CHAPTER SIXTEEN
_Satan is Gleeful_
The new dawn was a pale band of light that etched the eastern rim of theworld. The overcast layers that had filled the night sky were fastbreaking up and dissolving into nothingness. It was a sure sign that thenew day would be clear and bright. And as Dave Dawson stared up at theslowly changing sky, he tried to tell himself that that was a very goodsign, and that everything would turn out swell.
Yes, he was trying to tell himself and convince himself, but he didn'teven come close. The hand of invisible doom and disaster seemed to bepressing down hard on his heart. And countless demons of doubt and dreadand misgiving were dancing around in his brain. He shifted his positionon the floor and stared over at Freddy Farmer and Agent Jones, who satback-propped and silent against the room wall.
Room wall? Well, it could hardly be called that. The place where thethree of them were now was little more than a hundred year old cow-shedsunk half into the ground from changing weather, and just plain naturaldeterioration. It was a good half-mile from the spot where they had leftthe B-Twenty-Five bomber well camouflaged, covered by tree branches,bushes, and anything else that they could lay their hands on. To thistumbled down mess of rotted wood Senior Lieutenant Petrovski had ledthem as straight as though she were walking a piece of taut string.Then, she had _left_ them here well over two hours ago!
Yes! Left them to cool their heels, and bite their fingernails if theywished, while she went out into the darkness to scout about the villageof Urbakh, and find out just what the picture was. When she had toldthem of her intention, a whole batch of arguments had leaped to Dawson'slips, just as they had leaped to the lips of Freddy Farmer, and AgentJones. However, the Russian girl was quick to read what was in theirminds. And she asked them a question that put an end to all thearguments, and stopped them all cold.
"And who but I, who knows this area as a birthplace, should go out andfind what should be done next?" she had asked.
And _was_ there one of them better qualified to look over the lay of theland? There was not! However, Dawson had been tempted to insist that hego along with her, just as a matter of protection, so to speak. Butbefore he spoke he thought of three hundred and six Nazis who wouldn'thelp Hitler any more. So he didn't even speak.
However, the girl officer of Russian Intelligence had said that shewould return in a little over an hour. And it was now well over _two_hours since she had slipped away in the darkness like a greased shadow.That wasn't so good, and the demons of doubt and dread and misgivingwere loudly clamoring for recognition in Dawson's brain.
"I fancy we're all thinking the same thoughts, what?" Freddy Farmer'slow voice suddenly broke the silence. "And deucedly unpleasant thoughts,too."
"Check!" Dawson muttered grimly. "I'm afraid we were dopes to let her goout alone, even if she does know this neck of the woods, and how to takecare of any Nazis she bumps into."
"Oh, she'll be back," Agent Jones spoke up confidently. "The Russianwomen are every bit as good at waging war as the Russian men, you know."
"Sure!" Dawson grunted. "But a lot of Russian men soldiers have beenshot in this war. However--well, I guess the only thing we can do iswait some more."
"And if she doesn't show up at all?" Freddy Farmer put the obviousquestion. "Then what?"
"Then I haven't the faintest idea," Dawson replied with a heavy sigh."We'll just have to think up something if and when that time arrives."
"We could go to the Nazi Commandant hereabouts, and ask him if he knowswhere we could find Nikolsk," Agent Jones offered with a chuckle.
"Thanks for the attempt at humor!" Dawson groaned. "But I don't feellike laughing. I feel like--Hold it! You hear that, fellows?"
There was no need to ask the question. Even a deaf man could have heardthe thunderous roar of revving aircraft engines that suddenly blastedthe silence of dawn to the four winds. As though controlled by invisiblestrings, the three of them leaped to their feet and crowded over to theglassless window on the side of the room nearest the location of thesound. It did them little good, however. They simply found themselvesstaring out at a wall of trees that blocked off even the growing lightof dawn.
That didn't matter very much, though. And it certainly didn't causetheir hearts to thump less violently. The three of them knew at oncethat the roaring was from German aircraft engines. And the three of themalso realized at once that a Nazi flying field couldn't be more than afew hundred yards away!
"Sweet tripe!" Dawson gasped when he could catch his breath. "Did wepick a nice secluded out of the way spot, I don't think! That's a Naziflying field. And those engines sound like Messerschmitt One-Nines andOne-Tens to me!"
"Quite!" Agent Jones grunted, tight-lipped. "Certainly isn't a tankbase. A Jerry airdrome, without a doubt. And here come some of theblighters off on the early patrol!"
The last statement was quite true. Hardly had the words left AgentJones' lips when six Messerschmitt One-Tens went tearing by no more thanthree hundred feet over the spot where the three youths crouched hidden.A moment later a second flight of Nazi planes roared by toward thefront. And then a third flight, and a fourth. Dawson squinted up ateach flight, and saw that his guess had been correct. Half of the planeswere single-seater Messerschmitt One-Nine fighters. And the other halfwere Messerschmitt One-Tens. And when the last flight had passed over hesat down on the floor again, scowled darkly, and scratched his head.
"Just ducky, just dandy!" he groaned. "We hide our ship just a hop skipand a jump from a mess of high speed Nazi jobs. What a sweet hope we'dhave trying to take off. Or is there some way of getting a B-Twenty-Fiveinto the air without using the engines?"
"Lots of ways!" Freddy Farmer grunted unhappily. "But I can't seem tothink of one, right now."
"Well, keep thinking, pal!" Dawson told him. "Because I guess we'regoing to have to do just that. Darn it! Where is that Senior Lieutenant,anyway? She's one bright girl, and always has the right answer. Maybeshe'll have the right answer to this one."
"I hope!" Agent Jones echoed fervently.
"I fancy that makes two of us who hope, old thing," Freddy Farmersighed. "A bit strange, though, there was no sign of the airfield onthat mosaic map of Major Saratov's," he went on after a split secondpause. "Or could all of us have been so blind as to have missed it?"
"Hardly," Agent Jones said with a grim laugh. "If you ask me, we didn'tspot it because you wouldn't even spot it from the air. The Jerries, asyou well know, are absolutely top-hole in the art of camouflaging. Ithink that's the answer, frankly. A very cleverly camouflaged air basethat Soviet pilots haven't discovered yet."
"And we have--too late!" Dawson grunted. "Say, listen, you two. What saywe give the Senior Lieutenant twenty minutes more, and if she hasn'treturned by then we go take a look-see at that airfield, huh? To my wayof thinking, we can't count too much on the B-Twenty-Five, with a nestof Messerschmitts this close. Better have a look-see, anyway. Am Iright, or wrong?"
"Perfectly right!" Freddy Farmer said.
"The same for me," Agent Jones echoed. "Twenty minutes more for the ladyto show up, and then we start snooping around on our own."
Whether the war gods planned it that way or not will of course never beknown. But exactly nineteen minutes had ticked by on Dave Dawson's wristwatch when suddenly a shadow fell across the dawn light on the floor,and Senior Lieutenant Nasha Petrovski came gliding into the room.Instantly the three men were on their feet, and it was Dawson who foundhis tongue first.
"Boy! Am I glad to see you, lady!" he gulped out impulsively. "I mean,Senior Lieutenant, it's sure nice to see you back. We were gettingmighty worried."
The Russian girl smiled her thanks, but her smile was far from her usualflashing one. She sat down on the floor and pulled off her tatteredpeasant cap to show her close cropped jet black hair. Dawson, staring ather for a moment, could not help but admit to himself that NashaPetrovski in a Senior Lieutenant's snappy uniform, or Nasha Petrovski inthe tattered garments of a Ukrainian peasant
woman, was still one mightypretty girl. He brushed the flash thought from his brain, however, andsquatted down on his heels in front of her.
"Bad news, eh, Senior Lieutenant?" he asked quietly. "I think I can seeit in your face."
She didn't answer him for a moment. She seemed content to wait untilFreddy Farmer and Agent Jones had also squatted down on the floor. Thenshe nodded her head, and her eyes flashed with some inner rage.
"Yes, bad news, my gallant comrades," she said evenly. "It would seemthe Nazis here at Urbakh are far more clever than we expected."
"Quite," Agent Jones murmured politely. "The camouflaged airfield. Wehave just been watching some of their planes fly over."
"Yes, a secret airfield!" the Russian girl said in a low voice, andclenched her two hands into fists. "It is not a quarter of a mile fromwhere we now sit. I have seen it, and though I will hate all Nazis to mydeath, I must speak praise of that secret field. It is all underground,under a large flat-topped hill. You almost stumble into it before yousee the screens of branches that hang down over the entrance. Whenplanes are to take off, the screens are lifted by wire cables and thevalley at the base of the hill becomes a smooth take-off runway. It isclever. Yes, it is ingenious. It is also most unlucky for us that Nazisare so close."
"Well, they haven't spotted us yet!" Dawson said, to cheer her up alittle. "And we'll just make sure that they don't."
"Yes, of course," the Russian girl replied in a dull voice, and shruggedsort of hopelessly. "But it is blame that I must put on my ownshoulders. I am ashamed to--"
"Now look, Senior Lieutenant!" Dave spoke up quickly. "We--"
But that's as far as he could get. She silenced him with her eyes, andan upraised hand.
"Let me finish, please, Captain Dawson," she said. "Then you willrealize why I am so ashamed. It is my sad duty to report to you threegallant ones that the Nazis have _already_ discovered our airplane.There is a strong guard about it this very minute. And, of course, theyrealize that we must be somewhere in this area."
Had Hitler himself stepped through the cockeyed slanting doorway at thatexact moment, the three youths wouldn't have been much more stunned. ToDawson it was like something exploding inside his head. And quick as aflash he thought of the incident aboard the Flying Scotsman, and of theair battle just before the Wellington's arrival in Moscow. Was it true?Was it true that the Gestapo had been here all the time waiting forthem? Had they seen or heard the B-Twenty-Five sliding down for thenight landing, and just waited for daylight to capture it? Was that thetruth? Dawson wondered. He wondered hard, and little by little he beganto get the feeling that the Nazis didn't know who, or how many, hadarrived in their midst. If so, why had they not swooped down on thelanded plane instantly, and shot or captured everybody right then andthere? Was it because they had not been able to reach the bomber beforeits crew had slipped away in the darkness? Or was it because they,themselves, hoped to be led to the hiding place of one Ivan Nikolsk, whowas such an important link in the revealing of their war plans?
Dawson wondered and pondered in silence, and then suddenly he wasconscious of Freddy Farmer speaking.
"Let them have the blasted aircraft, and welcome to it!" theEnglish-born air ace was saying. "It makes matters a bit more difficult,but far from impossible. I fancy that there isn't one of us who hasn'tbeen stranded behind Nazi lines before this. We'll get away from thebeggars, somehow. The main thing is to locate this bloke, Ivan Nikolsk,and let Agent Jones, here, do his share in this balmy show we're to pulloff."
"But that will not be so easy, either, I am most sad to report," SeniorLieutenant Petrovski said bitterly. "A little luck has been mine since Ilast saw you. I found Ivan Nikolsk, and it was easier than I had daredhope. There was a certain house I went to, on the east side of thevillage. An old woman, too old to interest the Nazis. Nina, her name is.She used to rock me in my cradle. She made for me my first doll, out ofthin air and a bit of string, almost. She was there at the house. Halfblind, but she knew me at once. She swore that she knew in her heartthat I was coming. Perhaps yes. Who is there to say no? And what isplanned for us on this earth, and what is not planned for us? Who isthere to prove this or that to be wrong, or a miracle?"
The Russian girl suddenly caught herself up and made a little apologeticgesture with her hands.
"But such mysteries of life are not for us to speak of at the moment,"she continued. "It is just that Ivan Nikolsk went to Nina for hiding. Heis there. He is there now. I saw him."
"Oh, splendid!" Freddy Farmer burst out excitedly. "Did you speak tohim, Senior Lieutenant? And what did he say to you? By Jove!"
"No." She turned to the English youth with a sad smile. "I have made youhappy only to make you unhappy. I spoke to Ivan Nikolsk, but he did notspeak to me. He is unconscious. He has been so for four days. He hasillness, and a terrible fever. Nina has done what she could. But thereis no doctor, and it would mean her life to go to the Nazis in thevillage. Nina says that he has not long to live. And I have seen him,and so believe her!"