Dave Dawson on the Russian Front Part 5

"Huh, decoys?" Dawson gulped. "How's that again, sir?"

Colonel Welsh leaned forward and rested his forearms on the end of the desk.

"Obviously," he said, "the thing we want to do, and as soon as we can, is to get Ivan Nikolsk and Agent Jones together. Though Nikolsk has disappeared for the moment, we feel very strongly that he is not very far from Tobolsk. As my agent stated, his one and only aim in life was to meet his friend, or Agent Jones, at Tobolsk. Therefore there is good reason to believe the Gestapo simply scared him into some other place of hiding, and not too far away. So if Agent Jones should go to Tobolsk, the chances are that he would meet up with Ivan Nikolsk sooner or later. My agent and Agent Jones have checked, and the appearance of Nikolsk hasn't changed much. I mean that Agent Jones is certain that he would recognize him at once. And he is also certain that he can fully establish his ident.i.ty to Nikolsk."

"And our job is to fly Agent Jones to Tobolsk, and land him safely, eh, sir?" Freddy Farmer spoke up excitedly.

"No, definitely not," Colonel Welsh replied evenly. "Your job will be to take the Gestapo boys off the necks of Agent Jones, and get them all wrapped up in the task of chasing you!"

CHAPTER SIX

_Eagles for Moscow_

Had Colonel Welsh calmly pulled out an automatic and fired the whole clip through the ceiling of Room Twelve Hundred, Dave Dawson and Freddy Farmer wouldn't have been half so surprised as they were right at the moment. Like two sitting statues of stone, they froze motionless, and gaped wide-eyed at the Colonel. A billion questions spun around in their brains, but for several seconds neither could have made his lips speak words; not for a million dollars in cold cash.

In time, though, Dawson succeeded in getting his tongue back into working order.

"Sweet tripe!" he exploded. "That is a new one for us! Decoys for the Gestapo rats! Gos.h.!.+"

"It doesn't meet with your approval, Dawson?" Air Vice-Marshal Leman put the question with a slight frown.

"Sure, one hundred per cent, sir," Dave came right back at him quickly.

"But it was so sudden like--well, it's sort of got me still swinging at thin air. One right on the outside corner that I didn't even see the pitcher let fly."

"Eh, what?" the senior R.A.F. officer grunted with a blank look on his face.

"Another American expression, sir," Colonel Welsh explained immediately.

"Dawson means I took the wind out of his sails. Caught him flat-footed off the bag, you might say."

"Oh, yes, quite!" the English officer murmured, but didn't exactly lose his blank look. "Well, I'm glad that you approve, because we are definitely counting on you two for help. If this bit of a mission is completely successful, there's no telling how much it may change the course of the war in our favor, you know."

"If it can be done, we'll both do our best to hold up our end, sir,"

Freddy Farmer murmured.

"And you can say that again for me," Dawson added his bit. Then, turning to Colonel Welsh, he asked, "What's the plan, sir? Or shouldn't I ask that now?"

"You should, and I'll answer it," the American Intelligence chief replied. "Here is the picture as we've doped it out. You two, whether you admit it or not, are not exactly unknown to the Gestapo. Ten to one the Gestapo knows that you are here in London. In fact, it's almost an even money bet that Gestapo agents in London know that you are here in this office right now."

"Gos.h.!.+" Freddy Farmer breathed softly. "That doesn't give a chap a very pleasant feeling. But go on, sir."

"What I'm working up to is this," the Colonel continued. "If the Gestapo has wind of the Tobolsk business, and I'll bet a year's pay that they have, they are going to be just a bit more excited to learn that you two have been brought into the picture. And it is our plan to bring you into the picture right out in broad daylight, so to speak. In other words, the Air Vice-Marshal here, you two, my agent, and Agent Jones and myself are going to have lunch as Simpson's at the Savoy Hotel this noon. Then we are all coming back here for a short while. Tonight you two will travel to Aberdeen in Scotland. There you will board a bomber that will fly you direct to Moscow. When you reach Moscow the Soviet Intelligence will take over. You will disappear from sight, and you will remain out of sight for a bit. Then at the right time you two and a Russian Intelligence officer, who knows every square inch of the Tobolsk area, will take off by plane and head down the front to the village of Urbakh, which is on the Russian side of the front."

The Colonel paused a moment to catch his breath and s.h.i.+ft his weight on the chair.

"Meantime," he presently continued, "Agent Jones will also be making a little journey. You see, we hope that you two will be able to draw the Gestapo away from Jones. He will be sneaked out of England by air, and go to Gibraltar, and on to Alexandria, and up through Iraq, and Iran, and up through the Caucasus to the village of Urbakh. There he will meet your party coming down from Moscow, and--well, from that point on, our plan is only general. You, of course, will have to make your own plans from hour to hour, according to how the situation shapes up. The goal, of course, is for all of you to get over into Tobolsk behind the n.a.z.i lines and contact Ivan Nikolsk, and learn what he has to say, in the event you can't get him out of there by air."

"Zowie!" Dawson breathed aloud without thinking. "Just like that, huh?

I--Sorry, sir."

Colonel Welsh gave a little wave of his hand to signify that Dawson's comment was taken in the right spirit. In fact, he grinned, and nodded his head vigorously.

"Zowie is right!" he echoed. "I'll admit that the a.s.signment appears so screwy, and dizzy, that a man would be a fool even to give a thought to its turning out even partially successfully. But on the other hand, that's something in our favor in a way. It's such a screwy idea that maybe even the Gestapo wouldn't believe we'd try to pull it off. You see, our hope is that they'll think that you're going to Moscow to turn over valuable information to Soviet Intelligence. In short--well, to be very blunt and brutal, it is our hope that the Gestapo will fall all over themselves trying to _stop you two from reaching Moscow_, and in their efforts will forget all about Agent Jones."

"Well, I wish them luck, I don't think!" Dawson said more cheerfully than he felt. "At any rate, there should be some fun in beating those murdering b.u.ms to the punch. Check, Freddy?"

"Quite!" the English-born air ace managed to get out. "I've always wanted to visit Moscow, too."

"Well, our prayers will be that you'll have that opportunity," Colonel Welsh said almost fervently. "If you can shake them off at Moscow, even if they suddenly realize they've been very nicely duped, and guess the real truth, we hope there'll not be enough time for them to do anything about it."

"There's one thing I don't quite catch, sir," Dawson said after a couple of minutes of general silence. "The trip over the n.a.z.i front to Tobolsk.

There'll be four of us in the party, and, we sincerely hope, five of us coming out. That's quite a crowd to be charging about behind the German lines, to my way of thinking."

"I agree with you in principle," the American Intelligence chief replied. "But this is one of those occasions where we're banking on the idea of safety in numbers. In the first place, there must be someone along who knows that area like the palm of his hand. That's where the Russian Intelligence officer will come in. He'll know the best place to land, and where to hide the aircraft from prying n.a.z.i eyes. Secondly, there has to be the man to contact Nikolsk. That's Agent Jones, of course. Thirdly, or it should be secondly, Nikolsk will have to be found, and that's where the Russian Intelligence officer will come in handy again. He'll be able to hunt around while the rest of you lie doggo and wait. And lastly, there must be a pilot to fly the plane in, and to fly it out again. That's where you two come in. Double insurance, if you get what I mean?"

"I get it, sir," Dawson said grimly. "You hope that both Freddy and I will fly in, but there _must_ be one of us left to fly the s.h.i.+p out, eh?"

"I mean just that," Colonel Welsh said, and there was no smile on his thin face now. "One of you has _got_ to come back!"

"And _both_ of us will!" Dawson replied instantly.

"Definitely!" Freddy Farmer echoed, and seemed content to let it stay like that.

"Well, that's the picture in more or less detail," Colonel Welsh said with a glance at his watch. "We'll talk over some more of the details again. Right now, though, I guess we've done enough talking. Let's break up this meeting, and think things over. Maybe all of us will have things to add later. That agreeable with you, Air Vice-Marshal?"

"Quite," the senior R.A.F. officer said with a nod. Then, glancing at Dawson and Farmer, "All the luck in the world, you chaps. And I need not tell you how I admire you both, and envy you, too, if you must know the truth. I'd give every one of my stripes of rank to be able to go along with you."

"Thank you, sir," Dawson said for them both. Then, with a pointed glance at the decoration ribbons under the tunic wings of the Air Vice-Marshal, he added, "And we'd like nothing better than to have you along, sir."

"See here, what about me?" Colonel Welsh snapped with a half grin tugging at the corners of his mouth. "Am I supposed to be an old woman, or something?"

"Just Dawson's nasty manners, sir," Freddy Farmer spoke up with a straight face. "He'll never learn. But I can a.s.sure you that his words really included you both."

"And how, sir!" Dawson exclaimed hastily. "I figured you'd take that for granted."

"Well, that's a little better!" Colonel Welsh growled in mock annoyance.

"But you'll never know, Dawson, how close you came to having to pay for that lunch this noon. But of course, I understand, now. So I'll let you off this time, and pay for it myself."

Dawson blew air through his lips, and went through the act of wiping beads of sweat from his brow.

"Boy, did I come close to having to wash a mess of dishes!" he breathed.

"Because, if the truth must be known, I've got all of three s.h.i.+llings in my pocket!"

"As though that were unusual!" Freddy Farmer shot at him. "Just name the day when your pay wasn't all spent before you received it."

"Quite!" the Air Vice-Marshal broke into the conversation. "But that's a well known R.A.F. habit, of course. Well, Gentlemen, shall we disband, eh, and meet later at Simpson's, what?"