CHAPTER EIGHT
_Nazi Lightning_
As the night sky suddenly seemed to explode right on top of Dawson'shead, and fill his brain with millions of spinning balls of coloredlight, he had the crazy thought that the order had certainly been awaste of words. And then he went flying out into the darkness. Instinct,and instinct alone, caused him to fling out his hands and bend hisknees. For a long moment he seemed to hang motionless in the middle ofnothing. And then Mother Earth came up to meet him.
He hit on all fours on the track embankment, and he was too stunned todo anything about it. He could only let his body roll over and over likea barrel rolling downhill, until his progress was stopped short by aheavy clump of thorny bushes. And even then he could still do nothingabout it. The balls of colored light were still spinning around insidehis head, and to add to it all a couple of hundred heavy caliber gunswere sounding off in his brain. Fighting for control of his senses, andgasping for breath, he remained right where he was, too all in andbefuddled to care whether school kept or not.
However, he did not remain motionless for very long. Only a moment ortwo after he had crashed to a full stop up against the thorny bushes,hands of steel came out of nowhere, grabbed hold of him, and yanked himsavagely up onto his feet.
"Walk straight ahead, and do not be slow about it!" a voice snarled inhis ear. "Cry out, and it will be your last sound in this world! Movealong!"
One of the steel fingered hands let go of Dawson, though the other kepta tight grip on the back of his neck. And almost in the same instant heonce again felt the familiar pressure of a blunt, hard object jammedinto the small of his back. For a split second he hesitated, but onlylong enough for the sane side of him to point out that any show ofresistance at this point would probably be plain suicide. Where FreddyFarmer was, and what had happened to his war pal, he did not know.However, this was not the moment to do anything about it.
And so, choking back the words of blazing anger that rose to his lips,and beating down the mad urge to whirl upon his unknown captor, gun orno gun, he started walking straight ahead through the darkness. In lessthan a minute his feet told him that he had reached some kind of acountry lane. His captor swerved him onto it, and gave him a hard jabwith the gun as a signal for greater speed. Dawson obeyed because therewasn't anything else he could do. But most of the spinning balls ofcolored light had faded from his brain by now, and he was better able totake stock of the situation.
It wasn't a very pleasant picture. In fact, it was most unpleasant, andtwice as maddening. Why, not over twenty minutes before Freddy Farmerand he had been tearing along by train toward Aberdeen, _and_complaining of the fact that things were going along too smoothly. Well,Freddy had surely got his wish. Things had happened, and happened with abang. There was no doubt, now, that Gestapo agents in London had grabbedat the bait thrown out by Colonel Welsh, and taken it hook, line, andsinker. So what?
So a well planned stunt had back-fired almost before it had been putinto execution. And it had been done so easily and so simply, too. Thatwas what made Dawson see red as the steel fingers and the business endof a gun prodded him along a night-shrouded country lane. Nobody had toexplain to him that the two Gestapo agents had boarded the train at thatwhistle stop. And nobody had to explain to him, either, that they hadtimed every move to perfection. The emergency cord had been yanked atthe right moment so that the train would come to a stop at the rightplace. The way in which "Steel Fingers" shoved him forward was proof initself that this country lane was well known to him, and a definite partof this kidnapping escapade. Yes, it had been simple, and a cinch. Likerolling off a log. Or better, rolling off a railroad track embankment.
At that moment the shrill sound of a locomotive whistle came to Dave'sears. And almost immediately he heard the distant snorting and puffingof the Flying Scotsman getting under way again. Those sounds chilled hisheart just a little bit more, and fanned into flame the smoulderinganger in his breast. He could feel his face grow hot with the shame ofhaving walked into this little trap so doggone blindly. He wondered howFreddy was taking it, if his pal was pleased that his wish for actionhad been granted. But more than that, he wondered how Freddy was, and_where_ he was.
As though the gods of war had simply been waiting for him to startwondering in earnest about Freddy Farmer, the steel fingers gripping himby the back of the neck suddenly tightened and jerked him to a halt. Hewas spun around to face the shadowy figure of his captor, but the barrelof the gun was quickly moved from the small of his back to a point onhis chest directly over his heart. And the harsh voice spokeagain--almost invitingly, it seemed to him.
"Don't move a muscle! Not a muscle!"
Dawson remained motionless as ordered, but he strained his eyes in thedarkness for a glimpse of his captor's face. He might just as well havetried to study a sheet of black paper at the bottom of a coal mine atmidnight. He could only see that his captor wore a snapped down brim hatpulled low over his eyes. The face could be that of a Jap, for all hecould tell.
However, he knew that the man was not a Jap. The voice had disprovedthat. Yet, at the same time, the sound of that harsh voice had built upthe fires of rage in Dave, for the simple reason that he felt sure thathis captor was _not_ a German. At least he felt pretty sure. He had thestrong belief that his captor was English. The harsh voice had theMidlands twang, that is so much like the New England twang. Of course,he might be dead wrong, but--
The rest of his rambling thought flew off into oblivion as two shadowssuddenly emerged out of the gloom, and he saw that one of them wasFreddy Farmer, and, right behind his pal, the man in a train conductor'suniform.
"You okay, Freddy?" he asked quickly.
For an answer to his question the gun was practically shoved through hisribs, and a hand smacked him across the face.
"Silence!" Harsh Voice rasped at him "One more sound _will_ be yourlast!"
"I'm all right, Dave," Freddy Farmer said, almost as an echo to thethreat of violence. "I saw H-Sixty-Four drop off the train, so theseblighters won't last very long."
The last caused Dave to blink hard in the darkness. For three or fourseconds he wondered what in the world Freddy meant, and if his pal hadreceived too hard a crack on the head. Then in a flash the truth came tohim. And almost in the same instant it was confirmed by the one with theharsh voice.
"What's that?" the blurred figure demanded. "Who is this H-Sixty-Four?"
Dawson leaped at the opening and chuckled softly in spite of the risk.
"You'll find out, and fast, tramp!" he snapped. "Think we would havefallen for that conductor gag if we hadn't been expecting it, orsomething like it?"
"Quite!" Freddy Farmer quickly took up the play. "And the laugh isreally on you chaps. _It's_ on its way to Aberdeen now. If you don'tbelieve me, then search us. And--Did you hear that, Dave?"
Dawson started to open his mouth, but a hard hand was clamped over it,and the gun barrel felt like a knife in his chest. A voice whisperedsoftly, but it didn't come from the owner of the hand clamped tightlyover his mouth. It came from Freddy Farmer's captor.
"Get along with them to the place! Stohl will get the truth out of them.If your swine makes a sound, give him one and carry him on yourshoulder. We've got to get away from here, whether they're lying or not.I don't like it!"
"Yes, this is Stohl's business," the one with the harsh voice hissedback. "Our job is only to deliver these two. Come on!"
And then began another walk up the night-shrouded lane, although itcould hardly be called a _walk_. Steel Fingers forced Dave along at arapid rate, and the gun that had returned to the small of his back wassufficient urging to make him hold the fast pace. However, there wasjust a little more joy in his heart now. Just a little, to be sure.Freddy and he were still helpless prisoners, but Freddy's fast thinkinghad at least changed the picture a little. It had put a little fear inthe minds of their captors. Or at any rate, it had caused them tobelieve that their plan had not turned out exactly the way they hadexpec
ted. Obviously, their job had been to nail Freddy and himself. Athird person hadn't been counted on. And Freddy Farmer's lie had touchedoff the jitters a little bit, anyway. And when your enemy starts gettingthe jitters, there's no telling what can happen.
Maybe yes, maybe no! But Dawson clung hard to that tiny thread of hopeas he was shoved and prodded forward along the night-shrouded road.Several times he was tempted to trip himself up purposely, and take hischances of his captor tumbling down on top of him. But the thought ofFreddy Farmer and the conductor right behind curbed the crazy urge. Ifjust Harsh Voice and he were alone--But, of course, the conductor had agun, too. And besides, there was no way of letting Freddy know that ithad been no accident.
"Save it!" he told himself grimly. "Play it out the way it's going. Onething is certain. These tramps don't _want_ to kill us. Which, ofcourse, means that they've received orders _not_ to. So just bide yourtime--and maybe it'll come along!"
And so, with the decision fixed firmly in his mind, he let himself beled through the night for another good ten minutes. At the end of thattime he was suddenly guided off the country lane to the right, and intosome woods. But once again it became instantly evident how thoroughlythis kidnapping had been planned. He didn't go bumping into any trees orbushes. On the contrary, there was a winding path under his feet, and hewas guided forward at practically the same speed, as though his captorhad the eyes of a cat.
And then without warning the woods stopped and opened up into aclearing. In the center of the clearing was a small house. Rather, itappeared to be little more than a shack. Not so much as a pin point oflight showed anywhere, but of course that didn't mean a thing. In theBritish Isles they _observe_ the blackout, and constantly.
Dawson was led right up to the front door of the shack, and then yankedto an abrupt halt. Almost before he could realize what was taking place,his captor whipped out with his gun and rapped sharply three times onthe door. Then the gun came right back to the small of Dawson's back.Standing perfectly still with his gaze fixed on the night-shrouded door,Dawson heard Freddy Farmer and his captor come panting up to a halt. Andthen there was the sound of the door opening, although no light cutthrough into the darkness. The door simply swung all the way back, andan instant later the black oblong where the door had been spoke words.
"Come in, at once! Don't just stand there, fools!"
The sound of that voice in the darkness sent a little cold shiverrippling through Dawson. It was gone in an instant, but not before hewas dead sure that the words had come from a Nazi throat. He had had thefeeling all along that his captor and Freddy's conductor were English.Yes, English-born rats who would sell out their country for gold.History has proved time and time again that there are rats like that inevery nation on the face of the earth. But the man who had spoken fromthe darkness was one hundred percent Nazi breed. The tone of his voiceindicated as much, and Dave was sure that one look at his face, the setof his eyes, the slope of his forehead, and the width of his jaws wouldbe the final proof.
And that final proof was revealed no more than twenty seconds later.Just time enough for Freddy and himself to be herded in through thedoorway, for the door to be slammed shut, and a match touched to thewick of an oil lamp on a table in the middle of the room. For a momentthe sudden change from pitch darkness to light threw Dawson's eyes allout of focus. Presently, though, he was able to adjust his vision, andget his first look at his captors.
His hunch was correct. The faces of the pair that had boarded the FlyingScotsman at that signal stop were typically beefy British red; the facesof men who spent most of their lives outdoors in a climate that could bedamp and clammy one day, and windy and icy the next. And the third man,the one who had spoken from within the night-shrouded doorway, wasthoroughly German. His face had that moon-shaped, brutish look, hiseyes the look of something vile and treacherous. And the very air abouthim smelled of things foul and evil.
"Good!" the man suddenly broke the silence, and smirked with pleasure."Those are the two. For once you did not bungle my orders. I amdelighted. Put them in those chairs, and keep your eyes on them. You hadno trouble, no?"
The two kidnappers hesitated, and glanced at each other. Then quick as aflash Dawson laughed aloud.
"Nope!" he said. "No trouble at all--_yet_!"
The one who had been referred to as Stohl half whirled and fixed blazinggimlet eyes on Dawson.
"Hold your tongue, swine!" he snarled. "You will speak when I order youto. Now, you, answer my question!"
A tiny note of worry was mixed up in the snarl directed at the twokidnappers, and hope began to surge up in Dawson. He and Freddy had beenshoved down into a couple of chairs, and they had a good look at thebeefy-faced pair. At that moment the one in conductor's uniform spoke.He seemed to have to force the words off his lips one at a time.
"No trouble, _Herr_ Stohl," he said. Then, stabbing his eyes at Freddy,he continued, "But that one there spoke of an H-Sixty-Four dropping offthe train. And he said, also, that something was on its way to Aberdeennow. They dared us to search them, but we did not wish to waste time.I--perhaps there is some place you wish me to go now, _Herr_ Stohl? Imean--"
"I know what you mean, you swine, you sniveling dog!" the Naziexclaimed. "I knew you had not the courage of a snail. So you wish torun away now, eh? You are afraid of your own shadow, is it not so? Bah!I have no use for jellyfish like you. So _go_!"
As the last word left his lips the Nazi's hand streaked into his jacketpocket and out with the speed of lightning. Dawson's eyes saw therevolver with the silencer fitted to the barrel. And his ears heard thefaint _pop_ that it made. But not until the man in conductor's uniformturned slowly around and then crumpled to the floor in a motionless heapdid his brain actually grasp what had happened.
"And _that_ for a swine dog with water for blood!" Stohl rasped, andswung his gun to point straight at the other kidnapper's chest. "Well,Bixby? You would like to join the swine, eh?"