remember you chaps in my prayers for the rest of my life. Well, we'll
be off. Good luck, and if you do catch that murdering blighter, at
least bash him one for me."
"A promise, pal," Dave assured him.
Dave and Freddy forced themselves to wait twenty minutes after
Featherstone and his crew had gone ashore. That was as long as they
could wait, however. Another minute of sticking there in the plane with
countless thoughts, surmises, and speculations whirling around in their
heads and they would have just naturally up and exploded. And so at the
end of twenty minutes they sneaked ashore unseen and made their way
to Squadron Leader Hays' office by a round about route. It was Dave
who slid into the office first. But once he was inside he pulled up so
short at what he saw that Freddy close at his heels banged right into
him.
Automatically Dave regained his balance and continued to stare pop eyed
at the officer seated behind the desk. It was the last man in the world
he expected to see at that moment. In short, it was Air Marshal Manners.
"I say, _you_, sir?" Dave heard Freddy gasp behind him.
The Adastral House high ranker nodded, flashed them a quick smile of
greeting and motioned with one hand.
"Come in, you two, and shut that door," he said. "I've been having a
bad case of heart failure waiting for you. Isn't that 'Cat' boat out in
the basin the one that picked you up? I didn't see you leave it with
the pilot and crew. Fact is, I was just about to hunt them out and ask
questions."
"We were on it, sir," Dave said, finding his voice. "But we stayed
aboard as part of a plan. Look, sir, there's a Jerry spy here at this
station. We know him by the name of Steffins. A few hours ago he took
up a Fairey Swordfish, Number two-six-nine-seven. He shot us down, sir,
and we have a hunch he returned here."
Dave stopped talking and his hopes sank as he saw Air Marshal Manners
shake his head.
"No, he didn't," the Air Ministry official said. "That Swordfish plane
was assigned to one Flight Lieutenant Barker who has been at this
Base for the last six months. His mechanic told Squadron Leader Hays
and myself that he was to take it up for testing this morning. The
mechanic saw the plane take off and believed Barker was in the pit.
Barker wasn't. Two hours ago they found Barker's body hidden in an
old fuselage in the hangar. He had been stabbed through the heart.
Murdered!"
Dave and Freddy stood there in stunned silence for a moment. Then the
words fairly leaped off Dave's lips.
"And no replacement by the name of Steffins has joined this squadron
today?" he asked.
"No one," Manners replied. "Nor has that Fairey Swordfish returned.
It's long overdue right now, as regards fuel. So I think there's just
one answer to that. After he shot you down he probably headed for the
coast of occupied France. But enough of that for the moment. Sit down,
you two, and tell me everything that happened. I know a little of it
from a radio message the commander of the Tornado sent me. That's
one of the reasons why I flew down here from London at once. And I
can guess a little of the rest. However, I want to hear it all from
you two. Go ahead, and don't leave out a single thing no matter how
unimportant it may seem to you. Better start with the moment you left
my office at Adastral House."
Some fifteen minutes later Dave and Freddy had given a detailed account
of every minute of the time since they had left the Air Ministry in
London. As ordered they didn't leave out a thing. They even related
their own conversations, word for word as near as they could remember.
Air Marshal Manners listened in silence right through to the end.
He didn't interrupt once. He didn't even nod or make any kind of a
gesture. He simply sat in the chair moving his steel blue eyes from one
face to the other.
"And that's all of it, sir," Dave ended the narration for both of them.
"There's probably a hundred other things we should have done. And maybe
we made ... I mean, I made a mess of that meeting with Steffins on
the train. Perhaps we should have made some kind of a report to you.
But...."
"Take it easy, Dawson," Air Marshal Manners finally spoke up. "And you,
too, Farmer. You two don't have to apologize for a single thing. Great
guns, your attempt to crash that U-boat deserves the Victoria Cross
in my opinion. No, you don't have to feel badly about a single thing.
Fact is, I'm the one to blame for things going all wrong. At any rate
I'm taking the blame. As for that Steffins meeting, it perhaps really
didn't mean a thing. There's lots of lads who like to go around posing
as officers. He may have been one of them. Then, too, he _may_ have
been Baron von Khole."
Both Dave and Freddy sat up straight in their chairs.
"Baron von Khole, sir?" Dave finally asked. "Is he a Nazi agent?"
Air Marshal Manners nodded and a look of smouldering anger came into
his eyes.
"The best, and most deadly one in Hitler's pay," he said presently.
"And a mystery man if there ever was one. What we know of the man you
could write down on a piece of paper the size of a postage stamp. As
a matter of fact, British Intelligence isn't even sure that von Khole
is his right name. And nobody outside of a few in Germany so much as
knows what he looks like. One of the reasons he has been so difficult
to catch is his expert knowledge of make-up and disguise. He can make
himself up to pass for a youth of seventeen or an old man of seventy.
He speaks, reads, and writes a dozen different languages, and what he
doesn't know about Hitler's method of waging unrestricted war isn't
worth knowing."
Air Marshal Manners stopped talking and stared flint eyed off into
space. There were a dozen questions hovering on Dave Dawson's lips,
but he refrained from giving them voice. He sat with Freddy waiting
patiently for the chief of the newly formed Emergency Command to
continue.
"And unless I'm all wrong, and not even worth my salt to my country,"
the senior officer finally continued, "this Baron von Khole is behind
all that has happened. I even fancy that he was the one who shot you
down. He is an expert pilot and was in command of the Luftwaffe in the
Polish campaign. But I'm getting ahead of myself. I'd better go back to
the beginning and start there."
The Air Marshal paused and lighted a cigarette.
"Shortly before I was put in charge of the Emergency Command," he said,
"they had a bit of a spy scare at Air Ministry. As a matter of fact
it was quite serious. Plans for two new types of plane were stolen,
and also the plans for a new aerial machine gun. In addition to that,
considerable information as to R.A.F. operations in England and in the
Middle East got into the hands of the Germans. In other words it was
discovered that there was a mighty big leak at Air Ministry. Well, to
make the story short, British Air and Army Intelligence got to work
like beavers. Wires were tapped, every bit of incoming and outgoing
mail was censored, and everybody from the Chief Air Marshal down was
watched like a hawk day and night. The result was positive proof and
the arrest of three German agents actually in the Royal Air Force and
assigned to duty at Air Ministry. They were tried and shot in short
order."
Air Marshal Manners emphasized the last with a curt nod, and then
puffed on his cigarette for a moment or two before continuing.
"Of course the activities of this mysterious Baron von Khole were well
known to us long before this last round-up of agents," he went on.
"Facts and what-not showed that he was the supreme head of all Nazi
agents in England. It was also quite evident that since Dunkirk he and
his gang had been concentrating on the Royal Air Force. Let me say
right here that most of our airplane crashes in England during the last
year were not accidents due to the fault of the pilots or the planes.
They were due to deliberate acts of sabotage. And, of course, all on
the order of this Baron von Khole.
"Well, when the Nazi agents working in Air Ministry were caught
Intelligence gained information which it was believed would lead them
directly to von Khole. It did, but in a round about way, and too late!"
"Too late, sir?" Freddy Farmer encouraged as the senior officer paused
again.
"It is incredible, but the truth!" Air Marshal Manners continued as
though he hadn't stopped. "There was a _fourth_ spy serving as a
Personnel Sergeant at Air Ministry. Intelligence didn't catch him in
their round-up of the other three. And yesterday we gained definite
knowledge that he was, and still is, Baron von Khole. Now, wait a
minute before you ask questions. He was known as Sergeant Kinney,
but there _used_ to be a _real_ Sergeant Kinney. The real Sergeant
Kinney had been in the service for years. He lived alone in a flat out
Golder's Green way, and had very few friends. Naturally, we'll never
know the real truth until we catch von Khole and he tells us, which he
probably never would. However, several months ago von Khole, probably
after studying Kinney's mode of life, his way of doing things, and a
million and one things about him, murdered him and took his place at
Air Ministry. And he has been there ever since working side by side
with the whole lot of us. _But_ working for Hitler instead of for the
King!"
"Boy, what a smooth artist he must be!" Dave breathed. "And even if he
is a Nazi he's sure got plenty of nerve and courage."
"Plenty of both, and a whole lot of other things," Air Marshal Manners
said grimly. "Much as we'd like to believe it, all Germans are not
nitwits like their Fuehrer, Goering, and a couple of others of the
inner circle. No, von Khole is clever, a genius in his work. Fact
is, the only bad thing I can say about the man is that he is a cold
blooded, ruthless murderer. That is perhaps the only thing he has in
common with his superiors."
The Air Ministry official made a little gesture with one hand as though
dismissing the subject and lighted a fresh cigarette.
"But I'm wandering in my story," he said. "Let's get back to facts.
And they are not pleasant ones for me. A week ago I took on some extra
clerical help on my staff. Sergeant Kinney was one of those sent to
me. Yes, none other than Baron von Khole _went to work in my office_.
How he did it still remains his secret, but he discovered everything
pertaining to the new Emergency Command. The very fact that you had
your little adventure today proves that he knew the contents of your
sealed orders before they even left my office. He must have learned
their contents yesterday. Last night my private secretary ... a man
I've known all my life, and whom I would trust with my own life ... was
murdered in my office. An hour later Intelligence came in to arrest
Sergeant Kinney. A tip had led them to his house. There they had found
code books and a dozen other things used by Nazi agents."
"But they didn't get Kinney, or this von Khole who posed as Kinney?"
Freddy Farmer asked.
Air Marshal Manners made a wiggling motion with his hand like an eel
scurrying away.
"Not that slippery one!" he said harshly. "As usual, he was a couple of
jumps ahead of us. My sealed orders had already gone out, so I didn't
do anything about checking or stopping them. I simply took the chance
that everything was all right. As we three know, now, everything wasn't
all right regarding your secret assignment! My not countermanding those
orders nearly cost the lives of two of the bravest R.A.F. pilots I ever
had the good fortune to meet. And so, as I said, I alone am taking all
the blame for things going wrong today. It was nobody else's fault but
my own."
"And to think I had him square in my gun sights!" Dave murmured softly.
"But, tell me this, sir. Was Sergeant Kinney on duty the night you
talked to all of us? Or the next day?"
The Air Marshal looked thoughtful for a moment, then sat up straight
with a jerk.
"By the gods, no!" he cried. "He was on thirty hours leave. And I
know what's in back of your question, Dawson. That chap, Steffins! By
George, I guess that Steffins _was_ von Khole."
"But you said he had courage!" Freddy protested. "And Steffins was
scared pink when that Jerry plane strafed the train."
"I'm wondering," Dave grunted.
"About what?" Freddy demanded. "Good grief, you think that was part of
an act, too? But why?"
"This may be crazy reasoning," Dave said slowly. "But somehow it makes
sense to me. He tried to pump us, and didn't learn a thing. I think
he knew that we weren't telling him the truth. Maybe that made him a
little suspicious of us. So maybe he pulled that yellow belly stunt so
that we wouldn't bother about looking him up at the squadron, here. Or
when we didn't see him again we'd just put it down that he was too
yellow to carry on, and we'd just forget about him. And yet there's
another angle that just occurred to me. Maybe just as screwy."
"Well, let's hear it anyway," Air Marshal Manners said as the Yank
R.A.F. ace hesitated.
"That strafing plane," Dave said eventually. "It came down and seemed
to blast away at the rear car of the train. Maybe it wasn't even aiming
at it. Fact is, I forgot all about checking on that when we reached
Plymouth. What I'm getting at is, why strafe just the rear car? Me, if
I had a few slugs left to slap at a train, I start up at the engine and
rake the whole works. That Focke-Wulf plane didn't. I'm wondering if
its pilot knew that von Khole was on the train, and his strafing was
some kind of a message that didn't please von Khole at all."
"Perhaps," Air Marshal Manners said gravely. "Perhaps either one of
your ideas is the truth. It doesn't help us much, now. Nor does it
help much being pretty sure that your friend Steffins was actually von
Khole. That, like some other items, is all so much water under the
bridge, now. We've taken our beatings and that's that. What we've got
to concentrate on now is the future. Our next move in this game of
death against the survival of England."
The Air Ministry official stopped talking and a tingling silence seemed
to hover over the room. Dave and Freddy waited breathlessly for the
senior officer to go on. Defeat was behind them, but it was not final
defeat. They not only felt it, but they could see it in Manners' face.
No, they were not yet washed-up with Emergency Command. They both knew
that Manners had another assignment for them. Another tilt against the
Nazis and death. And it was all they could do to refrain from breaking
the silence and begging Manners to tell them of their new assignment.
Finally Freddy Farmer just couldn't stand the suspense any longer. He
cleared his throat nervously and spoke.
"We're ready for any job you want to give us, sir," he said. "And
regardless of _what_ happens, we'll do better next time."
"Check!" Dave echoed with feeling. "You can count on that, sir."
Air Marshal Manners smiled but before he could say anything the
office door was pushed open and Squadron Leader Hays came inside. The
Commanding Officer of Seventy-Four seemed not to see the two R.A.F.
aces. He looked straight at Air Marshal Manners and gave a savage shake
of his head.
"Couldn't unearth a single clue," he said, tight lipped. "I've
questioned every mechanic and pilot here at the field, but not one of
them remembers seeing Flight Lieutenant Barker after eight o'clock this
morning. I looked in his hutment but not a thing has been touched.
Honestly, sir, I can't understand it at all. Why should anybody kill
Barker and then steal his plane? He was the best liked officer at the
field."
"No clue, eh?" the Air Ministry official murmured. "Well, on my
authorization you can order a special investigation. Call on Air
Intelligence if you want to. We lose enough pilots in the air without
having them murdered on the ground. Do everything you think necessary,
Hays, and report to me the minute you discover anything important."
"Very good, sir, I'll do that," the Squadron Leader said. "I'll appoint
an investigating board at once. And ... I say, where did you two come
from?"
The Squadron Leader addressed the last to Dave and Freddy as he saw
them for the first time. Dave opened his mouth to speak, but Air
Marshal Manners beat him to the punch.
"They had no luck on their special mission," he said quietly. "Matter
of fact they were forced down off shore and were luckily picked up by
a Cat-Boat. I ordered their return here at once. They're flying up to
London with me right away, and rejoining their old Fighter Squadron."
Squadron Leader Hays murmured something that might have been an
expression of sympathy and regret, but Dave wasn't listening. The
verbal bombshell that Air Marshal Manners had suddenly exploded was
still scrambling his brains. Returning to their old Fighter Squadron?
Then they really were all washed up with the Emergency Command? Though
their failure had been through no fault of their own, Manners wasn't
going to give them a second chance? Washed-up? Through? Finished?
Dave looked at Freddy and saw similar stunned grief in the English
youth's eyes. He looked at Air Marshal Manners and hot blistering words
rose to his lips. He was too good a soldier, however, to let them fly
off. He choked them back, and spoke them instead with his eyes. Manners
seemed completely blind to the look he received. He stared back at
Dave, then made a short dismissal wave with one hand.
"There's a Staff Lockheed Hudson on the line I came down in," he said.
"You and Farmer go out to it and wait. I'll be with you in a few
minutes, and we'll be off. Oh yes, collect your personal belongings
and put them aboard. That's all."
It was the hardest thing he ever did for Dave to get to his feet,
click his heels and salute smartly. He wanted more than anything else
right at the moment to jump over the desk and shout what was on his
mind right square in the Air Marshal's face. Of course, though, he
didn't even so much as make a move in that direction. Training and the
instincts of a loyal soldier held him back.
"Very good, sir," he said.
Then he and Freddy did an about face and went outside with heads up and
shoulders squared ... but with the whole wide world very much blurred
before them. Never since their very first day in the R.A.F. had their
hearts ached so much, or their spirits sunk so low.
CHAPTER NINE
_Vulture Eyes_
"Do you think, Dave? I mean.... Gosh! I'm still whizzing around in
circles. I thought sure Manners understood how things turned out as
they did. And I thought sure he had another assignment to give us.
I ... I don't know what to think. I wish I were dead!"
Freddy Farmer groaned, gave a helpless shake of his head, and leaned
wearily back against the bomb compartment wall of the Lockheed Hudson.
Their stuff was all aboard and they had been waiting for Air Marshal
Manners a good half hour. Dave grunted, studied the finger nails on his
right hand and absently started chewing on one.
"You and me both!" he finally grated. "Of all the let-downs this is
tops. And right after his admitting that it was _his_ fault! Sweet
tripe! What do these brass hats expect? Miracles out of a hat like
rabbits? Boy, did I want to toss his own words back into his teeth,
with Squadron Leader Hays standing right there, too. Freddy, it was the
rottenest trick ever played on us. It was just plain low down and mean.
Praise a fellow, and then cut the world right out from under his feet.
I don't get it. I don't get it even a little bit!"
"I was dead certain he was about to tell us of a new assignment when
Hays came in," Freddy said, a baffled frown creasing his brows.
"Something must have happened. Maybe something that Hays said. I can't
even begin to guess, but it changed his mind."
"Yeah, he sure froze up on us like an Arctic winter," Dave growled. "So
it's back to our old Fighter Command squadron, huh? Well, I say, okay.
That suits me fine. And for two cents I'd take off in this crate right
now, and let him walk back to London. I'd...."
"Too late to do even that, Dave!" Freddy cut in quickly. "Here he
comes!"
The words were no sooner off Freddy's lips than Air Marshal Manners
came in through the compartment door. He tossed a brief case he
carried on an empty bomb rack and looked at Dave.
"My pilot's suddenly gone sick," he said. "Take the controls, please,
Dawson. Get us off as soon as possible, and get lots of altitude as you
head for London."
"Yes, sir," Dave said, and got to his feet.
He took one step along the cat-walk leading forward, then stopped and
turned. He knew what he was about to say was childish, foolish, and the
uncensored ravings of a sorehead. But for all the gold in the world he
could not have kept the words back. The seething pot of justified anger
within him had suddenly boiled over on all sides.
"Do you mind, sir, if I crack us up taking off?" he said evenly.
Air Marshal Manners stiffened up straight, gave him a blazing stare,
and opened his mouth to speak. He held back the words, though, and
looked from Dave to Freddy and back again.
"I see," he said. "Thought you caught on. Yes, I mind very much your
cracking us up, Dawson. Now, you get forward and get us up in the air
before I turn you over my knee. Chase along, lad, now. Explanations
later."
"Then you mean, sir--" Dave cried joyfully and stopped.
"I mean get us into the air!" Manners snapped. "And hurry it up!"
"One Lockheed on the way!" Dave shouted, and dashed forward to the
pilots' compartment.
In less time than it takes to tell about it he had the twin engines
turning over and was taxiing to the far end of the runway. There he
wheeled around into the wind, waited a moment or so for Freddy and Air
Marshal Manners to come forward and join him, but when they didn't
he opened up the throttles wide and sent the American built plane
rocketing forward. Once the ship was clear he cranked up the wheels and
continued prop clawing upward for altitude.
When he was above a layer of cloud and well out of sight of the
Plymouth Base, Freddy and Manners stepped through the compartment
doorway. Dave glanced quickly at Freddy only to realize at once from
the wondering look on his pal's face that Manners hadn't told him
anything yet. Then he looked at the Air Marshal and pinked a bit as the
steady steel blue eyes bored into his. But almost immediately the Air
Ministry official grinned crookedly and sighed.
"You certainly fumbled that one, lad," he said. "After all that's
happened I was sure you'd understand. By George, son, did you think
I was dropping you two chaps like a couple of hot bricks? Of all the
crazy notions!"
"My error, I guess, sir," Dave replied sheepishly. "But it was sort
of a bolt out of the blue that tossed me over on one wing. I mean....
Well...."
"Well, let's forget about it," Manners said. "The reason was simply
that from now on I'm trusting no one but you two. Not that Squadron
Leader Hays isn't the finest type of Englishman you could find. He
is. And in addition he's a very good friend of mine. However, my idea
was to create the impression that I've taken you off this special
convoy mission, and am sending you back to your old squadron. We don't
know where von Khole is. He may be in France or even in Germany. Then
again he may be right back there at Seventy-Four again. The beggar's a
blasted ghost, so I'm not taking any chances whatsoever of his finding
out that you're still connected with Emergency Command."
Dave blew air out of his lungs and smiled happily.
"Gosh, do I feel reborn!" he exclaimed. "Sorry, sir, I was such a dope
not to catch on."
"And that goes for me, too, sir!" Freddy Farmer echoed.
"Right you are, lads," Air Marshal Manners said with a laugh. "Just
make sure you don't get any crazy ideas any more. I'll be through with
you two just about the time the war's over. And I doubt even then.
Right-o. Now...."
"Enemy aircraft!" Freddy suddenly yelled and pointed off to the east.
"See it? A Messerschmitt One-Ten and heading our way!"
Both Dave and Manners snapped their heads around and spotted the Nazi
plane at the same time. The craft was a couple of thousand feet above
their altitude, but even as they spotted it the nose dropped and the
plane came down toward them at terrific speed.
"Man the tail guns, Freddy!" Dave barked. "Here's our chance to pay
back with a few slugs. We'll...!"
"No!" Air Marshal Manners said sharply. "No scramble with that plane.
Get us down into those clouds, Dawson, and lose him. We haven't got
time for a fight."
A wave of rebellion swept through Dave but he curbed it instantly.
Something in Manners' face told him that the Air Marshal hated to run
away just as much as he did, but that he had a very good reason for
ordering it.
"Right, sir!" Dave cried.