so suddenly that I don't even know now exactly what did happen.
Something got me from behind, quick as a wink. Around the throat and
over the nose and mouth. I swear I smelled ether, but I'm not sure.
Everything sort of went spinning like, and black as pitch. Later I
seemed to come to. I was being carried by a couple of chaps. Maybe there
were more than just a couple. Anyway, I guess it was instinct, I knew
that something was wrong. I remember now yelling to you. And then
everything went black and smelly again. But where are we, and how in the
world did we get here?"
"And I still don't know the answers, Freddy," Dawson said to him. "As I
said, I came running when I heard you yell, and the next thing I knew I
was falling down a great big black hole full of hissing sound, and a
funny smell. Like the smell that's in the air now. Boy! if I could only
get a lungful of fresh clean air then maybe I could think straight for a
second or so. The old brain is whirling so fast it's going to burn out a
bearing sure as shooting. But are you hurt, or wounded, or anything,
Freddy?"
"Nope," the other replied. "Nothing wrong with me except that I'm
trussed up like a blooming pig ready for roasting. I wonder what it all
means? Have you heard any sounds, or anything like that?"
Before Dawson could so much as open his mouth to say, "No," they both
heard the drone of aircraft engines up in the air outside. They listened
to the sound grow louder and louder until they could tell that the
aircraft was directly over them. Then it grew fainter and fainter and
presently died away altogether. Neither of them spoke. It was like a
mockery of fate to be a couple of air pilots trussed up helpless on the
dirty floor of some strange and smelly room listening to an airplane
thunder by outside.
"Well, that was a Yank plane, anyway," Dawson eventually grunted, as
though that fact would help them a little. "I could tell."
"So could I," Freddy Farmer said in a wistful tone. Then, "I'm afraid
we've been a couple of blasted fools again, Dave. Blind, thoughtless,
stupid fools. And after the warning Vice-Admiral Stone gave us."
"You mean that doom caught up with a couple of doomed guys?" Dawson
asked. "But that's nuts, Freddy!"
"Nuts?" young Farmer came back sharply. "Why, you were the one who had
the hunch that our Japrat friend probably could communicate with his
pals in the Islands. So it was ..."
"I know what I said," Dave growled. "But if it was that, we wouldn't be
here. Alive, I mean. We'd be dead. Why kidnap us in the dark of night,
and at a lonely spot like the one where we were? Why not just give us
both the works, and be done with it? With us dead they haven't a single
thing to fear about that Nazi spy being identified. Or ... oh my gosh!"
"What, Dave?" Freddy Farmer asked quickly when Dawson let out the sudden
exclamation and then lapsed into a sort of breathless silence.
"Nothing, nothing, Freddy," Dave replied. "Let's skip it. I wonder where
the heck we are, anyway. Sure is a mixed-up business, isn't it? I
wonder ..."
"Here, none of that, Dave!" young Farmer snapped. "I can see through
you like glass, old thing. You suddenly thought of something that gave
you a fair jolt. You want to spare me by not telling me. I want none of
that sort of thing, and you know it, Dave. So come on. Out with it, old
chap. What was the sudden thought?"
"Oh, look, Freddy, let's just skip it and ..."
"Dave!" Freddy cut him off again. "That's not being quite fair to your
pal, don't you think, what?"
Dawson didn't reply for a long moment. He struggled with himself, and
then sighed softly.
"Okay, Freddy," he said slowly. "But of course it's a crazy, screwy
thought. Doesn't make any sense at all. Really, to tell the truth,
it ..."
"Just tell it to me, Dave," young Farmer said quietly, and fixed his
eyes on Dawson's face.
"That maybe this is _it_, Freddy," Dawson finally said, and gave a jerk
of his head to include the room in which they were bound prisoners.
"Maybe they didn't want to leave any signs, such as a couple of bodies,
and so forth. Maybe they decided that it was best for you and me just to
disappear, and ... and here we are. But I tell you, pal, it's really a
screwy thought. Absolutely absurd. You shouldn't have forced me, kid."
Freddy Farmer didn't say anything when Dawson finished speaking. He
closed his eyes for a moment, licked his lips, and then opened his eyes
and appeared to stare thoughtfully into space. Dawson started to speak
again, but Freddy smiled a little and shook his head.
"That's all right, Dave," he said quietly. "Perhaps you are right, and
then again, perhaps you are wrong. And I do think you're wrong. As I
look at it they simply wouldn't take the chance."
"Take what chance?" Dawson demanded.
"That we'd escape from this place, wherever it is," the English-born air
ace replied. "They'd kill us and leave us here, never to be found
perhaps. They wouldn't let us go out the slow way, knowing that we might
possibly escape by some miracle. They'd make sure, don't you see?"
"Yeah, I get your point, Freddy," Dave said with a nod. Then, grinning
broadly, he added, "Well, didn't I just get through saying that it was
probably a cockeyed thought?"
"But I wonder _why_ they want to keep us alive?" Freddy Farmer murmured
as though he were too busy with his own thoughts to hear Dawson's
question.
In the next moment, though, all conversation between them ceased
abruptly. A door opened and two shadowy figures came into the room. At
the sound of the latch and the soft footsteps that followed immediately,
Dawson screwed his head around, fully expecting to see the leering,
buck-toothed face of some son of Nippon. Neither of the two figures who
came into the room were Japanese. At any rate they certainly didn't look
like Japanese. They looked more like a couple of ragged Hawaiians,
although their cheek bones were unusually high. And when Dawson took a
second look at their faces he was instantly struck with the impression
that both were a trifle scared. One of them carried a tray of food,
while the other carried a snub-nosed automatic, and acted as though he
expected the thing to blow up almost any second. The one with the tray
of food placed it on the floor, and then, while the other stood guard
with his "nervous" gun, he moved around by Dawson's head, and motioned
for the Yank air ace to roll over on his stomach. Dawson hesitated an
instant and then did as signalled. Hands fumbled with the rope about his
wrists, and presently his half numbed wrists were free. He pulled them
down by his sides, and with his head turned that way he watched the man
free Freddy Farmer's wrists, also. That done, the brown-skinned man
leaped quickly backward and pushed the tray of food between them with
one bare foot.
"Food," he said in a strange husky voice. "You eat. You eat food."
Not all of the circulation had returned to Dawson's wrists and his arms
from finger tips to shoulder sockets felt stabbed by a billion needles
as he shifted over on his back, and pushed himself up to a sitting
position. He heard Freddy Farmer gasp as he, too, sat up. He shot a
quick glance at his English-born pal, saw that he was suffering the same
kind of pain, and then looked at the food. It was of the Hawaiian
variety and didn't look bad at all. His prime interest at the moment,
however, was not in food, regardless of the growling that had started up
in his stomach. He looked at the two raggedly clad brown men, of very
uncertain origin no doubt. They returned his look with all the
intelligence of a bottle fly showing in their high cheek-boned faces.
"Where are we?" Dawson asked, and smiled at them.
Like a rehearsed act the two brown men shook their heads, and pointed
long forefingers at the tray of food.
"You eat," they said in the same breath.
Dawson shook his head, smiled again, and made a gesture with his
tingling right arm that included the house where they were.
"What place is this?" he said slowly, spacing his words. "Where is boss
man? Me make talk with boss fella, yes. You savvy?"
The two brown men, with jet black hair, shook their heads as one again
and pointed.
"Okay, skip it!" Dawson said quickly. "I get the idea. Me eat. Okay, me
eat."
He turned to the tray of food, picked up something that looked like a
messy salad and stuffed it into his mouth. It tasted surprisingly good.
In fact, it tasted exactly like a highly spiced salad.
"Not bad," he grunted.
"Definitely good," Freddy Farmer said with his mouth full. "Which of
course adds to the crazy mystery. Why do the blighters feed us, I'd like
to know?"
"And I'd like to know who they _are_!" Dawson said with emphasis. Then,
reaching out his hand, he said, "Wonder what this stuff is in this cup?
Looks like pineapple juice. I ... well, what do you know, it _is_
pineapple juice! But good, too!"
"Why wouldn't it be pineapple juice?" Freddy Farmer murmured as he drank
from the other cup. "We're in the Hawaiian Islands, aren't we? And I
suppose this other stuff is what they call poi, what?"
"Search me," Dawson said with a shrug, "It's not bad, but I'd rather
have a nice juicy steak with French fries, and ..."
"Dave, stop!" Freddy Farmer groaned, and made an anguished grimace.
"That's definitely torture to me, and you know it. Besides, you're not
thinking of that sort of thing at all. I wish we could get these two
beggars to talk. I fancy they look a bit frightened to me."
"Check," Dave said, and looked at the two brown men, who stood there
like a couple of wooden Indians. "And mostly too frightened to talk. I
think ..."
Dawson didn't continue to say what he thought. The air outside wherever
they were suddenly became filled with the roar of many planes. He judged
that there were a good fifty or more planes up there in the sky. He
impulsively threw back his head and stared up at the high window. The
light seeping down through was considerably less pale than it had been
before, but the glass was still too dirty and covered with cobwebs for
him to see the sky above.
"Yank planes," he said, lowering his gaze to the two brown men. "I
wonder if it's the welcome escort for the carrier force. I ... Oh-oh!
Take a look, Freddy! Our brown friends are scared of planes, too."
And it was seemingly true. The two brown men were virtually cringing
back, and their jet black eyes were flitting from their prisoners to the
high window, and back again. Their actions suddenly filled Dawson's
brain with a mad idea.
"Bombs!" he suddenly shouted at the top of his voice. "Get out of here,
_everybody_!"
The two brown men jumped as though they had been shot, and their faces
turned a milky chocolate with fear. They both shivered violently, and
then one, the taller of the two, gasped something in a tongue Dawson had
never heard. Both of them spun around and leaped frantically toward the
door. They jerked open the door and went through it like a couple of
brown streaks of lightning.
Wild hope leaped up in Dawson, but it lived for no more than three or
four seconds. From beyond the open door came snarls like those of a
trapped and wounded tiger. Almost instantly the snarls were followed by
the unmistakable thuds of something crashing against human flesh. Back
into the room came the two brown men, like a couple of acrobats doing
back flips. They both hit the floor and went slithering across it to
bang up against the opposite wall. In a crazy, abstract sort of way
Dawson noticed that the one holding the gun still clung to it.
Then Dawson took his eyes off the two and looked toward the door
opening. The door had been flung wide, and standing framed in it was a
giant figure. A death giant, no less, for he was unmistakably Japanese.
He was positively huge, but he was Jap from the top of his close-shaven
head all the way down to his splayed-toed feet. A savage leer twisted
his thick lips back over his buck teeth. And in the slits that were his
eyes was a fiendish gleam that made Dawson swallow in spite of himself,
and his icy heart start downward like an express elevator.
For a long moment the two air aces locked eyes with the giant figure.
And then the Jap's shoulders shook with silent mirth.
"Yes, it is very amusing to scare chickens, and watch them flee," he
said in halting English, and threw a look of scorn at the two brown men
cringing on the floor over by the far wall. "But we Japanese are not
chickens. We are masters. All others are the chickens. We ... do this!"
The Jap suddenly spit out the last, and with his big yellowish brown
hands he went through the motions of slapping a chicken down on the
block and chopping off its head. Freddy Farmer gasped in spite of
himself. The Jap heard him, burned him with his eyes, and once again his
huge shoulders shook with silent mirth.
"You do not like to lose your head and neck, Captain Farmer?" he said,
and almost pleasantly, too. "Then you were a fool to come to Oahu. But
you are a fool in many things. Both of you are fools! You will both
agree, as you _die_!"
CHAPTER TEN
_Unlucky Day_
Fifteen long seconds passed before the huge Jap spoke again. He stood
there motionless in the doorway, leering at them as though waiting for
them to speak. But Dawson and Freddy Farmer returned his stare as best
their twanging nerves would permit, and remained silent. The Jap grew
tired of the silence, and grew annoyed. He came a step or two into the
room and stood straddle-legged, with bunched fists on hips, and arms
akimbo.
"Well?" he suddenly thundered. "You would like to make me think that you
are not afraid? That you are not chickens, too?"
For a moment Dawson continued to regard him silently, but on impulse he
changed his mind.
"That's right," he said. "We're not afraid to die. We don't want to
die, but we're not afraid to. The job is done. That's all that mattered.
We knew the chances we took, and ..."
Dawson paused almost dramatically, and then shrugged a little.
"And our luck has simply run out," he went on a moment later. "But the
job is done. That is, the part we had to do. Just stick your nose
outside this place, if you don't think so! Honolulu isn't such a
terribly big place, you know. And ... well, thanks for the meal here.
Mind if I finish it before you have your fun?"
It took every ounce of will-power and self-control that Dave Dawson ever
possessed to fling a questioning look at the Jap, and then calmly turn
and start eating. His insides were on fire with fear. He could feel cold
drops of sweat running down his back, and oozing from his armpits. He
wanted to shout wild things at the top of his voice. He wanted to try
and lunge up on his bound feet, and throw himself barehanded at this
killer giant, and get it over with as quickly as possible. But there was
that in him which forced him to play his part. Win, lose, or draw, he
had to play his part, because common sense told him that was all that he
could do, and maintain a fighting chance for his life. And a fighting
chance for Freddy Farmer's life, too.
"There's lots left, Freddy," he said calmly, and grinned stiffly at his
pal. "Go on, dig in, boy. Eat while you can."
Young Farmer's frozen face relaxed, and even lighted up. The
English-born air ace returned his grin, and nodded.
"Oh yes, quite, Dave," he said, "Might as well eat. The job's done,
anyway. Wonder what time it is? They must all be in position now."
Both air aces sensed rather than saw the swift, tigerish movement of the
big Jap leaping forward. A brown foot caught their tray of food and sent
it skimming across the floor to crash up against the wall in back of
them and shower uneaten food all over the place. Then the Jap backed up,
virtually foaming at the mouth, and glared at them out of eyes that held
all the devilish hate in the world.
"Fools, swine, pigs, dogs of dogs!" he screamed furiously. "I will teach
you to sing a different tune. I will teach you many things before you
die!"
The Jap nodded his head violently, spat at them, and spun around to hurl
a strange tongue at the two brown men still cringing on the floor over
by the wall. Dawson tried to catch just one of the words that the big
Jap flung off his lips, but he failed utterly. The Jap spoke a language,
or at least a dialect, that he had never in his life heard before.
The two brown men heard it, and understood it, however. Their
prominent-boned faces still alive with fear, they got quickly to their
feet, and went over to Dawson and Freddy Farmer, flung them flat on
their faces and bound their wrists behind their backs once more. This
time, though, they did not attach the end of the ropes to those about
the ankles. And Dawson held his breath in fear that they would realize
it and promptly do so. But they didn't. They straightened up, and then
at a snarling sound from the big Jap ducked quickly out of the room like
a couple of terrified brown rabbits.
The big Jap himself started to leave; then he hesitated on the threshold
and turned his huge close-shaven head to glare back at them.
"Consider well what I have spoken, dog of dogs!" he boomed. "And prepare
to die ten thousand times ten thousand times."
And with that he went out the doorway and yanked the door shut with a
crash that made the whole room vibrate like a violin string.
"Cute little guy, isn't it!" Dawson presently broke the quivering
silence. "Too bad his folks didn't drown him at birth!"
"Too bad for us, too," Freddy Farmer said soberly. "Frankly, I don't
like the looks of things, Dave. I mean ... well, it's all so blastedly
mixed up, if you get what I mean?"
"Yeah," Dawson grunted. "But we're still alive, so that's something."
"That's just the point!" Freddy said quickly. "We _are_ still alive. But
why? That beggar was mad enough to eat us alive. I was certain he was
going at least to kick us in the stomach, just as Japrats love to do so
much. But the rotter didn't do a thing, except curse at us!"
"I know, and it doesn't seem to make sense," Dawson said slowly, and
frowned. "But maybe it does at that. Maybe his nibs isn't the big shot
around here. Maybe the way we shot off our mouths threw him out of gear.
Maybe he didn't dare go to town on us without the big boy's okay."
"Let's say that that's right," young Farmer grunted. "Then what does
this big boy want with us? In short, Dave, what earthly use are we to
anybody, trussed up here as we are?"
"If that's the sixty-four dollar question, then I lose all I've built
up," Dave groaned. "I don't know, Freddy. I don't know from nothing
about this crazy mess. The only thing we can do is wait and see what
happens."
"Yes, I'm afraid so," Freddy said with a heavy sigh. Then with an angry
groan, "The dirty blighter, kicking all that nice food away!"
That Freddy Farmer could even think of his stomach at such a time made
Dawson chuckle in spite of the torturing thoughts that stabbed their way
through his confused brain. Then they both lapsed into silence, and
continually shifted this way and that in a desperate effort to relieve
the numbing pains that crawled up their arms and legs. Neither of them
succeeded, and presently they both lay motionless, silently enduring
their pains, and staring blank-eyed at each other as the gloom of death
seeped in to flood their throbbing brains.
After a while fatigue rubbed out the numbing pains with sleep, and the
next thing either of them realized the big Jap was back in the room and
kicking them into wakefulness.
"Wake up, dogs of dogs!" he bellowed. "Wake up, fools!"
Hot angry words rose to Dawson's lips as he instinctively tried to turn
his body away from the kicking foot, but the words went unspoken when
he saw that the big Jap was not alone. Another Jap, about half the
other's size, was also present. He was impeccably dressed in American
clothes. From the top of his finely woven panama to the soles of his
brown and white sport shoes he looked as though he had just stepped off
Fifth Avenue, New York. Perhaps the most startling thing of all about
the man was that he was rather good-looking. His face bore the tell-tale
contours of a Jap, yes, but his teeth were not so much on the elephant
tusk side. And they were the whitest teeth that Dawson had ever seen.
Added to that, the Jap wore a warm friendly smile, with just a hint of
amusement.
"Enough, Kato," he said in a pleasant voice, yet which contained a ring
of steel. "Our little American guests are fully awake new. There is no
necessity to be cruel always, Kato. Release their hands and feet."
The big Jap stopped kicking and turned around to gape wide-eyed at the
small Jap, and shake his head. The well dressed one smiled into his big
flat face, but pin-points of blue light seemed to appear in his eyes.
"Free them, Kato," he said softly. "I have so spoken. If then you are
afraid, stand in back of them and keep your eyes on their movements. You
have searched them, Kato?"
"Yes, Honored One," Kato replied, as though he were addressing the
two-for-a-nickel Emperor himself. "They carry no papers but their own.
Nothing else. Their papers I have already given to you."
"Then release them, Kato," the little Jap repeated, and with lazy,
nonchalant movements he drew a cigarette and a long silver-banded ivory
holder from his pocket. He placed the cigarette in the holder, drew a
gold lighter from his pocket and snapped it into flame. Every one of his
movements was smooth and effortless, as though he were completely
relaxed and enjoying himself at some cocktail party, or in some
expensive and exclusive club.
The big Jap looked at him again, and then without another word freed
Dawson and Freddy Farmer of their ropes. He was none too gentle about
it, but both air aces were too taken up with the immaculately dressed
man to feel the pain much. When they were free they got slowly to their
feet, stamped the circulation back into them, and then stood there
eyeing the small Jap. Kato glided around behind them out of sight, but
both could smell his foul breath against the backs of their necks.
The so called Honored One smoked his cigarette and studied them in
polite silence for a moment, and then effortlessly took his one quarter
smoked cigarette from the holder and tossed it onto the floor away from
him.
"It is a pleasure to meet you, Captains Dawson and Farmer," he said.
Then with a flashing smile, he added, "But I fear that neither of you
share the same pleasure?"
There was only one reply to that question and neither Dawson nor Freddy
Farmer bothered. They simply stood there and waited for him to continue.
"My pardon," he said, and made a little snapping motion with the fingers
of his right hand. "I have neglected to introduce myself. I am Mr.
Yammanato. Of course you have never heard of me, so I will not boast by
saying that you probably have. In both your countries, though, they will
hear much of Yammanato, before many seasons have passed."
The little Jap paused, but Dawson and Freddy Farmer continued to give
him the studied, silent treatment. It did not seem to matter to him
much. He raised one eyebrow in polite question, and then gave a little
shrug of his narrow shoulders.
"I am sorry," he said, with just the faintest semblance of a bow. "Of
course your only interest in me is why I am here. I will tell you. It is
interest in your remarks to that one, Kato, who stands behind you ...
and is most eager to take your lives. You told him your job was
completed. I am amused, but a little puzzled, too. We three know that
your--er--job, was to identify a certain Navy ensign. But you did _not_
identify him. We did not permit you to do that. So there must have been
some other job you spoke of to Kato? I should like to have you tell me
what it was."
"You probably would, Yammanato," Dawson said evenly. Then with a tight
smile, and a shake of his head, "But we're not telling you, and you know
it!"
The little Jap did not get angry. Not even the light in his eyes
changed. He simply smiled and made a waving motion of one hand as though
to indicate that the little joke was on him this time.
"I do not expect you to tell me, voluntarily," he said. "I simply asked,
just in case, let us say. To be perfectly frank, I really am not so
terribly interested in this mysterious job. Rather, merely curious.
Neither of you has been out of our sight since the moment you landed
your Flying Fortress on Hickam Field. Several times we could have killed
you, and with little effort. But we did not consider such measures
necessary. It was obvious that you had not overheard as much as was at
first feared. However, it would be foolish to let you be free when the
carrier task force arrived, and so ..."
Yammanato paused and smiled slowly.
"And so, thoughtless as you Americans are continually, you gave us an
excellent chance to kidnap you," he went on. "To kidnap you, and hold
you until the carrier force had come and gone, as it has."
The last made Dawson gasp, and sort of bend over as though the little
Jap had kicked him in the stomach.