CHAPTER TWELVE

_Lightning Wings_

IN DUE TIME the ferry bomber flight circled the Air Base at Brownsville, and then dropped down one by one to land and trundle over to the hangar line to be taken over by the mechanics. The Fortress in which Dave and Freddy were passengers dropped down first. A crowd of officers and mechanics gathered about it instantly, for Major Hawks had radioed ahead. When Dave and Freddy climbed down they were the center of all eyes. It was obvious that Major Hawks had made more than just a cut and dried report.

No sooner were their feet on the ground than Colonel Bates, Commandant of the Base, stepped over to Dawson and saluted smartly.

“Congratulations, and thank you, Captain Dawson,” he said, and smiled. “Major Hawks gave me a full report, and--well, the whole Air Corps is grateful. That was a fine display of courage.”

“Thank you, sir,” Dave replied, blushing a little. “But as I told Major Hawks, my efforts would have been a waste of time if it hadn’t been for Lieutenant Kelley and Captain Farmer. They deserve as much praise as I do, and considerably more, I guess.”

“Well, it was a darn good job by everyone concerned,” the Base Commandant responded. “We surely can’t afford to lose a single ship through accident. And, by the way, just what caused the accident, anyway? You didn’t say in your radio report.”

Colonel Bates turned and spoke the last to Major Hawks, who had climbed down out of the Flying Fortress. The big bomber’s commander held out the flame-blackened length of pipe for the Colonel to see.

“This, sir,” he said. “Captain Farmer says it’s part of a melted pencil incendiary. I think he’s right. Looks like somebody didn’t want us to arrive here in one piece. I ordered the others to search their ships. They did, but didn’t find anything.”

“An acid bomb!” Colonel Bates breathed fiercely and bent over to inspect the short length of small pipe in Major Hawks’ hands. “Well, by George! What do you know about that? The war right in our laps! I guess they picked on just one ship, Major, so’s we’d think it was a short circuit, or something. Why, the black-hearted skunks. I wonder when it was put there?”

“It must have been at Albuquerque, sir,” Lieutenant Kelley spoke up. “It wasn’t there when we took off from Seattle. And Albuquerque was our next stop.”

“Well, I’ll make a report to Intelligence about this!” Colonel Bates said grimly. Then, smiling at Dawson, “But I guess you want to clean up a bit, don’t you, Captain? Your little adventure sort of mussed up your uniform a bit. And yours, too, Farmer. We’ll hunt up something for you to wear while the field cleaners fix up your uniforms. And is there anything else I can do for you, to show how grateful I am for your job?”

“Thanks, sir,” Dave said. “Farmer missed his lunch on account of the fire, so I know he’s starved. He has six meals a day, sir, you know. Doctor’s orders, I think he once said. But, seriously, I guess we all could do with a bite, if it wouldn’t be much trouble. And later--later, could Farmer and I have a word with you?”

“All the words you want, Captain,” Colonel Bates said lightly, but shot Dave a keen stare. “First, though, a little food all around. And if you can stand a Base Commandant eating with you, I think I’ll join the party. It’s for all the bomber crews, of course, Major Hawks.”

“I accept for all of them, Colonel,” Major Hawks said with a laugh. “Even if the others ate en route, it wasn’t more than just a light lunch. Thank you very much, sir.”

A little over an hour later the ferry bomber crews and their two distinguished passengers had eaten their fill. Inwardly Dave breathed a great sigh of relief when Colonel Bates pushed back his chair and stood up. Not that he hadn’t enjoyed eating with the pilots and bomber crews. It was simply that he and Freddy were the two heroes of the day, and the other bomber members made them repeat their stories over and over again. Of course that led to much talk about sabotage, and how the pencil incendiary had gotten in there in the first place? And particularly who could have done it?

Dave didn’t have a correct answer to the last, of course. But both Freddy and he certainly knew why. And to sit there and shake their heads and look as puzzled as the next man was the kind of an ordeal they didn’t want to go through every day, or every week, or month, for that matter.

Finally, though, Colonel Bates signalled that the meal was at an end by pushing back his chair and standing up. He glanced down the table at Freddy and Dave.

“And, now,” he said, “you two want to chat with me? Let’s get along to my office. Excuse us, Gentlemen.”

Everybody else rose and stood at attention while the Base Commandant led Dave and Freddy out of the mess. He went through the outer door and across one corner of the field toward his office. As he kept step with the senior officer Dave took a quick look at the planes lined up on the field. When he spotted a couple of Vultees a happy smile flitted across his lips. Freddy saw the sudden smile but didn’t say anything. He simply gave Dave a half angry frown and walked along.

When they were inside his office, Colonel Bates dropped into his desk chair, and waved a hand at a couple of other chairs.

“Sit down, you two,” he said. Then, giving Dave a keen look, he added, “I suppose it’s about that pencil incendiary business, isn’t it? I’ve had the feeling there was more you could tell me about it. Well, go ahead, because my curiosity is getting more altitude with every second.”

Dave hesitated, looked at Freddy for a moment, and thought he read complete agreement in his pal’s eyes.

“Well, there isn’t much else we really can tell you, sir,” he said. “Except that the thing was unquestionably slipped aboard at Albuquerque. It was, of course, after the bombers had been there awhile, and Farmer and I had been assigned to Major Hawks’ plane.”

“I see,” Colonel Bates said quietly, when Dave paused for breath. “Go on. You have an idea who did it? And of course, you know _why_, don’t you?”

“I don’t know who, and neither does Farmer, sir,” Dave replied. “But we do know why. Frankly, it was to stop us from arriving here. Because of the request I wish to make, sir, I think Farmer and I should admit to you that we are on an Intelligence job. The details, of course, we can’t reveal. But--well, things are getting just a bit too hot for comfort, and--”

Dave hesitated and shot a quick side glance at Freddy. But the English youth wasn’t looking at him. He was staring at the opposite wall, and his youthful face was a complete blank.

“And what, Dawson?” Colonel Bates encouraged. “Let’s have it.”

“I would like to borrow one of your Vultees out there for a return flight to Albuquerque,” Dave finally said. “If you wish authority for the request, sir, you can radio Colonel Welsh at the Frisco Air Base.”

“I don’t need to radio Colonel Welsh,” Colonel Bates said with a faint smile. “You see--I’ve already received my orders, while you were in the air on the way down from Albuquerque. Oh, don’t look so alarmed, Dawson. My orders were simply to grant any request you put to me. On my honor, I haven’t the faintest idea why you are--were on your way to the Canal Zone by ferry bomber. But, well--well, you two have a bit of a reputation, you know.”

“Only too well, sir,” Dave said with a groan. “Maybe we’ve served our usefulness in Intelligence work! We don’t seem to be recognized any more than Santa Claus would be. Maybe we’d better wear false beards and wigs, or something.”

“Oh, I wouldn’t say it was as bad as that yet,” the Base Commandant said with a laugh. “I wouldn’t say that anybody here at the Base connects your arrival here with Intelligence work. It’s simply that when I received Colonel Welsh’s code message I put two and two together, and got four. So you want to return to Albuquerque, huh?”

“Yes, sir,” Dave said, and ignored the searching gaze Freddy Farmer was now giving him. “Not right at this minute, of course. An hour or two before midnight, tonight, will be plenty of time. But we do wish to return.”

“Naturally your wish must be granted,” the senior officer said, and grinned. “I don’t suppose you could give me a reason, eh? Something happened en route that gave you ideas about Albuquerque?”

Dave grinned at him, and nodded.

“Something did happen en route, sir,” he said. “That pencil incendiary fire. And it did give me ideas. I’m sorry, sir, but that’s as far as I’d care to go.”

“Then it’ll have to be far enough for me, I guess,” the Base Commandant said with a sigh of disappointment. “A little before midnight, eh? Okay, then. The Vultee will be all gassed and ready for you then. One more question, though--that is, if you’d care to answer it. Was this the first attempt made on your lives?”

“It was the third,” Dave said quietly. Then he added, “And I’m hoping there won’t be a fourth before we leave.”

Colonel Bates’ eyes popped, and he whistled softly.

“The _third_?” he echoed in amazement. “Well, that shows that the third time isn’t a sure thing, as the saying goes. And as regards there being a fourth time here at Brownsville--”

The Base Commandant paused. A thin smile touched his lips, but his eyes were as hard and cold as chiseled ice.

“Then they’ll get me, too,” he said presently, “whoever they are, because I’m not going to leave you two for an instant until you’re off the ground and in the air, and on your way north.”

“Thanks for the protection, sir,” Dave said with a short laugh. “But I don’t look for, or expect any trouble here. I think our rat friends were counting on that bomber fire being a sure thing.”

“Quite.” Freddy Farmer nodded for emphasis. “Good grief, how close it came to being just that! Every time I see a flare locker after this I’m sure I’ll break out in a sweat. But I agree with Dave, sir. I don’t think we’ll have any trouble here. I certainly hope not.”

The Base Commandant chuckled and made a little gesture.

“Well, it’s been pretty dead around here,” he said almost wistfully. “I think we could do with a little excitement, provided, of course, that nobody on our side gets hurt. But just the same, I’m going to stick close to you two. How about a look around the field as a starter? We’ve got some pretty interesting stuff here.”

“I’d like that very much, sir,” Dave said eagerly. “I saw that you have quite a few of the new types.”

“Yes,” Freddy echoed, his face brightening. “I’d jolly well like to look around a bit.”

“Then what are we waiting for?” Colonel Bates grinned, and got to his feet. “Let’s go!”

Then began a most pleasant afternoon for the two young air aces. They saw everything there was to see at the Brownsville Base, and it was all so terribly interesting that they almost forgot the ever present mystery menace that hung over them like a dark cloud. But not quite. Every so often, in a flash of memory, stark reality would return to one or the other of them, and they would have to try hard not to let it show in their faces.

Just before evening mess the six ferry bombers took off on the last lap of their journey to the bomber base in the Canal Zone. Freddy watched them with a faint sadness in his eyes, and a sort of empty, hollow feeling inside of him. He constantly shot sneak side glances at Dave, but there was nothing but a grin and a contented look on Dawson’s face. Each time Freddy would switch his gaze away, frown, and bite at his lower lip. Could it be that Dave--? Not once would he let himself finish the thought. It most certainly wasn’t a question of courage with Dave--that he was getting the wind up after so many escapes from death, and in such rapid succession. It was something else, and Freddy wished to high Heaven that Dave would please break down and let him in on his secret--if there was a secret.

When the last of the ferry bombers had lost itself in the growing dusk far to the south, Freddy half turned toward Dave, but didn’t look at him.

“Don’t you wish we were aboard one of those?” he murmured so nobody else could hear, “heading down toward the Canal Zone to learn what we can from Second Lieutenant Marble?”

Dave looked at him, and shrugged.

“Aboard one of those?” he echoed. “Nix! Once is enough for me. Too darn dangerous. Well, let’s go eat.”

Freddy Farmer’s jaw dropped, and a hurt look flooded into his eyes.

“Dave!” he began, and couldn’t go on.

Dawson just grinned at him, and then suddenly winked.

“Remember your stomach, little boy,” he chuckled a moment later. “It’s a long ride back to Albuquerque. Let’s go fill it up.”

At mess there was a lot of general talk, but very little of it came from Colonel Bates’ lips. Dave caught him glancing his way several times, and there was a look of puzzled disapproval in the Base Commandant’s eyes. Dave had a pretty fair hunch that the Colonel had heard him make that crack to Freddy about it being too darn dangerous in bombers. Oh well, it didn’t matter what anybody thought. Yet, on the contrary, it mattered a lot. Yes! Just so long as they thought the things he hoped they would think.

Eventually the time for Dave and Freddy to take off rolled around. Colonel Bates and a couple of the other officers walked out with them to where the Vultee was waiting. But when Dave reached it he didn’t climb up into the pit. Instead he walked deliberately to the _next_ Vultee in line, and climbed aboard it. Colonel Bates stopped dead in his tracks, and gaped.

“But this is your plane, Dawson,” he said, and pointed to the first Vultee.

“I know, sir,” Dave said easily, and motioned to Freddy to leg in back. “But I suddenly want to take this one. It’s all right, isn’t it, sir?”

The Base Commandant gulped, looked angry for a moment, and then shrugged.

“I guess it is,” he said. “They’re both all set for flight. Yes, go ahead and take it, if it makes you feel any better.”

“It does, and thanks, sir,” Dave said, and jabbed the starter button. After he got the Wright Cyclone kicking over, and throttled down to warm up revs, he looked at the Base Commandant and smiled again. “Thanks for everything, sir!” he called out. “Is there anything I can do at Albuquerque for you?”

“Nothing that I can think of,” Colonel Bates replied dryly. “Just tell them we can handle all the ferry planes they send along. And we hope they’ll send along a lot.”

“I’ll tell them that, sir,” Dave said. Then, twisting around in the pit, he called out, “All set, Freddy? All strapped in, and got your hot water bottle handy?”

“Quite!” the English youth replied in a flat tone. “And I don’t think _I_ need a hot water bottle!”

Dave kept the grin on his face, but there was suddenly a tiny ache in his heart. That last from Freddy had hit just a trifle below the belt. Guess Freddy was getting ideas that maybe he was losing his grip. Well--what else should he think? Dave shook such thoughts from his head, and reached for the throttle.

“All aboard for Albuquerque!” he shouted, and raised a hand to his helmet in salute to Colonel Bates and his officers. “Thanks again for everything, and I hope we come through here again some day.”

Without waiting to see if his salute was returned, or to give anybody a chance to say anything, Dave eased the throttle open and sent the Vultee rolling out to the head end of the lighted runway. He swung around into the wind, got the green light from the signal tower, and fed the Cyclone all the high test hop she could take. As though it were something human, and desperately eager to get into the air, the Vultee streaked forward and picked up more and more speed with every revolution of its steel-bladed prop. Presently Dave lifted it clear, got the wheels up, and the nose pointed toward the crystal-dotted night sky over Texas. He kept on going up until he was a good seventeen thousand above the earth. Then he leveled off and put the plane on a crow flight course for Albuquerque.

He relaxed a bit in the seat, letting the ship fly herself, and sort of waited for words to come from Freddy Farmer’s lips. But the English born air ace said nothing. He sat slumped down in his seat, staring at the vast array of twinkling stars overhead. Dave shrugged, grinned in the glow of his instrument panel light, and let the plane fly onward toward Albuquerque.

That is, he flew toward Albuquerque for about ten minutes; then he touched the stick and rudder pedal and veered way around until the Vultee was heading due east. For a second Freddy Farmer didn’t notice the abrupt change of course. But when he did he sat up straight, leaned forward a bit and rapped Dave on the shoulder.

“Do you know you’re ninety degrees off your course?” he called out.

“No I’m not!” Dave called back, only half turning his head. “I’m right on it, pal. Right on the old beam!”

“Heading due east?” Freddy cried. “Just where in the world do you think Albuquerque is? Out in the Gulf of Mexico?”

“Albuquerque?” Dave echoed, thoroughly enjoying himself. “Who the thunder said anything about Albuquerque? I didn’t have any ideas about going to Albuquerque!”

Dave waited for what he fully expected. And he wasn’t disappointed. Suddenly both of Freddy’s hands were about his neck, and there was just a suggestion of pressure in the English youth’s fingers.

“Blast you, you blighter!” Freddy grated. “And you had us all thinking--You really mean--”

“What else?” Dave chuckled, and lightly knocked Freddy’s hands away. “Not that I don’t trust you, pal. I just thought it would be a good idea not to say anything to anybody. Albuquerque? Nuts! This train is an express for the Canal Zone. We’re due in in about eight hours. So lean back and enjoy yourself, apart from your navigation duties, of course. We’ve got plenty of gas to make it, but we’re not overflowing with it, so don’t kick your calculations around. You’ll find charts, and stuff, in that side pocket. I slipped them in there just after mess. I don’t think the Colonel will miss them. Not sore any more, are you, sweetheart?”

“I should be, but I’m not,” Freddy growled. “But I see your point. I guess it was the best idea to say nothing to no one. But why couldn’t we have gone by bomber, just the same?”

“Freddy, Freddy!” Dave groaned at him. “And you’re attached to Intelligence? I think I’m a little ashamed of you, my boy. Put on your thinking cap, and use some of that stuff you’ve got in that thick head of yours.”

“I already have!” Freddy replied with a faint laugh. “And I’m embarrassed for myself, no end. Of course! It was to throw everybody off the trail, eh? Particularly our rat friends?”

“Check,” Dave replied. “There seem to be too many of them, at too many different places. Maybe there wasn’t one of them at Brownsville. But there was no way for us to tell for sure. So the best thing to do was to play it safe, to get the word spread around that we were going back to Albuquerque.”

“And a double reason, that,” Freddy spoke up. “It will not only throw our unknown and unseen friends off the trail, but, no doubt, it will make them wonder just a bit if we have suddenly learned something quite definite about those goings on at Albuquerque.”

“That’s just the idea!” Dave said with a laugh. “Just one bright little guy, me, huh?”

“On occasion,” Freddy snapped. “Only on occasion. But I suppose you realized that our rat friends aren’t the only ones you’re going to upset?”

“I know,” Dave replied gravely. “But nothing can be done about it. When we don’t show up at Albuquerque there’ll be a lot of planes out looking for our crash. Hate to have all that gas and oil wasted. But our job is to get to the Canal Zone, and get there in shape to start swinging at this confounded mystery with both fists. Gosh! I sure hope and pray it doesn’t turn out that we might just as well have gone back to Albuquerque.”

“Perish the thought!” Freddy Farmer groaned. “Don’t even think of it. But you can start bearing south now. We’re well east of Brownsville, and they can’t hear our engine. Canal Zone! Here we come, and jolly well keen to make the best of things, and win through in pukka style.”

“And you can say that again!” Dave breathed fervently, and banked the Vultee around until it was headed south and slipping out over the night-darkened waters of the Gulf of Mexico.