Dave Dawson with the Commandos Part 21

But what a bold, brazen, and perfectly executed stunt Freddy Farmer had pulled off so far. Like reaching into a hat and producing miracles. It had taken cold courage for Freddy to go through with his wildcat idea.

But it had worked. The very fact that any sane brain would have considered it absolutely impossible had been the one great thing in Freddy's favor. A magnificent bluff so expertly acted out that it had been much too late to do anything by the time its victims had seen through it. If Freddy Farmer never did another single thing in this war, he would still have set an all time high for steel nerves and brazen bravery. That confounded Luftwaffe Captain, though! Where in thunder did he come into the picture? Why get two of them over here, and put only one of them out of the action? It didn't--

A m.u.f.fled shouting and other sounds in the hall outside the door curled fingers of ice about Dave's heart. He started to turn, but checked himself in the same split second as he saw von Staube and von Gault stiffen.

"Relax!" he told them in their own tongue. "Just hold everything--or else!"

He bounced the Commando knife in the palm of his left hand, and that was all the two Germans needed to kill any sudden decision they might have made. It was more than enough. Dave's gun they didn't mind staring at.

But his Commando knife seemed like a swaying cobra's head before their eyes. They couldn't take it, and didn't make another move.

One--two--three minutes dragged by, like a fly crawling through mola.s.ses. Dave's nerves strained and tw.a.n.ged inside of him. His heart came up into his throat and stayed there. He watched his two prisoners with one eye, and kept the other on the hallway door. What had happened?

Did Freddy need help? Should he leave these two and race out to Freddy's a.s.sistance? After all, their luck must be at the snapping point.

Everything had gone off too smoothly, too easily. That wasn't the usual way of things in war. Something was bound to crack, and always did. The G.o.ds had to have their little laugh. Should he go outside to give Freddy a hand?

Those and hundreds of other questions flew through Dave's brain. He hesitated in soul-searing indecision, and then suddenly the hall door opened and Freddy Farmer came leaping into the room. His face was just a little pale, but there was a brittle gleam in his eyes. He waved a sealed envelope at the two high ranking Germans.

"A dispatch just arrived," he said. "I took it from the chap for you.

Sorry, but we've no time for this sort of thing."

And with that Freddy tore the sealed envelope in half, and tossed the two halves on the floor.

"Freddy, that pilot!" Dave asked. "What--"

"Sleeping," the English youth cut him off. "No use for him, now. The dispatch chap is keeping him company. Front door locked, so no one will come in that way."

"Then for the love of Mike let's get going!" Dave cried. "You're wonderful, pal, but don't force your luck. Boy! Will you be snowed under with medals!"

Freddy didn't say anything for a moment. It was as though he hadn't even heard Dave's words. He stood with feet planted apart, and his weight thrown forward on his toes, and his head c.o.c.ked to one side.

Anger blazed up in Dave. He was about to speak again when he thought he heard the sound of aircraft engines. He wasn't sure, and in the next instant he had forgotten all about it. Freddy Farmer had snapped out of his trance and was getting into motion.

"Right-o, Dave!" he said, and advanced on the two Germans. "Take von Gault, Dave. I'll handle the other. Up, you two! Time to move. And remember! A Commando means exactly what he says--or promises. It's a sort of an oath, you know!"

Freddy had slid around in back of von Staube and p.r.i.c.ked the back of the Field Marshal's neck with the needle point of his Commando knife. The German felt the pain, and gasped.

"_Ja, ja!_" he babbled out. "I do as you say. We do as you order. We are your prisoners."

"Quite!" Freddy reminded him in a grating voice. "Now, come along.

Through this rear door. If we meet anybody, tell him to return to his office. Only that, remember! He won't see my knife, but you'll feel it, my good man! Never fear! Let's go, Dave!"

Walking on the Field Marshal's right, and a respectful half step to the rear, so that he could keep the point of his knife pressed against the back of the n.a.z.i's tunic, and not have it seen from in front, the English youth guided his prisoner over to the rear door of the room, and opened it. Dave took the same position with his prisoner and sent him forward at Freddy's heels. With n.o.body saying a word, the party pa.s.sed through the door, across a room that had once been the kitchen of the house, and out through the outside rear door.

With every step Dave took he was filled with the nerve-tingling sensation that he was walking on TNT charges with the fuses already lighted. With every pa.s.sing second he felt sure that he and Freddy were just acting out some dream, a crazy nightmare that would explode in a roar of sound at any moment. He told himself that he wasn't afraid to die. That wasn't why he was s.h.i.+vering inwardly, and beads of hot sweat were trickling down his ribs. No, it wasn't fear of death. It was a fear that this really was _only_ a nightmare. That it was only a miracle that had never actually happened. You just didn't walk into a n.a.z.i Headquarters and walk out with two of their biggest big shots. You simply didn't do that sort of thing! It just didn't ever happen, not even in those wild blood and thunder war magazines. In fact, you were a little nuts even to _dream_ about such things!

Yet, all that to the contrary, it was true! It was taking place. They were out in the dawn air now. There was a lot of light to the east. Some shadows of spent night still lingered, but not many. There were some trees in back, on the other side of a seventy foot open s.p.a.ce. If they could cross to those trees! They'd be in the shadows, then. They could follow along under the trees and circle around to the east end of the small drome where the Dornier was. They could steal upon the guards, and--

It was then that Dave suddenly was conscious of the fact that there were sounds of revving aircraft engines. He could tell by the throbbing note that they were German engines. German airplanes on the ground. German airplanes at the _east end of the little flying field_!

He started slightly, and his knife accidentally went forward a fraction of an inch. It slid through the cloth of von Gault's tunic, and through the clothes he wore underneath. It went all the way through and into his flesh a little. He gasped out a stifled sob.

"_Please! No! I beg you!_" he moaned. "Please, I am your helpless prisoner! I make no move to escape!"

Dave hardly heard him. His ears were filled with the sound of the revving aircraft engines. There must be other n.a.z.i pilots about! They were getting ready to take the craft up into the air. Perhaps this was a part of some schedule that Freddy and he knew nothing about. Was their only avenue of escape going to fly away? They couldn't hope to march these two Germans to the nearest bunch of Commandos. The nearest point where they would find Commandos was miles away, far over on the _other_ side of the Seine River.

"Freddy!" he choked out on the spur of the moment.

But that's as far as he could get.

"Quite all right, Dave!" his pal cut him off quickly. "Our chaps warming up the engines as arranged. We'd better put on a bit of speed. Mustn't keep them waiting."

Dave knew that he was prodding his prisoner across the s.p.a.ce of open ground at an increased rate. He knew that Freddy and von Staube were speeding up also. He knew that they reached the shelter of the trees without incident of any kind. But they were all bits of snap realization that flipped through his brain. What filled his brain most was a great dawning light which had burst on him at Freddy Farmer's words. Those engines revving up were the Dornier's, of course! And Freddy knew it! He expected it! And--and he had arranged it. But how? Holy smoke! That Luftwaffe pilot he had herded out into the hall? But Freddy certainly hadn't sent that Jerry pilot over to start up the Dornier's engines and get them warm. Freddy had said the Luftwaffe Captain was "sleeping" in the hallway. So--?

The thought was ended right then and there for Dave. At that exact instant there came a roar of anger and blazing rage from around in front of the H.Q. building they had just quit. The roar came a split second after a cras.h.i.+ng sound, a cras.h.i.+ng and splintering that made Dave's heart quiver and then freeze up solid. He didn't know the true facts, but his guess was good enough for him.

Some of the Germans, maybe an arriving high ranker, had tried the H.Q.

front door and found it locked. So the door had been smashed in and Germans knew now that von Staube and von Gault had been swiped right from under their noses. And if they didn't know the exact details, they would as soon as they had ungagged and revived those inside the place.

It was the way it always happened! The G.o.ds had to have their laugh.

Freedom and success were almost within hands' reach, and now suddenly everything seemed about to be wiped clean from the slate.

"Get speed out of that slob, Freddy!" Dave barked, and gave his own prisoner a vicious jab. "Jig's up. Speed's the only thing. Get that slob going, or slice him up. No time to waste words, now!"

Freddy Farmer didn't reply. He simply went into action. His needle pointed knife drew blood from von Staube's back. Perhaps the German's courage returned for a moment. Perhaps he was actually going to turn and throw his wrist-bound body at Freddy, perhaps even cry out. But the knife digging into his back was the breaking of the last straw. The big fat hulk gurgled out a moan of pain, and then tripped and went sprawling to the ground in a dead faint. Unable to check himself or his own prisoner, Dave and von Gault plowed into the pair in front, and everybody went sprawling.

And behind them in the shadows German voices screamed out commands to each other, and the fading night was filled with the snarl and crackle of random gunfire!

CHAPTER NINETEEN

_Commandos Never Quit!_

For a fleeting instant Dave's head was full of spinning colored lights, and his lungs were full of searing white flame. But the lights and the fire were gone as quickly as they had come. He rolled off the heap made by von Staube and von Gault, and breathed a little crazy prayer of relief that in spilling down he hadn't driven home his Commando knife.

Quite unconsciously he must have twisted his hand so that the point of the knife was no longer at the German's back. And in the next instant he realized that Freddy Farmer had likewise been fortunate. Von Staube was still in a faint, and von Gault was rigid with fear, and gasping for knocked out wind. But neither of them was dead.

"Blast!" Freddy almost sobbed. "It was so close, too! I--"

"Shut up!" Dave told him. "It's still close. Grab your guy by the collar, and drag him along. The deeper we get into these trees, the better. I got an idea."

"What...?"

"Save it!" Dave cut his pal off again. "Just grab hold and heave-ho!

Those tramps are only shooting at shadows so far. They don't know which direction we took. We can make tracks while there's still time. Deeper into the woods, Freddy."

Though his prisoner was still gasping and choking, that didn't bother Dave in the least. He hooked the fingers of his right hand in von Gault's tunic collar and then hauled the German over the ground and deeper into the strip of woods. Freddy and he had traveled no more than fifty yards when suddenly the English youth lost his footing and went tumbling with his prisoner down into a partially grown over sh.e.l.l crater made in the first year of the war. Dave stopped just in time, and felt like letting out a shout of joy. The G.o.ds had laughed, but they were being a little kind to Freddy and him now. Dave slid down into the sh.e.l.l crater, hauling von Gault along with him. By the time he reached the bottom where Freddy was wiggling out from under the unconscious von Staube, von Gault was past the moaning complaint stage. He was having all he could do to get a little air into his lungs and get it out again.

"Nice going, Freddy!" Dave cried softly. "Just what the doctor ordered.

Couldn't find a better hide-out than right down here. Now--"

"But, Dave, we've--"