Dave Dawson with the R.A.F.

  CHAPTER THIRTEEN

  _Sixteen Rue Chartres_

  As Dave Dawson strutted German officer style along the sidewalk of RueChartres, he had the crazy feeling that he was ten feet tall, twice aswide, and was wearing a uniform made out of striped red and white silk,with a lamp shade for a hat. There were several German soldiers andcivilians wandering along the same street, and to tell the truth, not asingle person glanced his way. True, the soldiers saluted him as hepassed, but they did so automatically with their thoughts obviously onother things. But to Dave's pounding heart, and his tightly drawnnerves, it was as though he were the most conspicuous thing in allBelgium. It made him angry to think such silly thoughts, but thatdidn't help him any. Every step he took was another moment of tinglingtension. And when finally he came abreast of Number Sixteen, his throatwas dry as a bone, and little beads of nervous sweat were trickling downhis spine.

  He paused there and bent over, supposedly to adjust the lacings of hisGerman boots. Instead, though, he took advantage of the moment to glancekeen-eyed about to see if anybody was watching him, or if by chanceanybody was trailing along behind him. There was not a single sign ofanything like that, however. The military and civilian population ofthat part of Antwerp was going about its business, and leaving one DaveDawson strictly alone.

  Presently he straightened up, got a firm hold on his jumping nerves, andboldly pushed in through the ancient door of Number Sixteen. A belltinkled somewhere as he stepped inside. Its sound was echoed by thepounding of his heart, but he only clamped down harder on his nerves. Heclosed the door behind him and looked around. A gasp of amazement almostspilled off his lips. In all his life he had never seen such a mixed upconglomeration of junk. There wasn't even a suggestion of order aboutthe room. Coils of rope, parts of marine engines, navigation charts,books, boxes, dirty sea clothes, and goodness knows what were scatteredover the place. Shelves along the walls were broken and sagging, theircontents long since dumped down onto the floor.

  A single oil lamp with a smoke-smudged shade was on a table with onlythree legs. In a chair by the table sat an old man in the mostdisreputable-looking clothes possible. His face was thin and thefeatures so pointed as to give the whole a hatchet appearance. Shaggywhite hair adorned his head, and a dirty grey beard reached down to thesecond button of the torn shirt he wore. He held a length of rope in hisgnarled bony hands, and had obviously been working on it with a splicingspike when Dave entered. Right now he was staring up at Dave out of thebrightest, most piercing set of eyes the young R.A.F. pilot had everlooked into in all his life. They were like X-ray eyes that could lookright through your brain and count the hairs on the back of your headfrom a distance of twenty feet.

  For a brief instant the two of them locked glances. Then the old mandropped his rope and splicing spike and got to his feet.

  "Good morning, _Herr Leutnant_," he said in flawless German. "Is theresomething I can do for you this morning?"

  Before Dave could reply, a curtain over an opening at the rear of thedisordered room was pushed aside, and an old woman, perhaps even moreaged than the man, stepped through. Her eyes flew to Dave's uniform, andthe corners of her thin mouth tightened, and stark fear flickered in hereyes.

  That sudden look of stark fear in the old woman's eyes made Dave's heartleap with hope. He felt sure that this old man was the real PierreDeschaud. He was sure of it because the old woman's flash of suddenterror told him she was afraid that, as a Nazi officer, he had comethere to do them harm--perhaps to take her husband away. He did not jumpat that conclusion, however. He was still on mighty ticklish ground. Hehad to be sure, _really_ sure. He took his eyes off the woman and lookedagain at the man.

  "I was with a friend," he said stiffly. "We became separated and I amnow hunting him. I was wondering if he came in here."

  "No one ever comes in here," the old man said quietly, and kept hisburning gaze fixed on Dave's face. "Perhaps if you could describe yourfriend, _Herr Leutnant_, I will recognize him if he should come in."

  Dave shrugged as though he didn't think that very important, but it wassimply a movement to cover up the tremendous quiver of excitement thatrippled through his body. The moment of moments was now at hand!

  "I will probably find him some place outside," he said, and started toturn. "We are leaving soon for Houyet, and I would not like him to beleft behind."

  Dave glanced at the old man as he spoke the secret code word, but therewas not so much as a flicker of the eyelids. Bitter disappointment and atingling sense of fear crept into Dave's heart. He hesitated a briefinstant and then continued turning toward the door. In fact, he hadtaken a couple of steps when the old man's quiet voice stopped him.

  "I am sorry you have lost your comrade, _Herr Leutnant_," he said. "Itis not likely that he will come into a place such as this. I havenothing to sell but my humble services. I was a marine engineer in myday, but that was long ago. You are interested in boats, _HerrLeutnant_?"

  Something caused Dave to stop and turn around.

  "I have done a little sailing," he said.

  "And so have I, but many years ago," the old man said with a sigh. "ButI did my design work on big boats. My masterpiece was the Fraser. Shewas built right here in Antwerp for an American company. She wasbeautiful."

  Fraser! Colonel Fraser! The mention of that name wiped the last ofDave's fears away. His eyes widened with joy, and he started to open hismouth, but a sudden fierce warning look leaped into the eyes of the oldman.

  "I have never heard of that boat," Dave said. "For me, the mostbeautiful boats are built in Germany."

  "Ah, yes, they build beautiful boats, indeed, in Germany," the aged onesaid, and started fishing around in the drawer of the table next to him."The Fraser, of course, was not a big boat like the Bremen or theEuropa. But she was a lovely boat. I think I have a picture of her someplace. You would please me by looking at it, _Herr Leutnant_. You canspare the time?"

  As the old fellow spoke, he shot a quick meaningful glance at Dave. Theyoung R.A.F. ace caught the meaning and shrugged.

  "I have a moment to spare," he grunted. "Show me the picture."

  "Ah, here it is!" the old fellow said triumphantly, and pulled somethingfrom out of the table drawer. "Here, you can see better under the light.This is not a very good picture, but it will give you an idea of whatthe Fraser looked like."

  As the old man spoke, he beckoned Dave over to the table and blew somedust from an old photograph he had taken from the drawer. Dave steppedover and looked down at the picture. It was one of a single funnel cargosteamer, and not a very trim-looking vessel, at that. It was quite shortand stubby-looking, and seemed to be riding exceeding high in the water.

  "Is she not a beauty, _Herr Leutnant_?" the old man said eagerly, andthen suddenly slid a piece of paper over the lower half of thephotograph. "She was four thousand tons, and built sturdy as a rock. Imyself was aboard on her maiden cruise."

  The old man continued talking about the maiden cruise of thefunny-looking ship, but Dave wasn't listening. Every ounce of hisattention was focussed on the old man's right hand. He held a stubbypencil in his hand and was scribbling on the sheet of paper he hadplaced over the lower half of the photo which he held in his left hand.Dave's brain was on fire with excitement by the time the man finallyfinished and he was able to read the message. The message read:

  "Take care! Their eyes and ears are all about. One mile west along the river, there is an old coaling wharf. Just beyond is an old river boat half under water. The bow is above water, and there is a hole on the port side. One can wade out to the hole. Meet me inside that hole at nine tonight. Now ask questions about this picture, and then leave this place."

  Dave was forced to steel himself for a second or two to make sure hewould keep the wild excitement out of his voice. He reached out afinger and pointed at the bow.

  "That doesn't look right," he said. "It seems to ride too high. It doesnot look to me like a comfortable boat in a heavy sea."
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  As Dave spoke, he quickly took the stubby pencil from the old man'shand, and wrote, "There are two of us," on the slip of paper. The oldman nodded, glanced up at him and nodded again.

  "Ah, that proves you know about boats, _Herr Leutnant_!" he cried, andnodded some more. "You are quite right. She was not a very good sea boatat first. We had to make some changes. Afterwards she could ride out anykind of a gale. But perhaps this old man is boring you. So I will stop.I hope you find your comrade, _Herr Leutnant_."

  Dave straightened up and went through the motions of smoothing out hisuniform.

  "He is probably about some place," he grunted, and turned toward thedoor. Then, on sudden thought, he kicked aside a coil of greasy rope,and turned his head toward the old man. "You have a dirty place here,old man," he said. "You had better do something about it, or you mayget into trouble."

  As the old man mumbled apologies and promises, Dave stepped outside andslammed the door behind him. Hot and cold chills were taking turnsracing up and down his spine. His first impulse was to take to his heelsand race madly back to Freddy with the news. He curbed the impulse,though, and started along the street at an even gait. So Pierre Deschaud_was_ alive? He and Freddy were to meet him in secret at nine o'clockthat night! What would Deschaud tell them? Did he really haveinformation about a Nazi attempt to invade England? Colonel Fraser hadsaid that he was willing to stake his life that Deschaud knew, but thatwasn't proof that Deschaud actually did know. And it was strange, thatnote Deschaud had written--and, by the way, had made disappear as if bymagic as Dave had left. Deschaud had warned him that Nazi ears and eyeswere all about. Where? There in Deschaud's place? But that was a crazythought. Yet he had had the feeling that Deschaud had been scared stiffthat he would say something that would be a tip-off to anybody listeningnear. But could there be Nazi agents in that place?

  Dave shivered at the thought and was forced to swallow hard a couple oftimes. Before he could stop himself, he turned his head and took a quickglance back over his shoulder. However, there still wasn't a single signof anybody following him. Just the same he increased his pace slightly.A few minutes more and he had crawled and scrambled over the piles ofrubble in the alley next to the deserted house where Freddy was waiting,and was walking into the room.

  The grin on his face faded, and the words rising to his tongue cloggedin his throat. Freddy Farmer wasn't there. The room was completelydeserted. Panic gripped Dave, and his first thought was to spin aroundand beat a quick retreat. Somebody had found out their hiding place.Somebody had sneaked up and grabbed Freddy while he was talking withPierre Deschaud. And he had walked right back into the trap.

  Cold sweat broke out all over his body. His heart became a chunk of icethat slid down toward his boots. His mouth and throat went bone dry andit was desperately hard to breath. Like a man struck dumb, he stoodthere, unable to move, unable to decide whether to stay or flee. Thensuddenly sounds on the other side of the door he had just closed brokethe spell. They were the sounds of footsteps. He took one wild look atthe windows and saw that escape was impossible in that direction. Theroom was rather high above the ground. He whirled around and crouched,fists clenched, and his body tensed to spring forward. Come what may, hewasn't going to be taken without a fight, even though he was unarmed.

  An instant later the door was opened and Freddy Farmer stepped into theroom. He stopped short and gaped pop-eyed at Dave.

  "Good grief, Dave!" he gasped. "Are you ill? What a face!"

  Dave released air from his lungs in a whistling sound and straightenedup slowly. Reaction set in at once, and his legs felt so rubbery he hadto put a hand against the wall for support.

  "Ill?" he choked out. "Man, oh, man! I'm practically dead from frightright this minute. Gosh, Freddy, where've you been? Jeepers! Did I get abelt when I came back here and found you gone! I thought the Nazis hadnabbed you."

  Freddy started to laugh, then instantly cut it off short as he saw thelook on Dave's face.

  "I say, I'm terribly sorry, Dave," he said. "I should have thought ofthat, but it completely skipped my mind. To tell you the truth, I got tothinking after you left, about my clothes. I can't go out in them, and Icertainly can't stay here in this place forever. So I got to thinkingabout it. Well, you were lucky, so why shouldn't I be lucky, too?"

  Freddy stopped and held out a suit of clothes he had flung over his arm.The suit was covered with dust and even raised a cloud as Freddy movedhis arm. But it seemed to be in fairly good condition, even though itwasn't exactly 1940 style.

  "I stayed at the window until I saw you leave Number Sixteen," Freddysaid. "Then I did a bit of scrounging. The Kind Fairy must have beenright at my elbow, for in the third room I looked into I found these, inan old box in a closet. Some other clothes were there, too. These lookedthe best, though. So here we are. But never mind about me. What aboutDeschaud? You saw him? You talked with him?"

  Dave wiped sweat from his brow, heaved another long sigh of relief, andnodded.

  "Right," he said. "And it's Deschaud. I'm sure of that. We are to meethim at nine o'clock tonight. Now, cut the questions, pal. Just give me achance and I'll tell you everything. And while I'm talking, change yourclothes. Just looking at that peasant get-up gives me the shivers. Takeit off, quick, and ditch it."

  While Freddy changed into his new disguise, Dave told detail by detailabout his visit with Pierre Deschaud. Freddy didn't interrupt once, butthere was a worried look in his eyes by the time Dave had finished.

  "I guess it was Deschaud, all right," he said. "But I certainly don'tlike that 'eyes and ears about' stuff. Do you think he meant the oldwoman with him?"

  "No," Dave said, and shook his head. "She was scared stiff when I walkedin. She stood where she could see him writing. And when I left there wasa look of hope, not fear, in her eyes. No, I'm positive that she's hiswife, or his sister, anyway."

  "Nine o'clock tonight, eh?" Freddy murmured as though to himself. "Andit isn't nine o'clock in the morning yet. What'll we do in themeantime? Just wait?"

  Dave gave him a scornful look.

  "Well, we could go call on the Nazi Commandant at the City Hall, and seehow he's getting along," he grunted. "I've got two better ideas,though."

  "They'd better be!" Freddy said, and gave him a dark scowl. "What twoideas?"

  Dave slipped his hand under his German officer's tunic.

  "First a bout with our emergency rations," he said. "My stomach's justabout decided my throat has been cut. After that, a few hours ofshut-eye. I've got a hunch that it won't hurt a bit to stock up on somesleep."

  Their glances met and stayed locked for a long minute. Neither spoke,because each knew what was in the other's mind. Nine o'clock that nightwas their Zero Hour. At nine that night they would learn what they hadcome through a hundred lurking dangers to find out. Would it be the end,or, as they both hoped and prayed, would it simply be a gloriousfulfillment of their mission?

  Suddenly Dave grinned and broke the tensed silence.

  "And there's another reason why I want some shut-eye, too," he said.

  "I don't like that grin," Freddy said cautiously. "But I'll bite. What?"

  "If my eyes are closed," Dave said, and backed away a couple of steps,"I won't be able to see that trick suit of clothes you swiped. Boy!Would your girl friend give you the gate if she saw you in that rig.Hot-diggity! Ain't you something the cat dragged in!"

  Freddy snorted, then leaned forward and sniffed loudly.

  "Why not be honest?" he asked. "That staff car and duffel bag story wasjust a fib, wasn't it? You really found that Nazi uniform in a garbagecan, didn't you?"