"Get the nearest patrol base on the radio, Freddy, and report that U-boat's position!" he spoke into his inter-com mike. "There's just a chance that it may have to surface soon, and somebody else can nail it."
"Right-o!" Freddy Farmer called back. "But, gosh, I would love to be that somebody else! Or—or has this just been a crazy dream, Dave? It doesn't make sense! Those were blasted Nazis on the life raft. Like—like a confounded decoy, or something. I—"
"Decoy?" Dave Dawson gasped, and sat up straight in the pit. "Holy smoke! Do you suppose so? Sure, you must be right. Look, Freddy! Report that U-boat's last position. Then we'll get out of here, but fast! Something is kind of screwy, and I don't like it, but plenty I don't."
As Dawson nosed the Vultee around and onto its course for San Fernando on British-owned Trinidad, he impulsively lifted his free hand to his chest and pressed it against the two sealed envelopes and the little vial of acid that were in his inside tunic pocket.
CHAPTER SIX
Changed Orders
The U. S. Army Air Transport Command at San Fernando comprised the entire south side of the Trinidad air base. Dawson spotted the American flag atop the Administration Building from the air. After his recent experience, a great sense of relief and joy flooded through him at the sight of Old Glory waving proudly in the breeze. And not only that, but the sight of Old Glory meant also that this crazy aerial messenger-boy mission was one-half completed. Three more stops and they would be at Natal. There they would meet Colonel Welsh and, please, please, God, find out what in thunder this secret sealed-envelope business was all about.
"And if he doesn't tell me," Dawson muttered as he let down the Vultee's wheels and nosed the craft earthward, "it's going to be the end of a beautiful friendship as far as I'm concerned. Right! He's got to give us a tiny inkling, at least or—or—Well, I sure hope he does, anyway."