controls with one hand. "Manners and Otis weren't shooting any line
when they said you were good. You are, and plenty more!"
"Good grief!" Freddy gasped. "Have we actually been down in that stuff?"
Dave turned his head to see Freddy peering downward out the
compartment window. He took a look, himself, and unconsciously gulped
and swallowed hard. Below was an angry mass of boiling black cloud.
It seemed to extend to the four horizons and completely blot out the
waters of the North Atlantic underneath. A whirling black mass that
changed to brown, then grey, then an eerie purple streaked with lacy
white. And then black to a turbulent, seething black mass again.
"Sweet tripe!" Dave breathed in awe. "And the wings are still on?
Freddy, don't put that storm in your report, if you ever write one.
Nobody would believe you. And you couldn't blame them. Well, we're
out of it and above, anyway. So three cheers for us.... I mean, this
Catalina. Now, to get more altitude and start eye hunting for that
raider. Boy, if our good luck will only continue to hold out."
"It's got to, and it's going to!" Freddy said firmly. "Just don't give
it another thought. Just skin your eyes and I'll skin mine. And I'll
bet you five pounds I spot her first."
"A bet!" Dave shouted happily and swung the Catalina around toward the
west. "I know I'm going to lose, though. Heck, with those sharp eyes
you've got, you could read tomorrow's newspaper from here! And I don't
mean maybe!"
After that the two youths lapsed into silence, and each bent forward
and eagerly fixed his gaze on the western rim of the savage storm and
the rain blurred stretches of the Atlantic they could see far beyond.
Their spirits were high, and their hearts were light. The job was still
to be done. The task was still to be accomplished, yet somehow they
felt they had reached the home stretch, and that their goal was almost
in sight.
It was a wonderful feeling that filled their fighting hearts and
tingled their blood, but somewhere up on high the gods of war shrilled
in high glee, for they knew something that neither Dave Dawson or
Freddy Farmer or so much as even dreamed. The war gods knew that death
was close to those two R.A.F. aces. Close, real close. The matter of
only a few feet. And even as they strained their eyes for their very
first glimpse of the Atlantic raider, death moved one step closer, and
another, and another....
CHAPTER FOURTEEN
_Sky Doom_
Angry black storm clouds swept far to the roar of the Consolidated
Catalina flying boat. Brilliant sunshine bathed the craft in its warm
glow from the hull nose clear back to the tail, and from wingtip to
wingtip. Below and just ahead heaving seas caused by the passing storm
were slowly subsiding. Patches of white foam were fast disappearing;
dissolving into thin air under the steady rays of the sun.
"It should be soon, Dave," Freddy presently broke the silence in a
strained voice. "And if it isn't, I swear I'll blessed well blow my
topper!"
"Keep your shirt on, pal," Dave grunted good-naturedly. "We can travel
plenty fast, remember. That raider is in the water, not in the air
with wings. It'll take time for her to get clear. How about trying a
check on her?"
"I did just a moment ago," the English youth replied. "The signals were
clear as a bell. She's traveling under forced draft, and her commander
begged me not to lose touch with the convoy. He also wanted to know if
British navy boats and aircraft were escorting the convoy."
"And you told him?" Dave murmured.
"Same as the first message I tried to get through to him, of course,"
Freddy said in a slightly hurt tone. "No escorting aircraft as yet, as
the convoy hasn't reached the rendezvous point. And that there're only
two Corvettes leading the merchant ships."
"Beautiful, if he only swallows it, which I guess he's done," Dave said
with a chuckle. "Boy, what a nice surprise that guy's going to get! He
figures that he's going to sneak up on the unprotected rear of that
convoy and go through it like hot coals through snow. Instead, though,
he's going to plow right into a mess of screaming shells from British
navy guns, and depth charges, and bombs, and everything else. If only
they can ring those U-boats before they duck down deep and skip away."
"The boys of the Fleet Air Arm will take care of that," Freddy said
confidently. "They'll be up aloft, and they'll spot the raider long
before she spots them. They'll give the range to the gunners on the
ships, and then dive bomb the U-boats before they hardly have time to
stick their noses under."
"Well, you sure make it listen good," Dave grinned. "And I'm keeping my
fingers crossed that you're right. _Eureka!_ Pay me the five pounds,
Freddy! Look off down there. Just to the left of that patch of cloud
scud. It's a ship. It's our raider, Freddy! See? See? Her U-boats are
all on the surface. See those globs of grey in fan shape formation a
quarter of a mile astern of her. Freddy! That's her, and no kidding
about it!"
The English youth didn't utter a sound. He hunched forward and sighted
along Dave's trembling pointed finger. Then he saw her, too. Saw the
wolf-pack of U-boats running at top speed on the surface astern of the
raider. Smoke from the raider's single funnel was streaming back low
over the stern of the craft. A clear indication that she was getting
every ounce of drive out of her propellers. She was low in the water
and rather than ride up over each roller, her sharp bow cut through
it like a knife and sent sheets of frothing water mounting high over
her forecastle. A ship of speed, and deadly fighting power, yet ugly
and repulsive looking even though you did not know of the mission of
murdering destruction on which she was bent.
"And there you are, you dirty sea rat!" Dave grated through clenched
teeth. "Think you're on your way to hurt England, eh? Well, you've got
another...."
_Crack!_
The bark of the gun was like the world exploding apart to Dave and
Freddy. And even as the sharp sound came to their ears they both saw
the tiny hole and mass of cracks that appeared as though by magic in
the forward window. For a brief instant they both stared at it as
though hypnotized. Then as one man they whirled around in their seats
and gaped aft.
If the bark of a gun and a bullet hole in the forward window surprised
them, then sight of the figure clutching the gun stunned them
completely. He wore the uniform of an R.A.F. Flying Officer, but the
uniform was splotched with dirt, and grease, and oil. He wore no cap
and his hair dangled down over his forehead. On the right cheek of his
not too bad looking face was an ugly gash that ran straight up and
down. A few tiny drops of blood seeped out the lower end and dribbled
down to the line of his jaw and dropped off to stain the front of his
tunic. Apparently he had stowed away in an aft compartment of the
plane.
Ten thousand exclamations surged up to Dave's lips but for the life
of him he could not speak a word. His throat was bone dry, and his
tongue was as big as a baseball bat in his mouth. It was the same
with Freddy Farmer, and it seemed almost to be the same with the man
holding the gun, for he said not a word either. He simply stood braced
on the cat-walk leading aft, a cruel twist to his lips, a burning look
of hatred in his eyes, and the Luger in his hand held rock steady and
unwavering.
And then sound exploded from Dave Dawson's lips.
"_Baron von Khole!_" he cried.
The man with the gun stiffened slightly. Startled surprise and
annoyance flashed across his face. Then suddenly he relaxed, smiled
tight lipped, and made a short little bow from the waist.
"But, of course," he said in perfect English, as though talking to
himself. "That swine, Manners, must have spoken to you. Anyway, you are
correct, my young friend. I don't mind admitting it, _now_!"
"And we first met you as Steffins!" Freddy cried as he suddenly found
his own tongue.
The German agent flecked a glance at the English youth and nodded
faintly.
"Splendid!" he said with a chuckle. "You two children really aren't
fools, are you? You have brains, and you use them. Yes, that is true. I
met you as Steffins."
"Steffins, the yellow belly!" Dave blurted out before he could cut off
the words.
A cold deadly look leaped into the Nazi's eyes, and his finger crooked
about the Luger's trigger seemed to tighten a hair.
"You are asking for death sooner than I had planned it, little boy!" he
spat out harshly. "No one who desires to live even for a minute should
call me a coward. That little affair on the train was as I planned it."
"And the strafing plane was some kind of a signal for you, too, wasn't
it?" Dave shot out the question.
"_Donder and Blitzen!_" the German exclaimed in a whisper. "It is too
bad you do not belong to German Intelligence. Yes, we could make good
use of you. It was a signal, yes. And you can probably guess why. That
doddering fool, Manners, has probably told you the whole story."
"I know what you mean!" Freddy cried. "That rotten business you were
doing in London. The diving plane was a signal that your hide-out in
London had been found, and that they were after you!"
"My, my, never have I met such clever little boys!" von Khole said with
a marked sneer. "However, that's just about correct. It was a warning.
So that is why I did not report to Squadron Seventy-Four. But it wasn't
necessary, anyway. _Don't_, my young Dawson! Don't be a foolish child
and think you can move faster than I can shoot!"
Dave had moved slightly in his seat, but he froze stiff as the Nazi's
gun muzzle bored straight at a point between his eyes. A smarting
retort rose to his lips, but common sense made him choke it back. So
long as they kept the German talking, so long would they have the
chance to do something about their predicament. _Predicament?_ That
was indeed putting it mildly. Not since that day in war blasted France
when he and Freddy had first met had they been in such a tight corner
as now.[3] And never had death been so close and so certain. No, their
only hope was to stall for time. For while there is time there is hope,
and while there is hope there is life.
[Footnote 3: _Dave Dawson at Dunkirk._]
"So you didn't report to Plymouth Base, eh?" he murmured and forced a
puzzled note into his voice. "Then how in the world were you able to
steal that Fairey Swordfish plane and follow us down to that rendezvous
area for the raider and her wolf-pack of U-boats? You sure must have
taken plenty of chances."
"Yes, you certainly must have!" Freddy cried eagerly and twitched in
his seat. "Ouch, my elbow! But tell us, von Khole. How in the world did
you manage that?"
The German's eyes narrowed with suspicion, but when he saw the eager
and excited looks on the boys' faces he relaxed and smirked in triumph.
He drew himself up straight but didn't take the gun off them for a
single instant.
"There is nothing too difficult for Baron von Khole!" he cried in a
loud voice and thumped his chest with his free hand. "It was nothing,
that little bit at Plymouth. It was so simple. I merely made myself up
as a mechanic and walked in through the main gates and past the stupid
guards. A question here and there, and I learned of a plane that was
going to be tested. I hid in the hangar and took care of the pilot when
he arrived! I saw you two little ones take off. Of course I already
knew the contents of your sealed orders, and I had made arrangements
for the raider and her U-boats to be elsewhere. However, I had decided
that Manners should be made to realize what a fool he was to think he
could outwit us Germans. So I arranged for one U-boat to remain. A
single U-boat to remain and sink the very first British warship that
came to the spot. And so...."
"And so that idea fell flat," Dave interrupted with a grim nod.
Von Khole shrugged.
"You were lucky," he grunted. "And the U-boat's commander was a fool
to come to the surface before you were in the water. But it does not
matter, now. Your precious Air Marshal Manners knows what a fool he
made of himself. And by the by, you two owe me your thanks. I could
have killed you very easily, you know. But we Germans do not like to
make war on mere boys ... unless we are forced to."
The deadly undernote of the last sent a chill cutting straight through
Dave's heart. Von Khole didn't have to write him a letter to explain
that the moment to "make war on mere boys" _had now arrived_!
He covered up his inner feelings however with a beautiful Bronx cheer.
"Says you, von Khole!" he jeered. "You owe us that kind of a vote of
thanks. I had you in my sights cold, and you know darn well I did. I
could have shot the pants right off you, and with both eyes shut, too."
"And you didn't?" the German echoed in mock surprise. "How strange! Or
perhaps it was that your guns jammed at that very crucial moment, eh? I
have heard that sort of explanation many times."
"It was my fault!" Freddy Farmer blurted out, and moved some more in
his seat. "I was the one who stopped him. And I was a blasted fool for
doing it, I can tell you. Rubbish to what you think! Dawson could have
shot you down as easy as pie."
Von Khole nodded his head in mock patience.
"Well, well, what a shame!" he sighed. "And what a shame, my young
Dawson, we'll never have another chance to see who is the better pilot.
Yes, too bad, but one cannot expect everything in war, you know."
As the Nazi finished the last he leaned forward slightly and shot a
quick glance down over the bow of the hull. Regardless of orders not to
move, Dave turned his head and took a look himself. His heart leaped up
into his throat when he saw that the raider had altered her course, and
with her wolf-pack of U-boats in tow was steaming at full draft _due
north_! He turned back and shot a quizzical look at von Khole. The
German accepted the look with a smile and a nod.
"Yes, your little game is over, my young ones," he said. "There is
work, great work for that raider to perform, and so she is hurrying on
her way."
"What's that?" Freddy cried and spun front in his own seat to look.
"Good grief, it can't be! What made that raider change her course? She
headed directly for...!"
The English youth choked himself off and turned back to stare wide eyed
at von Khole. The Nazi laughed out loud at the horror and misery on
Freddy's face.
"Did you think this was the only airplane in the world?" he cried in a
taunting voice. "Do you think all German pilots are asleep? _Himmel!_
What fools to even hope you could be successful! What dunces to even
think you could outwit me, Baron von Khole. Mere children! Bah!"
The Nazi agent made as though to spit as he spoke the last, and his
whole face flamed red with withering scorn and contempt. A thousand
cannons began booming in Dave's brain. He trembled from head to foot
with the furious desire to leap at von Khole, and the heck with the
Luger pointed his way. But with all his raging fury he still retained
his common sense. And so he stayed right where he was.
"I get it," he said suddenly. "Your scouting planes have known the
raider's position all along, huh?"
"But naturally," the German said. "And the way that ship is now headed
means that _our aircraft have sighted your precious convoy and have
communicated its position to the raider_! True, you contacted her
first. I suspected that you probably would, but I didn't care. I
decided to wait until you had actually sighted her and then put an end
to your little game. From this moment on she will receive the true
location and course of the convoy. She will close in and strike at the
proper moment. The raider, her U-boats, and our long range bombers.
It will be a great victory for Der Fuehrer, and a crushing blow to
your doomed England. _Himmel!_ Do you think I would have stayed hidden
aboard this flying boat listening to you two children jabber about the
British Fleet units and the wonderful things they were going to do, if
I did not know for certain that this moment of triumph would arrive?
But of course not. I only wish I could see the face of your naval ship
commanders as they wait _and wait_ for a raider to come sailing into
their gun range. A raider that will be hundreds of miles away, and her
work well done, before they even start combing the ocean!"
The Nazi was almost screaming by the time he finally came to a pause.
Dave, looking at his flushed face, spittle drooling mouth, and popping
eyes, knew that he was not looking at just one man but at a living
symbol of the whole rotten to the core Nazi breed. Just as Air Marshal
Manners had said, "Clever, cunning, and a genius at his work, but a
black hearted, ruthless murderer."
"Your raider will not even get in sight of that convoy!" Freddy cried,
his face white and strained. "It's well guarded. I can assure you of
that."
"Now, can you, my little fellow?" von Khole sneered at him. "You are
completely wrong. Perhaps you do not know it, but you _are_! Until
the rendezvous point is reached, only two Corvettes are guarding that
convoy. That is another stupid blunder on the part of your willy-nilly
superiors. They decided to let the convoy come across with but two
Corvettes to protect her until close off shore, instead of sending out
naval ships to a rendezvous far at sea. But, no. They decided to spread
their navy ships about the ocean and trap our powerful raider and her
U-boats. Clever, they thought. Fool the Germans completely. Ah, yes!
They thought it was a wonderful idea. Well, you see what a wonderful
idea it turned out to be? Long before the convoy reaches the rendezvous
point with your Catalinas and your destroyers it will be at the bottom
of the Atlantic. Every ship. _All of them!_"
For a second Dave thought Freddy was going to hurl himself right out of
the seat and lunge for the Nazi's throat. Instead, the English youth
suddenly threw back his head and roared with laughter. Von Khole's face
went dark, a scowl creased his brows, and a puzzled glint came into his
eyes.
"So, you laugh when your countrymen are about to die?" he snarled as
Freddy subsided a little.
"_My_ countrymen die?" Freddy shot at him. "Why, you balmy Jerry, if
they do, it will be from laughing. Laughing at you, and your blessed
Fuehrer, at the whole lot of you silly Nazis. Shall we tell him, Dave?"
Freddy looked at Dave and winked the eye turned away from von Khole.
Dave had no idea what the act was about, but he played up to it
instantly. He shrugged and made a little gesture with his hands.
"Why bother?" he grunted. "Let him find out for himself."
Freddy pursed his lips, half turned and gave von Khole an accusing look.
"I say, let's stop playing with this stupid game," Freddy said. "I
jolly well fancy you know all about it. Good grief, man, you _must_
know if you're as clever as they say you are."
"I think you are talking in riddles," the Nazi said in a wary tone.
"And I do not like riddles. What is this interesting thing you feel
positive I should know?"
Freddy gave an exasperated shake of his head.
"The convoy, of course!" he snapped. "Its arrival! What else, my dear
fellow?"
"Arrival?" von Khole echoed in a harsh voice.
"Certainly!" Freddy snapped at him again. "It docked at English ports
early last night. All this business is simply an attempt to remove your
wonder raider and her school of tin fish out of this blasted war once
and for all."
"You little lying swine!" the German hissed as his eyes clouded up with
thunder heads of berserk rage. "Do you think I'd believe that for an
instant? No, my little boy. Your precious convoy has not made port,
yet. And it never will! I can see that you have learned some things
from your American friend, Dawson, here. He has taught you how to
bluff. But I am one you cannot bluff."
"Okay, have it your way," Dave said, catching on to Freddy's effort to
stall for time, and keep stalling. "You know your own codes, don't you?
Your aircraft codes?"
"But naturally," the German said. "What of it?"
Dave lifted his hand enough to indicate the main radio fitted to its
panel in front of Freddy Farmer's seat.
"Then get to work on that thing, and check," Dave said in a defiant
tone. "Call your scouting aircraft and find out if they've spotted a
big convoy. Yes, I said _big_ convoy. Go on! Contact them and find out
how many ships there are in the convoy _you think_ that raider's headed
toward. Go on, I dare you!"
Baron von Khole raked Dave's face with his eyes as though he were
attempting to look right into the brain and read the truth there. Dave
returned his stare and grinned a challenge.
"Farmer and I know that we're all washed up, von Khole," he said. "You
beat us to the punch before we could guide the raider to within range
of the British warships. Okay, you win that one. But if you think
there's any big convoy waiting to be picked off, you're all wet. And I
mean, all wet!"
The German continued to glare at them out of half closed eyes, and Dave
kept the taunting grin on his face though his heart was pounding like
a trip hammer against his ribs. Perhaps von Khole's next move would
be the break that he and Freddy needed so desperately. If the German
took up the challenge and bent forward to take the head phones from
Freddy and use the radio the movement would bring him close. Please,
God, close enough to make a wild grab for that Luger. It was their only
chance. To overpower von Khole and get back on the job. The raider and
her U-boats were moving northward fast. She had to be stopped. She
_had_ to be stopped! Please, God, make von Khole move closer ... move
just a couple of feet closer!
CHAPTER FIFTEEN
_High Adventure_
One, two, three seconds ticked by as Dave kept his eyes locked with von
Khole's. A conglomeration of expressions flitted across the man's face.
Four, five, six seconds! Anger, wonder, suspicion, and scorn showed
in the German's face. He made as though to move, checked himself, and
remained where he was. Seven, eight, nine seconds!
And then Dave wanted to weep with rage. Von Khole smiled and shook his
head.
"No, my little fools!" he said with a dry chuckle. "I am not as stupid
as that. You would like to grab for this gun, eh, as I reached for the
radio? Bah! I can see the desire in your faces. But that is not why I
know you lie. You, my little Farmer! Your bluff was almost convincing.
Perhaps it even would have convinced me if you had not made that slip
of the tongue when you first saw that the raider was heading north. Ah,
yes! You were about to say she was heading directly for the convoy,
when you cut yourself off. Your radio? I shall have plenty of time to
use it later. Right now it amuses me to see the misery and the defeat
in your faces."
As the German stopped talking a strange sensation began to ripple
through Dave. It was as though something were definitely wrong with the
picture. It was as though von Khole were hesitating for some mysterious
reason. As though he wanted to act but couldn't make up his mind
whether to act or not. Dave knew that the Nazi intended to rid himself
of them both. He was positive that von Khole had a bullet for each of
them in that Luger held steady in his hand. Yet the man seemed in no
hurry to shoot. Instead he was waiting. Why? Waiting for what? Dave
stared hard at the Nazi's face but there was absolutely nothing there
to give him an inkling of what was going on in the brain behind it.
Suddenly Dave thought of the two shots that had been fired in the dark
back at the Lands End Base. Two shots that sounded as though they had
come from a rifle fitted with a silencer. Had that been the case, or
had shooting across water given him that impression? And, also, he and
Freddy had found the hull door of the Catalina swung wide open. A split
second later he was sure he knew the truth about that incident.
"You fired those shots at us from the mooring basin!" he blurted out.
"You were already in this flying boat, and you fired from inside
through the open hull door so that the flash would not be seen ashore!"
"Splendid, splendid!" von Khole cried. Then with an annoyed toss of
his head, "And I am ashamed of myself. I am a perfect shot, but I was
not last night. I missed you both completely. However, the darkness
made accurate shooting impossible. Too bad I missed. It would have been
quite a shock for your wonderful Air Marshal Manners to find you two
dead, and this Catalina flying boat stolen _anyway_!"
"You certainly don't like that guy, do you?" Dave said to keep the Nazi
talking.
"The swine has caused me much trouble!" von Khole bit off savagely.
"But I will have plenty of time to deal with him when this little
affair is finished."