Dave Dawson on the Russian Front

by Robert Sidney Bowen

Dave Dawson looked straight into the muzzle of certain death, and at the same time forced a grin to his lips.

"Maybe it's you who has the choice, Herr Stohl," he said slowly and deliberately. "Your agents have letters and numbers to identify them, don't they? Well, so do our agents. And if that doesn't mean anything to you, here's the tip-off. What you want, my pal and I were not carrying on us. H-Sixty-Four had it, see, Stohl? But if anything happened to us, H-Sixty-Four was to pass it on to a fourth person on that train, and come to our rescue. That's right! I said rescue! In case you don't know, British Intelligence thinks there are too many of your kind on this island. They are doing something about it. And so—"

Dawson didn't finish the rest. He had the sudden fear that he had spoken too much nonsense already. So he left the rest hanging in thin air. The Nazi bored him with his eyes, and in those eyes Dawson saw clearly the shadows of worry, doubt, and frank disbelief. And as frank disbelief gradually blotted out the other two Dawson realized that death was coming closer and closer. This Stohl was no fool. What Dawson had said had worried him at first, but now he was beginning to see through it and recognize it as just so many useless words. Which it was.

"A very good try, Herr Captain Dawson!" the German suddenly barked. "Yes, of course I know you, and your swine comrade, too. In fact, I know everything. You fools—to think you can keep secrets from the Gestapo! I know that you were on your way to Aberdeen. I know that at Aberdeen a British bomber is awaiting you. And I also know that the bomber is waiting there to fly you to Moscow. But neither you nor your swine comrade will ever reach Moscow!"

Dawson's heart was a solid lump of ice in his chest. He wanted to believe that he hadn't heard a single word spoken. He wanted to believe that it would have been absolutely impossible for Gestapo agents in London to learn even that much of Freddy's and his mission. He wanted to believe that he was simply thinking of those things in his mind, and so shouldn't take the words as having come from the lips of the Nazi, Stohl.

Sure! He wanted to believe all that. But he couldn't! More than once in the past had he been in situations where the Nazi Gestapo had learned things that were believed to be cast iron secrets. More than once had a supposedly loyal Englishman, or American, in an important post, turned out to be nothing but a black-hearted Nazi. And so to hear those words from Stohl's lips did not shock him so much as sicken him and stir up the bitterness of war within him. What pair of ears in Air Ministry had heard of this part of the plan, he would probably never know. But that made little difference now. That is, save for one terrible possibility. That a Nazi pair of ears had heard all of the plan. That even now Jones was a prisoner, and—

"But no, you dope!" his brain screamed at him. "Catch hold of something, and stop going haywire. If the Nazis knew all, why should they bother about Farmer and you? They wouldn't! Agent Jones would be their man, because Agent Jones is the one key to the success of this whole thing. He alone is the one to contact Ivan Nikolsk. So snap out of it, and just let this Nazi go on fishing!"

His thoughts boosted his spirits, and gave him some encouragement and hope—but not a terrible lot. The fear still lingered that the Nazis did know all about the Tobolsk business. Yes, the fear that possibly the Nazi plan was to put Freddy and him out of the picture, just in case. Right! Just to make sure!

Brushing the taunting thoughts from his mind, Dawson eyed the Nazi coolly.

"All right, have it your way," he said evenly. "So we don't see Moscow. But that doesn't matter, now. Like you, Herr Stohl, we play the part assigned to us, and let others do the rest. I'm not denying a thing. You win this round. My pal and I seem to have been put out of the picture. Okay. In war a man has to take his chances—and trust to luck."