Dave Dawson at Casablanca Part 13

"Naturally," the colonel replied. "Just about the best in the n.a.z.is'

gang. Colonel Baron Franz von Steuben is his name. Or was. Frankly, we've been after him for a long time. The world is well rid of his kind.

What's the matter, Dawson?"

"Major Parker, sir," Dawson replied, and reddened slightly. "I hope he didn't think that I--"

"Not a bit of it!" the colonel interrupted quickly. "The major admires you for your hunch. He'd be the last one in the world who would want you to keep it to yourself. As a matter of fact, he suspected that you might feel embarra.s.sed and asked me to give you his compliments and to say he was sorry he couldn't go along with you."

"To where, sir?" Freddy Farmer fairly shouted. And then he blushed so flamingly that both Dawson and the colonel had to laugh.

"That's all right, Farmer," the Intelligence officer said, still chuckling. "Don't blame you at all. I can see it in both your faces that you're practically ready to blow up with questions. Well, things have happened that I didn't want to happen, so I guess it's time for me to do a little explaining. Do you remember that technical sergeant in the hangar at Bolling Field?"

The two air aces nodded.

"He's dead," Colonel Welsh stated grimly. "He, too, was a n.a.z.i spy. And working right under my very nose, which doesn't make _me_ feel very proud. Shortly after your take-off, one of the mechanics who helped to roll out your plane came to me with the information that the technical sergeant had been standing right outside that office while I was giving you your instructions. I can tell you that that was the closest I ever came to having a case of heart failure. I got to work at once checking up on that technical sergeant. I won't bother you with the details, but we caught him cold. Complete with a powerful short-wave sending set, and all the rest of it. That was _after_ he had had time to do his dirty work, _if any_. I know, now, what that dirty work was, of course. Your experiences, and Major Parker's, made the picture clear. He simply flashed word to other agents to get you two by hook or by crook. He knew your course, and he knew what you carried, though I'm still positive that he didn't know the contents of those sealed envelopes.

"Anyway, word was flashed along the network of n.a.z.i spies on this side of the Atlantic and to that U-boat lurking in the Caribbean. Heavens!

That was a daring stunt those devils tried."

"I'm still shaking at how close it came to being successful!" Dawson spoke up in a strained voice as the colonel paused.

"Amen, and let's not think of that any more," the Intelligence officer added almost fervently. "As soon as I learned the truth, I flashed you a message to halt the flight and wait for me. I was too late at Puerto Rico. I also took off in this plane at once to get down here and contact you. I stopped at Puerto Rico, and Miami, too, and collected the two sealed envelopes you had already delivered. Then I came on here and found out that you two had used your heads. Just in time, too, thank goodness. That you beat Colonel Baron Franz von Steuben to the punch is something you can congratulate yourselves on for the rest of your lives.

If I had even dreamed that devil was down here, I would have had nineteen different kinds of cat fits. But all's well that ends well.

And, although we've got to change our plans, we're still a couple of jumps up on the n.a.z.is."

Colonel Welsh paused for breath and to take out his handkerchief and wipe imaginary beads of sweat from his forehead. Both Dawson and Farmer sat on the edges of their seats waiting for him to continue, but after a moment or two of silence Dawson couldn't stand it any longer.

"Can't you tell us a little about all this, Colonel? Just a little that might help us--well, in case we got into another jam? Or are we on our way back to Was.h.i.+ngton now? Is the job finished as far as Freddy and I are concerned?"

"No, we are not heading back to Was.h.i.+ngton," Colonel Welsh answered quietly. "As for you and Farmer, the job is just beginning. Well, you've earned the right to know. Since I was going to explain at Natal anyway, I might as well explain now. You recall all that F.B.I. business in New York? Remember my telling you of that list of names turned over to the F.B.I. for checking?"

"Could we forget, sir?" Dawson chuckled. "Freddy and I have been going nuts trying to add two and two. We got a zero every time, and I don't mean a j.a.p Zero, either."

"Well, all that was simply a check and double-check, you might say,"

Colonel Welsh said as his face became grave. "Every name on that approved list was to be connected in some way with--"

The colonel paused and ran his tongue across his lower lip.

"Every man on that list," he began again, "is to have something to do with a proposed trip by President Roosevelt to a war conference with Prime Minister Winston Churchill at Casablanca in Morocco, North Africa!"

A moment of silence hung over the trio as the colonel finished speaking.

Then Dawson gave a little laugh and looked at Freddy Farmer. "Pick up the marbles, Master Mind!" he said. "Pick them all up. You win!"

CHAPTER ELEVEN

_Midnight Raider_

"What?" Colonel Welsh exploded as he looked from Dawson to Farmer, and back again. "What's this?"

"Farmer, sir," Dave explained. "We made about six million guesses apiece as to what this was all about. One of his was that the President was going to North Africa, or beyond, for a conference with Prime Minister Churchill and Stalin."

"n.o.body heard you make that guess, did they?" the colonel asked, tight-lipped, as he fixed his eyes on young Farmer.

"No, sir!" the English youth replied. "n.o.body."

"He's right, sir," Dawson spoke up quickly. "I remember when he made that guess he spoke so low I could hardly hear him, and I was lying right next to him. In case you're wondering, Colonel, it wasn't until we were on our way back to the base that Colonel Baron von Steuben slugged us. So it's certain he didn't hear Freddy."

"Yes, of course you're right," the colonel said, and smiled at Farmer.

"So don't feel bad. It just gave me a start that you had hit the nail on the head. You were partly wrong, though. Joseph Stalin will not be among those present this time."

"And those envelopes, sir?" Dawson asked when the colonel fell silent and stared out the compartment window at the darkness of night sweeping by. "They are still very hush-hush stuff, as far as we're concerned?

Could I ask if they contained information about the President's trip?"

The senior officer turned from the window and looked straight at him.

"You can, and I'll tell you," he said. "Each envelope contained the route the President's plane is to fly, the exact time schedule, and the codes to be used in case the aircraft runs into trouble, or danger, and all that sort of thing. In short, as I told you in Was.h.i.+ngton, the n.a.z.is would give almost anything to get hold of one of those sealed envelopes.

With that information in their possession, they could have delivered a terrible blow to the United Nations. Think of it! The death of the President and members of the American High Command! It would be like setting our war effort back to the day of Pearl Harbor!"

The horrible thought made Dawson s.h.i.+ver in spite of himself, and he thanked G.o.d that Freddy and he had destroyed their letters before von Steuben had smashed them both to the ground. The President's death would have been loss enough, but to have added the loss of the great leaders of our military, naval, and air forces would have been world shaking indeed.

"And now, sir?" Dawson asked after several moments of silence. "Now another plan is to be carried out?"

Colonel Welsh didn't answer for a moment. He stared down at his two hands folded on the edge of the little table, and the expression on his thin face seemed to show a reluctance to answer that question.

Presently, though, he lifted his head and looked straight at the two youthful air aces.

"We are now headed for Casablanca," he began quietly. "With the extra tanks of fuel we have aboard, we can make it easily. If we reach Casablanca without any trouble, I will be as sure as a man can be that the enemy has not learned anything of the President's plan to fly there himself. If we don't--"

The Chief of all U. S. Intelligence let the rest trail off into thin air and made a little gesture with one hand. Dawson frowned and looked at him earnestly.

"I don't think I get what you mean, sir," he said slowly.

"And neither do I, sir," Freddy Farmer spoke up.

For a moment the colonel held his lips pressed together in a thin, grim line, and a hard light glittered in his eyes.

"In a thing like this," he said presently, "you can't afford to take _any_ chances. You've got to be dead sure; as dead sure of everything as it is humanly possible to be, from start to finish. I had utmost confidence in your making the complete flight to Natal. And the way you two did handle yourselves, when the odds were actually all against you, proves that the confidence I had in you was justified. But in everything there is ever present the little item of fate. A tiny little something that is beyond man's power to see in advance, or even to counteract when it happens. For example, that technical sergeant at Bolling Field. I would have staked my life on that man. But, as things turned out, I was completely mistaken. And so with you two, or with each of my agents at the stops you were to make. Because of something you couldn't guard against, or prevent before death came to you, the contents of one of those sealed envelopes might have fallen into enemy hands. What I mean is, one of the envelopes might have been opened, the contents read, and then the envelopes resealed."

"But, Colonel," Dawson protested, "one of us would--"

"I know, I know," the colonel said, stopping him with a gesture of his hand. "But look at it this way. Suppose von Steuben had knocked you both out while you still had the envelopes? Suppose he had opened one, read its contents, and resealed it so that you'd never have guessed? What then? When you came to and found you still had the envelopes, you'd never dream that they had been touched."

"But I'd be plenty suspicious, sir!" Dawson interrupted. "I'd--"

"Would you?" the colonel's quiet but firm voice stopped him again. "But von Steuben was no fool! What if he stole your money and Farmer's money, too? What then?"