Robert Sidney Bowen

“ This redhead knew his name, and Freddy's, too? An eerie chill swept through him, and he impulsively looked at Colonel Welsh. The chief of U. S. Intelligence's face was bright with dumfounded amazement. He in turn was staring speechlessly at the redhead. The man with the gun dragged down a corner of his mouth in a scornful gesture.
"Why so surprised, Colonel?" he asked. "Did you think you were the only smart one in this war?"
"You won't feel so smart when you're facing a firing squad!" ”

“ It would be unfair to ask any man to tackle a job like that."
"I don't fancy so, sir," Freddy Farmer spoke up quietly. "After all, rats usually do have all the advantage until you get them cornered. Supposing he does know why we're there? Let him, I say. It's a job to be done, and somebody's got to tackle it, sir. Good grief! If somebody doesn't go after the blighter, it's like letting the Indian sail with a lighted fuse leading to her powder magazine."
"I check on that, too, sir!" Dave cried eagerly. "Freddy and I aren't trying to toot our horns, Colonel. Maybe we'll fall flat on our faces. ”

“ Colonel Welsh cautioned gently as Dave's voice rose to a wild shout. "We've got to steel ourselves in case he doesn't see it. Then it won't be so tough. This thing might happen several times, you know. No telling. Save your strength, son. Take it easy."
Dave hardly heard the words of wisdom. His eyes were glued to the north, his ears strained to catch every beat of the plane's engine which was still out of sight, and his two fists clenched tight as though he were actually pulling the unseen plane closer and closer. Then, suddenly, the drone of the engine grew louder. ”

“ It was a sight to make a man catch his breath and stand in awe of the glorious majesty of nature. But for Dave Dawson and Freddy Farmer and Colonel Welsh, the coming of the new day was more than just something beautiful to watch and admire. ”

“ Dave said. "Things are coming at me sort of in bunches. Naturally, Farmer and I are eager and willing to take a good crack at any job handed out to us. But—well, maybe Sir John blew us up to you too much. I mean, we've done some Intelligence work on the other side, sure. And we were lucky. But I don't rate us as experts. At least, I certainly don't rate myself as an expert. I should think you'd have dozens of men right in your own command who could do that sort of a job a darn sight better than we could."
"Quite! And definitely so!" Freddy Farmer echoed, and shifted nervously in his chair. ”

“ Yet it might not be victory but disaster and death. For eight days and eight nights Freddy Farmer and Dave Dawson had played an active part in the life aboard that mighty ship of eagle's wings. They had made new friends, they had thrilled to the thunder and the power of their Douglas Devastator torpedo bomber as they went ripping off the carrier's flight deck and up into the blue Pacific sky for their daily practice patrol trick. ”

“ Show them. Come on, Freddy. The old R.A.F. stuff. We're not licked yet, and we won't be. You know that!"
The English youth didn't answer at once. He sat swaying and groaning, and staring at Dave out of half closed eyes. Then suddenly he began to laugh softly. The laugh grew and grew until it was almost a scream. The pilot and the redhead had put down their whiskey glasses and were staring at him in wide-eyed amazement.
"R.A.F., my hat!" Freddy suddenly shouted. "This isn't war. This is gangster business, like I've seen in your American movies. ”

“ The redhead simply continued to grin. Then suddenly the gun in his hand spat flame and sound, and Dave saw the Colonel's left shoulder strap fly off as though cut by a knife. The bullet tore on out through the side of the cabin. Colonel Welsh didn't so much as flinch, or even bat an eye. He held the redhead with a steady agate-eyed stare.
"Put the next right between my eyes!" he grated. "You'll still not be able to spend that blood money. You'll be run to earth like the anti-American vermin you are. ”

“ Dave muttered shakily. "What a horrible way to die. They were rats, but—but that was a terrible way for even rats to die. They—"
The last was cut off as though by a knife. A section of the sky seemed to drop down and explode right on the nose of the Devastator. For a brief instant Dave found himself in a world of utter darkness. Then the plane went tearing out into clear light again. It was shuddering and trembling like a spent race horse. He knew without looking that the right wing had been blasted by bits of shrapnel, and that the tip was beginning to flutter. ”

“ Finally he brought his gaze back to Dave's and Freddy's faces.
"There are over one hundred and thirty million people in this country," he began slowly. "Over one hundred and thirty million men, women, and children, who have the Constitutional right to be regarded as loyal Americans—until proved otherwise. That for the moment is my biggest, and toughest task: to find out who in our Army and Navy isn't a loyal American. In short, to find out who is working for Berlin, and Rome, and Tokio, instead of for Washington and Uncle Sam." ”

“ Dave gulped and gave a little confused shake of his head.
"What do I think of it?" he echoed. "I—well—well, it sounds as if we were headed for a firing squad, or something."
"Good grief, yes!" Freddy Farmer said in a hushed tone. "At least that!"
"Well, you can relax; there's no firing squad," Colonel Welsh chuckled. Then as his chuckle died, and his face became grim: "At least not a United Nations firing squad. But let's not think of it as even a remote possibility. I mean, some Axis crowd putting you against a wall. ”

“ He tried to shake his head, and found that he could. The movement dashed some of the cobwebs and the fog from his brain. He started to turn around in the seat when something hit him a terrific clip on the shoulder. It was Freddy Farmer's fist, and the English youth was yelling his head off.
"Bull's-eye, Dave! A perfect bull's-eye! But I thought for fair you were going to ram us straight into the cruiser's fighting top. Look at her! Look at her! Goodbye, you dirty brown rats! I only wish your big-toothed Emperor was with you. Make war on decent people, will you, you rotten beggars!" ”

“ Dave snapped, and jammed the palm of his free hand against the already wide open throttle, as though in so doing he might get even more speed out of the thundering engine in the Devastator's nose. "He won't if we can possibly prevent it. We're gaining on him, and I think he knows it. Look! See the pilot turning around and looking back? And, Freddy, that bird in the rear pit is unlimbering his guns! Get set, but be sure they fire the first shots. We've got to make sure, Freddy, right up until there's no doubt about it at all." ”

“ I think we've got a couple of thousand feet to play around in, but no more than that. I'm flat gliding her as much as I can, but keep those eagle X-ray eyes of yours on the job, Freddy. And yell if you see a mountain peak looming up."
"Mountain peak!" Colonel Welsh cried excitedly. "For pity's sake, keep above them, Dawson. Start those engines and get us some altitude!"
"That would be risking more than this glide, sir," Dave told him. "That bird up there has been spotting us by our exhaust plumes, and aiming blindly. So long as we show no light at all he stands to lose us completely. ”

“ Dave shouted, and banked the Devastator around toward the north. "We can get one with our torpedo, and go after the other with our bombs. Darn it, anything to stop them from picking up those two rats, finding out things, and getting busy on the radio. It's a job that can't be done, Freddy. But, heck! We've got to do it!"
"Then get on with it!" the English youth cried. "They may try to catapult more planes, and we certainly can't do a million different things at once." ”

“ Freddy snorted.
"No, Farmer, that's true," Colonel Welsh said. "I've seen some Saint Elmo's Fire myself. And I can tell you that it scares the pants off you the first time you see it. Ever fly through a thunder storm, and see lightning playing around your wing tips?"
"Yes, I've seen that," Freddy admitted. "And I was sure I'd never live to land safely on the ground again."
"Well, then, you know how it feels to see Saint Elmo's Fire," the Colonel chuckled. "Only I think the Saint Elmo stuff gives you a worse scare when you see it actually come rolling along the wing toward you. ”

“ By way of making his question clear, Freddy pointed at the towering heaps of stone that formed the Wall Street and midtown sections of the city. Dave squinted down and grunted.
"Those little shacks?" he echoed. "Why, those are just the little huts where the poor people live. Wait until you see the real buildings. How high are we, anyway? Hope the pilot of this thing stays over three thousand feet. Be tough to smack into a skyscraper, you know."
Freddy Farmer snorted and dug an elbow into Dawson's ribs. ”

“ If the cruiser was forced to reduce speed, she would at least have to give up the search for the Carrier Indian. And now that the two spies were gone, it was only logical that the Jap commander would go steaming southward in a desperate effort to find the Indian and pounce upon her in the dark.
"Sure, give her all you can!" Dave muttered as he hunched forward over the stick of the diving plane. "But don't kid yourself why. You know why, and how you do! Her fire has you bracketed. You'll catch it cold no matter which way you turn. So there's only one thing you can do. ”

“ Dave finally asked.
"The Carrier Indian," Freddy replied. Then, looking at the Colonel, he asked, "Didn't you say that she weighs anchor sometime tomorrow afternoon—this afternoon, really? If we're stuck here, will she sail without us? Or has her skipper orders to wait for word from you?"
The chief of U. S. Intelligence swallowed hard and made a wry face.
"That close-shave landing!" he muttered savagely. "It still has my brains all scrambled up. You're quite right, Farmer. What you say makes it more of a mess than ever. The Indian is to sail whether her skipper hears from me or not. ”

“ A hard, glittering look leaped into the Colonel's eyes, and Dave could tell that the man was employing every ounce of his will power to stop from leaping from his seat and hurling himself at the redhead, gun or no gun.
"A couple of bought and paid for American traitors, eh?" the chief of U. S. Intelligence suddenly grated. "American by birth only. Actually lower than the rats in Berlin and Tokio are—the ones who are paying you your blood money. Well, paste this in your hats. You'll never live to spend that money. ”

“ It was a tough patrol trick to fly, but the very fact that it was tough set Dave's heart thumping in eager expectation. Luck alone had placed them in that section, because the section members and patrol schedules had been arranged by drawing lots. In that way every man stood an equal chance to get a tough assignment or an easy one. And all possibility of favoritism went completely out the porthole. Luck, yes, but it made Dave and Freddy feel good just the same to be handed one of the tough patrols. ”

“ Dawson said with a grin. "Only this lady is very special. She's the sweetheart of every returning American. Always waits in the same place, holding up a torch so you can find your way in. There she is, down there. See her? Over two million Yanks threw goodbye and hello kisses at her in the last war. She was born in France, but she's been Yank ever since the day she came over. Freddy, meet my very special sweetheart. Isn't she something, though?"
Pulling the English youth closer to the window, Dave Dawson pointed a finger down at the Statue of Liberty in New York Harbor. ”

“ As a pilot bloke myself, I know how good you have to be to get away with that sort of thing. It was absolutely perfect."
"What else?" Dave cracked back with a shaky laugh. "Look who did it! But skip it. Is my hair grey, Freddy? Do I look very much older? I know doggone well I gained forty years in those last couple of seconds. Jeepers! Take a look at that drop-off ahead. Another ten feet and you wouldn't be thinking I was so hot. And I'm not, really. If Lady Luck ever landed a plane, she did it that time, and I'm not kidding." ”

“ A Jap aboard an American ship can't pass for a Yank. He's out and out of the yellow race. And you haven't any Americanized Japs on the Indian, have you, sir?"
Dave directed the last at Colonel Welsh, who instantly shook his head.
"None," the senior officer said. "Not a one. And you've got the right idea, Dawson. It couldn't have been a Jap who killed Jackson and Pollard. So it must have been one of Hitler's men, or maybe one of Mussolini's. I doubt that, though. Italians just haven't got the brains to be that clever. So a Hitlerite is our man. ”

“ But the type of spy such as we're dealing with now—the slinking rat who in peace-time becomes the citizen of another country, enjoys all of its advantages, and then turns on that country when his former country goes to war—well—he is in my opinion the rottenest form of vermin that ever existed. He doesn't rate the privilege of being shot when caught. He should be strung up by the thumbs, and skinned alive. ”

“ Engines can run, often for a long, long time, when the carburetor is out of whack and the engine is getting a bad feed. But let oil pressure go screwy and you'll have real trouble on your hands. There are no halfway measures about oil. It has to be right or your engine is worth no more than its weight in junk. Gasoline is food for an engine, but oil is its life blood. If it hasn't got the proper amount it dies, but definitely!
And so Dave spoke the words just to keep the conversation going and fixed his eyes on the instruments pertaining to the functioning of the right outboard engine. ”

“ With her twin engines roaring full out, the Navy Lockheed R40-1, a "cousin" of the famous Lockheed Hudson bomber, shook the dust of the airport runway at Albuquerque, New Mexico, from her wheels, and went climbing up into the night sky on the last leg of the trans-continental flight to San Diego. At the controls was Dave Dawson. In the co-pilot's seat was Freddy Farmer, and between them and just aft in the navigator's seat was Colonel Welsh. ”

“ Dave killed the right engine completely, shoved hard on the left rudder to check the plane yawing, and concentrated on keeping the left outboard engines alive as long as possible.
"That tears it!" he said between clenched teeth. "I was afraid that right engine had been nicked. Getting ready to drop a couple of those landing flares, Freddy. At least we can take a look at what it's like below."
"Take a look?" Colonel Welsh cried sharply. "You don't have to, boy! There are mountains down there. Get us as high as you can, and then we'll all bail out." ”

“ Colonel Welsh made a hissing sound as he sucked in his breath sharply.
"Great guns!" he gasped. And then in the same breath: "But that is impossible. Not even my three closest assistants knew that was to happen until I informed you. And we went from my office straight to Alexandria Field. No, you must be wrong, Dawson. Captains Lamb and Stacey, and Lieutenant Caldwell, wouldn't breath a word of that even though a gun were held at their hearts. That is fantastic!"
The two boys looked crestfallen.
"See, Freddy?" Dave cried, and jabbed an elbow in his pal's ribs. "You get the screwiest ideas. ”