first car that passes by."
+
+"I see," Dawson grunted after a moment's thought. "Three of us to burn
+up, eh? But what about three fire-charred bodies in the wreckage, so
+there'll be sure to be no questions asked?"
+
+"Also simple," the Russian replied in a grim voice. "Three Nazis will
+take your places. Three dead ones. They were shot yesterday. They served
+their mad Fuehrer in life, so they will serve our cause in death. Well,
+we approach the point where we part for a few hours. I will see you
+again tomorrow, or the next day."
+
+"Next day?" Dawson echoed sharply. "Where? What do you mean by that
+remark, Colonel General?"
+
+"For two days it is best for you to remain dead, and safely hidden," the
+Russian officer explained. "The English Agent Jones has not yet
+completed even a third of his long journey. It is best for you all to
+arrive at Urbakh the same day. To arrive ahead of him, and be forced to
+wait around for his arrival, might not be good. So you will rest for a
+few days in our care. I do not think that you will find it too
+unpleasant. Well, we are almost there."
+
+There were a whole lot more questions that Dave wanted to ask, but the
+Colonel General sort of gave the impression that the question period
+was over. Besides, the car was cutting around the turn in the road and
+slowing down toward a full stop. So Dave held his tongue, and left his
+questions hanging in his brain. He looked ahead but did not see any
+second car. That is, for a moment or two he didn't see one. But
+suddenly, as the Russian Ford came abreast of a narrow dirt road leading
+off through the woods, there he spotted the second car pulled well up
+under the trees.
+
+When their car came to a final halt, the Colonel General was out of it
+in a flash and turning around to smile and motion for them to follow.
+
+"Come with me," he said. "He will take care of everything. He used to
+smash cars for a living before the war, like the dare-devils in your
+Hollywood. It will be amusing to watch him."
+
+It wasn't particularly amusing to Dawson and Farmer so much as it was
+fascinatingly gruesome. The Russian chauffeur hauled three dead Nazis
+out of the car hidden under the trees and placed two of them in the rear
+seat of the Ford. The third he wedged in behind the wheel. Then,
+squeezing in on top of the dead German, he got the Ford tearing along at
+high speed down the road. The instant the car was going full out he
+gave the wheel a sharp twist, and seemed virtually to shoot his body up
+out from behind the wheel. He landed lightly on his feet on the road
+like a highly trained acrobat, and the Russian Ford went tearing at
+terrific speed straight into a couple of giant tree trunks.
+
+Colonel General Vladimir said that they were to touch a match to the
+wreck, but a single split second after the Ford struck the tree trunks
+it became instantly evident that no match would be needed. A great glob
+of smoke belched up from under the crumpled engine hood, and was
+followed by a tongue of hissing orange-red flame. And by the time Dawson
+could blink the car was completely enveloped in flame.
+
+"And so that is finished," he suddenly heard the Colonel General break
+through his thoughts. "Now, into this car, please. There is no time to
+loiter here. You must be on your way. A pleasant journey, Captains. And
+we will meet again tomorrow, or the next day. Do not be alarmed. I would
+trust him as I would trust my own son--if I had but been blessed with
+one."
+
+Even as the Russian talked he guided Dawson and Freddy Farmer into the
+rear seat of the half hidden car, and then stepped back to allow the
+driver to get in behind the wheel. And no sooner had the driver settled
+himself than he kicked the engine into life, shifted gears, and started
+off. Both Dawson and Farmer glanced back at the Colonel General, but the
+Russian seemed no longer aware of their existence. He was busy tearing
+shreds of cloth from his uniform, and smearing rich Russian soil on his
+face and hands. And then he faded from view around a bend in the wooded
+road. Dawson turned to the side and looked into Freddy Farmer's
+saucer-sized eyes.
+
+"Sweet tripe!" he grunted. "In this neck of the woods they sure do
+things fast, and let you find out later, don't they?"
+
+"Not half, they don't!" Freddy exclaimed with a bewildered shake of his
+head. "Well, love a duck! What a bloke that Colonel General is! Why, I
+hadn't half begun to ask questions. Where in the world is he going to
+hide us out, I'd like to know?"
+
+"Me, too!" Dawson said with a grim nod, and leaned toward the driver's
+seat. "Where are we headed, driver?" he called out.
+
+The Russian chauffeur slowed up a little and turned to give them a blank
+smile and a blanker look. Then he seemed to guess the meaning of
+Dawson's question, and opened and shut the fingers of one upraised hand
+three times. Then he smiled and nodded and returned his attention to
+driving. Dawson made sounds in his throat and sank back on the seat.
+
+"And that helps a lot, I don't think!" he growled. "No speak our lingo.
+But I guess he guessed the question, and was telling us we'll get there
+in fifteen minutes, or fifteen hours, or maybe fifteen years. But
+there's nothing we can do about it, anyway. And how do you like being a
+dead man, pal?"
+
+The English youth glanced up at the sky that seemed to hold the hint of
+coming winter, and shuddered slightly.
+
+"In this country I don't fancy it a bit," he said. "Not even a little
+bit. But it is a clever trick by the Russians. And I wish I could hear
+the Nazi propaganda chaps scream about it over the radio. It'll almost
+make us famous, you know."
+
+"I'll take vanilla, thank you!" Dawson grunted, and stared at the
+winding road ahead. "After, and if, we finish this job, I hope I can get
+a few days off to really see Moscow, and these parts around here. But
+right now I want to keep going, and get the darn thing cleaned up. Two
+days, he said? Not so good. A lot of things can happen in two days."
+
+"Well, as you said, there's nothing we can do about it," Freddy Farmer
+said with a shrug. "So that's that. Just the same, I'd like to know what
+that chauffeur chap meant by his crazy hand signals."
+
+Dawson didn't bother trying to answer that question, and Freddy Farmer
+didn't bother to repeat it. Both youths simply lapsed into brooding
+silence, and absently stared at the winding road that seemed to go on
+winding forever through endless woods. However, at the end of ten
+minutes they came out of the woods and onto a road leading to a small
+peasant village. And at the end of exactly fifteen minutes from the time
+of the chauffeur's finger signals, the car was halted in front of a
+rough two-story wooden house. The chauffeur got out, bowed to them, and
+motioned for them to get out too. They did, and followed him up the
+three steps to the front door of the house.
+
+The chauffeur knocked on the door, and he had no more than taken his
+knuckles away than it was opened and they saw a uniformed figure just
+inside the doorway. The chauffeur saluted smartly, rattled something
+off in his native tongue, and then hurried past Dawson and Farmer, and
+down the steps to the car. In less than nothing flat he had the car
+rolling at a fast clip off up the village street. Dave and Freddy
+glanced at each other and mutually wondered, what next?
+
+They didn't have to wait long. The dimly outlined uniformed figure just
+inside the doorway spoke to them in a low, rich voice.
+
+"Come in, please, Captains Dawson and Farmer. I am happy that you have
+arrived safely in Russia. And I am honored to be able to share with you
+the adventures that lie ahead. Come in, please."
+
+A crazy conglomeration of mixed thoughts and emotions raced through
+Dawson as he stepped through the door and into a very shadowy hallway.
+Freddy Farmer followed right at his heels, and the sudden change of
+light threw the eyes of both out of focus for a few seconds. But when
+they were able to see clearly again, they found themselves looking at a
+very young and very good-looking Russian Senior Lieutenant of
+Intelligence.
+
+Yet very good-looking was not quite correct. Very pretty would have been
+a little better, because, like bombs exploding in their heads, they
+both realized in the same instant that the Senior Lieutenant was a
+_girl_ of just about their own age! That bit of truth just about topped
+off all of the high speed action they'd witnessed since arriving in
+Russia, and for a long minute both were too stunned to do anything but
+salute smartly and just stand there practically gaping at the girl. She
+glanced from one to the other, then gave a little low laugh.
+
+"So you are surprised, eh?" she echoed. "Well, there are a lot of women
+like me fighting for Russia. But let me introduce myself. I am Senior
+Lieutenant Nasha Petrovski, of Soviet Intelligence. Until Colonel
+General Vladimir says it is time to leave for Urbakh, you are honored
+guests of my mother and myself. And later we will be comrades in arms
+for a great and worthy cause. But I keep you standing here while I
+chatter. Come and meet my mother. And then I will show you to the room
+that has been made ready for you. This way, please, Captains."
+
+And like a couple of dumbfounded wooden Indians, Dave Dawson and Freddy
+Farmer followed her into the ground floor parlor.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER THIRTEEN
+
+_High Stakes_
+
+
+The sound was akin to that of an invisible giant of the sky tearing off
+a section of a tin roof with his bare hands. It began high up in the
+black night sky, and grew louder and louder until it seemed that their
+eardrums had been driven clear back into their brains. And then suddenly
+it turned into a gigantic explosion that made the very earth lurch and
+shudder, and seemed to stop spinning for a moment and go staggering
+across limitless space.
+
+"If there was only a night fighter handy! Boy! What I wouldn't give for
+a night fighter right now!"
+
+Dave Dawson muttered out the words aloud, hardly conscious that he had
+spoken them. With Freddy Farmer, and Senior Lieutenant Nasha Petrovski,
+he was standing out in the back yard of the Russian girl's home, and
+staring up at a sneak night raid by Nazi bombers on Moscow a dozen or so
+miles away. It was only a nuisance raid, and Soviet anti-aircraft guns
+and Soviet night fighters were making the Luftwaffe pay a heavy price
+for the few Moscow buildings they hit with their bombs.
+
+However, though the Nazis were unable to hit anything, that fact did not
+curb Dawson's desire to be up there in the searchlight-laced sky,
+dealing out his share of trouble and doom to the raiding vultures. And,
+incidentally, complete inactivity for three days and nights added
+greatly to his desire to be aloft in all the fuss. And so it was only
+natural that such an expression should slip off his lips automatically.
+
+"That is the way all good soldiers should feel, Captain Dawson," he
+suddenly heard the Russian girl's voice at his side. "To do nothing,
+when there is so much to be done, hurts more than the wounds of battle.
+I know just how you feel, yes. And I sympathize with you. Time never
+waits."
+
+"You've got something there, Senior Lieutenant," Dave said, taking his
+eyes off the sky battle to look at her. "And I've been wondering. Do you
+think Colonel General Vladimir has forgotten about us? Or maybe that
+something has happened to him? It's been _three_ days now."
+
+"Quite," Freddy Farmer joined in the conversation. "He said he expected
+to join us the very next day. But we haven't even heard a word. Or have
+you, Senior Lieutenant?"
+
+The Russian Intelligence agent shook her head, and made a faint gesture.
+
+"To me there has come no word," she said slowly, as though selecting
+each English spoken word. "But I do not worry. The Colonel General never
+forgets anything. And nothing will ever happen to the Colonel General
+but good things. If it were to be different, the bad things would have
+happened long before this time. Like you I wait, and I am restless to be
+in action again. But I do not worry. When it is the right time, the
+Colonel General will arrive."
+
+Dave considered that in silence for a couple of minutes and watched the
+sky battle move across the heavens farther and farther to the southwest.
+The Nazis had dumped their eggs hastily and were trying to scurry back
+home, but the Red Air Force was chopping down not a few of them en
+route. Over toward Moscow there were the crimson glows of half a dozen
+fires. But even as Dave stared at them the glows grew fainter and
+fainter, indicating that the city's fire fighters were quickly getting
+the flames under control. The "flak" fire had died out almost entirely,
+and the only sounds to be heard were the muffled roar of distant
+aircraft engines, punctuated now and then by the short, stabbing chatter
+of Red night fighter machine guns.
+
+"Well, that's that," Dave finally spoke again. "The Berlin newspapers
+will probably scream tomorrow that there isn't anything left of Moscow.
+But Uncle Goering will know different when he gets the raiding reports.
+And maybe he'll worry another ten pounds off his bay window."
+
+"But he'll no doubt put it right back on as soon as he has breakfast,"
+Freddy Farmer grunted. "And speaking of food--Oh, so sorry, Senior
+Lieutenant. I beg your pardon."
+
+"For what?" the Russian girl asked with a flashing smile, and a teasing
+lilt to her voice. "Because you speak the truth?"
+
+"But I say, really!" the English youth stammered, and his face went beet
+red in the darkness. "I didn't think, you know. And it was most
+impolite. I--"
+
+"Stop making pretty speeches!" Dawson ribbed him. "Be yourself, and
+truthful. I'll try to apologize to the Senior Lieutenant for you. You
+see, Senior Lieutenant, my friend has a hollow leg, so no matter how
+much he eats he never can seem to get enough. Confidentially, the
+British Air Ministry seriously considered dumping him off in Occupied
+France for a spell so that he could get used to going without food. But
+I put in a plea for him, and--"
+
+"And why should not one of England's heroes eat, if he likes?" Senior
+Lieutenant Nasha Petrovski demanded quietly. "But of course! Come,
+Captain Farmer. Let us return inside the house. My mother will find us a
+good meal, have no fear."
+
+"Your slave, Senior Lieutenant," Freddy said, and bowed low. Then
+turning to Dave, he said, "You may remain here on guard, Captain Dawson.
+And you might hunt around for a bit of anti-aircraft shrapnel that I
+could keep as a souvenir. After you, Senior Lieutenant."
+
+"But no, no!" the Russian girl exclaimed with a laugh. "No doubt Captain
+Dawson is hungry, too. And is he not also one of England's heroes?"
+
+"A debatable question, Senior Lieutenant," Freddy Farmer said quickly
+with a shrug. "But, if you insist. And to tell the truth, he is afraid
+of the dark, you know. Very well, Captain Dawson, you may join us."
+
+"And I'll--!" Dave growled, but instantly checked his words, and the
+quick step he took toward his pal.
+
+All three of them laughed as though there were no such thing as a war
+existing, and went trooping back into the house. Madam Petrovski had
+turned on the lights, and had also anticipated their wishes, for the
+table was set, and three bowls of energy-building hot soup were waiting
+for them. As Dave looked at her aged, wrinkled face, and the black eyes
+that glowed with the undying faith and determination of Russia, herself,
+a warm glow closed about his heart, and a polite and sincere compliment
+rose to his lips.
+
+But he never spoke that compliment, for at that moment a car braked to a
+stop outside, and almost instantly there came the sound of feet on the
+front steps, and that of knuckles rapping sharply on the front door. And
+before Dawson could so much as blink, Senior Lieutenant Nasha Petrovski
+had glided out of the room, and opened the door. Split seconds later
+Colonel General Vladimir came striding into the room. Dave and Freddy
+sprang to attention and saluted. The Colonel General first bowed and
+saluted Madam Petrovski, and then he returned their salute.
+
+"Good evening, Captains," he said with his odd smile. "You have perhaps
+been wondering, eh? Well, there have been things to wonder about. Be
+seated, please, all of you."
+
+As the Colonel General spoke, the old familiar lumps of cold lead began
+to bounce around in Dawson's stomach. And it wasn't from hunger, either.
+The Colonel General's eyes were still flashing with inner fire, but in
+their depths Dawson could catch just the faintest tint of worry and
+concern. He turned to hold a chair for Madam Petrovski, only to realize
+that she had left the room, and closed the door. He must have blinked at
+that, for Senior Lieutenant Petrovski suddenly caught his eye, and
+smiled.
+
+"It is always like that," she said softly. "My mother prefers to pray,
+and listen to the story when all has been accomplished."
+
+"But there is no soldier who loves Russia more," the Colonel General
+spoke up gravely. "Nor one who would sacrifice more for his homeland."
+
+The silence that followed the Russian officer's words seemed to say,
+"Amen," to that. Then a moment later the Colonel General motioned for
+them all to sit down, and took a chair for himself.
+
+"There is a decision for us to make," he said bluntly. "A decision
+forced by bad news. But no! That is not correct. A decision because
+there has been no news at all."
+
+"Agent Jones!" Dawson breathed softly, as he leaned forward on the edge
+of his seat. "I've had a feeling!"
+
+Colonel General Vladimir shot him a sharp piercing look, and then
+nodded.
+
+"You are correct, Captain Dawson," he said, tight-lipped. "No news of
+Agent Jones since he left Baghdad, in Syria, twenty-four hours ago. His
+plane was to land at Baku, in the south Caucasus, but it has not
+arrived."
+
+A profound silence settled over the room as the Colonel General's words
+died away to the echo. Then Freddy Farmer broke it with a single word
+question.
+
+"Weather?"
+
+The Russian officer shrugged, and sighed heavily.
+
+"Perhaps," he grunted. "My reports say that it has been very bad in that
+section for several days. True, he may have been forced down, and will
+continue as soon as weather permits. But--but it is also possible that
+other things may have happened to his pilot and plane. Who is there to
+tell? Our enemies have ears and eyes, as we all well know. They also
+have guns, and know how to use them. So the truth may be one of many
+answers."
+
+"So what?" Dave murmured. Then, quickly catching himself, "I beg your
+pardon, sir. I mean, what is the decision to be made?"
+
+The Russian looked at him, and Dawson had the sudden funny feeling that
+the man was looking straight down into his heart.
+
+"You cannot guess, Captain Dawson?" he suddenly asked softly.
+
+Dave looked blank for a moment, and then felt the rush of hot blood to
+his face.
+
+"Yes, sir," he replied as soon as he could. "I think we should decide to
+carry on with our end of it, Agent Jones or no Agent Jones. Somebody's
+got to get to Tobolsk and find Ivan Nikolsk. So we're elected."
+
+"Ah! The words of a gallant soldier that all Russia must admire!"
+
+It was Senior Lieutenant Petrovski who had spoken the words, and Dave
+could almost feel the blood burst out through the skin of his face. Not
+for a million dollars would he have dared glance at the expression that
+must have been in Freddy Farmer's eyes. To do so would undoubtedly have
+meant the end of a beautiful friendship. So he kept his gaze riveted on
+the Colonel General's face. But there was no glint of merriment in the
+Russian's eyes, just the flash of fire and grim resolve.
+
+"You speak wise words, Captain Dawson," he said quietly. "The stakes are
+so high they demand any and every effort. Without this Agent Jones the
+difficulties are increased six times over. But there is hope. And we
+must cling to that, always."
+
+The Russian paused a brief moment to nod his head at Senior Lieutenant
+Nasha Petrovski, seated on the other side of the table.
+
+"The Senior Lieutenant knows every foot of ground in the Tobolsk area,"
+he continued presently. "She is sure she even remembers the old farm
+where Ivan Nikolsk was last seen. If anybody can find Ivan Nikolsk, it
+will be the Senior Lieutenant. And when she finds him--"
+
+The Colonel General paused and frowned slightly. The Russian girl seemed
+instantly to guess what thought was in his mind, for she spoke up
+quickly.
+
+"And if he will not tell to me, a Russian woman, the secrets that are
+buried deep in his brain," she said evenly, "then we will bring him to
+Moscow, to the Kremlin. And then the Russian in him will speak. It will
+have to be so!"
+
+Dave, looking at the girl, suddenly didn't see a girl at all. He saw a
+soldier; a fighting soldier of the Soviet, who would not stop at
+bullets, or shells, or fire and flood to gain through to an objective.
+Nasha Petrovski was a girl, but hers was the bravery, the courage, and
+the fighting spirit, to be surpassed by no man's!
+
+"Yes, it will have to be so!" Colonel General Vladimir echoed the words.
+"And when Ivan Nikolsk speaks we will have only to match in his words
+with all that Agent Jones has reported to Air Vice-Marshal Leman, which,
+of course, has been transmitted to me in secret code. Yes! The decision
+is to go to Urbakh, and if Agent Jones has not arrived, to go on over
+the enemy positions to Tobolsk, and find this Ivan Nikolsk. That is
+agreed, eh?"
+
+Dave, Freddy, and the girl Senior Lieutenant simply nodded gravely.
+There was no need for words.
+
+"Good!" the Colonel General said, and stood up. "So there is no time
+like this time to begin. Senior Lieutenant Petrovski! Five minutes to
+say farewell to your mother. Then you will conduct the Captains to the
+aircraft. I will be waiting for your return to Moscow, and like all
+Russia, praying my prayers for your safety and success!"
+
+As the Russian officer stopped speaking, the girl sprang to her feet,
+saluted smartly, and then left the room. The Colonel General waited
+until the door was closed, and then looked hard at Dawson and Freddy
+Farmer.
+
+"There is one thing of which I will speak, Captains," he said quietly.
+"The Senior Lieutenant is a woman, and there are those who do not
+believe that a woman's place is in the line of enemy fire. But here in
+the Soviet we are all soldiers of the line, men and women. Their courage
+is the same, their eyes just as sharp, and their trigger finger just as
+steady. And have no thoughts about the Senior Lieutenant under fire, or
+in the face of any danger. She has won her rank the same as any Soviet
+man soldier. She has won medals for valor, though she does not wear
+them. So have no worries because she is a woman. Three hundred and six
+Nazi soldiers have died from a rifle or a machine gun in her hands. Keep
+that truth in mind. And now I salute you in the name of the Soviet
+Republics. God's speed, God's courage, and God's blessings be with you
+from the beginning of your journey to your safe and successful return."
+
+The Colonel General saluted, and by the time Dawson and Freddy were
+halfway up on their feet, he had whirled and walked out of the room. The
+two youths checked themselves, and sank back into their chairs. Dave
+swallowed hard, and whistled softly.
+
+"Suffering catfish!" he gulped. "Three hundred and six Nazi tramps! My
+gosh! And me thinking _I'd_ seen some of this war!"
+
+"Quite!" Freddy Farmer murmured. "Makes a chap feel like he's only been
+playing at soldiers. But--"
+
+"But what?" Dave grunted. And then as he saw the glint in Freddy
+Farmer's eyes he wished he had bitten off his tongue, instead.
+
+"But _I'll_ be in safe company," the English youth shot at him. "Oh,
+quite! With _two_ gallant soldiers that all Russia must admire!"
+
+Dave's eyes flashed fire, and he started up out of his chair. But he
+dropped quickly back as he heard the footsteps of Senior Lieutenant
+Nasha Petrovski returning to the room.
+
+"Remember it always, you bum!" he whispered to Freddy. "That a girl once
+saved your life, by coming through that door over there!"
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER FOURTEEN
+
+_Success or Suicide?_
+
+
+Senior Lieutenant Petrovski reached across from the co-pilot's seat to
+touch Dawson's arm, and then point a finger.
+
+"That black smudge ahead, and to the left, Captain!" she called out.
+"That is Urbakh. There is a good broad field on the west side."
+
+Dawson squinted ahead, and nodded absently. He knew that he was about to
+hit Urbakh on the nose almost any minute now, because Freddy had been
+doing the navigating since leaving Moscow. And when Freddy did the
+navigating you just naturally always hit your objective on the nose.
+However, he didn't mention that fact to the sharp-eyed Russian girl. He
+simply nodded, half smiled, and took a glance at the instrument panel.
+
+The fact is, he was still just a little bit in what you might call a
+surprised trance. There just didn't seem to be anything that the
+Russians couldn't pull out of the hat with a snap of the fingers. Take
+this latest bit of Russian magic, for instance. Frankly, he had wondered
+about the type of plane that they were to use on the last legs of their
+mission. He realized that it would have to be a medium-sized bomber at
+least, in order to carry the number of passengers to be brought back.
+But he had half figured that the plane would be a Russian job. And he
+had hoped that he'd be able to get the feel of it in time to be able to
+make the tricky landing behind the Nazi Front. Also, to get it off again
+for the return trip.
+
+But leave it to the Russians! They knew all the answers before you even
+asked the questions. And a lot of answers to a lot of questions that
+didn't even occur to you, too!
+
+Five minutes after Senior Lieutenant Petrovski had returned to that
+front room in her mother's house, she had led Dawson and Freddy Farmer
+out into the night, and across a mile of wooded countryside to a
+billiard table smooth clearing. Presto! Russian aircraft mechanics had
+practically pushed up out of the ground. Presto! At an order from Senior
+Lieutenant Petrovski they had darted in under the branches of the
+bordering trees and hauled out a medium-sized bomber onto the smooth
+open ground. And presto! It was not a Russian plane. It was a Yank-made
+North American B-Twenty-Five medium bomber! A Yank lease-lend bomber
+that had not been converted over to Russian Air Force use.
+
+The surprise had stunned both Dawson and Farmer speechless. In fact,
+like two youths living out a crazy dream, they had climbed aboard with
+the Senior Lieutenant to find Yank-made parachute packs, Yank-made
+oxygen tanks, and everything else strictly Yank from propeller hubs
+clear back to the twin rudders on the tail. To slide into the pilot's
+seat of that B-Twenty-Five was like a ten ton weight being lifted from
+Dawson's shoulders. Heck! With a B-Twenty-Five he could practically land
+inside that cellar of Ivan Nikolsk's war-blasted farm house, if he had
+to. Yes, and how! Just leave it to the Russians. They knew the answers
+before you could even think up the questions!
+
+"I say, want me to land it, old thing?"
+
+Dawson snapped out of his thought trance to glance back over his
+shoulder at Freddy Farmer's happy grin. He shook his head violently.
+
+"Not this time!" he snapped. "At least I want it to go into the record
+that we _arrived_ safely at Urbakh."
+
+"Just as you wish," the English youth chuckled. Then his face turned
+grave as he added, "Speaking of arriving at Urbakh safely, I wonder if
+we can still go on hoping for Agent Jones?"
+
+"For me, I answer yes!" Senior Lieutenant Petrovski spoke up quickly,
+and touched a fingertip to a spot over her heart. "In here I think
+absolutely yes. No, do not laugh. When I think something inside, it is
+always so. This Agent Jones, he will be with us soon. He will be with us
+because Russia needs him to be with us. And what Russia needs, she must
+have. Yes! You will see."
+
+"Okay by me!" Dawson said. "But I wasn't laughing, Senior Lieutenant. I
+guess that's just the way my face looks. And no cracks, Farmer! But,
+anyway, Senior Lieutenant, we both sure hope that you're right. This
+Ivan Nikolsk sure sounds like a queer guy. I've a hunch that without
+Agent Jones along the three of us are going to have trouble with Ivan
+Nikolsk, when we find him."
+
+"We will find him!" the Russian girl said grimly. "And if there is
+trouble--But what is war but bad trouble, eh?"
+
+"Check and double check," Dawson echoed with a nod. Then, "Well, hold
+your hats, boys and girls. Here--Sorry, Senior Lieutenant. That's just
+an American expression. Anyway, here we go down for the stop-over at
+Urbakh."
+
+"And I jolly well hope it will be a short one!" Freddy Farmer added, as
+Dawson throttled back the twin Wright "cyclones," and sent the
+B-Twenty-Five sliding down toward the large square-shaped field on the
+western edge of Urbakh.
+
+The arrival at Urbakh of the B-Twenty-Five from Moscow was, of course,
+expected. And so, when Dawson landed and taxied over to the protection
+of some trees on the lee side of the field, a small group of Russian
+officers, led by an infantry Major, came out to greet them. They all
+seemed to know Senior Lieutenant Petrovski, and it was instantly evident
+that the frank admiration in their eyes and the military snappiness of
+their salutes was not simply because she was a pretty girl. To them she
+was a soldier's hero, and their every action proved it.
+
+She introduced Dawson and Freddy to them all, but it was Major Saratov
+who finally accompanied them over to a house on the edge of the village.
+He was commander of the Russian garrison there in Urbakh, and the small
+house served as his headquarters. He ushered them in, and barked a
+request at an orderly who appeared. The orderly nodded, and beamed his
+pleasure, and promptly disappeared again. But only for five minutes or
+so. Then he returned with food and something warm to drink for them.
+
+Up to that moment nothing but pleasantries had been spoken by anybody.
+But as Senior Lieutenant Petrovski picked up her warm drink, she looked
+across the cup at the Major.
+
+"There is still no word from the south?" she asked quietly.
+
+"No word at all, Senior Lieutenant," the Major said with a frown. "At
+Baku they are keeping constant watch, and a few planes have been sent
+out on the hunt, but--but so far, there has been nothing to report. It
+is most sad, and unfortunate."
+
+The Russian Major bobbed his head, and stared silently at his own cup
+for a moment. Then he quickly raised his eyes to Nasha Petrovski's face.
+
+"And your orders, may I ask, Senior Lieutenant?" he put the question.
+"You will remain here--until there is news, perhaps?"
+
+The girl member of Soviet Intelligence gave a vigorous shake of her
+head.
+
+"No, Major," she said shortly. "We have reached our own decision. Each
+day that passes may make it more difficult to find the person for whom
+we search. And too many days have gone by as it is. No. Your mechanics
+will look over the aircraft, and see that the tanks are full, and that
+everything is in readiness. And--"
+
+The girl paused to lean over and peer up through a nearby window at the
+sky. A thin overcast was stealing across the surface of the cold
+grey-blue. She straightened up and nodded.
+
+"Tonight there will be clouds, and no moon," she said. "It will be as
+good tonight for what we want as it will be any night. Yes, tonight we
+will cross over the enemy front to Tobolsk. And--But forgive me, Captain
+Dawson. You and Captain Farmer agree, yes?"
+
+She addressed the last to Dave, who grinned and nodded.
+
+"Absolutely, Senior Lieutenant," he said. "You're leading this parade,
+and what you say goes."
+
+As the Russian girl looked just a trifle puzzled, Freddy Farmer spoke
+up.
+
+"Translated into English, Senior Lieutenant," he said, "my friend means
+that you are in command, and that we will gladly follow your orders."
+
+"And I'll personally see that _he_ does, Senior Lieutenant!" Dawson
+added his bit quickly.
+
+The Russian girl caught the byplay, and her smile flashed.
+
+"I am honored," she said, "but this mission has three commanders, has it
+not? But of course. Very well, then. At midnight tonight we will take
+off. And now, if the Major Saratov will be so good as to produce the
+photographic maps that have been prepared, we will spend the rest of the
+time studying them, and deciding where best to land, and how to hide our
+aircraft from any Nazi eyes. Major?"
+
+The Russian officer came up on his feet in nothing flat.
+
+"At once, Senior Lieutenant," he said, and turned. "The photographic
+maps show every blade of grass, almost. Just to look at them is like
+flying over the area on a clear sunshiny day. Two seconds, Senior
+Lieutenant."
+
+And it didn't take the Russian much more time than that to duck into
+another room, and return with a huge detail mosaic aerial map. One look
+at it and Dave's admiration of Russian magic went up another ten
+points. Major Saratov had certainly called the turn in his description
+of the map. It certainly was like flying over the Tobolsk area and
+looking down.
+
+"So!" Senior Lieutenant Petrovski murmured as the map was placed on a
+table, and they all gathered around it. "If I may have your attention,
+Captains?"
+
+She got it instantly, and for the next couple of hours bombs could have
+exploded just outside the window, and those inside would not have
+noticed, so engrossed were they in their study of the mosaic aerial map.
+Dave and Freddy had plenty of questions to ask, and they asked them. And
+Senior Lieutenant Petrovski had the correct answer for each question,
+plus a little bit of additional knowledge. In fact, by the time two
+hours had passed Dawson almost felt as though he'd known every little
+detail of the Tobolsk area all his life. It was almost as though at
+midnight he would make a flight back to his old home town. Russian
+Intelligence, plus the co-operation of Russian Aviation, had not
+overlooked a single thing, or passed up a single bet.
+
+"Good grief!" Freddy Farmer gulped impulsively when they all finally
+straightened up from their study of the map. "There's only one blessed
+thing that it doesn't show. And perhaps we'll even see that if we look
+hard enough!"
+
+"There is something missing, Captain?" Major Saratov asked in a hurt,
+disappointed tone.
+
+"Oh, quite!" the English youth told him with a chuckle. "I fail to see
+Ivan Nikolsk crouching in his hiding place. But certainly everything
+else is clear enough."
+
+The Russian Major let out a sound of profound relief, and laughed
+heartily.
+
+"A thousand apologies for not also including that photograph, too,
+Captain," he said, showing his strong white teeth. "But if you so
+command, I will send more photograph planes over within the hour, and
+perhaps they will catch this Nikolsk out in an open field, eh?"
+
+"I wouldn't bet that they wouldn't!" Dave cut in with a chuckle.
+"Jeepers! And to think I was a little worried about having to make a
+landing there in the dark. Gosh! After studying that map I could slide
+in there with both eyes shut."
+
+"But please don't!" Freddy Farmer clipped at him with a broad grin.
+"Because I've seen some landings you've made in broad daylight with both
+eyes _open_!"
+
+Dawson glanced at Major Saratov and gestured with one hand.
+
+"Don't mind him, sir," he said in a serious tone. "He goes back into the
+monkey cage as soon as we return to London. Well, how about a short
+recess from the war, eh? And we'll get together later for a final
+huddle."
+
+"Discussion of plans, he means," Freddy Farmer explained in a patient
+voice. "Yes, a recess might do us all good, what?"
+
+Everybody nodded, and stood up. And then, as though invisible strings
+attached to each head had been pulled at the same time, each one of them
+turned and looked out the window facing south. And the same thought was
+in every mind. Agent Jones! Was he alive, or was he dead?
+
+Several hours later all that could be seen of the sun behind the ever
+thickening overcast was balanced like a pale yellow ball on the western
+edge of the world. And even as Dawson and Farmer paused in a rambling
+stroll about the field, and stood still to stare at it, the bottom half
+of the pale yellow ball was sliced off. And then three quarters of it.
+And finally it wasn't there any more. There was just a faint shimmer of
+yellow that was quickly blotted out by the mounting overcast.
+
+"And that's that!" Dawson grunted, more to himself than to Freddy. "If
+and when we see that sun again, I don't think we'll be here, anyway."
+
+"It would be nice to think that we'll be back in Moscow, or even London,
+then," the English youth murmured. "But of course, that's down-right
+silly, what? Well, I'm afraid that Senior Lieutenant Petrovski's secret
+inner feeling is a bit of a lost cause."
+
+"Kind of think so myself," Dawson grunted, and turned to stare south.
+"Guess Agent Jones won't be with us. A tough break for him. He seemed
+like a swell guy at that luncheon when we met him. But anybody who went
+through what he did is automatically a swell guy. Did anything about him
+strike you, Freddy?"
+
+"Eh? Why, certainly. That he was a very splendid sort of chap. Blast! I
+hate to think of him dead, and out of this. Seems so unfair, you know."
+
+"And how!" Dawson echoed. "But that wasn't what I meant. It was about
+his face, his looks."
+
+"A very good-looking face," Freddy replied. "Good grief! His good looks
+make you jealous, old thing? You, with the face you've got?"
+
+"Skip it, pal!" Dawson growled. "If you missed it, then maybe I was
+wrong. Come on. Let's go give the crate another look-see. Boy! Am I
+tickled it's a Yank plane. These Russians are for my money any day in
+the week!"
+
+"Wonderful people," the English youth agreed as he dropped into step.
+"But what did you mean by 'skip it?' What's on your mind?"
+
+"We'll still skip it," Dawson replied stubbornly. "If it is a secret,
+maybe it's better to keep it that way. I don't know."
+
+"Now, see here, my man!" Freddy Farmer snapped, and took hold of Dawson
+by the arm. "You--!"
+
+But that's as far as Freddy got. At that exact moment both of them heard
+the roar of aircraft engines in the distance. The sound came from the
+south. And both, from long experience, knew instantly that British-made
+engines were making the noise. As one man they both froze stiff, breath
+locked in their lungs, and eyes frantically searched the overcast sky to
+the south. As usual, Freddy Farmer's eagle sharp eyes picked out the
+tiny moving dot sliding downward.
+
+"There!" he cried, and flung up a pointing finger. "Just over that
+corner of the field. It's an R.A.F. Bristol Blenheim. Dave! Maybe
+it's--!"
+
+The English youth stopped short as though not daring to speak the rest.
+Dawson nodded, but he too held his tongue. Together they watched the
+British bomber come sliding down lower and lower until it was clearly
+visible in every detail. And still almost not daring to breathe, they
+watched the twin-engined plane settle down in a beautiful landing on the
+field, and taxi slowly over to the North American B-Twenty-Five.
+
+The Blenheim's wheels touching the ground seemed automatically to
+release hidden springs in the two boys. Together they hot-footed it over
+to the lee side of the field, and arrived there just as the
+British-marked plane was wheel braked to a stop, and the powerful twin
+engines cut off dead. With a wild eagerness and expectancy that made
+them seem like a couple of kids waiting for Santa Claus to come down the
+chimney, they stood there with bated breath, and saucer eyes fixed on
+the fuselage door. It was swung open in a moment, and a thin,
+good-looking fellow in oil and grease-smeared flying garb leaped lightly
+down on the ground and came toward them, grinning broadly.
+
+"Greetings, you chaps!" he called out. "Been waiting for me long? I hope
+not."
+
+Dawson recovered the use of his feet and his tongue first.
+
+"Jones!" he cried, and leaped forward, hand outstretched. "Are we
+tickled pink to see you! Holy smokes! Look at the grey hairs we've got!
+We'd just about given you up for keeps. What happened? What took you so
+long?"
+
+"Quite!" Freddy Farmer chipped in happily. "Dawson and I will never be
+the same again, I swear. Yes! What on earth happened to you?"
+
+"Weather!" Agent Jones said with a violent nod. "Most beastly stuff that
+ever hit any part of the world. Right over the middle of Iran it broke.
+Quick! Just like that. For a spell we all thought we were goners, for
+sure. Jackson, he's the pilot, knew his Blenheims, though. Put us down
+in the middle of nowhere. And there we stayed for three days, expecting
+the blasted wind to turn the aircraft upside down most any minute. After
+the storm blew past us, it took another day to get sand and stuff out of
+the engine. We managed to get off early this morning. Being late, we
+decided not to stop at Baku. But our radio wasn't working, so we
+couldn't buzz Baku to tell them. We just came on, and--well, here I am."
+
+"And a sight for sore eyes!" Dawson cried as he stared hard at the
+Intelligence officer's face. "But you're in time, just in time. So come
+along and meet the commander of this outfit. A pretty Russian girl,
+believe it or not!"
+
+"Eh, what say?" Agent Jones gasped.
+
+"Absolutely!" Freddy Farmer spoke up. "And quite a person, too. She has
+killed no less than three hundred and six Nazis!"
+
+"Good Gosh!" Jones choked out. "What a bloodthirsty damsel!"
+
+"Not at all!" Dawson corrected him with a chuckle. "Senior Lieutenant
+Nasha Petrovski just doesn't like Nazis, that's all!"
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER FIFTEEN
+
+_Land of the Dead_
+
+
+It was just as Senior Lieutenant Petrovski had predicted. The night had
+no moon, and even the stars were blotted out by a five hundred foot
+thick layer of overcast. Pitch darkness engulfed everything in all
+directions. Dave Dawson couldn't see a single speck of light, save one.
+And that one bit of light, which was no more than a faint pale glow, was
+from the hooded single bulb on the instrument panel of the North
+American B-Twenty-Five medium bomber. Just enough light to let him read
+the automatic compass, and a couple of other essential instruments.
+
+However, apart from that bit of faint light, he might well have been in
+the middle of a throbbing, inky dark world. The throbbing was from the
+two Wright Cyclone engines that were driving the B-Twenty-Five up higher
+and higher into the night sky. Just half an hour before he had lifted
+the aircraft off the square field on the western edge of Urbakh. Major
+Saratov, and a few other Soviet officers, had been present to wish them
+all well, and Godspeed back. But Dave had not missed the look half
+hidden in the Russian Major's eyes. And spotting that look certainly
+hadn't added to the joy of the dangerous flight to be undertaken. In
+other words, it was quite evident that Major Saratov was inwardly
+bidding them a very permanent farewell. Should he ever meet them again,
+he would undoubtedly be the most surprised man in all of the Soviet.
+
+Whether the Russian girl officer of Soviet Intelligence, or Freddy
+Farmer, or Agent Jones, had noted that same look, Dawson didn't know.
+And, naturally, he hadn't tried to find out. If they had seen it,
+talking wouldn't help any. And if they hadn't, then what they didn't
+know wouldn't hurt them. Just the same, the little lumps of bouncing
+cold lead had returned to Dawson's stomach as he cleared the field and
+sent the B-Twenty-Five nosing upward.
+
+Now, though, the bouncing lumps of lead were all gone. No, not because
+courage and all the rest of that sort of thing had driven them away. It
+was simply because he had other things to think about, and he was too
+busy to check and recheck his personal feelings. Some eighteen thousand
+feet of air were between the bomber's belly and the earth, and the layer
+of overcast now below the aircraft blotted out the ground just as
+completely as another layer of overcast higher up blotted out the stars.
+
+The B-Twenty-Five was like some winged thing cutting through limitless
+unexplored space. In truth, those aboard had only one single contact
+with the world they had known. And that contact was Freddy Farmer, who
+plotted every foot of the bomber's travel, and knew exactly where they
+were every minute of the time. In fact, it seemed to be about every
+other minute that the English youth leaned forward from his navigating
+table and handed Dave a slip of paper on which was written course
+corrections, or data on a new course to be flown. And at such times Dave
+would snap on a tiny flashlight just long enough to read the directions,
+and then plunge the pilot's cockpit into pitch darkness again.
+
+Holding rigidly to the course directions that Freddy gave him, he kept
+his gaze fixed on the instrument panel, and tried to put everything out
+of his mind, save this particular job of flying. It was impossible to
+do that, of course. A million and one different thoughts jumped and
+leaped about inside his brain like so many caged up rabbits suddenly
+given their freedom. How soon before Freddy would give him the signal to
+cut the engines and start sliding down to a dead-stick landing on a
+piece of night-shrouded ground that he had never seen in his life
+before? What would be there if and when he landed the bomber? Would a
+chance Nazi patrol hear them, and would there be trouble? Would they be
+able to get away from the bomber in time? Would the tattered and torn
+Ukrainian peasant clothes that they all now wore be sufficient disguise?
+Would they be able to hide the plane? Or would they lose it, and be
+stranded on foot far behind the Nazi positions? Would this, and would
+that happen? And if so, what would be the best thing to do? And so
+forth, and so forth. On and on, as if beating time to the powerful throb
+of the Wright Cyclones.
+
+And then, suddenly, as Dawson's brain wound up tighter and tighter like
+a coiled spring, he felt a hand on his shoulder, and heard Freddy
+Farmer's quiet voice in his ears.
+
+"My job's finished, old thing," the English youth said. "Cut your
+engines, and start the glide. I've figured it as close as I possibly
+can, and I make it that we're ten miles from the spot. It's dead ahead,
+of course. But you're nose-on to a thirty mile wind. Adjust your glide
+angle accordingly."
+
+"Okay, my lad!" Dawson said with far more cheerfulness than he actually
+felt. "Have a comfortable seat, and watch us."
+
+"Think I'll man the tail gun, just in case," Freddy replied, with an
+encouraging squeeze of Dawson's shoulder. "And if it turns out to be the
+wrong spot, old thing, just let me know, what? I'll have another go at
+it."
+
+"Sure!" Dave chuckled. "That will be swell of you, pal. If we miss and
+land in the middle of a Nazi camp, that landing doesn't count, huh? And
+why shouldn't the Nazis give us a second try? Okay, son. Trot back to
+your guns, but don't shoot until you see the whites of somebody's eyes,
+for cat's sake!"
+
+"Quite! I understand perfectly," the English youth chuckled in reply.
+"And who has whites of eyes in this blasted coal mine, what? Well, luck,
+old thing. It's been a lovely airplane ride, you know."
+
+With another squeeze of Dawson's shoulder, Freddy Farmer melted away in
+the dark, and the Yank pilot set about his delicate and dangerous task.
+He killed the twin Cyclones completely, and the sudden silence had the
+weird effect of guns going off all about him. The sensation fled him in
+an instant, though, and he could hear the soft whispering song of the
+B-Twenty-Five's wings sliding down through the darkness. Gripping the
+controls with hands of steel, and keeping his eyes riveted on the
+instrument panel, he held the bomber at the correct glide, and
+practically lowered it earthward a foot at a time.
+
+Beside him, in the co-pilot's seat, was Senior Lieutenant Nasha
+Petrovski. Fact is, the girl had been seated there ever since the
+take-off. But not one word had passed her lips. It was as though she
+realized that this was something out of her field, and that the best way
+she could help was to maintain absolute silence until the aircraft was
+safely on the ground. And that was perfectly okay by Dawson. Not that he
+wouldn't have been glad to talk with the famous Russian girl. But simply
+because her silence helped him to forget that she was there.
+
+Three hundred and six Nazis dead by her trigger finger, or three
+thousand and six. It didn't matter. She was a girl, and this was the
+first time Dawson had piloted a plane through war skies with other than
+men aboard. It was certainly a new experience, and one, he was forced to
+admit to himself, he would have been just as well pleased to have
+somebody else experience. However, she was along, of course. And so that
+was that.
+
+Foot by foot Dawson took the B-Twenty-Five down toward the crest of the
+lower layer of overcast. Presently he thought he could make out its
+darker shadow just below. A glance at the altimeter told him that his
+eyes were not lying. In another moment he'd be going down through the
+stuff, and in a couple of moments after that he'd be below it and in
+clear night air. Then would begin the really ticklish part. Then he
+would see, or would not see, the dazzling white beams of Nazi
+searchlights groping about in the air. And then he would hear, or would
+not hear, the heart-chilling _crump_ of exploding anti-aircraft shells.
+And then it would be, or would not be, the end of a very daring and
+crazy adventure. Then it--
+
+With a savage shake of his head he drove the tantalizing thoughts from
+his brain, licked his lips and hunched forward slightly over the
+controls. They were in the lower layer of overcast now. He could tell
+because the darkness seemed twice as profound as it had been a moment
+before. And then, suddenly, the B-Twenty-Five floated down out of the
+overcast and into clear night air. Dawson tore his gaze from the
+instrument panel, blinked hard as though to clear his vision, and
+strained his eyes ahead, and down. For a soul-torturing eternity he saw
+nothing but a carpet of unbroken black stretching far out in all
+directions. But little by little the carpet of black lost its unbroken
+appearance. It took on darker spots, and lighter spots, and landmarks on
+an aerial mosaic map re-photographed on his brain began to take shape
+and form.
+
+He spotted a couple of pin points of light to the left, and a long
+curving dark shadow. The curving shadow he knew was a stretch of woods
+on the east side of Urbakh. And the pin points of light he was certain
+came from the village itself. Then, as he saw a winding lighter shadow,
+his heart swelled with pride. Trust old Freddy Farmer! Old Freddy could
+guide you halfway around the world to a dime you had left in the middle
+of a desert. That winding lighter shadow was a tributary of the Don
+River. And when his eyes picked out the eastern and lower part of an S
+that the tributary formed, he would then be looking at the small,
+wood-bordered patch of flat ground where he would dead-stick land the
+bomber. Or at least he would be looking at a spot of wood-bordered flat
+ground that _had_ been that when the Russian aerial photographs were
+taken.
+
+So tensed and keyed up was Dawson that when Senior Lieutenant Petrovski
+suddenly reached out and gripped his arm he almost let out a startled
+yell. He curbed it in time, however, so his own voice didn't drown out
+the words the Russian girl spoke.
+
+"There, a little to the left!" she called out. "You see it, Captain
+Dawson? Where the little river makes that turn to the right? That is the
+place."
+
+It took Dawson all of five seconds to pick out the spot, and when he did
+he silently saluted the Russian girl at his side.
+
+"Yes, I see it, Senior Lieutenant," he told her. Then to himself, "You
+and Freddy Farmer! Eagle eyes!"
+
+Perhaps it was a good thing that the Russian girl had spoken. At any
+rate, the tenseness and the tightness went out of Dawson. A cool calm
+settled over him, and it was though he were simply making an emergency
+night landing in some familiar place. But, of course, a night landing
+without the benefit of landing lights!
+
+Actually, though, it was going to be considerably more than just putting
+the B-Twenty-Five down on the ground. When his wheels finally touched,
+he must have enough forward speed to carry him as close to the bordering
+trees as possible. There would be no "dolly-tractor" to haul the bomber
+over the ground. And those aboard certainly didn't possess the strength
+to move the bomber around as you'd hoist up the tail of a pursuit ship
+and move it. And, of course, to start up the engines and taxi close to
+the bordering trees was definitely out of the question. Might just as
+well send the Nazis in the neighborhood a telegram that they were
+coming, and at what time. And so--
+
+The rambling thoughts in Dawson's brain slid off into oblivion. The
+darker shadow of the ground was directly beneath his cranked down wheels
+now. And dead ahead was the darker shadow, too, of the bordering trees
+at the far end of the field. It was now or never. Success, or a
+beautiful crack-up that would bring Nazis on the jump from miles around.
+Dawson swallowed impulsively, and in the last few split seconds of time
+allowed, every event, big and small, of his entire existence on earth
+seemed to flash across the screen of his brain.
+
+And then the wheels touched. The B-Twenty-Five tried to bounce back up a
+little into the air, but an expert had set it on the ground, and the
+twin tail came down to touch and cling to the earth also. Sweat was
+pouring off Dawson's face, but he didn't bother wiping it off so that it
+wouldn't run into his eyes. Like a statue of solid stone, he sat hunched
+in the seat, letting the bomber trundle forward, and keeping his gaze
+fixed on the dark shadow of trees ahead.
+
+It seemed as though a thousand years dragged by while that B-Twenty-Five
+rolled forward over the ground. But finally the bordering trees loomed
+up large and ominous just ahead of the nose. Dawson applied the wheel
+brakes, and the forward movement of the bomber slackened off
+considerably. And at the very last moment he took off the right wheel
+brake, but held the left steady so that the bomber pivoted around to
+that side, and finally stopped in a position where another half-turn was
+all that was needed for them to be able to use the entire length of the
+field for a take-off.
+
+"Well, Jap-knife me in the back if we didn't make it!" Dave gasped
+joyfully as the bomber's wheels made their last half-turn. "Here we are,
+anyway."
+
+"And accomplished by the ace of aces, Captain Dawson!" the Russian girl
+spoke up. "But there is no time for compliments now. There is work for
+all of us. We must hurry, so that when dawn comes there will be no sign
+to be seen from the air."
+
+"Huh?" Dawson grunted. "What was that, Senior Lieutenant?"
+
+"This aircraft!" she said with a startling sharpness in her voice. "We
+must cover it with branches and bushes, so that Nazi airmen will not see
+that it is here. Is that not so?"
+
+"That is absolutely correct!" Dawson replied instantly, and heaved up
+out of his seat. "And I am very glad that there is at least _one_ brain
+in this outfit. My apologies for my dumbness, Senior Lieutenant. Let's
+go!"
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER SIXTEEN
+
+_Satan is Gleeful_
+
+
+The new dawn was a pale band of light that etched the eastern rim of the
+world. The overcast layers that had filled the night sky were fast
+breaking up and dissolving into nothingness. It was a sure sign that the
+new day would be clear and bright. And as Dave Dawson stared up at the
+slowly changing sky, he tried to tell himself that that was a very good
+sign, and that everything would turn out swell.
+
+Yes, he was trying to tell himself and convince himself, but he didn't
+even come close. The hand of invisible doom and disaster seemed to be
+pressing down hard on his heart. And countless demons of doubt and dread
+and misgiving were dancing around in his brain. He shifted his position
+on the floor and stared over at Freddy Farmer and Agent Jones, who sat
+back-propped and silent against the room wall.
+
+Room wall? Well, it could hardly be called that. The place where the
+three of them were now was little more than a hundred year old cow-shed
+sunk half into the ground from changing weather, and just plain natural
+deterioration. It was a good half-mile from the spot where they had left
+the B-Twenty-Five bomber well camouflaged, covered by tree branches,
+bushes, and anything else that they could lay their hands on. To this
+tumbled down mess of rotted wood Senior Lieutenant Petrovski had led
+them as straight as though she were walking a piece of taut string.
+Then, she had _left_ them here well over two hours ago!
+
+Yes! Left them to cool their heels, and bite their fingernails if they
+wished, while she went out into the darkness to scout about the village
+of Urbakh, and find out just what the picture was. When she had told
+them of her intention, a whole batch of arguments had leaped to Dawson's
+lips, just as they had leaped to the lips of Freddy Farmer, and Agent
+Jones. However, the Russian girl was quick to read what was in their
+minds. And she asked them a question that put an end to all the
+arguments, and stopped them all cold.
+
+"And who but I, who knows this area as a birthplace, should go out and
+find what should be done next?" she had asked.
+
+And _was_ there one of them better qualified to look over the lay of the
+land? There was not! However, Dawson had been tempted to insist that he
+go along with her, just as a matter of protection, so to speak. But
+before he spoke he thought of three hundred and six Nazis who wouldn't
+help Hitler any more. So he didn't even speak.
+
+However, the girl officer of Russian Intelligence had said that she
+would return in a little over an hour. And it was now well over _two_
+hours since she had slipped away in the darkness like a greased shadow.
+That wasn't so good, and the demons of doubt and dread and misgiving
+were loudly clamoring for recognition in Dawson's brain.
+
+"I fancy we're all thinking the same thoughts, what?" Freddy Farmer's
+low voice suddenly broke the silence. "And deucedly unpleasant thoughts,
+too."
+
+"Check!" Dawson muttered grimly. "I'm afraid we were dopes to let her go
+out alone, even if she does know this neck of the woods, and how to take
+care of any Nazis she bumps into."
+
+"Oh, she'll be back," Agent Jones spoke up confidently. "The Russian
+women are every bit as good at waging war as the Russian men, you know."
+
+"Sure!" Dawson grunted. "But a lot of Russian men soldiers have been
+shot in this war. However--well, I guess the only thing we can do is
+wait some more."
+
+"And if she doesn't show up at all?" Freddy Farmer put the obvious
+question. "Then what?"
+
+"Then I haven't the faintest idea," Dawson replied with a heavy sigh.
+"We'll just have to think up something if and when that time arrives."
+
+"We could go to the Nazi Commandant hereabouts, and ask him if he knows
+where we could find Nikolsk," Agent Jones offered with a chuckle.
+
+"Thanks for the attempt at humor!" Dawson groaned. "But I don't feel
+like laughing. I feel like--Hold it! You hear that, fellows?"
+
+There was no need to ask the question. Even a deaf man could have heard
+the thunderous roar of revving aircraft engines that suddenly blasted
+the silence of dawn to the four winds. As though controlled by invisible
+strings, the three of them leaped to their feet and crowded over to the
+glassless window on the side of the room nearest the location of the
+sound. It did them little good, however. They simply found themselves
+staring out at a wall of trees that blocked off even the growing light
+of dawn.
+
+That didn't matter very much, though. And it certainly didn't cause
+their hearts to thump less violently. The three of them knew at once
+that the roaring was from German aircraft engines. And the three of them
+also realized at once that a Nazi flying field couldn't be more than a
+few hundred yards away!
+
+"Sweet tripe!" Dawson gasped when he could catch his breath. "Did we
+pick a nice secluded out of the way spot, I don't think! That's a Nazi
+flying field. And those engines sound like Messerschmitt One-Nines and
+One-Tens to me!"
+
+"Quite!" Agent Jones grunted, tight-lipped. "Certainly isn't a tank
+base. A Jerry airdrome, without a doubt. And here come some of the
+blighters off on the early patrol!"
+
+The last statement was quite true. Hardly had the words left Agent
+Jones' lips when six Messerschmitt One-Tens went tearing by no more than
+three hundred feet over the spot where the three youths crouched hidden.
+A moment later a second flight of Nazi planes roared by toward the
+front. And then a third flight, and a fourth. Dawson squinted up at
+each flight, and saw that his guess had been correct. Half of the planes
+were single-seater Messerschmitt One-Nine fighters. And the other half
+were Messerschmitt One-Tens. And when the last flight had passed over he
+sat down on the floor again, scowled darkly, and scratched his head.
+
+"Just ducky, just dandy!" he groaned. "We hide our ship just a hop skip
+and a jump from a mess of high speed Nazi jobs. What a sweet hope we'd
+have trying to take off. Or is there some way of getting a B-Twenty-Five
+into the air without using the engines?"
+
+"Lots of ways!" Freddy Farmer grunted unhappily. "But I can't seem to
+think of one, right now."
+
+"Well, keep thinking, pal!" Dawson told him. "Because I guess we're
+going to have to do just that. Darn it! Where is that Senior Lieutenant,
+anyway? She's one bright girl, and always has the right answer. Maybe
+she'll have the right answer to this one."
+
+"I hope!" Agent Jones echoed fervently.
+
+"I fancy that makes two of us who hope, old thing," Freddy Farmer
+sighed. "A bit strange, though, there was no sign of the airfield on
+that mosaic map of Major Saratov's," he went on after a split second
+pause. "Or could all of us have been so blind as to have missed it?"
+
+"Hardly," Agent Jones said with a grim laugh. "If you ask me, we didn't
+spot it because you wouldn't even spot it from the air. The Jerries, as
+you well know, are absolutely top-hole in the art of camouflaging. I
+think that's the answer, frankly. A very cleverly camouflaged air base
+that Soviet pilots haven't discovered yet."
+
+"And we have--too late!" Dawson grunted. "Say, listen, you two. What say
+we give the Senior Lieutenant twenty minutes more, and if she hasn't
+returned by then we go take a look-see at that airfield, huh? To my way
+of thinking, we can't count too much on the B-Twenty-Five, with a nest
+of Messerschmitts this close. Better have a look-see, anyway. Am I
+right, or wrong?"
+
+"Perfectly right!" Freddy Farmer said.
+
+"The same for me," Agent Jones echoed. "Twenty minutes more for the lady
+to show up, and then we start snooping around on our own."
+
+Whether the war gods planned it that way or not will of course never be
+known. But exactly nineteen minutes had ticked by on Dave Dawson's wrist
+watch when suddenly a shadow fell across the dawn light on the floor,
+and Senior Lieutenant Nasha Petrovski came gliding into the room.
+Instantly the three men were on their feet, and it was Dawson who found
+his tongue first.
+
+"Boy! Am I glad to see you, lady!" he gulped out impulsively. "I mean,
+Senior Lieutenant, it's sure nice to see you back. We were getting
+mighty worried."
+
+The Russian girl smiled her thanks, but her smile was far from her usual
+flashing one. She sat down on the floor and pulled off her tattered
+peasant cap to show her close cropped jet black hair. Dawson, staring at
+her for a moment, could not help but admit to himself that Nasha
+Petrovski in a Senior Lieutenant's snappy uniform, or Nasha Petrovski in
+the tattered garments of a Ukrainian peasant woman, was still one mighty
+pretty girl. He brushed the flash thought from his brain, however, and
+squatted down on his heels in front of her.
+
+"Bad news, eh, Senior Lieutenant?" he asked quietly. "I think I can see
+it in your face."
+
+She didn't answer him for a moment. She seemed content to wait until
+Freddy Farmer and Agent Jones had also squatted down on the floor. Then
+she nodded her head, and her eyes flashed with some inner rage.
+
+"Yes, bad news, my gallant comrades," she said evenly. "It would seem
+the Nazis here at Urbakh are far more clever than we expected."
+
+"Quite," Agent Jones murmured politely. "The camouflaged airfield. We
+have just been watching some of their planes fly over."
+
+"Yes, a secret airfield!" the Russian girl said in a low voice, and
+clenched her two hands into fists. "It is not a quarter of a mile from
+where we now sit. I have seen it, and though I will hate all Nazis to my
+death, I must speak praise of that secret field. It is all underground,
+under a large flat-topped hill. You almost stumble into it before you
+see the screens of branches that hang down over the entrance. When
+planes are to take off, the screens are lifted by wire cables and the
+valley at the base of the hill becomes a smooth take-off runway. It is
+clever. Yes, it is ingenious. It is also most unlucky for us that Nazis
+are so close."
+
+"Well, they haven't spotted us yet!" Dawson said, to cheer her up a
+little. "And we'll just make sure that they don't."
+
+"Yes, of course," the Russian girl replied in a dull voice, and shrugged
+sort of hopelessly. "But it is blame that I must put on my own
+shoulders. I am ashamed to--"
+
+"Now look, Senior Lieutenant!" Dave spoke up quickly. "We--"
+
+But that's as far as he could get. She silenced him with her eyes, and
+an upraised hand.
+
+"Let me finish, please, Captain Dawson," she said. "Then you will
+realize why I am so ashamed. It is my sad duty to report to you three
+gallant ones that the Nazis have _already_ discovered our airplane.
+There is a strong guard about it this very minute. And, of course, they
+realize that we must be somewhere in this area."
+
+Had Hitler himself stepped through the cockeyed slanting doorway at that
+exact moment, the three youths wouldn't have been much more stunned. To
+Dawson it was like something exploding inside his head. And quick as a
+flash he thought of the incident aboard the Flying Scotsman, and of the
+air battle just before the Wellington's arrival in Moscow. Was it true?
+Was it true that the Gestapo had been here all the time waiting for
+them? Had they seen or heard the B-Twenty-Five sliding down for the
+night landing, and just waited for daylight to capture it? Was that the
+truth? Dawson wondered. He wondered hard, and little by little he began
+to get the feeling that the Nazis didn't know who, or how many, had
+arrived in their midst. If so, why had they not swooped down on the
+landed plane instantly, and shot or captured everybody right then and
+there? Was it because they had not been able to reach the bomber before
+its crew had slipped away in the darkness? Or was it because they,
+themselves, hoped to be led to the hiding place of one Ivan Nikolsk, who
+was such an important link in the revealing of their war plans?
+
+Dawson wondered and pondered in silence, and then suddenly he was
+conscious of Freddy Farmer speaking.
+
+"Let them have the blasted aircraft, and welcome to it!" the
+English-born air ace was saying. "It makes matters a bit more difficult,
+but far from impossible. I fancy that there isn't one of us who hasn't
+been stranded behind Nazi lines before this. We'll get away from the
+beggars, somehow. The main thing is to locate this bloke, Ivan Nikolsk,
+and let Agent Jones, here, do his share in this balmy show we're to pull
+off."
+
+"But that will not be so easy, either, I am most sad to report," Senior
+Lieutenant Petrovski said bitterly. "A little luck has been mine since I
+last saw you. I found Ivan Nikolsk, and it was easier than I had dared
+hope. There was a certain house I went to, on the east side of the
+village. An old woman, too old to interest the Nazis. Nina, her name is.
+She used to rock me in my cradle. She made for me my first doll, out of
+thin air and a bit of string, almost. She was there at the house. Half
+blind, but she knew me at once. She swore that she knew in her heart
+that I was coming. Perhaps yes. Who is there to say no? And what is
+planned for us on this earth, and what is not planned for us? Who is
+there to prove this or that to be wrong, or a miracle?"
+
+The Russian girl suddenly caught herself up and made a little apologetic
+gesture with her hands.
+
+"But such mysteries of life are not for us to speak of at the moment,"
+she continued. "It is just that Ivan Nikolsk went to Nina for hiding. He
+is there. He is there now. I saw him."
+
+"Oh, splendid!" Freddy Farmer burst out excitedly. "Did you speak to
+him, Senior Lieutenant? And what did he say to you? By Jove!"
+
+"No." She turned to the English youth with a sad smile. "I have made you
+happy only to make you unhappy. I spoke to Ivan Nikolsk, but he did not
+speak to me. He is unconscious. He has been so for four days. He has
+illness, and a terrible fever. Nina has done what she could. But there
+is no doctor, and it would mean her life to go to the Nazis in the
+village. Nina says that he has not long to live. And I have seen him,
+and so believe her!"
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER SEVENTEEN
+
+_End of the Beginning_
+
+
+The echo of Senior Lieutenant Petrovski's words seemed to linger
+tauntingly for ages and ages. Nobody else spoke. Nobody could think of
+anything to say. The stillness of dawn stole in through the broken and
+shattered windows, and lent to the place the atmosphere of a long
+abandoned tomb. Dawson tried desperately to think of something to
+say--anything that would remove a little of the bitterness that was
+stamped all over the Russian girl's face. Not one bit of what had
+happened was her fault, but that didn't make any difference to her. She
+accepted the fault as her own, and it showed plainly in the bitter look
+on her face.
+
+"Well, that just tightens things up a little," the words finally came to
+his tongue, and popped off. "We've just got to shift into high gear a
+little sooner. The big idea now is to get Ivan Nikolsk to a good Russian
+hospital, and get him there fast. Right?"
+
+"True enough," Freddy Farmer grunted, and stared at him hard. "But I
+fancy there are one or two little details to be worked out, what?"
+
+"Right!" Dawson shot right back at him. "And that's where you and I can
+earn a little of what they pay us. Look, Senior Lieutenant, just where
+is this Nina's house? Can you tell me exactly, so I'd recognize it when
+I saw it?"
+
+"But of course!" the Russian girl replied, and brightened up a little.
+"It was in that mosaic aerial map. You recall those two roads that
+formed a Y by those star-shaped fields? You remember speaking about the
+shape of those fields, eh? It is that house right there in the top part
+of that Y."
+
+"Check!" Dawson cried eagerly, as he instantly pin pointed the spot on
+the memory picture of that aerial map in his brain. "Yes! I know just
+where it is. Now, another question. Are there many Nazis roaming around
+here? I mean, could you and Agent Jones get to this Nina's house without
+being stopped and picked up?"
+
+"The Nazis would never see us!" the Russian girl said almost scornfully.
+"Too many times have I--"
+
+"Okay, and sorry," Dawson stopped her with a grin. "I didn't mean that
+the way you took it. Okay, then. Answer me this, if you will? Could
+Farmer and I get to that house without being nailed?"
+
+The Russian girl flashed him a searching look, and then laughed softly.
+
+"What a Russian girl can do, the Captains Dawson and Farmer can
+certainly do!" she said. "And much more skilfully, no doubt."
+
+Dawson hesitated the fraction of a second, half expecting a crack from
+Freddy. But the situation was too serious for the English youth to
+loosen his tongue in a retort.
+
+"Well, that's all I want to know," Dawson finally said with a grin. "Now
+look, Senior Lieutenant. You and Agent Jones slide over to this Nina's
+house, and get ready to move Nikolsk out of there. You know, wrap him up
+in blankets, if there're any around. But, more important, try to check
+on the movements of any Nazis who might be around. Meanwhile Farmer and
+I--well, we're going to take a little walk. However, we'll join you and
+Agent Jones as soon as we can. But it might not be until nightfall
+tonight. So don't get worried if we take that long."
+
+"I say, what's up old thing?" Agent Jones broke into the conversation.
+"Just what do you and Farmer plan to do? A walk to where, may I ask?"
+
+"Sure, go ahead and ask it," the Yank air ace chuckled. "The answer is
+that I am not quite sure, right now. However, the B-Twenty-Five is out
+for us, now. So Farmer's and my job will be to dig up some other means
+of travel, and dig it up in a hurry. We'll do our darnedest, anyway. And
+I promise, we'll both show up at Nina's sooner or later. So is it okay
+for us to split forces and get to work? Or has one of you something
+better thought up?"
+
+None of the other three seemed to think much of Dawson's suggestion for
+action. The looks on their faces showed it. But not one of them could
+think of any better suggestion, so no protests or arguments were
+forthcoming. Dawson gave them three long minutes to think of something.
+Then he nodded, and stood up.
+
+"Okay, time flies!" he said. "The Senior Lieutenant, and Agent Jones,
+head for Nina's house, and get Nikolsk ready for travel. And maybe
+you'll get a break, Jones. Maybe Nikolsk will come to long enough to
+recognize you and do some talking. That's why I think you should go with
+the Senior Lieutenant instead of with us, see?"
+
+"But of course!" Jones gasped as his face reddened slightly. "I didn't
+think. Naturally. Sorry, Dawson."
+
+"Skip it, pal," the Yank grinned at him. Then, stabbing a finger at
+Freddy Farmer, he said, "Boy! On your feet, and come with Papa. And
+watch those big feet, too. The less noise, the better our chances."
+
+"Really?" the English youth snorted, and made a face. "Well, if it
+wasn't for the situation, and the fact a young lady is present, I'd tell
+you, my good man, to--"
+
+"But of course you won't!" Dawson shot at him. "So pipe down,
+sweetheart, and let's get going. By nightfall at the latest, you two.
+Keep your fingers crossed!"
+
+With a grin and a wave of his hand at Senior Lieutenant Petrovski and
+Agent Jones, Dawson turned and led the way out through the slanting
+doorway, and sharp left into the thick woods that edged that side of the
+house. He kept going until he was a good two hundred yards deep in the
+woods. Then he slid to the ground and crawled into some of the heavy
+undergrowth. Freddy Farmer crawled in right beside him, and even in the
+bad light Dawson could see the library full of questions that gleamed
+in his pal's eyes.
+
+"Easy does it, sweetheart," Dave said softly, and held up a restraining
+hand. "I know you think I'm nuts, pal. But I couldn't very well explain
+everything in there. Besides, I wouldn't be able to explain everything,
+because I haven't caught all the angles yet myself."
+
+"Yes, you are quite balmy, or seem so," the English youth replied with a
+gesture. "But I've seen you just as balmy in one or two other tight
+corners. So I'll wait and listen before I make up my mind one way or the
+other. Well, just what is steaming in that head of yours?"
+
+"The word is cooking, not steaming," Dawson chuckled. "But skip it.
+Look, Freddy. As I get the picture, the Nazis--Gestapo, or maybe no
+Gestapo--have stolen the play from us. Naturally, if they've found the
+B-Twenty-Five, as the Senior Lieutenant says, they know for sure that
+there is somebody behind their lines. Right? Okay. However, I've got a
+feeling that there is one thing they _don't_ know."
+
+"Go on," Freddy Farmer grunted as Dawson paused. "What?"
+
+"They don't know _how many_ of us are here," the Yank replied quickly.
+
+"But the B-Twenty-Five must indicate to them that--!" the English youth
+managed to say before Dawson interrupted.
+
+"Sure, but so what? That bomber can mean one of two things to them. That
+it brought over a full crew to do something. Or that a couple of guys
+flew it over to take _others_ back. And if the Gestapo is mixed up in
+this, they must feel sure that the B-Twenty-Five is here to take others
+back."
+
+"Which is just about the truth," the English youth grunted gloomily.
+
+"So that's just why we've got to step in and make them change their
+minds!" Dawson shot at him. "We've got to make them think that only two
+of us came over, and, finding out that our plans were shot high wide and
+handsome because the bomber was captured, that we called off the deal
+and lit out for home as fast as we could. See?"
+
+"I most certainly don't see!" Freddy Farmer growled, and scowled. "What
+kind of raving is this, anyway?"
+
+"Too bad I haven't got a pencil!" Dawson grated. "I could draw you a
+picture. Stop thinking of food, and concentrate, will you, pal?"
+
+"I'll take you up on that remark later!" Freddy snapped. "Of course I'm
+concentrating. But are you talking sense?"
+
+"I'll try to put it in words of no more than five letters," Dave sighed.
+"Now, here it is. We must make them think that only two people came over
+in that B-Twenty-Five. Two guys, who planned to make a secret landing at
+night and pick up--well, pick up one, or two, or half a dozen other
+people on this side. The Nazis can pick their own number from one to
+ten. Okay. The bomber is captured by them, so we've got to make them
+think we got scared, called off what we had hoped to accomplish, and
+beat it back to the safety of the Russian front. Got it, so far?"
+
+"Yes, I think so," Freddy replied. "So far. But how do you propose to
+make them think we've given up and gone back? And just how do you plan
+for us to go back?"
+
+Dawson jerked a thumb off to the right.
+
+"That very trick airdrome of theirs," he said shortly. "And a couple of
+those single-seater Messerschmitt One-Nines. We--"
+
+"But a Messerschmitt One-Ten will carry two!" the English youth
+interrupted. "In fact, they carry a radioman, also, which makes three."
+
+"My, how you know your airplanes!" Dawson snapped. "Shut up, and
+listen, will you? Two single-seaters will mean to them that only _two_
+guys are on their way home. So they'll naturally figure that _only two
+guys_ came over in the B-Twenty-Five, see? So, as I was saying, we swipe
+two single-seaters from their trick airdrome and high-tail for the
+Russian front. And--Now, keep your shirt on, and let me finish! And of
+course they come chasing after us. Well, we let them get a good look at
+us taking it on the lam. Get--"
+
+"_Lam_, Dave? I--"
+
+"So your education's been neglected, but skip it for now!" the Yank said
+quickly. "We let them see us escape. Let them see us get well over
+Russian-held ground, so they are forced to turn back. Well, a few
+minutes later we do the same thing, see? We've got to work it so it'll
+be almost dark by then. Anyway, we breeze back, kill our engines, and
+make a dead-stick landing in _that field close to Nina's house_. The
+Nazis, thinking that we've given them the slip, will probably relax the
+guard on the B-Twenty-Five. So at Nina's house we pick up the others,
+sneak back, and rush the one or two guards that have been left with the
+bomber. We take care of them, pile aboard, and off we go to a Moscow
+hospital with Nikolsk. And who knows? Maybe by then Agent Jones will
+have learned everything from the poor devil's own lips. Well? Okay, or
+does it smell? And if so, then you tell one, pal!"
+
+"It's all quite mad, of course," the English youth said after a long
+moment of silence. "However, it's no more barmy, I fancy, than a few
+other things we've tried, and we've always managed to come out on top so
+far. There are three big question marks, though. One, can we steal the
+two single-seaters? Two, can we land near Nina's house without being
+seen, or heard? And three, will they reduce the guard over the bomber so
+that we can overpower them quickly enough? After all, we only have an
+automatic apiece. However--"
+
+Freddy paused and shrugged. And Dawson nodded, and grinned.
+
+"Check!" he said. "There's only one way we can find out those answers.
+That's to take a crack at it."
+
+"And I always did like London at this time of the year," Freddy Farmer
+murmured softly with a long sigh.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER EIGHTEEN
+
+_Aces Don't Wait_
+
+
+As though the gods of good fortune, and Lady Luck, were well informed of
+what was to take place in the Tobolsk area, and wished to add their bit
+of help, dull grey clouds began to form in the western sky shortly after
+noon. And by three o'clock the sun was hidden completely, and shadowy,
+misty light filled the heavens, and covered the earth like a thin
+shroud.
+
+Hugging the ground under a mass of leafy bushes, Dave Dawson and Freddy
+Farmer breathed silent prayers of thanks for the helpful change in the
+weather, and in between prayers asked only that four Nazi airplane
+mechanics might complete their routine chores, and go elsewhere out of
+sight. The four Nazi mechanics were no more than sixty yards from where
+the two boys hugged the damp ground, and they were giving their
+attention to three Messerschmitt One-Nines, and half a dozen
+Messerschmitt One-Tens lined up under a wide spread of overhanging tree
+branches that hid them completely from the air. Just beyond the planes,
+and to the right, rose a squat, flat-topped hill. Even from where the
+boys hugged the ground the hill looked just like that--squat, and
+flat-topped. But they knew different. Not only because of what they had
+guessed, and heard from Senior Lieutenant Petrovski's lips, but also
+from what they had seen with their own eyes!
+
+Just one hour previously they had reached this spot and crouched down to
+study the scene, and wait for their big opportunity--if and when it
+came. Up until an hour ago they had covered a considerable area of
+Nazi-occupied Russian ground. A portion of it, because of the necessity
+of changing course to avoid personal contact with Nazi patrols, or
+groups of Luftwaffe pilots out stretching their legs after a flight over
+the front, and for a few other less important reasons. But a certain
+portion of it they had covered on purpose, mainly to have a look at the
+guarded B-Twenty-Five bomber. But that look had not added to their peace
+of mind, or to their hopes.
+
+They had learned that not only was a heavy guard posted close to the
+bomber--which, incidentally, was inspected practically every five
+minutes by a new group of Luftwaffe pilots--but a ring of guards had
+also been thrown out about the bomber at a considerable distance. In
+other words, the Nazis were taking no chances on a surprise rushing
+attack. Those whom they were obviously expecting would be forced to
+break through two rings of defense to reach the aircraft. No, a good
+look from a safe distance at the B-Twenty-Five had not given them cause
+to so much as murmur with happiness. If that guard was _not_ reduced,
+and by two thirds at the most, they were slated to have one terrific job
+on their hands. One terrific job, and a very hopeless one, too.
+
+However, time alone would reveal what was to be, and what wasn't to be.
+So they had left the picture just as it was, and gone on about their
+"travels." And now they hugged the ground, and kept their eyes fixed on
+four Nazi mechanics, and by the very intensity of their stares tried to
+make the four square-heads stop fiddling around with the Messerschmitts
+and go away.
+
+"Almost as though they knew we were here," Freddy Farmer muttered under
+his breath, "and were purposely taking as long as they could. Blast
+them, anyway!"
+
+"I can think of a lot of other things to call those tramps!" Dawson
+grated softly. "And if you want the truth, I'm having a tough time
+fighting down the yen to tear into them, anyway. They don't look like
+they're armed."
+
+"But no doubt each one of the blighters has a Luger in his coverall
+pocket," Freddy Farmer murmured. "I fancy the Nazis have learned not to
+go around unarmed _any_ place in Russia. Quite!"
+
+Dawson started to nod and echo that very truthful surmise, but at that
+moment he heard one of the mechanics shout something, and his heart
+started pounding furiously against his ribs. He didn't catch the words,
+but he didn't have to. Actions told him all he needed to know. The
+actions of the four mechanics who promptly quit work, and went walking
+over toward the base of the squat, flat-topped hill. A moment or two
+later Dawson and Freddy Farmer witnessed for the second time in an hour
+a bit of Nazi-made ingenuity. For the second time in an hour, they
+witnessed what Senior Lieutenant Nasha Petrovski had told them about.
+
+In short, they watched the four mechanics walk to the base of the hill,
+watched a section of "hill" swing outward and upward a little way, and
+the four mechanics walk into the hill, and then saw the camouflage
+screening drop back into place again. A sudden and quite insane desire
+to have a look at all that was inside that hill surged through Dawson.
+But, naturally, he killed the urge even as it was born, and simply
+promised himself that if he lived through the war, he would come back
+for a real inspection of this spot after it was all over.
+
+"Well, don't look right now," he breathed softly, and pushed up onto his
+hands and knees, "but I think it's time for us to part company for a
+spell. Freddy, old pal, you hop for that first crate, and I'll hop for
+the one right next to it. Meet you in the air, kid. And don't wait to
+ask permission to take off, see? You won't get it!"
+
+"Not likely!" the English-born air ace grinned back at him,
+tight-lipped. "And keep your mind on your own knitting, old thing. A
+One-Nine is a bit of all right, but a tricky beggar, you know."
+
+"Yeah, I once read that in a book!" Dave growled. Then, throwing Farmer
+a wink, "This is it, pal. And don't spare the horses!"
+
+And that was that. No handclasp, and no last words of planning. There
+was no need for either. Each knew exactly how the other felt. And each
+knew exactly what the other planned to do, and would do--unless Death
+stopped him.
+
+And so, like a couple of bolts of lightning ripping out from the center
+of a thunderhead, the two boys ripped up out from under the sheltering
+bushes, and went streaking straight across sixty yards of open ground.
+To anybody watching them it must have seemed that their feet didn't even
+touch the ground; that they were just a couple of cannon shells en
+route. And as Dave reached the side of the cockpit of his Messerschmitt
+One-Nine, it became instantly evident that somebody had been watching
+them, or at least had suddenly spotted Freddy and himself, because there
+was the sound of a muffled shout of wild alarm, followed almost
+instantly by the heart-chilling chatter of a machine gun. However, Dave
+didn't hear the whine of bullets, and he didn't bother to wait to see if
+a second burst would come closer. His feet just up and left the ground,
+and he practically shot down through the cockpit hatch opening to the
+seat.
+
+Even as he landed, hard, his hands were in furious motion. In what was
+little more than the continuation of a single movement he whipped up the
+ignition switch, snapped on the booster magneto, and punched the
+starter button as he rammed the throttle open. One--two--three horrible
+seconds dragged by, and then the Daimler-Benz engine in the nose caught
+in a mighty thunder of sound. And as it did so he kicked off the wheel
+brakes and opened the throttle wide, breathing a prayer of gratitude to
+the four mechanics for having tested the engine and thus warmed it up
+for him.
+
+Like a race horse leaving the barrier, Dawson's Messerschmitt went
+streaking out from under the cover of overhanging branches and down the
+flat strip of valley. Out the corner of his eye he caught a glimpse of
+Freddy Farmer also in motion in the other plane. A song of joy burst out
+in his heart, and he impulsively lifted a hand in a derisive gesture at
+the machine guns yammering savagely behind him.
+
+"Didn't realize you were guarding the wrong aircraft, did you, tramps?"
+he shouted aloud, and pulled the Messerschmitt clear of the ground.
+"Well, now, isn't that just too bad! But we'll wait for you, if you
+want, hey, Freddy, old kid?"
+
+Of course, the English youth couldn't hear the words, but it wasn't
+necessary. As planned, both youths throttled slightly, once they got
+the planes up out of range of the machine gun fire. They did so to give
+the Nazis plenty of time to race out of the hill hangar and over to the
+line of planes. Looking back, Dawson saw them, and a happy grin
+stretched his lips. So far, so good! Now to keep just enough ahead of
+those bums, and then lose them when well over the Russian front.
+
+"And then Freddy and I will really go to work!" Dawson grunted grimly,
+and veered around toward the north. "Wonder what tomorrow will be like?
+Yeah! And _if_ I'll see it!"
+
+With a shrug, and a shake of his head, he knocked the thought into
+oblivion, and, after glancing over at Freddy on his right, fixed his
+gaze on the northern horizon.
+
+A little under an hour later a conglomeration of emotions was surging
+through Dawson. Russian-held ground was under his wings now. Russian
+ground, and he had only to throttle his Daimler-Benz and slide down to
+complete safety. But, of course, that thought didn't even cut a tiny
+corner in his brain. It wasn't even born, for the very simple reason
+that the job wasn't even half finished. True, they were over Russian
+ground, and a couple of minutes before the pursuing Nazis had given up
+the chase as a lost cause and swung all the way around to the south, to
+be speedily lost to view in the ever approaching shadows of nightfall.
+Yes, all that was water under the bridge so far. But half the job, and
+the most dangerous half was still waiting to be accomplished.
+
+"So get on with it, as Freddy would say," Dawson grunted, and waggled
+his wings just before he banked around toward the south.
+
+The English youth swung around right after him, and in wing-tip
+formation they headed toward the southeast. For some five long minutes
+they droned along. And then, just as they were passing over the last of
+the Russian advance positions on that section of the front, Dawson sat
+up stiff and straight in the seat. His eyes had spotted a moving dot
+silhouetted against the bleak, cheerless sky of coming night. It grew
+bigger and bigger, and finally took on the shape and outline of a
+Messerschmitt!
+
+Dawson squinted at it for a second or so longer, and then when the Nazi
+craft suddenly veered off to the west, and headed up toward the clouds,
+he took a quick look over at Freddy, and started to bark out a signal
+burst from his guns.
+
+There was no need for that, however. The English youth had already
+spotted the plane, and was hauling his ship around and up after it.
+Dawson grinned, and yanked his own One-Nine around and up in Freddy's
+wake.
+
+"Leave it to you, Eagle Eyes!" he shouted. "Okay, pal. He sure is our
+baby. Hanging around so he can learn things, maybe, and then go tearing
+back to tell them all about it. Well, not today, eh, Freddy?"
+
+With a grim nod for emphasis, Dawson jammed the heel of his palm against
+the already wide open throttle, and kept his gaze fixed on the third
+Nazi plane streaking upward for the clouds. For what seemed like all
+eternity the lumps of cold lead bounced around in Dawson's stomach. If
+they lost that Nazi there was no telling what might happen. Maybe he was
+just some pilot up on a test flight, but his sudden dash for the
+seclusion of the clouds didn't bear that out. No. More likely he had
+been left aloft to keep watch, and to see if those who had escaped made
+any attempt to return. Sure, and maybe that was a very cockeyed view for
+Dawson to take, too. However, there was no way of telling one way or the
+other. So that left only one thing to do. To knock off that Nazi just in
+case he was aloft for no good purpose.
+
+"But in this bum light?" Dawson grated. "Not so good! If he reaches
+those clouds, we'll never find him. Five minutes more, and night will be
+here in earnest. And we'll--"
+
+He never finished the rest. He didn't because at that moment it was his
+privilege to witness something that few war pilots ever see in their
+lifetime--in short, a perfect long range shot smacking home. Once in
+maybe a billion times a burst of aerial machine gun bullets hit their
+mark at the extreme end of their range. All the other times they fly
+wide, or spend themselves downward toward earth.
+
+But this was one of those once in a billion times, and the burst of
+bullets came from the guns on Freddy Farmer's Messerschmitt. Dawson
+hadn't even rested his thumb on his trigger trip because of the
+seemingly hopeless distance to the target. However, Freddy Farmer had
+taken a bead, and his bit of perfect aerial shooting proved to be in a
+class all by itself. The "target" lurched off to the left, as though it
+had been sliding along an invisible greased pole, and had slid off. It
+dropped right down to the vertical, and then suddenly smoke and livid
+red flame belched out and up from its nose. Hardly daring to believe his
+eyes, Dawson watched the bit of blazing doom clear down to where it
+disappeared from view behind a ridge. And a split second later, a
+fountain of flashing orange and red told him that the plane had struck
+earth.
+
+"Nope, it didn't happen!" he told himself in a dazed voice. "Things like
+that just don't happen. You only read about them in stories. Sweet
+tripe! How I love that guy, Freddy Farmer. Compared to him, am I a bum!"
+
+With a vigorous nod for emphasis, he veered over closer to the English
+youth's plane and lifted his clasped hands high above his head in the
+gesture of a boxer saluting the crowd.
+
+"You for me, sweetheart!" he shouted into the roar of his engine. "Now,
+let's go and pull off the last of the miracles!"
+
+The words had no more than left his lips, however, when he happened to
+stare toward the east--and swallowed hard. Pitch black storm clouds were
+hurtling up out of the east, and swiftly blotting out the last fading
+tints of day much as a descending blanket blots out the flickering flame
+of a candle. In a matter of minutes, now, Freddy and he wouldn't be able
+to spot Nina's house in the darkness, much less make safe landings close
+by!
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER NINETEEN
+
+_Headaches for Hitler_
+
+
+Dawson glanced impulsively over at Freddy Farmer, and quickly realized
+that the English youth had spotted the approaching storm clouds, too,
+and obviously had the same thoughts. Because even as their eyes met
+Freddy nodded violently, and banked around, and stuck his nose down in
+the general direction of the eastern side of the village of Tobolsk,
+just out of sight over the horizon.
+
+"Well, there's one thing, anyway," Dawson grunted as he quickly followed
+suit with his own plane. "The darker it gets, the better the chances of
+Nazi eyes not spotting us. Yeah, sure! But if that storm beats us to it,
+there'll be a ground wind that will knock _our_ chances higher than a
+kite! And I don't mean maybe!"
+
+That last most unpleasant consideration was uppermost in Dawson's brain
+as he and Freddy Farmer went tearing all out toward the southeast. And
+with every foot his Messerschmitt cut through the air, doubt and dread
+built itself up higher and higher within him. It was almost as though
+the gods of good fortune, and Lady Luck, had decided that they had done
+enough to help, and had quit cold on the job. Though Dawson's
+Messerschmitt was rocketing down across the shadowy sky, the storm
+clouds seemed to possess twice his speed. And with each rushing toward
+the other, the distance between them just shriveled away like snow in a
+blast furnace.
+
+Eyes grim, and jaw set at a determined angle, Dawson hunched forward
+over the controls and searched the ground ahead and below. The bouncing
+lead came back to the pit of his stomach with a gleeful vengeance, for
+the ground was now almost lost in the swirling shadows of the
+approaching storm. It was almost impossible to pick out Tobolsk itself,
+to say nothing of the location of Nina's house in the Y of the two
+intersecting roads.
+
+Suddenly, though, a voice seemed to cry out at him from nowhere; cry out
+to look down and to the left. Just exactly what urged him to do that, he
+didn't know. But he obeyed the sudden impulse, and his heart started
+pounding with wild hope again. Down there to the left he saw the Y
+formed by the two roads. He even saw Nina's house, if that pile of
+timber and stone could be called a house. And he was able to catch a
+fleeting glimpse of the small but apparently smooth field just to the
+left of the Y. Just a fleeting glimpse of the field before a moving
+sheet of rain cut across his vision. The advance guard of the storm had
+arrived. The race had turned out a tie, which to those two fighting
+eagles up in the air was just about the same as losing the race.
+
+"But down we go!" Dawson roared out aloud. "Down we go, just the same.
+And, please, God, we've _got_ to make it!"
+
+As he gulped out the prayerful plea, he peered over at Freddy Farmer,
+who was still hugging close to his right wing tip, storm or no storm. At
+the same instant the English youth turned his own head Dawson's way, and
+then nodded it violently as though he had read the Yank's thoughts. Dave
+nodded back, lifted one hand in brief salute, then turned his face
+forward again, and gave every ounce of his undivided attention to his
+Messerschmitt.
+
+An hour, a day, or it could have been a year passed before he had
+practically pushed the Messerschmitt down and around so that it was
+heading for the long way of the field, and into the snarling wind. He
+didn't know, and he didn't care, he was too busy working his throttle to
+maintain forward speed, and prevent the Messerschmitt from stalling. At
+times his forward speed matched the speed of the wind, and his plane
+almost stood still in the air just off the surface of the ground. And
+then suddenly his wheels touched. The plane bounced wildly, but he
+goosed the engine, and checked a disastrous second meeting with the
+wind-swept ground. When the wheels touched again, the Messerschmitt
+stayed down, and Dawson taxied it at a fast clip straight ahead and then
+off to the side to get out of the way of Freddy Farmer right behind him.
+
+As a matter of fact, he had no sooner killed the engine, and leaped to
+the ground, while the Messerschmitt still trundled forward, than he saw
+the English youth's plane settle. Settle? It started to do just that,
+but a savage cross-wind caught it, and the aircraft came down like five
+tons of brick dumped off a high building. A wild cry of alarm rose up in
+Dawson's throat, but his zooming heart won the race to his mouth and
+choked it off. For a lifetime, it seemed, he could only stand rooted
+helplessly to the ground while Freddy Farmer's Messerschmitt jumped and
+leaped crazily about like a chip of wood on the crest of a raging sea. A
+dozen times the aircraft seemed to start over on its back, but somehow
+the English youth managed to keep it top side up. True, it skidded
+around in half-circles, first one way and then the other. But the wing
+tip didn't quite catch and grab on the ground to pile up the whole works
+in a heap. And then suddenly something seemed to shoot right out of the
+cockpit of the bouncing and dancing plane and down onto the ground.
+
+Dawson blinked twice before he realized that that something was Freddy
+Farmer in the flesh, and that the English youth had raced over to where
+he stood, while the storm wind gleefully picked up the Messerschmitt and
+carried it the rest of the way down the field and smacked it up against
+some trees.
+
+"Too bad, even if it is a Nazi plane!" Dawson heard Farmer's gasping
+voice. "But I couldn't nurse-maid the blasted thing forever. I had to
+let it go. Well, that must be the house, what?"
+
+Dawson didn't bother to reply. Freddy had pulled another miracle out of
+the hat, and that part of the show was over. He just nodded quickly,
+then spun around on his heel, and went dashing over toward the lone
+house with Freddy Farmer at his heels. No lights were showing, but
+Dawson didn't even bother to knock. When he reached the front door he
+just grabbed hold of the knob, twisted it, shoved open the door and
+barged right inside. And both Freddy and he just managed to skid to a
+halt as they saw a small, thin figure come at them, and saw the glint of
+a gun barrel in the pale glow shed by a single lighted candle on a
+nearby table.
+
+"Hey! Hold everything!" Dawson heard his own voice pant.
+
+The last half of it, though, was drowned out by an even sharper cry in
+Russian. And before the echo was gone Senior Lieutenant Petrovski had
+appeared out of nowhere and leaped between Dawson and the advancing thin
+shadow. And a second or so later Dawson saw the tattered clothing, the
+wrinkled face, and the snow white hair of the thin "shadow." And then
+the Senior Lieutenant was talking to him.
+
+"That was not wise, Captain!" she was saying sharply. "It is lucky I
+cried out in time, or Nina might have used that gun."
+
+"Yeah, my error," Dawson grunted. "I was dumb. But in this storm I
+didn't figure that our knock would be heard. Besides, Farmer and I were
+in a hurry. Look, Senior Lieutenant! From here on we've got to stay in
+high gear. I mean, we've got to get going, and keep going. No telling
+when Lady Luck may quit on us. I don't think there's much of a guard on
+our bomber now. And this storm doesn't exactly hurt the situation,
+either. Where're Jones, and Nikolsk? The five of us have got to make
+tracks. You lead the way to the bomber, and we'll be right behind you
+with Nikolsk. I--Hey! The look on your face! Nikolsk isn't--he isn't--?"
+
+"No, he is not dead, yet," the girl told him quickly. "He was even
+conscious for a little bit. And he did recognize Agent Jones. He even
+spoke of things a little. But not one millionth enough. And now he is
+unconscious again. I have great fear. He may never be conscious again.
+But what about the bomber? There is a chance to get him to a Moscow
+hospital?"
+
+"What we're going to do!" Dawson told her firmly. "So let's do the
+talking later. Lead us to Nikolsk, and let's get going!"
+
+The Russian girl didn't bother with any more words. She nodded for Dave
+and Freddy to follow, and led the way through a door to a rear room. The
+smell of Death itself seemed to hang in the air, and when Dawson glanced
+down at the thin, almost fleshless, and war-ravaged face of the figure
+wrapped tightly in blankets, his heart seemed to stop and turn into a
+chunk of ice. Ivan Nikolsk looked like a man who had died years before.
+
+"Good grief, you two? Splendid! Thought all the racket was Gestapo lads
+breaking in. Now, what do we--?"
+
+"We go!" Dawson broke into the middle of the question, and grinned into
+Agent Jones' strained and haggard face. "In the B-Twenty-Five, if luck
+is still pitching for our team. Never mind the questions, though. Save
+them until we get to Moscow. And we _will_ get there! Okay, Senior
+Lieutenant! Please tell your Nina that we will never forget what she has
+done, and--But, hey! Do you think she'd like to try and make the trip
+with us?"
+
+Before the girl Soviet Intelligence officer could speak, the small,
+thin, aged Russian woman appeared in the doorway.
+
+"No, gallant ones," she said in halting English. "Here I have been, and
+here I stay. The Nazis do not bother with an old hag, as I am. So here I
+remain, and perhaps do more for my beloved Russia. No, go, gallant ones.
+And the arms of the Blessed Mother be about you!"
+
+Dawson looked at her, and then, hardly realizing that he was doing so,
+he stepped quickly forward and took the old woman in his arms and kissed
+her reverently on the forehead. Then, face flaming red, he turned and
+went over to the bedside of Ivan Nikolsk.
+
+"Put a part of the blanket over his face, Jones!" he said gruffly.
+"Blowing like blazes outside. And put your service automatic where you
+can grab it in a hurry. We may bump into trouble, and we may not. Okay!
+Take his legs, and I'll take his shoulders and head. Okay, Senior
+Lieutenant! This time we are going. And God love you, Nina!"
+
+Dawson didn't realize he had flung the last at the aged Russian woman
+until he was outside in the cold driving rain and, with Agent Jones, was
+lugging the dying Nikolsk along in the wake of Freddy Farmer and the
+Russian girl. And when he did realize it he told himself that he had
+meant it with all his heart. Nina was but one of thousands of unknown
+heroes and heroines suffering under the steel heel of Hitlerism. No
+medals for those such as she. No statues, no anything. But God knew of
+each and every one of them, and the complete reward for their services
+to mankind would be theirs thricefold some day.
+
+However, Dawson was actually only thinking those things in one tiny
+corner of his brain. The rest of his brain was busy with the task of
+ordering his legs and muscles to keep going, and keep close to Freddy
+Farmer and the Russian girl. But it was like stumbling through the very
+bottom of a long forgotten coal mine. Maybe Nasha Petrovski had the eyes
+of a cat, and so could see each tree trunk and ditch and stone that came
+up out of the rain slashed darkness. But Dawson didn't, and neither did
+Agent Jones. And so they stumbled and reeled and lurched forward,
+fighting every inch of the way to keep hold of their precious burden.
+
+Twice during the long, long "years" that dragged by, Freddy Farmer
+dropped back and insisted on relieving either Dawson or Jones, but both
+of them refused the offer.
+
+"Stick with her, Freddy!" Dave panted. "If there's trouble ahead, you
+two eagle eyes will spot it sooner. Thanks just the same, pal."
+
+And so it continued on--forever and ever--and seemingly without end. A
+thousand times the cold fear that the Russian girl had lost her way
+clutched at Dawson's heart. As for himself, he had no idea where in the
+world they were. The black of night closed in from all sides. The
+wind-driven rain cut and slashed down into his face with the sting of
+white hot needle points. And the howl of the storm in his ears was like
+some invisible force trying to pry off the top of his head. He wanted to
+cry out to the others to stop and rest a moment, but the words just
+wouldn't come. And each time he felt that urge he was both relieved and
+ashamed when it was gone.
+
+And then suddenly the little party groping cross-country through the
+black, stormy night did come to a halt. It was the Russian girl who
+brought them to a halt. And her voice came to them through the howl of
+the storm almost like a whisper.
+
+"The edge of the woods is but a step ahead!" she said. "Beyond it, the
+bomber. I do not think there are many guards, but there must be some.
+This, then, is a task for me. Remain motionless, please. But when you
+hear three quick shots from my revolver, come as though the entire
+German army were right behind you. It will not be long. This is what I
+do gladly for my Russia."
+
+A sharp bark of protest came up into Dawson's mouth, but there it died
+in silence, for the spot of rain-swept darkness that had held the
+Russian girl was only a spot of rain-swept darkness now. She had gone in
+a flash, and the three youths could only hold up Ivan Nikolsk as gently
+as they could--and wait--each with his own thoughts.
+
+However, there didn't seem to be any waiting period at all--at least not
+over thirty seconds at the most. Suddenly, from out of the wind-howling
+darkness ahead, came three distinct shots from a revolver! Nobody said
+anything. Nobody so much as let out a shout of joy. Dawson, Agent Jones,
+and Freddy Farmer simply hoisted Ivan Nikolsk up to a more comfortable
+position, and went plunging forward through the black stormy night. And
+in practically no time at all there was level ground under their feet,
+and they were running over toward the darker blur that was the
+B-Twenty-Five bomber.
+
+"Here, to your left!" the voice of Senior Lieutenant Petrovski suddenly
+spoke in Dawson's ear. "Here is the bomber door. And watch out for those
+dead ones on the ground. There were five, and as I suspected they were
+inside the bomber to be out of the storm. They were surprised, and then
+they were dead. But here--give me your place. You must get in and start
+the engines. The three of us will manage. And may it be His wish that
+Ivan Nikolsk still lives!"
+
+"And keeps living. Amen!" Dawson echoed as he shifted his share of the
+burden to the Russian girl's strong arms. "But how in the world did
+you--?"
+
+"A knife makes no noise!" she cut him off almost harshly. "And the
+knives of Russia are very sharp!"
+
+That's all Dawson wanted to know. He leaped past the girl, stumbled over
+the feet of some dead Nazi guard, and then ducked through the bomber's
+door, and made his way forward to the pilots' compartment. It seemed
+that he had hardly dropped into the seat, and was shooting out his hand
+for the switches, when Freddy Farmer dropped into the co-pilot's seat
+alongside.
+
+"The chap's regaining consciousness again, Dave!" the English youth
+cried wildly. "Agent Jones is back there with him, with his notebook.
+Get us off, old thing, in a hurry. Blast if we're not going to grab this
+one out of thin air, too. What a girl, that Senior Lieutenant!"
+
+"You mean, what an army!" Dawson shouted at him as he jabbed the starter
+buttons. "She's a whole doggone army, all by herself. And, boy, can she
+think way out in front of a guy, too! She's--"
+
+The most welcome sound in all the world drowned out Dawson's voice at
+that moment: the powerful, thunderous roar of the B-Twenty-Five's twin
+Wright Cyclones coming to life. For a few precious seconds Dawson let
+them roar so that they would warm up as fast as possible. But at the end
+of that time he saw spitting flame off to the left and ahead, and the
+left side window of the pilots' compartment seemed to blow in on him in
+a shower of splintered glass.
+
+"Get going, Dave!" Freddy Farmer cried excitedly.
+
+"Get, nothing!" Dawson roared back. "We're _gone_!"
+
+And even as the first word spilled off his lips he had kicked off the
+wheel brakes, forked the throttles wide open and was booting the
+B-Twenty-Five around the necessary half-turn to get it headed toward the
+far end of the field. And then as the bomber went forward, picking up
+speed with every powerful revolution of its propellers, orange, red, and
+yellow flame sparked and stabbed the darkness on both sides. Dawson felt
+bullets smash into the bomber, and even heard some of them twang off
+the engine cowlings, but the twin Cyclones did not miss a single beat,
+and the B-Twenty-Five went thundering forward until the wings could get
+their teeth in the air, and Dawson was able to lift the ship clear and
+nose it upward into the stormy night.
+
+When no more than a couple of thousand feet were under his wings, he
+leveled off, checked with the automatic compass, and then swung the
+B-Twenty-Five around toward the north.
+
+"Back to your job of navigating, Freddy, old sock!" he shouted at his
+pal. "Moscow next stop, and we're in a hurry. So you see to it that we
+hit it on the nose, hey, kid?"
+
+"Have I ever missed?" Freddy snapped at him.
+
+"Well, anyway," Dawson grinned back at him, "see that you don't make
+_this_ the first time!"
+
+Clear, brilliant sunshine flooded the length and breadth of Moscow. Four
+wonderful days Dawson, Agent Jones, and Freddy Farmer had spent in the
+fascinating Soviet city. Four swell days of sight-seeing, and banquets
+for heroes--themselves. Though the three of them had insisted that the
+major share of the glory belonged to Senior Lieutenant Petrovski, who
+had as quickly disappeared out of their lives as she had come into them.
+
+As a matter of fact, five minutes after Dawson had landed the
+B-Twenty-Five on the Moscow military airport, the pretty-looking Russian
+girl was gone, just like that. And Colonel General Vladimir, who was at
+the airport to greet them, had explained in a few words, with a
+meaningful smile.
+
+"When the war is won, her work will be done," he said. "But the war is
+not won, yet. And there are still many things to be done."
+
+And so, just like that, the pretty Russian girl had stepped right out of
+their lives, and they had been more or less forced to accept her share
+of the glory. But it was not so much the glory as it was the unspoken
+prayers of thankfulness in their hearts that really blotted black
+memories from their minds, and let them enjoy their short stay in
+Moscow. A thankfulness that God had not let Ivan Nikolsk die, but had
+shielded his frail body from that final blast of Nazi death as Dawson
+had taken that bomber off the Tobolsk field. Shielded Nikolsk's body.
+And done even more. Had let him live so that he reached the Moscow
+hospital. And given him the strength to tell all of his share of the
+secret to Agent Jones, _and_ to no less than Premier Joseph Stalin
+himself!
+
+Neither Dawson nor Freddy Farmer had been present. Their part of the job
+had been done. Besides, they had no real desire to hear a ghost of a man
+gasp out words that must first be fitted in with other words already
+known to United Nations Intelligence to make any sense. But later, when
+Agent Jones had joined them at their suite in the International Hotel,
+one look at his face had told them that more than a battlefield victory
+had been won. Important, invaluable information about enemy intentions
+had been gained. And in war, knowledge of what the enemy plans to do is
+a victory already won. So they had been content to keep questions off
+their tongues. Besides, Agent Jones' final job was to make his secret
+report to his superior, Air Vice-Marshal Leman, and to no one else.
+
+However, as the three youths sat lounging about in their suite, resting
+before the final banquet in their honor--for they would leave for
+England on the morrow--Dawson stared hard at Agent Jones' good-looking
+face for a long minute, and could no longer hold back the question that
+had been in his mind ever since that luncheon in Simpson's.
+
+"Your name isn't Jones, but Leman--right?" he practically blurted out.
+
+Agent Jones stiffened and gave him a startled look. Then he grinned
+slowly, and sighed.
+
+"A chap can't keep a thing from you, can he?" he said.
+
+"Not when he's got a face as good-looking as his Dad's, who's an Air
+Vice-Marshal," Dave replied with a chuckle. "And, boy, _I_ was the guy
+who told your Dad that you were probably imagining things, such as being
+followed, and your room searched, and stuff! No wonder he practically
+blew me down with a look!"
+
+"Oh, so that's why you asked me if something about this chap didn't
+strike me, eh?" Freddy Farmer spoke up. "Good gosh! I thought you knew
+that for certain. Why, it was obvious, old thing. Anybody--"
+
+"Come off it, pal!" Dawson cried threateningly, and picked up a book.
+"Don't give me that. _You_ didn't even guess, until Jones admitted it
+just now."
+
+Freddy Farmer made a face, and walked over to the door.
+
+"Rubbish!" he snorted. "We English chaps just keep things like that to
+ourselves. Not nosy, like _some_ chaps I know. Well, I'll leave you two
+for a spell. A bit of shopping I must do. But I say, Jones--I mean,
+Leman--?"
+
+Freddy opened the door, half turned, and grinned wickedly.
+
+"I leave you, Leman, old thing, in honored company, you know," he
+chuckled. "Oh, quite! _A gallant soldier all Russia must admire!_"
+
+And then Freddy Farmer leaped out into the hall as the book Dawson had
+been holding smacked against the inside of the door where Freddy
+Farmer's head had been just a moment before!
+
+
+THE END
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+_Page from_
+
+DAVE DAWSON WITH THE FLYING TIGERS
+
+The music was soft and soothing; like no other music ever heard on earth
+before. And all about was beauty far beyond the power of words to
+depict, or the brush of an artist. Everything was so wonderful, so
+perfect, and so--
+
+But through Dawson's throbbing, pounding head slipped a tiny inkling of
+the stark, naked truth. There was no soft, soothing music, there was no
+breath-taking beauty, and nothing was wonderful, or even approaching
+perfection. All was Death. Horrible, lingering, painful death that comes
+to a man lost, and unarmed, in the steaming lush jungle of north Burma.
+
+Yes, it was just his brain, and all of his senses playing him tricks
+originated by the Devil. Tricks to make him let go, and just relax--and
+die. But he wouldn't let go. He wouldn't die. He couldn't. There was too
+much to--
+
+The whine of engines pulled his head up out of the mud and slime. He
+rolled half over, gritted his teeth against the pain, and peered up
+through the twisted canopy of jungle growth.
+
+
+
+
+
+End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of Dave Dawson on the Russian Front, by 
+R. Sidney Bowen
+
+*** END OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK 41718 ***