They were speeding through the streets of Washington at a break-neck rate. Van bent over the wheel, and like a demented man glued his wildly staring eyes to the road.
"What about your work?" Bart asked, after a while. "Has anything been accomplished?"
"Yes and no. They'll be ready to shoot in a few hours. Don't know whether it'll be a complete success or not. But I sneaked away anyhow. This other thing's more important to me right now."
"What's the dope? Can you tell us now?"
"Sure. I've got one of the machines in the car and I'll explain when we're on our way to Canada."
This wasn't like Van. Never secretive and always in good humor, he was treating his friends like annoying strangers.
"You can't land in Canada," Bill ventured, as they pulled up at the gate of the airport.
"Like hell I can't! You watch my smoke, and let any bloody Canuck up there try and stop me!"
He was lifting a small black case from the luggage carrier of the car as he replied. Bart silenced the airman with a look.