"No, sir," Dawson said with a grin. Then with a shrug: "But you said something about not wasting breath asking for details. However, I could do with a hint, if that's in order."
"It isn't," the Colonel told him instantly. "For once it's my job to assign you to a certain mission without the right to tell you a thing about it. You'll learn soon enough, and when you do, you'll realize why I have to keep my lips silent. This I can and will tell you, though. It'll be a most pleasant mission, and you'll both get a tremendous thrill out of it."
"Well, that's something, anyway," Dawson said. "I'm all for it, whatever it is."
"Quite," Freddy Farmer echoed. Then, with an almost sly look at the Colonel, he asked, "A mission in this country, sir?"
"A mission that will take in several countries, Farmer," the Intelligence Chief replied. "And that is the very last bit of information I'm going to give you. Now just excuse me a couple of minutes while I tend to some of this stuff. Then we'll get along out to Bolling Field."
"Bolling Field, sir?" Dave cried, and leaned forward.
For all the good it did him, he might just as well have yelled at the man in the moon. Colonel Welsh seemed to forget that either Dawson or Farmer existed as he gave all his attention to the paper work on his desk.
It was almost ten minutes later when he signed his name to the last of the papers, collected them, and slipped them into one of the desk drawers which he locked with one of many keys he took from his pocket.
"Sorry it took so long, boys," he said, and reached for his service cap. "All done now, though. So let's go."
The colonel led the way outside, locked his office door, and touched Dawson on the arm as the Yank air ace started along the corridor toward the main stairway.