“AGENT SC-3 AND SC-17, ATTENTION!” the weird voice rasped. “YOU ARE INSTRUCTED TO LEAVE THE SHIP AT ONCE, USING LIFEBELTS. SEAPLANE WILL PICK YOU UP AT DAWN. SC-21 WILL PAY PENALTY FOR HIS FAILURE WHEN WE BOMB GATOON FROM THE AIR. THAT IS ALL!”
A gasp from the unhappy Corba gave Don Winslow the cue for his next play. Ignoring the startled questions of Captain Riggs and Lieutenant Allen, he faced the radio operator.
“All right, Corba!” he said tightly. “That message shows you just where you get off. Like SC-21, you’re going to pay the penalty for failure, when and if bombs start dropping on this vessel! Is your loyalty to Scorpia strong enough to stand up under that?”
Hollow-eyed with fear, the Scorpion spy shook his head.
“You’ve named it, Commander!” he said hoarsely. “The Scorpion don’t have much mercy for them that are fools enough to get caught. But what good’ll it do, sir, if I tell you what I know? We’re all bound for Davy Jones’ locker, now!”
Don Winslow’s laugh rang as hard as the slap of bullets on steel armor plate.
“We were, maybe, but we’re taking a new tack, sailor!” he barked. “Now we know what your murderous pals are up to, we can outthink and outfight them too. The only man aboard who’s bound for Davy Jones is——”
“Captain!” cried a breathless voice on deck. “The prisoner, Durkin—the man you put in the brig, sir—he’s dead! Hanged himself, with a loop of wire he’d made fast to a steampipe. We found this note, written on an old envelope. Here it is, sir!”
After a startled pause, Captain Riggs stepped inside to hold a crumpled envelope under the light.
“What do you make of this, Commander?” he growled. “Things are happening a bit too fast for me to keep my bearings tonight, this note, for instance! It says: 'I queered your engines and killed the Chief Machinist’s Mate. When the Scorpion strikes, you’ll think I did Ahern a favor. Signed, Durkin.’”