CHAPTER TWELVE
_Flashing Finish_
Yellow throat-stinging smoke curled and swirled about the room whereDawson and Freddy Farmer were held prisoners by Yammanato. It stungtheir eyes, too, and half blinded them. It hung like a thick blanket ofacid not more than three feet from the floor. For some ten minutes now,the two air aces had hugged the floor to keep under the smelly stuff andwaited for an up-draft to take the smoke upward and out through theskylight.
"I guess you went wrong on this one, Dave," Freddy gasped. "This stuffis heavier than water, and it will never rise."
"It's got to, it's got to, Freddy!" Dawson said grimly. "It's our onlyhope of getting out of this place. And of maybe getting the rats here inthis nest caught."
"Small chance of that, I fancy," Freddy said with a groan. "But even ifthe police and the fire department do come busting in here and free us,then what? The way we've messed up this job, it will certainly takesomething to face Vice-Admiral Stone and Commander Drake. They certainlywon't love us for this business, I can tell you!"
"Maybe not, but we'll just have to take our medicine, Freddy," Dawsonreplied. "But the big idea right now is to get _out_ of here. You knowthere's always a chance that we may be able to do something. After all,the carrier force is only two days at sea. It's going to take longerthan two days for them to get within flight range of Truk. At least,near enough for that Nazi rat to skip off and get going. I ... doggone,I could cut my throat for the way things have turned out. After all thetight places we've been in, and wiggled out of them, to be caught coldlike this. Boy, do I feel lower than a heel!"
Freddy Farmer didn't reply for a moment. He moved a bit closer to Dawsonon the floor, and then reached out a hand and touched his flying pal onthe arm.
"We'll get out, Dave," he said quietly. "We've got to, old chap. And youand I aren't licked until we're dead and buried six feet under, as youwould say."
Dawson looked at him, and some of the telling strain went out of hissmoke-streaked face. He grinned and winked knowingly at Freddy.
"Now you're talking, kid," he said. "For a moment there I was afraidthat you had given up the ship for keeps. But you were just fooling me,and I should have known better. Sure we'll get out, and we'll still winsomehow. You just wait and see."
As Dawson finished the last he got slowly up on his hands and knees, andcrawled over toward the wall on his right. He was playing a hunch, andhis hunch proved to be correct. There was a draft of air over on thatside that was lifting the yellow smoke upward. As a matter of fact thesmoke was beginning to pour out through the skylight.
"Give the gentleman a cigar; it's working, Freddy!" he cried out in alow voice. "Crawl over here and see for yourself. It's working, Freddy."
A few seconds later young Farmer was by his side and peering upward outof smoke-reddened eyes. He gasped happily, and instantly crossed all thefingers of his two hands.
"For luck, Dave!" he breathed. "This and a prayer that they will see itoutside. I mean, that there aren't tall buildings around here that willhide it off from those in the street. Gosh! Dave! Look at that stuffpour out. I never knew that just a bundle of clothes and things couldthrow off so much smoke!"
"One of the very special Dawson fires, kid!" Dave said to him. "And ifthat amount of smoke going out that skylight doesn't attract plenty ofattention, then I'm a Chinese uncle."
"Whatever that means," Freddy Farmer said with a chuckle. "Anyway, allwe can do now is wait. As though we haven't been doing that little thingfor years and years it seems. I ..."
Freddy cut off the rest as Dawson suddenly grabbed his arm and gave ashake of his head to be quiet, and listen. Breath virtually locked intheir lungs, the two air aces stood perfectly motionless and strainedtheir ears. A few seconds later they were rewarded by the sound offootsteps racing up a flight of stairs beyond their locked and barreddoor. And almost at the same time there came wild, high-pitched chatterin a language that neither of them understood.
"This is it, Freddy!" Dawson whispered in young Farmer's ear. "Sounds tome like those are the two rats who brought us our food."
"Sounds like them to me, too," Freddy replied. Then, pulling on Dawson'sarm, he added quickly, "Better stand well out of line with that door,Dave. When the blighters find that they can't get in they may try toshoot their way in."
"Yeah, you've got something there," Dawson said.
But that was all he had the chance to say. The door was being tried now,violently. And it definitely sounded as if whoever was outside werehaving a fit because the door could not be opened. And then came haltingwords spoken in English through the door.
"Open, please, yes. There is fire and smoke in there. Open, please, andwe will put out fire, yes!"
Dawson and Freddy Farmer simply looked at each other, and winked.Neither of them spoke a word, but each could tell that the other hadexactly the same thought. In short, that the next few minutes could wellmean success or failure for their hopes. There was not much smoke goingup from the burning clothes and papers now. The fire had spent itself,and if help in the form of the Honolulu fire and police departments didnot come soon, their mad play for freedom would have been all in vain.
And then suddenly from beyond the door a voice spoke that made the haircrawl on the backs of their necks, and made each wish with all hisheart and soul that he had been armed. It was the voice of Yammanato,and it was not soft and quiet and polished now. It was high-pitched,even a little off key, and ringing with fiendish frenzy.
"Open at once or I will kill you through the door. Your trick hasfailed, do you hear me? It has failed, and if you do not wish to die athousand deaths then open this door at once. Do you hear me? Do you hearme?"
Fists, and more than one pair of fists, pounded violently on the door.The door squeaked and groaned a little but it did not budge a fractionof an inch. The furniture that the two air aces had piled up in front ofit was made of heavy stuff and held the door fast.
"Open! Open this door at once! I have a gun. I am going to shoot!"
It was the man called Yammanato who screamed the words, and almostbefore their shrilling was lost to the echo there came the muffled soundof two shots, and bullets tore through the heavy paneling in the door tolodge harmlessly in the bamboo chest.
"You see?" Yammanato screamed, seeming to beat the butt of his gunagainst the door. "I have a gun, and I will shoot you. No matter whereyou stand I will be able to hit you. Kato is coming and he is strongenough to break down this door. I tell you, your trick has failed. Benot fools any longer, or it will go that much harder with you. Do youhear me in there? Do you hear me?"
Freddy acted as though he were going to fling some kind of a tauntthrough the door, but Dawson cut him off with a curt shake of his head,and then put his lips to young Farmer's ear.
"Don't ask for it, Freddy!" he breathed. "He might be able to place thesound of your voice, and plug us at that. Just keep mum. If we don't geta break pretty soon, then ..."
Dawson didn't finish the last. Rather he finished it with a soft groanand turned his head so that Freddy would not see the look he knew mustbe showing in his eyes. The sands of time were running dangerously lownow. Was fate mocking their crazy efforts? Was this house where theywere prisoners so situated that nobody outside would see that yellowsmoke pouring from the skylight? Was this house set alone out on theoutskirts of Honolulu? Had their desperate attempt failed after all, andin a few moments would that giant, Kato, smash down the door with hismassive shoulders? Would...?
The last thought was never completed in Dawson's brain. At that momentfrom beyond the door some place came a cry of alarm, and the sound offeet running furiously up the stairs. Then the speaking voice camecloser and Dawson could tell that it was Kato shrilling somethingrapidly in Japanese.
And then ... and then a voice roared and Dawson's heart leaped with purejoy. It was a good old American voice and it seemed to boom rightthrough the barred door.
"Hey you, what's going on here!" it thundered. "Your p
lace is on fire.What's in that room?"
"It is nothing, Captain," came Yammanato's voice, very sweet andwhining. "It was a cigarette that burned one of my jackets. It is allright, now, Captain. But thank you for coming to our aid."
"Oh, yeah?" said the booming voice. "Well, I'm not a captain, just asergeant. And don't tell me that a cigarette made that much smoke.What's your name anyway? What's ... Yeah, up here, Mike! Come on up andbring those two guys with you. This looks screwy to me!"
"Coming, Sergeant!" cried out a second born-in-the-U.S.A. voice. "Hey,these guys look Jap to me!"
"But that is silly!" the whining voice of Yammanato was heard toprotest. "We are all native Hawaiians. My name is Komo. I own the littlesouvenir shop down the street. Why, I have never been in Japan in mylife. You are mistaken, Sergeant. We are loyal Hawaiians. And it istrue. I was smoking a cigarette and put it down to go out of the roomfor a minute. It fell out of the ash tray and onto a jacket that was onthe arm of a chair. It is really nothing. No harm at all, save a hole inmy jacket. And it was my favorite jacket, too."
And that was as long as Dawson and Freddy Farmer decided to wait. Therewere two Yank soldiers out there. Probably a couple of members of themilitary patrol in that part of Honolulu. Anyway, they were undoubtedlyarmed, and besides, the time to act had arrived at last. Dawson lookedat Freddy Farmer, and they both nodded.
"Hold them, Sergeant!" Dave yelled at the top of his voice, and startedheaving the furniture that blocked the door to one side. "That rat islying in his teeth. He's a Jap, and so are the others. We're a coupleof Air Forces officers held prisoner in here. We started the fire tobring help. Hold them, Sergeant; we're coming out."
"Hey, what goes on?" came the booming voice.
But at that moment neither Dave nor Freddy wasted any breath replying.Both were straining every ounce of their strength to push the furnitureaside and get at the door. It seemed to take them years to do it, andthey heard sounds and yells outside. They still paid no attention. Andthen finally the last of the furniture was out of the way. Dawsongrabbed the door knob, turned and yanked the door open. Two big huskymembers of the military police stood outside blinking at him indumbfounded surprise. In one corner of the landing the two little brownmen cringed. But Yammanato and Kato had obviously ducked past the twosoldiers and were racing down a flight of stairs at top speed. Dawsontook it all in at a glance, and yelled at the blinking sergeant.
"Stop them!" he cried. "They're Jap spies. Stop them even if you have toshoot!"
The sergeant still gaped blankly, but the private first class who waswith him seemed to collect his wits. He spun around and made a grab forKato.
"Hey you, hold on there!" he barked.
But the giant Jap had no intention of doing that. As he went down thestairs he shot out a huge fist. It caught the American soldier square onthe chin and knocked him head over heels as though he were no more thana toy doll. But Kato did not take into consideration that Dawson was upon his toes, and fighting mad. As the soldier went toppling over the gunin his hand flew from his fingers. Dave dived and caught it before itstruck the stair landing. He fell on his side but twisted around on thetop of the stairs. A split second later the gun in his hand spat outflame and sound. Kato's head snapped forward as though he had beenbrained from behind by a baseball bat. His big feet lost their footingon the stairs. He stumbled and then went crashing forward to fallheadlong down the last seven or eight steps like a slaughtered ox. Evenbefore he crumpled in a heap halfway through an opened door that led outonto a sun-filled street, blood was pouring from the bullet wound in theback of his head, and he was stone dead.
In dying, however, Kato had saved the life of his master, Yammanato.That is to say, his falling body blocked the entire stairway so thatDawson was unable to shoot at Yammanato, who was a few steps ahead ofthe giant Jap. However, Dave did not waste any time cursing his luck.Scrambling to his feet, he went down the stairs in just three leaps,hurtled over the prostrate Kato and bolted out into the sunny street.
He spotted Yammanato not over thirty yards away racing headlong up thesidewalk on his right. To Dawson's surprise he didn't see any gun in theJap spy's hand. Yammanato had either thrown it away, or had stuck it inhis pocket when the two Yank soldiers had come running into the house.But even if the Jap had had a gun in either hand, it wouldn't have madeany difference to Dawson. The tables were turned, now, and it wasDawson's time to do the talking.
"Stop, you Japrat!" he shouted, and raced up the sidewalk like a streakof lightning.
If the Jap heard the challenge he paid no attention. He increased hisspeed if anything, and Dawson suddenly saw that he was making for anarrow alley another fifty or sixty yards ahead.
"Stop, Yammanato!" Dave yelled. "Your last chance. Stop, or you get it!"
But Yammanato did not stop. That he heard Dawson was proved by the factthat he flung a single look back over his shoulder, and then raced fullout for what he hoped would be the safety of the alley up ahead. Henever reached that alley, though. He missed it by a good twenty yards.Dawson's single shot seemed to knock Yammanato's feet right out fromunder him, and spin his body in the air like a human top. The Jap hitthe sidewalk on his face, and slowly rolled over onto his right side.
The instant the Jap went down, Dave slowed up and went ahead cautiously,his gun out in front of him on the alert for instant action. He had notforgotten the gun that the Jap had fired through the door of thatsmoke-filled prison room. And when he saw Yammanato slide his right handinside his jacket he almost pulled the trigger of his gun again, but notquite. Perhaps he could not shoot a man sprawled on the ground, eventhough he were a filthy Japanese. Or perhaps it was for one of manyother reasons. At any rate, he withheld his fire.
And then Yammanato's hand came out from inside his jacket, and ithappened. For a brief instant the Hawaiian sun gleamed on the polishedblade of a six-inch knife. Then the blade disappeared as the Jap plungedit with both hands to his heart.
"The stinker!" Dawson heard his own voice pant as he raced up to theJap. "Takes his own life rather than face the music. Just an old Japcustom, I guess."
But Yammanato was not yet quite dead. He stared up at Dawson out of halfclosed eyes that gleamed with fiendish hate. And then suddenly his lipsslid back over his teeth in a sort of wolfish grin, and faintly spokenwords came out from between them.
"Good fortune is a fickle woman. I have so spoken."
And with that the Jap died. Dawson saw death steal over the Nip's face.The light in his eyes went out, he stopped breathing, and all thatremained was the blood that had once given him life seeping out past theknife blade and staining his white silk shirt a deep red.
"If that was supposed to be an exit line, Yammanato," Dawson grunteddown at the dead man, "it was very corny. Plenty corny."
And then as he straightened up, Freddy Farmer and the two soldiers camedashing up, and all three of them started talking at once.
"Hold everything, everybody!" Dave cried, and held up his two hands."The rat's dead as a doornail, and now all of us have got things to do,but fast!"
Dave Dawson at Truk Page 12