with These Hands (Ss) (2002)

by L'amour, Louis

  Jim ran swiftly and soundlessly. The nearest marine started Tturn and sLighten, but Jim's right hand gashed him on the point of the chin, knocking him to he sand.

  Big London rushed in close, and a soldier grabbed* his extended left arm, but Big London was too quick and he Sed viciously, his heel striking the man on the kneecap wSv a low cry the man fell, and then Big London clamped on a headlock, twisted sharply, and sat down hard on the sand.

  He got up quietly. The job was finished, and Jim sent the two men to one boat and he took the other. They started the motors and headed out to sea. Jim glanced at the destroyer. If they were challenged ...

  They were. They were just sheering off to bear away from the destroyer when a command boomed out over a loudspeaker. Big London and Lyssy were in the boat behind him. They kept on their path and instantly a shot plunged across their bows.

  Without an instant's hesitation, Jim acted. Turning onto a course toward the destroyer, he opened the motor wide.

  With a roar, the boat almost leaped from under him. He slammed the two arming levers on the console down and punched every button he could see. Whirling, he leaped to the rear deck and dove off into the churning water.

  The other boat was alongside, and Lyssy grabbed him by the shoulders. He was not quite in the boat when the first patrol boat was shelled by the destroyer. The bow went to fragments and the boat was dead in the water and sinking. Then there was an appalling crash, and the thunder of a terrific explosion. A burst of fire momentarily appeared alongside the Japanese warship.

  Ponga Jim grabbed the wheel from Big London and sent the speedboat roaring out to sea, her bottom fairly skimming the waves.

  "What was that explosion?" London asked, staring with wide eyes. "The destroyer, she all afire."

  "The speedboat had two torpedoes in its tubes," Mayo said, "so has this one."

  The black sea swept past underneath them, and in the distance a thin gray line began to grow above the horizon.

  Jim's face was set and hard as the boat roared down the coast heading for Tobalai. The patrol boat would do fifty miles an hour, and was doing it.

  The fleet would be moving now, moving out across the sea toward the north. And on the tableland of Tobalai, his planes, the aircraft he had been entrusted with, would be warming up, waiting for the American aircraft of the carrier squadron to take the bait and fly to attack the Japanese battleships. The trap was set and the disguise was perfect.

  Big London crouched low behind Jim, and Lyssy stared back at the glow where the destroyer burned. The sea raced by, and Jim's hands gripped the wheel. It was a long way, but they could make it, they might make it.

  "What happen to our ship, I wonder?" Big London asked.

  "I don't know," Jim said. "I just don't know."

  He had been thinking of that, too. The Setnimmis, all he owned in the world, and the crew, who were not only men who worked with and trusted him, but his friends.

  Day was just breaking when he ran into the cove on the shore of Tobalai. Dropping anchor in shallow water, the three went over the side and Mayo and Big London walked ashore.

  "We're here," Ponga Jim grinned. "Now there's not much left to do."

  "Excuse me, Capitan Mayo," a voice said politely, "I dislike to interrupt but I must..."

  Ponga Jim turned, unbelieving. "How ... ?"

  Captain Tushima smiled. "I flew here. You see . . ." He gestured with one hand to a line of soldiers with machine guns. "You two are my prisoners!"

  Two? Mayo did not turn his head, but in his heart there was a sudden burst of elation.

  "You're always around at the wrong time, Captain," he said coolly, "and this is the worst."

  He turned carelessly. Big London, his black face sober, stood about a dozen feet away. Lyssy was gone. Evidently he had sensed trouble and stayed underwater after diving out of the boat.

  Brace Lamprey and Mallory came down from the jungle.

  Lamprey looked around.

  "Where's the guy with the trick haircut?" he demanded sharply.

  "Who?" Ponga Jim asked innocently. "You mean the Toradjas?"

  "I don't know what he is," Lamprey returned. "The big fellow with the front half of his head shaved."

  "That's him. The Toradjas warriors all wear their hair that way. He left us back in the jungle on Obi Major. We scattered out, and he didn't get back with us."

  Mallory said nothing, but stared at Jim, a curious light in his eyes. Eric Frazer came down out of the jungle. He was wearing a gun and his cheekbone was badly cut, one eye black.

  Ponga Jim grinned at him, and Frazer's eyes blazed.

  "I owe you one, Mayo, and I'm going to give it to you now!" He walked up, and drawing his gun, drew back to hit Jim with the barrel.

  Ponga Jim made believe to duck, but instead, lunged forward and hit Frazer with his shoulder, knocking the man into the sand. His face red with anger, Frazer swung up the gun to kill Mayo, but Tushima spoke sharply, and he stopped.

  "I thought you wanted him killed," Frazer said sullenly.

  "Why keep him alive?"

  "Because," Tushima said slowly, "I want one American to see with his own eyes the destruction of the rest of their most-powerful fleet."

  Ponga Jim looked at him, but said nothing. Tushima turned, and motioning the guards to follow with him, started back up the steep path.

  Jim thought rapidly. He . Was a prisoner, but there still was time if he could free himself, and Lyssy had escaped.

  There was no greater woodsman alive, and if anything could be done, he would do it.

  Tushima dropped back to walk beside Jim.

  "This war has long been coming, Capitan Mayo," he said gravely, "but we shall win now that it is here."

  "Yeah?" Jim shook his head. "If you'd been smart enough to see that getting bogged down in China proper wasn't a solution to getting bogged down in Manchuria you wouldn't be trying to take over more territory than you can ever hold. The situation gets worse with every island you take."

  Tushima shrugged. "I am only responsible for delivering a victory here and now. Policy, I leave to others."

  "Well, someone hasn't studied their history and someday they are very likely to stick you with the problem."

  The mountain rose toward the plateau in steplike formation, and on the topmost step before reaching the tableland itself, several houses and barracks had been constructed in the jungle.

  Rayna Courcel came from a bungalow as Ponga Jim approached.

  Her eyes widened a little, but she said nothing.

  Once she glanced at Mallory, but Ross was silent.

  Ponga Jim and London were put into a cell behind a barred door. Jim sat down on the cot. Only a few hours remained, probably less than that, and the only factor in the whole mess that promised anything at all was the fact that Lyssy was outside in the jungle.

  Beyond the barracks and in the jungle on the edge of the tableland above were the two huge gasoline storage tanks with fuel for the planes. Already there was a bustle of movement around them as the planes were being readied for their big fight. The American torpedo bombers were being armed and serviced, crewmen were even freshening the insignias on their sides and wings to be sure that they couldn't be missed.

  Excitement was in the air now, for all knew what was coming, and not one but knew that on this flight might rest the future of the Japanese empire. At one fell stroke, they might wreck the remaining naval power of the United States, sending the last of the Pacific Fleet into the dark turmoil of oil-slicked waves.

  Ponga Jim stared thoughtfully at the fuel tanks. They weren't so far away at that. If he could rid himself of that guard he might be able to handle the door. He turned to examine it again and was surprised to see Rayna.

  "You here?" he said. "I should think you'd be aloft watching the preparations."

  Her expression did not change. "How long will it take the planes to get there? To the strait, I mean?"

  He shrugged. "A bit less than half an hour,
I think. But not much. If you're sticking around, you'd better keep out of the way. You wouldn't look very nice all mussed up, and I may take a notion to crash out."

  "Would you?" Rayna looked at him curiously. "Why?"

  "A lot of the usual reasons. I'm patriotic, I suspect. Then I wouldn't want to see all those kids in fleet getting ambushed by planes that I brought out here."

  "But what could you do?" Rayna asked. "One man, against so many."

  "As much as possible." He looked at her carefully. "I haven't got you placed, though, honey. Just where do you fit in?"

  "Actually I'm assistant to the Canadian military attache in Pretoria." She smiled, "We heard that something was up but I think I'm in over my head...."

  "Is there a radio around here?" Jim asked, keeping his eyes on her.

  "Yes. It's in the barracks, on the upper floor."

  "Then talk to the guard a minute." Jim had been looking at the door. It was a door of steel bars, but the hinges were set in a wooden frame. It had been hastily made, with a guard on duty, it didn't have to be that strong.

  He turned to Big London. "Step up here, old fellow.

  This guard doesn't savvy American. I've been watching him. You and me are going out of this joint, and I mean now."

  Big London grinned, showing his white teeth and flexing his muscles.

  "What do we do, Cap?"

  Ponga Jim walked up to the door and took hold of the bars. The guard was standing in the door explaining something to Rayna in Japanese.

  He took hold of the bars, looked at Jim, and Mayo grabbed them too and smiled.

  "Let's gol" he said, and heaved with all his strength.

  The iron bars of the door broke away from the frame on the first heave, splintering the crudely hewn wood. The guard whirled, jerking up his gun, but as he started to take a step, Rayna tripped him.

  The marine spilled over on his face, and as Big London gave another terrific heave, wrenching the door away from its flimsy, shanty framing, Jim lunged through. A blow with the rifle butt as the guard started to get up, and he was knocked completely cold.

  "Come on!" Jim snapped.

  Chapter 7

  Ponga Jim picked up the rifle and started at a rapid walk for the barracks. They had made it almost halfway before someone noticed them. Then two Japanese soldiers stopped and stared at them.

  Without a second's hesitation, Ponga Jim walked right up to the nearest one, smiling. Rayna said something he didn't follow in Japanese, and the man frowned, looking uncertainly from Jim's gun to the Negro. Jim was almost within arm's length of the man when the soldier made up his mind that something was wrong. He opened his mouth to yell, and Jim drove the barrel of the rifle into the soldier's solar plexus with terrific force.

  Big London, who had been carrying a length of wood, sprang up and knocked the rifle from the second man's hand, then brought the club down over his head. Grabbing up the rifles they ran for the barracks.

  Behind them was a startled yell, then a shot. Jim turned and fired three times, taking his own sweet time and dropping each man he shot at. Then they rushed into the empty barracks and slammed the door. London jerked a table in front of it, and they rushed on upstairs after Rayna.

  A Japanese sat at the desk when they came in, and he reached for a gun. Big London whirled, smashing him across the back of the neck with the rifle butt.

  "Get at the window," Jim said quietly. "Rayna, if you can shoot, take one of those rifles, but don't waste any shots."

  The switch was open and he sat down and slipping on the headphones began to call:

  "Calling U. S. Pacific Fleet, any ship . . . calling Pacific Fleet. . . you are running into danger . . . you are running into danger!"

  Almost instantly and so quickly it surprised him, a voice snapped in his ear, the tones sharp, incisive: "Come in, please ... identify yourself?"

  "Captain James Mayo, master of the freighter Semiramis ... calling from Tobalai ... the enemy has planes waiting to take off ... battleships and submarines in vicinity of Greyhound Strait ... some planes bear American markings..."

  Big London's rifle was firing steadily now, and outside shouts of anger could be heard. Above on the tableland a plane's motor broke into a roar. A hail of lead swept the room, but most of it was too high. Rayna was firing now.

  Jim stayed at the instrument. "Check with Major Arnold, British Military Intelligence ... two battleships ..."

  "Hold it!"

  Jim turned his head, gun in hand, to see Ross Mallory in the hall.

  "They've been holding me here," Mallory said. "Let me in on this!"

  "Is this a double-cross?" Jim demanded harshly.

  "Mallory, you start anything now and I'll kill you!"

  "Nothing like that. They had me in a tight spot. I was supposed to do the broadcast that made them think the American planes were returning early." Mallory was sweating. "I can't do it, no matter what it costs me. Here ..."

  He handed Mayo a notebook.

  Jim glanced down at the notebook, open at the page.

  "Those are the forces here," Mallory said. "Tell them."

  Ponga Jim snapped into the mouthpiece: "Are you there?"

  "Waiting," the voice was cool.

  "Two battleships, Nagato class . . . three cruisers of the Myokos class, one Furutaka ... at least ten submarines."

  The firing was a steady roar now, and leaving the switch open, Jim jumped from the radio and grabbed up a rifle. Down below the men were trying to mount the stairs with Mallory holding it with bursts from a light machine gun.

  They tried a rush, but the machine gun and Jim's rifle stopped it. Then a single shot rang out and Mallory backed up, coughing. The long gun started to slip from his hands and Jim caught it, charging halfway down the stairs, the gun chattering.

  The crowd of Japanese melted, and Jim raced back up the steps. He grabbed up more ammunition, stuffing it in his pockets. Then, he lifted the machine gun and fired a burst at the nearest gasoline storage tank.

  The tracers hit the tank and there was a terrific blast of fire; a wave of heat struck them like a blow. The barracks sagged with the power of it, and then yells and screams lifted and were lost in the roaring inferno of the burning gasoline.

  Catching Rayna by the hand, Jim yelled at Big London.

  Mallory was dead. Evidently, something crooked he had done in the past had given the spies a hold over him, but he had died a brave death in the end. The three raced down the stairs, forgotten in the roaring flames outside.

  Running, they started up a back trail to the plateau above.

  Suddenly, from behind them there was a gigantic explosion that almost knocked them to their knees. "The other tank," Jim said.

  They ran on, gasping for breath. The jungle had been showered with gasoline and flame, and burning and blackened shreds of foliage were falling around them. They reached the plateau in a dense cloud of smoke. Several Japanese saw them and ran forward. Ponga Jim opened up, firing a burst, then dashed for a plane.

  Suddenly, from nowhere, Lyssy was beside them.

  "The ship!" he yelled. Flames danced on his brown face and his staring eyes. "The ship, she come!"

  Turning, Ponga Jim looked down. True enough, the old Semiramis was below, lying a half mile off shore. Even as they watched, her guns belched fire. She was firing on a Japanese submarine.

  Jim wheeled, passing the machine gun to Big London.

  "Go to the ship!" he shouted. "Hurry!"

  "What about you?" Rayna cried, catching his sleeve.

  "I'm going up there," he said.

  Then he was gone, running for an idling plane. It was a captured fighter, probably taken from another supply ship taking American planes to the East Indies.

  A Japanese was just getting into the seat, and Jim grabbed him, jerking him back. The flyer fell awkwardly, and a mechanic started to run around the plane, but Jim was already in, and in a matter of seconds the plane went roaring down the plateau. Just in time, he eased ba
ck on the stick and the fighter shot aloft.

  Only a few planes remained on the field, for most of them had taken off just before the explosion of the first tank. Jim leveled off and opened the throttle wide, heading for Greyhound Strait.

  What was happening up ahead he could only guess.

  There was a silence that worried him. Still, he had far to go. He swung wide, turning to go south of Taliabu.

  Like a bullet from a gun, his ship roared through the sky at three hundred miles an hour.

  Easing back on the stick, he climbed, reaching for more and more altitude. Then, through a break in the clouds, he saw it, the splendid majesty of the fleet, moving up the sea in formation, but no longer headed for a deadly surprise, now for a battle. Almost automatically, he had slipped into his 'chute.

  Then, lower down and ahead of him, already swinging toward the fleet, he saw the flight of false American planes. The decks of the carriers were partially empty, indicating that they had launched aircraft in pursuit of the Japanese warships that had been intended as bait. Jim prayed that they would stay away from the coming battle and not add to the confusion and slaughter.

  Ponga Jim looked down at the formation of planes, then at the fleet below them and ahead. With a grin and a wave to the gods who watch over fools and flyers, he pushed the stick forward. The nose went down and he opened the throttle wide. He was behind them, and with the sun behind him. A perfect start.

  The heavy plane went into the roaring crescendo of a power dive, and he saw the air-speed needle climbing up 300... 350 ... 400... 450, and then he was opening up with all six machine guns and the cannon. A fighter below him swerved and suddenly burst into flame. It crashed into another plane, and the two whirled earthward in a tangled mass of twisting metal. His guns were spewing flame again and in an instant he was in the middle of a dogfight, alone against a dozen enemy planes.

  He saw a torpedo plane pull up and go whirling out of sight, then a fighter was in his sights, then he was past and the aircraft was a plummeting mass of wreckage. Ack-ack from the ships opened up and anti-aircraft machine-gun fire laced the sky.