Dave Dawson at Truk

  CHAPTER EIGHT

  _Black Lightning_

  "What do you say, Dave; stop this blasted thing for a moment, what?"Freddy Farmer said. "I'm coming loose at the joints. Besides, this is abeautiful spot. What is it anyway, do you know?"

  "The beach at Kahuku Point," Dawson replied as he guided the jeep inwhich they were riding to the side of the road, and braked it to a stop."And you're right, Freddy, this is some spot. With that half-moonhanging up there in the sky, it's just like a picture from the brush ofa great artist."

  "Well, strike me pink!" young Farmer gasped as he climbed out of thejeep and gazed at Dawson. "The chap seems to have some beauty andromance in his soul after all!"

  "And nuts to you!" Dave snapped as he climbed down, too. "Can't a fellowadmire something without being taken for a guy with long hair who livesin a garret?"

  "But the way you said it, Dave," Freddy Farmer said with a sly look inhis eyes. "So soft and so deep. Do you write poetry, too, my good man?"

  "Look, dime a dozen!" Dawson grated. "It was your idea to take this jeeptrip around the island. So don't start any of that stuff with me. Isimply said that this was quite a spot. And it is, _see_?"

  "Right you are, Dave, right you are, old thing," young Farmer laughed."I simply couldn't pass by the chance to pull your leg a bit. First timeI ever heard you admit there were such things as moons, and what not.Just shows there is another side to you. And I like that side, _too_. Soam I forgiven?"

  "Aw, go spin a wing!" Dawson growled, but he grinned and gave Farmer aplayful punch in the ribs. "Fact is, Freddy, nobody can be hard-boiledin the Islands. There's something about them that would break down thetoughest egg that ever came down the pike. I've seen a few places inthis old world in my few years, but somehow the Hawaiians always remainat the top of the list."

  "Yes, they really are quite something, I must admit," Freddy murmured ashe gazed about at the faintly silver-washed scenery. "I'm fair to beingin love with them myself. What say we take a walk back along the road aways? Or should we be getting on back to the Kaneohe Naval Air Station?"

  Dawson glanced down at his wrist watch and shook his head.

  "It's early," he said. "We've got lots of time. And I don't thinkCommander Drake will be mad at all if we stay out of his hair for aspell longer. Now, there is one swell guy, isn't he, Freddy? I went forhim one hundred per cent the moment I laid eyes on him."

  "A very pukka chap, and no doubt of it!" Freddy Farmer agreed instantly,and dropped into step. "We've probably bored him to tears, but he hasn'tshown it for a single second. Always ready to please. Always eager to doanything to help us pass the time. That day yesterday with him is oneI'll always remember. Don't believe there's a blasted thing left on thisisland that he hasn't shown us. A very, very top-hole gentleman, forfair."

  "That, and more," Dawson grunted. "But I've a hunch he got a kick out ofit too, taking us on the sight-seeing rounds. If only because it gothis mind off other things. The commander is worried about the spybusiness here in the Islands. There are no two ways about that. If wedon't spot that Nazi tomorrow when the carrier force comes in, he'sgoing to take it like a mule's kick in the face."

  "I fancy we'll feel much the same way ourselves," Freddy Farmermurmured. "Makes me almost afraid to have tomorrow come. And for tworeasons, too."

  "One is maybe we won't find the guy," Dawson said. "What's the other?"

  "That we'll find him, and then that will be that," young Farmer repliedafter a moment's pause. "I mean, our job will be all washed up. Igathered that Vice-Admiral Stone expects us to go back to the mainlandon the next plane, after this business is all taken care of."

  "Yeah, I got the same idea," Dave said gloomily. "And it's beenbothering me. I'll hate like sixty to go back to instructing. To tellyou the truth, once this business is all settled, I'm going to go to thevice-admiral and see if I can't get him to arrange for us to be sent tothe Southwest Pacific war zone. Anyway, some place other than back tothe mainland."

  "I doubt that you'll have any luck," Freddy Farmer sighed. "Technically,the vice-admiral hasn't anything to say about where we go next. We areAir Forces, you know. Loaned to Naval Aviation for instruction duty.Orders for us to proceed to any fighting zone would have to come fromthe Air Forces Command, not the Navy."

  "Right, but did you have to bring it up?" Dawson groaned. "However, thisbusiness isn't cleared up yet. I've got me a funny feeling, I have."

  "Was there ever a time when you hadn't?" young Farmer shot right back athim. "What's it this time? That we're going to fail tomorrow?"

  Dawson didn't reply for a moment. He walked along the moonlit andshadowed road, hands jammed in his pockets, and a faraway look in hiseyes.

  "Yeah, Freddy," he eventually said slowly, "I guess you could put itthat way. I've been making the old brain wheels spin over in high gearon all this business. And I stumbled on one little item that maybethrows the whole thing out of whack. Time."

  "Time?" Freddy Farmer questioned with a frown.

  "Yeah, time," Dawson said. "No matter how you look at it, the carrierforce was far at sea when you and I stopped hearing the birdies sing.And ..."

  "But you said...!" young Farmer began.

  "I know," Dawson stopped him. "I said that being as how things were allarranged, they probably took a chance and had that Nazi spy go backaboard his ship. But later, when the Jap guessed that we were going todo things about it, he stopped taking chances."

  "You certainly don't make sense," Farmer growled. "But if you'rereferring to the Nazi spy, no matter what the Japrat decided, or didn'tdecide, the Nazi was far at sea by then. And on his way to PearlHarbor."

  "Correct," Dave grunted. "But there was the item of that guy inHonolulu. Oh sure, we may spot the Nazi tomorrow, but I don't think_he'll_ lead Commander Drake and his men to the Honolulu address. Andeven if he should, Commander Drake won't find anybody there."

  "You're crazy!" Farmer snorted.

  "Okay, so I'm crazy," Dave said placidly. "But that's the way I feeljust the same. Doggone it, Freddy, the thing is just too open and shut,as far as we're concerned. I mean, we hold all the cards. And nothingever works out that way. The stakes are too high for it to come offthat way!"

  "Rubbish!" young Farmer snorted again.

  "You think so?" Dawson murmured, and turned his head to look at him."Okay, then. Figure it this way. One, that Japrat was smooth enough tohear us outside that shack, and catch us with our flaps down. Two, hewas smooth enough to swipe a plane and chase us up to L.A. Three, he wassmooth enough to slip time fire bombs into the mail sacks aboard theFort we were to fly. Four ... But skip the rest. Do you think he's notalso smooth enough to somehow get word to his Honolulu man, so that thisend of the business won't go boom along with that Nazi spy? Do you thinkhe's dumb enough to risk the loss of an important spy contact here inthe Islands by just hoping that his Nazi spy won't be nailed? If you do,you're nuts, is all I've got to say. And what's more, I'd like to lay alittle bet that he _also_ gets word to the Nazi spy. Maybe not until theNazi sets foot on shore, but darn soon after that, and don't kidyourself."

  "About the beggar in Honolulu, yes," Freddy Farmer said. Then with ashake of his head, "But about that Nazi spy, no. He wouldn't be botheredwith that, because if he's as smart as you say he'll know that his Nazispy will never be able to set foot on shore. I mean, if he has suchcommunication with his Honolulu chap then he'll obviously be informedthat his mail sack business failed. That we did arrive. So he'llnaturally realize that his Nazi spy will be identified by us before heeven steps ashore."

  "Nuts!" Dawson snapped. "If you give the guy a little brains, then forcat's sake go all the way, and figure him for a lot of brains. Figurehim to be able to figure it the way we have. Vice-Admiral Stone's plan,I mean. In short, that we won't grab the guy aboard ship. That we'll lethim go ashore, and trail him. Don't you see, Freddy? If that Jap figuresthat we heard all about his Nazi spy sailing on one of the carriers,then he _also_ figures that we _also_ heard about the
meeting inHonolulu. And he will act accordingly, believe you me!"

  "Well, it's rather involved, but perhaps you're right," young Farmersaid with a shake of his head. "But if we spot the chap tomorrow, Iwouldn't call that failing."

  "I would!" Dawson said quickly. "Nailing that Nazi spy is just part ofthe thing. There's the Honolulu angle. Now that we're in it, we're in itall the way, as far as I'm concerned. Our big mistake was to be caughtflat-footed way back at the start. So unless the whole thing is cleanedup one hundred per cent, it'll be a failure for me, is the way I look atit."

  "Yes, I see your point," Freddy Farmer mumbled. "But not to change thesubject, what do you think of Vice-Admiral Stone's plan for us to spotthe chap?"

  "Okay, I guess," Dawson replied with a shrug. "The entire force is toanchor inside the submarine nets while the vice-admiral makes hisinspection of all three carriers. We'll go aboard with his party not asofficers, but as gobs. Nobody ever looks at a couple of gobs in avice-admiral's inspection party. Besides, we won't be trailing alongwith all the gold braid. We'll be stationed at the gangway ladder wherewe can get a look at everybody, and still be noticed. All pilots will belined up on deck, and so forth. Yeah, I think the plan is okay."

  "Wish I thought so," Freddy Farmer grunted. "Strikes me as a bit toofancy, though. I can think of a lot of ways that would be just as good,and much simpler."

  "Well, I'll tell the vice-admiral when he comes in," Dave said with achuckle.

  And with that they both lapsed into silence and strolled slowly alongthe road that paralleled the Kahuku Point beach. There was nothing to begained by rehashing things. What was to happen tomorrow when the carrierforce arrived, would happen. And that would be that. So they strolledalong, one or both of them pausing every now and then to admire themoonlight on the palm trees, or the way it danced over the broad expanseof the Pacific like billions and billions of spinning silver coins. Atone spot the sight was particularly awe-inspiring, and Dawson stared atit intently like a man in a trance.

  Eventually, he heaved a long sigh, stretched his arms over his head,drew in a deep breath, and then let it out in another long drawn outsigh of complete contentment.

  "Some night, hey, Freddy?" he grunted. "Boy, this is sure one swellspot, war or no war. Me for this place in my old age, and no fooling.After I make my million in civilian life, of course. How about you,little man?"

  There was no comment from Freddy Farmer. Dawson turned and started toopen his mouth to repeat his words, but he snapped it shut instead. Forperhaps five full seconds he stared pop-eyed at the spot where theEnglish-born air ace had been walking by his side. But Freddy wasn'tthere anymore. He had disappeared; completely vanished as though theground had swallowed him up. Shadowed moonlight all over the road, butnot a sign of Freddy Farmer.

  "Hey, Freddy!" Dawson suddenly let out a yell. "Where the heck are you,fellow?"

  The silence of the night swallowed up the echo of his words. He slowlyturned all the way around and searched with puzzled eyes in alldirections. A wave of annoyance suddenly flooded through him. He had theurge to go on walking along the road, but on second thought he curbedit.

  "Okay, funny man!" he snapped. "Come out, come out, wherever you are.Come on, Freddy! I don't feel like playing _that_ kind of a game! Snapinto it, fellow!"

  And the silence again swallowed up the echo of his words. There wasnothing but the moonlight, the shadows, and the soft velvety silence ofa Pacific night. Real anger flamed up in Dawson, and then suddenly theanger was touched by the finger of cold fear. A clammy, eerie sensationrippled across the back of his neck. For no reason at all he suddenlyremembered when once as a kid he had fallen out of bed and awakened onthe floor of his room. The room was black as pitch, and the feel of thecarpeted floor as frightening to him as the feel of a rattlesnake. Hisyells that night had been heard five houses down the block. But hedidn't make a sound now. The very air that he breathed seemed to clog inhis throat.

  And then without warning the strangled cry came to him from out of thedepths of the night-shrouded trees that bordered the road on the left.

  "Dave! Help! Come quick! Dave! Dave!"

  The last was choked off by what seemed like a gurgling moan that madeDawson's heart stand still, and the blood in his veins turn to ice. Forperhaps two seconds he stood paralyzed, and then he spun and plungedinto the dark trees. But he had taken only half a dozen steps whensomething caught him sharply across the forehead. Something else slammedinto his right side. And as his head seemed to spin off his shoulders,and the rest of his body to go crashing downward, he was vaguelyconscious of hissing sounds, and the dank, musty smell of somethingcrawling and loathsome!