“No,” she answered. “I am Burmese. I would now get away from the Japanese War Office if I could. I had a job which a woman could not get in my homeland. I traveled and I was well paid. But now there is war and Japan will destroy my country and my people. They plan to move into Burma soon.”
“You’re dead right in quitting them,” Stan agreed.
Niva caught his arm and pulled him out of the road. They crouched beside a bush while a squad of soldiers walked past. They were talking and laughing as they went along. Stan was not sure, but he did not think they were Japanese.
They came to a wide opening where there were a few lights. The moon flooded a large field. Near the edge of the field stood a plane. One glance at it was enough to tell Stan what it was. Te Nuwa’s prized flying machine was an ancient Curtiss Robin. Stan doubted that the ship could be in good flying condition, for it would be difficult to obtain spare parts for a Robin out here. But it was a plane and one that Stan knew how to handle. It had wings and wings were what he desired.
Several guards stood about near a shed. No one seemed to be guarding the plane, but the men were close to it and they were armed with rifles. Stan sat down and pulled off his turban. It bothered him because he was not used to such a mass of cloth on his head. He looked the field over carefully. The night was hot and the Robin’s motor should start without much trouble, though that depended upon its condition. But the engine would take a few minutes to warm up even if it started at once. The problem was to get the needed time.
Niva seated herself beside him on the grass. He was wondering if Te Nuwa ever made early morning hops. If he did, he would have the engine warmed up and idling for some time. He turned to the girl.
“Does Te Nuwa ever make dawn flights?”
“He used to fly in the early morning, but now the Japanese will not let him. He must fly in the afternoon. If he flies before there is good light, they will shoot at him.” She laughed softly. “Te Nuwa is a very smart man for one so fat. He has the markings of the United States on his wings so he can fly to Rangoon and other places. The Japanese shoot at such markings.”
Stan continued to study the Robin, but his thoughts were with the Jap base near the temple. The Flying Tigers had never spotted this base in the jungle. He turned to Niva.
“How many planes have they hidden in the jungle?” he asked.