Yet somehow that last didn't quite seem to check. Nothing had happened during their short stay in San Francisco. Nor had anything happened during the flight down the coast to the emergency field, or during the flight to Pearl Harbor. It seemed just a little crazy to think that the enemy would let Freddy and him get this far without showing their hands. It must be that the colonel had been mistaken about a Nazi agent sticking close to them in New York.
"Maybe, and maybe not!" Dawson grunted softly. "But the colonel's not one to yell wolf unless he feels he has darn good cause."
"Then it is bad news, eh?"
It was General Stickney who asked the question. Dawson looked at him, smiled, and shrugged.
"Not too bad, sir," he said. "But we certainly weren't exactly expecting it."
"Well, I've received those orders mentioned," the senior officer said with a faint frown. "So if you've any requests to make, go ahead and make them. It's obvious that you're on some kind of an important mission, so we'll do all we can to cooperate."
"Thank you, sir," Dawson said. "Right now, though, I can't think of a thing to request. Fact is, sir, I guess the first thing is for Farmer and myself to go into a huddle. To talk things over, I mean."
General Stickney nodded and stood up.
"My office is yours, Captains," he said with a wave of his hand. "Go ahead and talk. And when you've reached some kind of a decision, I'll be waiting in the mess lounge. All right, Captains. I'll leave you to your huddle. Good luck, on whatever it is."
The two air aces saluted smartly and waited for the senior officer to leave. Then they relaxed and looked at each other.