Dave Dawson at Casablanca Part 11

"That's quite right, sir," Freddy Farmer spoke up. "I just had a thought, though. Perhaps robbery was the main idea, but something or somebody scared the beggar off."

Major Parker made a face as though he suddenly had a bad taste in his mouth, and sighed sadly.

"Look, Farmer, I'm all of thirty-three!" he said sarcastically, "I've been around a little. Don't give me that kind of an explanation. It's silly. Whoever it was had time to tear your uniforms to shreds, but _no_ time to grab your money. That is, if it _was_ robbery."

"Well, it was just a thought, sir," Freddy replied with a weak grin.

"Then let's skip it," the major suggested laughingly. Becoming serious, he said, "Don't think I'm trying to bust in on secret stuff. What isn't my business _isn't_ my business. I've been attached to Intelligence long enough to learn that. I ask for details simply because a couple of funny things have happened around here lately. About ten days ago one of the field laborers, hired by the British, was found dead with a bullet in his brain. It turned out to be a Luger bullet. Three days ago somebody broke into my office and tried to go through my private files. At least, that's the way it looked to me--though my hunch might be all wet. Tell me this, if you can: Did either of you get a look at whoever slugged you?"

"I didn't see a thing, or feel a thing, for that matter," Freddy Farmer said with a shake of his head. "I was just walking along, and the next instant I was out cold."

Dawson started to shake his head, when suddenly he remembered. "I saw his feet and legs up to his knees! As a matter of fact, he was barefooted, but he wore pants. That's all I saw. Just his bare feet and his trouser legs up to his knees."

"Barefooted, eh?" Major Parker murmured. "That could well mean one of the natives. There are certainly enough of them around here. Well, that just makes this confounded business much more mysterious. I'll certainly be mighty glad when Colonel Welsh arrives."

"I guess that goes for the three of us, sir," Dawson added with a smile.

"Yes, very much so," Freddy Farmer chimed in.

Then followed a few minutes of silence, while each was engrossed with his own thoughts. Presently Major Parker sighed faintly, knocked the coals from his pipe bowl into an ash tray, and got to his feet.

"I have to make a little nightly inspection tour about the place," he said. "So, if you two will excuse me, I'll get on with the job. Don't go away, though. I won't be long. I'll be back for another cup of coffee with you. They certainly know how to make it down in this part of the world."

"All right, sir, we'll wait," Dawson answered for Farmer and himself.

"Unless there's something we can do to help? Doesn't seem quite fair for us to eat your food, take up your time, and not do any--"

"Forget it, Dawson," Parker interrupted. "I'm glad to have you here.

Well, be seeing you shortly."

With a nod and another wave of his hand, Major Parker went outside and left the two youths looking at each other.

"I like Major Parker plenty," Dawson said after a while. "And it sure makes me feel like a heel."

"What does?" the English-born air ace wanted to know. "The fact that you like him?"

"Cut it out!" Dawson urged. "Of course not. I feel like a heel because I can't come clean and tell him all that we know."

"It isn't very much, if you ask me," Freddy said with a shrug and a gesture.

"I know, but just the same I wish I could tell him what little we do know. I'm sure he knows that we're holding out on him. And like I said, he's such a swell fellow. And not the least bit dumb, what I mean."

"Well, you can't be dumb and work for Colonel Welsh, I fancy," Freddy murmured.

Dawson started to agree with him, but suddenly checked his words and shot a quick glance at Freddy. The English-born air ace was toying with his cup of coffee and didn't see the grin that tugged down the corners of Dawson's mouth.

"Well, there is one exception," Dave said. "I could give you his name with one hand tied behind my back."

"And so could I!" Freddy said without so much as glancing up from his cup of coffee. "His name is Dawson! Thought you were being very smart, little man, didn't you, what?"

"Okay, pa.s.s the cream!" Dave ordered. "I know when I'm licked. I--Hey!

You hear that?"

"Hear what?" young Farmer asked, and looked up quickly.

"I thought I heard a shout and a couple of shots from outside," Dave told him. "You didn't hear anything at all, Freddy?"

"Not a blessed thing, except your confounded voice," Freddy told him.

That was all the English youth did say, because at that instant they both clearly heard wild shouting and the savage yammer of machine-gun fire. For about half a second they sat perfectly still. Then as one they leaped to their feet, whirled, and raced out the door of Major Parker's quarters. Outside, it was dark, and the sudden change blinded them both.

But only for a moment, and at the end of that moment they saw two or three moving lights over at the southwest corner of the base, and several figures running across the field toward those moving lights.

Impulsively, Dawson reached for his holstered service automatic and broke into a run.

"Let's go, kid," he called back over his shoulder.

The last was unnecessary, because young Farmer was in motion, too, and right there at his elbow. Together they ran across the field and reached the small group gathered about three figures holding powerful flashlights. The beams were being played on something on the ground, and as Dawson took a look he gasped and instantly pushed his way forward. On the ground, and just being helped up by a guard corporal, was Major Parker. The officer, in spite of his leathery tan, looked very pale. And there was a trickle of blood running down from a cut on his forehead just over the left eye.

"Take it easy, sir; I'll get the ambulance," the guard corporal was saying as Dawson reached the injured man. "And we'll get the guy that did it, too."

"Don't bother about that, Corp," a voice said. "I saw him running after the major fired, and me and little Betsy, here, knocked him out. He's over there and not talking to anybody. He'll never talk again, not that bird!"

Dawson had raised his head at the sound of the voice, and saw a square-jawed American soldier not ten feet away. The soldier was holding a sub-machine gun in the crook of one arm, and patting it affectionately with his hand. He paused in his patting long enough to jerk a thumb to his left. Dawson looked in that direction and started inwardly as he made out the huddled figure of a dead man on the ground. The thing that made him start was the fact that the dead man was barefooted. One glance, and Dawson turned his attention to Major Parker, who was now on his feet, gently pus.h.i.+ng aside the guard corporal's efforts to keep holding him.

"It's all right, Corporal, thanks," Major Parker said. "And I don't want any ambulance. Somebody loan me a handkerchief until I can get a real patch for this thing."

"I've a First Aid patch right here, sir," Freddy Farmer spoke up quickly. "Here, let me put it on. There! I say, sir, what happened?"

The major tested the First Aid patch with his fingers and grinned a trifle stiff-lipped at Dawson and Farmer.

"He seems to have gone in for numbers tonight," he said. "I was just coming around the corner of the Non-Coms' mess over there, when I thought I heard a sound behind me. I turned, but it was quite dark at that spot, so I didn't see anything clearly. Just--well, just somebody diving at me. I didn't bother to ask questions. I dropped and went for my gun. That's what saved me a really nasty crack, I guess. It messed up his aim, because he had to reach out farther. But I missed, too, when I shot at him as we both fell to the ground. Singed him, though, because he cried out. The crack he gave me made me see a few stars, so I missed again as he jumped to his feet and started running. Private Marvin, here, arrived on the scene just in time, and Private Marvin is the kind who doesn't miss. Let's go take a look."

The whole group moved over to the dead man on the ground. The flashlight beams were played on him. Somebody leaned down and turned the corpse over on its back. The dead man was dressed in cheap native clothing, and his skin was burned almost as black as the night sky. There was something about the features, particularly the wide forehead, that arrested Dawson's attention. As he leaned closer for a better look, he caught sight of a corner of white showing beneath a tear in the dead man's s.h.i.+rt. On impulse, Dawson reached down and pulled. Out came a white envelope, and Dave's heart leaped up into his throat. He didn't have to look inside the envelope to know what was there. Instantly he recognized it as the letter of authority Colonel Welsh had given Farmer and him to carry.

"Holy smokes!" he whispered to himself. "So he _did_ get something off us. This! I'd forgotten all about this thing."

"What thing?" Major Parker asked sharply, and stepped close.

Dawson hesitated, but when he saw that the major and he were standing a little apart from the others, he removed the letter of authority and smoothed it out so the senior officer could read it. Major Parker did just that.

"But you didn't give me any--" he began, and stopped short as Dawson nudged him quickly.

"I know, sir," Dave said in a low voice. "We decided it best to destroy them, after the message we got from Tiger. We did just that about five minutes before your corpse there jumped us. He didn't find what he wanted, but he did find this letter. No doubt he figured that we'd given them to you, or, at least, that you had been given yours. He went after you, and--" Dawson came to a halt and gave a little angry shake of his head. "I seem to be doing fine, I don't think!" he grated after a moment. "I guess you could almost say, sir, that I gave you that crack on the head. I was responsible for it, anyway."

"No, that's not true, Dave!" Freddy Farmer spoke in his ear at that moment. "I'm the thoughtless blighter. Don't you remember? I began carrying that letter at Puerto Rico. I confess I had forgotten all about the blasted thing."

Dawson looked hard at his pal and then shrugged.

"Okay, you or me, what does it matter?" he sighed. "The major should be plenty sore at both of us."