Yes, both he and Freddy could look out and see all that was taking place, but neither of them could do anything about it, that is, unless they wanted to die instantly. Stationed some ten yards in front of the hut, and each a little to one side, were two Nazi guards. Each guard was armed with the deadly Nazi portable machine gun. And both guns were trained dead on them. So were the eyes of the two guards. They watched unwinking, like a couple of cobras waiting to strike, Dave told himself.
Sure, they could look out and see all that was taking place. They could even get up and try to go closer for a better look—if they wanted to! Von Stutgardt had not had them bound up. Their legs and their arms were free of ropes, or anything like that. It was strictly up to them whether they wished to live a little longer—or die at once.
“That dirty blighter who was at the Albuquerque Base!” Freddy Farmer suddenly broke a five minute silence between them. “I think I could almost die happy, if I could only give that beggar what he deserves first. We’ve certainly made a mess of things, Dave. But goodness knows, we had little enough to go on.”
Dave nodded absently and stared out beyond the group of planes at an eleventh plane partly hidden by the tree growth beyond. It was a seaplane, a Nazi Arado. In other words, the same seaplane Freddy and he had lost in that flock of fluffy clouds high in the air. Not over half an hour ago he had heard it come down to a landing. And he had seen it taxi up a small inlet of water and come to a stop where it now rested, completely hidden from any patrolling eyes above. As he stared at it the gnawing ache in his heart increased. The Nazis were so darn cunning, so confoundedly clever and thorough. They left nothing to chance. Not they! This secret base here was a perfect example of Nazi war technique. Everything built out of sight. An expert job of camouflaging. U.S. planes could patrol the skies above, and U.S. Navy ships could control the waters all about—and nobody would even begin to suspect that the Nazis had this powerful air unit secretly based within a two hundred and fifty mile striking distance of the so very vital Panama Canal!
The Panama Canal! Dave groaned and shivered again as the name flashed through his brain. He could only guess, of course, but he was positive he could guess the right answers. Von Stutgardt’s plans were as simple as they were terrifyingly disastrous in extent. One swift devastating blow that would completely fool the Canal Zone defense until it was too late—
Dave shook his head savagely and refused to complete the horrible thought picture. He looked at Freddy and saw that the English youth was watching him closely. Freddy smiled and winked.
“Chin up, old thing,” Freddy murmured. “I seem to recall we’ve been in one or two tight spots before. At least the blighter hasn’t shot us yet. That’s something. Wants to crow over us, of course. Nazi vanity when he believes he’s on top. More satisfying than food and drink to those rotters. Perhaps something—”
Freddy gestured the last, and Dave returned his smile.
“Perhaps something will!” he said grimly. “It’s got to. The old brain is spinning pretty much right now. But one of us has got to come up with something. And I don’t think we’ve got much time to work the think box, either. Boy! What I wouldn’t give for three minutes in that hut over there!”
Freddy looked in the direction of Dave’s pointed finger, and then back at him.