Freddy had been holding his breath while he stared at the map chart, and
when he let it out it was close to the whistle of a locomotive.
“Good grief, you’re right, of course, Dave!” he cried. “If he mentioned
the words 'Cays,’ we must have missed it completely. But I’ll swear I
didn’t hear any word that sounded like cays, did you?”
“No, he didn’t speak it,” Dave replied with a vigorous shake of his
head. “He just said 'southern Albuquerques.’ And I’ll eat my shirt if
those southernmost cays there aren’t what he was trying to get over to
us.”
“I don’t think you’ll have to have that kind of a meal,” the English
youth said with a grin. “I’m sure you’re right. But what about it? Those
cays are quite a bit in back of us now. Think we should turn around and
have a look?”
Dave glanced at the fuel gauges before he replied. He shook his head.
“No, I don’t think we’d better, Freddy,” he said. “It would mean shaving
our gas supply too close for comfort. Now that we feel sure we’ve got
our teeth into something, the last thing we want to do is sit down in
the middle of the Caribbean. Nope! I think our best bet is to carry on
to Colon and contact Second Lieutenant Marble. There’s just a chance he
might give us a whole lot of dope on this. He--Now what’s the matter?”
Freddy was scowling out across the air space and absently shaking his
head.
“Nothing, probably,” he said eventually. “But about this Marble--I’m
afraid I have a very definite opinion about him, Dave. Call it a hunch,
if you like.”
“I like,” Dave grunted. “So what’s the hunch? Tell me.”
“That Second Lieutenant Marble is going to turn out an awful big
disappointment to us,” the English youth said. “I can’t suppress the
feeling that we won’t learn a single thing from him. Why I feel this
way, I haven’t the faintest idea. But I do, just the same.”
“Well, now that we’re letting down our hair, I might as well admit that
I’m clamping down on my own hopes,” Dave said. “I figure it this way. If
Marble was working hand in glove with Tracey on this business, I think
Marble would have been sent north to contact Colonel Welsh, and not
Tracey. If the thing was red hot, I can’t see him leaving the scene of
action. But--but, darn it, maybe I’m just talking through my hat. Maybe
this Tracey business and the southern Albuquerque Cays doesn’t add up to
a single thing of importance.”
“Maybe it doesn’t,” Freddy grunted with a shrug. “Just the same, I think
I’d be willing to bet my life that it does. Blast it, Dave! Too many
attempts to wash us out were made, not to have this thing be at white
heat.”
“Yes,” Dave said with a nod. “You’ve got something there, pal. You
definitely have. Well, we shall see what we shall see. Right now we’re
getting close to the edge of the air patrol area of the Canal Zone. We
should be bumping into Army or Navy planes most any minute now.”
“Well, see that you don’t _actually_ bump into them,” Freddy added
grimly, and settled back in his seat.
It was just exactly eleven minutes later when two U.S. Naval Aviation
patrol amphibians came into Dave’s range of vision. He raised his hand
to attract Freddy’s attention and then pointed at the two craft off the
left wing and a few miles ahead.
“Yes, I saw them,” the English youth called out. “And as we’re arriving
down here unannounced, I hope those blighters don’t do anything serious
about it. I hope they don’t take us for a couple of Jap spies on our way
to take pictures of the Canal.”
“If they do, I’ll never forgive them!” Dave said with a laugh.
Just the same his eyes narrowed slightly as the two amphibians broke
wing tip formation and sheered away from each other so that they would
come up on the Vultee, one on either side. And his heart wasn’t exactly
beating peacefully in his breast, either. In fact, for a fleeting
instant he wondered whether he had been wise to make this sneak flight
down to the Canal Zone. Right! There was a very good chance that maybe
the gunners aboard those patrolling amphibians might have itching
trigger fingers.
So he decided to do something about it first. He banked the Vultee
sharply so that he presented a broadside view to the oncoming
amphibians, and also showed his Brownsville Base markings. Then he cut
around back to present the other side, and stuck his hand up through his
opened greenhouse and waved it in greeting.
Then followed a few anxious moments. The two amphibians came plowing
onward. They swept past the Vultee one on each side, and Dave could
almost feel the pairs of eyes aboard them boring out at him. He waved
his hand again, and then throttled to give the two Navy aircraft plenty
of time to bank around and come up on him from the rear.
“Unsociable blighters, aren’t they!” Freddy Farmer grunted. “Not a
return wave of greeting from either of them.”
“You can’t blame them,” Dave defended them. “They’re on a job that
doesn’t call for any kidding around. They have to play it close, and not
stick their necks out. But I guess we’ve passed muster. They’re just
going to ride herd on us the rest of the way to the Base.”
“Oh, quite!” Freddy growled. “And their guns aren’t pointed at the sun,
either. Gives a chap a creepy feeling, as though he weren’t to be
trusted.”
“There goes your conscience again!” Dawson laughed. “It’s your past
coming up to slap you in the face, my boy. But don’t worry! They’ll wait
until they get a good look at you on the ground, before they do anything
drastic. Of course, when they do--well, it’s your face. But I’ll put in
all the good words I can.”
“I just bet you would!” the English youth snapped. “Just enough to get
me shot at sunrise. And--I say! There’s the Canal. My word! Isn’t that a
wonderful sight? You can see both oceans at the same time.”
“Just the way Nature and Old Father Time arranged it so you could,” Dave
murmured, and feasted his eyes on one of the most fascinating and
thrilling air views in all the world: the Colon entrance of the Panama
Canal, and the rest of the Canal clear across the Isthmus to the Balboa
entrance on the Pacific side.
Some ten or fifteen minutes later he eased back the Vultee’s throttle
and sent the plane sliding down to a landing on the surface of the huge
Air Corps Base at Colon. The two amphibians circled about until his
wheels had touched, and then they veered off out over the Caribbean to
resume their watchful patrol. Freddy Farmer watched them go, and made a
face.
“Thanks awfully for the company!” he growled as Dave taxied over toward
the check-in office. “Delightful chaps, all of you.”
“Right!” Dave barked back at him. “Also, great guys with plenty of what
it takes. Give me trouble and I’ll welcome help from Navy Aviation boys
any day in the week. And so would you!”
“Of course; sorry,” Freddy said with a sheepish grin. “I just feel a bit
touchy today. After all, I’ve been subjected to your flying for hours,
you know. A frightful ordeal for even the most stout-hearted.”
“Coward!” Dave jeered at him. “You wouldn’t have dared say that when we
were in the air, would you? But it is nice to get back on solid ground
again. Sweet tripe! Look at the planes they’ve got down here! All types
from everything to everything, what I mean. Well, get your papers ready,
Freddy. They’ll want to know who we are, and why.”
That fact was indeed true. When Dave finally cut his engine and climbed
down to stretch his stiffened legs, there was a questioning-eyed group
of Air Corps high rankers gathered in front of the check-in office. Dave
waited for Freddy and then walked over and saluted the highest rank
smartly. He was a Brigadier General, and, of course, Dave knew that his
name was Kirwood.
“Captains Dawson and Farmer, arriving from Brownsville Base, sir,” Dave
said. “Here are our identification papers.”
“Glad to welcome you, Captains Dawson and Farmer,” the Brigadier said,
though there was a distinct lack of warmth in his voice. “I was informed
of your coming yesterday. I thought it was to be by ferry bomber,
though. The bombers landed at France Field hours ago.”
“We stayed over in Brownsville, sir,” Dave explained truthfully.
“Borrowed the Vultee.”
“I see,” the senior officer grunted, and took a moment out to examine
the papers the two air aces handed him. When he glanced up there was a
slightly brittle look in his eyes. “Down here on an inspection for
Washington H.Q., eh?” he said pointedly. “Well, Gentlemen, I hope you’ll
find everything in order.”
“I’m afraid you misunderstand, sir,” Dave said with a disarming smile.
“But I’ll admit it’s not stated clearly in our papers. It’s not exactly
an inspection trip, sir. A survey study, rather. There are plans of
making some changes in the attack bomber school of instruction. Frankly,
it’s our job to pick up all the pointers we can down here with active
service squadrons, and make our report direct to Washington. We are
simply seeking to learn a few things, sir.”
The Brigadier General’s suspicious stiffness floated away from his face.
He seemed greatly relieved when he smiled.
“Well, I’ll admit that’s better,” he said. “I was afraid that you were
just two more Staff officers to get in our hair, and then return to
Washington with all kinds of darn fool ideas and suggestions.”
“Well, frankly, sir,” Dave said with a laugh, “if we were we wouldn’t be
here. Both Farmer and myself would have chosen the guard house rather
than an assignment like that. We--something the matter, sir?”
The last was caused by the Base Commandant staring hard at Dave’s tunic
and then at Freddy’s. Presently he shook his head, and smiled.
“No, not a thing, Captain Dawson,” he said. “I just happened to notice
that you both wear the decoration ribbon of the Distinguished Flying
Cross. You saw service in the Royal Air Force?”[3]
“Yes, sir,” Dawson replied. “But of course, that was before Pearl
Harbor. Well, it’s good to be down here, sir. I hope you won’t treat us
any differently than you would any two replacements. After all, the main
job for all of us is to win the war.”
“Don’t worry,” the General chuckled. “I don’t plan to extend you two any
special privileges, though, of course, you are at liberty to come and go
as you please.”
“I say, thanks very much, sir,” Freddy Farmer spoke up for the first
time. Then, after a long moment’s hesitation, he suddenly blurted out,
“I believe, sir, there’s a chap here I know. He is Second Lieutenant
Marble. Does he happen to be about?”
A dark shadow passed across Brigadier General Kirwood’s face. A hard,
bitter look came into his eyes, and he unconsciously clenched both his
fists.
“He was, but no longer,” the senior officer said harshly. “Two days ago
he took off on a check flight alone. Something haywire with his engine,
I believe it was. We haven’t seen hide nor hair of him since. I am
afraid he crashed into the water out there, and sank with his plane.”
“Oh, I’m sorry, sir!” Dave murmured as the blood seemed to drain right
down out of his body. “I knew Marble slightly, myself. I’m sorry to hear
that he is missing. But--well, maybe he force landed some place and will
turn up alive and kicking in a day or so.”
“I sincerely hope that’s true,” the Brigadier said gravely. “But I doubt
it. Marble is the eighth pilot we’ve lost on solo flights in the last
month. It’s--it’s the most confounded thing I’ve ever come up against. I
can’t understand it.”
Neither Dave nor Freddy said anything. They simply looked at each other
silently. But the thought in their minds was identical. The most
promising clue of all had been snatched from their grasp. It was a
worthy foe that they battled, even though a dastardly one. A clever,
cunning, ruthless foe who always seemed to strike first, and strike
where it hurt the most.
-----
Footnote 3:
“_Dave Dawson with the R.A.F._”
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