“But that’s just like Dawson!” Freddy said proudly. “Always there in the nick of time.”
“Nuts!” Dave snorted. “I wasn’t thinking of the bomber, or you fellows. I was thinking of just me, if you’ve got to know the truth. But how did the thing get started? What was in that locker?”
“Nothing,” the Flight Engineer replied in a puzzled tone.
Something seemed to turn over in Dave’s chest. His heart became a little icy, and countless cold shivers went rippling down his spine.
“Nothing?” he echoed, tight-lipped. “You mean—nothing? Nothing at all?”
“Positive of it!” the Flight Engineer replied, and gave him a sharp look. “That locker’s for an extra gunner’s kit when the bomber is fitted out for active service. I know it was empty because I took a look before we left Seattle yesterday. But stick here. I’ve got to relieve Major Hawks at the controls so he can come back. And as I said, thank God, and you, Dawson. That was one of the nerviest things I ever saw pulled. Why you aren’t burnt to a crisp—!”
The Flight Engineer let the rest go unsaid and, squeezing Dave’s arm, stepped past him and hurried forward. For a long minute Dave stood perfectly still, staring down at the smoke and flame marks. Then he looked at Freddy, and there was smouldering rage in his eyes.
“The dirty low-down rat!” he got out viciously. “The—the—Nuts! There aren’t the right words in the language to say what I’m thinking right now. He’d not only have finished us off, but probably the skeleton crew aboard this bomber as well.”
Freddy returned his gaze and slowly widened his eyes as the full meaning of Dave’s words sank home.
“You really think—?” he began, then stopped and began again. “You really think this wasn’t an accident?”