"This is a good place," Air Marshal Manners said when the trio had reached a stretch of sandy beach about half a mile from the Base field. "Let's sit down here, and act as though we're tired. Frankly, that's no lie as far as I'm concerned."

The three seated themselves on the sand and for a moment or so Manners stared thoughtfully out over the Atlantic as though carefully choosing the words he was about to speak. Dave and Freddy waited, but not patiently. Inwardly both were seething with excitement and curiosity. Neither, however, made so much as the beginning of an attempt to get the Air Marshal started. They knew that this was the last time he would force them to wait, so they grimly sat tight and let the torturing seconds tick by.

Suddenly Manners raised his right hand and pointed toward the west.

"Out there some eight or nine hundred miles," he said, "is a convoy of thirty-five British ships. The most valuable convoy ever to set sail for a British port. Its cargo contains tons and tons of war materials most vital to our immediate needs. Food stuffs, raw materials, medical supplies, guns of all kinds, a thousand crated airplanes made in the United States and Canada, oil, gasoline ... everything that we need so badly. I don't need to tell you the staggering losses that Nazi U-boats and surface raiders have already inflicted upon England's merchant marine. The whole world knows the great toll that has been taken. And the whole world knows also that England cannot hope to survive if such losses continue. And better than any country, save our own, Adolf Hitler realizes that truth. For that reason he is going all out, regardless of the cost to his own forces, to force England to her knees and then crush her with no more emotion or pity than he would crush a fly."

The Air Marshal stopped talking, lighted a cigarette but immediately flung it away after a single puff.

"What that convoy is bringing to England," he continued eventually, "is not vital to our needs six months or a year from now. We need it and need it so terribly much this week ... the very day it can be unloaded at the docks. It is a large convoy, yes. And a beautiful prize for the Nazis to go after. That is true, too. And we are not fools enough to believe they have no knowledge that it is on the high seas and on its way. Naturally, the ships left different ports on the other side of the Atlantic, and at different times. Every precaution was taken to keep secret their dates of departure, the course each ship was to sail, and the rendezvous point far at sea. We have done everything save circle it with the ships of the entire British Navy. But that we could not do. Yes, every possible precaution has been taken to get that convoy through safely. But we know that every possible precaution is not enough. We know that the Nazis will bide their time and fall upon it when least expected. And so, it is up to us to beat the Nazis at their own game!"

The Chief of the Emergency Command paused again and in turn looked each youth straight in the eye.

"It was my Heaven sent prayer that we would accomplish that very thing this morning!" he suddenly got out harshly. "For several days we have known that the Nazis' fastest and most heavily armed raider, and their most daring and skilled wolf pack of U-boats, was being assembled for an attack on that convoy almost within sight of England's shores. Possessing that knowledge, and also knowing the location of their rendezvous area, we planned a trap for them. A trap with jaws made of British naval vessels and planes. You two were assigned to act as bait and to draw our boats and planes straight to the exact rendezvous point in that same two hundred square mile area. We know now that all our well laid plans went up in smoke. That the Nazis fooled us, and we failed to spring the trap."

Air Marshal Manners stopped once more, and Dave looking at him seemed to see the shadow of increased years steal across the man's face. The Yank wanted to reach out a hand and touch Manners as though to say that he too shared the bitterness of defeat that was in his heart. He checked the urge, however, and waited for the senior officer to continue.

"Yes, we failed miserably," the Air Marshal spoke again. "But even as we were failing, the gods were kind to us. They gave us the opportunity to make a second try. Those code books found in von Khole's flat near Golder's Green. Not until this morning did I have the chance to examine those books. Not until after you had taken off did I realize that a second chance would be ours in case we failed in the first. It's funny, in a way, when you study the situation. The Germans don't know where our fleet is, whether it's with the convoy or not, but they can probably find out. We don't know where the raider and her U-boats are, but now we can find out. The winner of this deadly game will be the one who discovers first the locality of the other's prize. And whether England wins or loses depends upon the skill, daring, and enduring courage of you two!"

Silence settled over the sands. There was not a sound save the soft hiss of the waves lapping the shore. Dave stared at them and in an abstract crazy sort of way felt that the sound was countless unseen demons of war and death jeering at Manners' spoken words. He took his gaze off the waves and looked at the Air Marshal.

"I can think of no greater reward, sir, than the chance to play my part no matter what it is, or costs," he said solemnly.

"And I can think of no better way of expressing my own thoughts too, sir," Freddy Farmer said in his quiet, steady voice.

The Air Ministry official smiled, and for a brief moment something seemed to glisten in each eye. Then his face was grave and his eyes stern.

"It may cost you everything!" he said in a hard tone. "But above all you must not fail. I demand it. England demands it. The whole civilized part of this world demands that you be successful. And now, here is the actual part you are to play. Down there somewhere off the coast of France is that raider and her under-sea wolf pack. Sometime tonight she will probably put to sea to maneuver into position to make her surprise attack upon the convoy just before dawn when the light is bad and the convoy's lookouts are staring into a rising sun. Between midnight and dawn you will make contact with that raider and her pack, locate her, and lure her into the waiting arms of British warships. That in a few words is what you will do, and here is how you will do it!"

Air Marshal Manners paused again to get his breath and to clear his throat.

"You remember that Catalina flying boat I pointed out to you when we were with Wing Commander Otis?" he said presently. "Well, that is the plane you are going to use. What I said about it is true. It's the fastest and best weather flying boat in the whole Coastal Command. It is completely equipped and ready for flight right this minute. The guns are loaded, bombs are in their racks, and food and supplies are all aboard. I happen to know that because it is a policy of this Station to have all planes ready for action whether they are scheduled for patrol or not. In other words, any one of the flying boats in the basin is all set to take the air, but that particular Catalina is the best of the lot. Sometime tonight you two will sneak out to it in one of the tenders moored to the edge of the basin and get into the air and away as fast as you can."

"Steal it right from under the noses of the guards, sir?" Freddy gasped.

"Just that," Air Marshal Manners said with a short nod. "But that won't be hard. If you noticed, that particular Catalina is farther out toward open water than any of the others. Also, the guards here are stationed at the enemy aircraft detectors instead of being stationed about the basin. You won't need to worry about them. Your toughest job will be to get up anchor, start the engines, taxi out to open water, and get off without a light showing. Searchlights, of course, will go after you, and maybe a couple of land planes or so. However, that will take time, and if you do your job well you'll be completely lost and headed for Lord knows where before any of them can pick you up."

"It's going to be close, darn close," Dave murmured softly.

"Exactly why I'm glad you two are tackling the job," the Air Marshal grunted with a faint gesture. "Yes, it will be close, and beginning with the moment you get her into the air you will be hunted high and low by every plane and flying boat the Station can spare. And by planes and boats from other squadrons, too. I say that because it is instantly going to become known that you are two of Germany's cleverest espionage agents who hoodwinked us completely by posing as French aeronautical experts recently escaped from the occupied zone on the other side of the Channel."

"But, sir!" Freddy objected and then stopped short as the senior officer made a sharp motion with one hand.

"Questions later!" Manners snapped. "Let me finish first. Don't worry; complete information about you will go out over the air to all listening stations. I'll see to that. However, the real reason your daring escape will go out over the air is because we want German radio stations to be sure and pick it up. And most of all, that raider's radio. We want the Nazis to swallow the story, and we think they will. You see, a couple of weeks ago, Intelligence did pick up two notorious German spies. They don't publicize feats like that, and for an obvious reason. When you don't tell the enemy you have one of their agents they naturally assume that the agent is still operating. At least for a certain length of time. Fact is, often when we pick up an enemy agent we send a few useless bits of information through to the Germans in such a way they believe he is still serving them. And oftentimes we get messages in return that lead us to other agents we did not even know existed. It's a tricky game, Intelligence, and dangerous, too. But I don't need to tell you chaps about Intelligence work!"[2]

Air Marshal Manners paused to light another cigarette and to cast a casual glance about to make sure they were not being observed.

"Anyway," he continued at length, "to the English, and to the Germans we most certainly hope and pray, you will be regarded as those two German spies. The fact that you stole a Catalina from this Base will excite the Germans all the more. Particularly the raider's commander, if he picks up our SOS broadcasts, which he undoubtedly will. The Germans, of course know that this Base is in touch with that convoy. Also that planes from this Base will be sent out to meet it at a certain point and escort it in. Therefore they will assume that, having stolen the Catalina from here, you of course must know all the secrets about that convoy. And so, when you contact the raider its commander should fairly leap at the bait ... and, please God, sail right into the arms of the British Navy!"

"You're supplying us with copies of the codes to use, sir?" Dave asked.

"Of course!" the other replied. "I have them right here in my pocket. I'll also give you the exact locations of the various units of the Fleet now at sea. Once you have made contact with the raider and her wolf pack you will feed her as many lies as possible and bit by bit lead her into the arms of one of the Fleet units. But, here is the important thing, and pay strict attention. The Nazis will of course have their own planes out hunting for that convoy, so it will be up to you to contact the raider first, and establish definitely in her commander's mind that you know where the convoy is! Mind you! Nazi aircraft will also pick up your signals, and they will all come a-running to that locality. I don't know how much lee-way in time you'll have but during that time, however, you've got to lead the raider and her U-boats close enough to the British Fleet units for them to jump and finish the business. Well, there it is, lads. The toughest assignment I ever gave to any one. Frankly, you've one chance in a hundred of leading that raider into the range of British guns. And, frankly, you've got about one chance in a billion of coming through alive. It's only fair that I should tell you that. The instant you've betrayed the raider, and perhaps even before then, you'll have half the Nazi over-water Air Force on your neck. And that's not to mention the British lads who'll be looking for you right from the start. The only bit of advice I can give you is, keep clear of all aircraft and hide in clouds as much as you can! Oh yes, one more thing. Try first the regular code signals I'll give you, and if you get no response switch immediately to the emergency code. It is possible that von Khole's loss of his code books has been made known to the raider. It's possible but not likely because of the short period of time. Now, any questions?"

"It's really a suggestion, sir," Dave said slowly after a moment's deep thought.

"Then let's have it!" Manners exclaimed impatiently. "After all, it's your necks, you know. What is it?"

"It's about making sure the Fleet units learn the exact location of the raider once we sight her, and are perhaps jumped by enemy aircraft too darn soon," Dave said. "There's a second radio on every Catalina, so why don't we tune it to the directional finder wave-length the instant we spot the raider. Then if anything does happen to us the Fleet units will know her location and be able to circle her before she can head for the convoy in case a real Nazi scouting plane sends her the true location of the convoy."

"That's a good suggestion," Manners said with a frown, "except that...."

"I know what you're going to say, sir," Dave cut in hurriedly. "Except that we're supposed to have stolen a plane, and even the British are hunting us? Well, here's a way to get around that. You, through ways you know best, inform the commander of each Fleet unit tonight that they are to keep their sets open for that directional finder signal and to act the instant they hear it and plot our position. They don't need to know that it's coming from the supposedly stolen plane. Just let them think that you've got real scouting planes out after that raider. In short, the same idea as we tried to work this morning. It's simply to make doubly sure of nailing that raider and her wolf-pack in case Freddy and I run into bad trouble we can't lick."

"I doubt you two not being able to lick anything," the Air Marshal grunted and grinned. "But that is a darn good suggestion, Dawson. I'll do it, don't worry. I'll get word to those Fleet unit commanders in plenty of time. Well, Farmer, have you any suggestions to offer?"

Freddy shook his head and shot a side glance at Dave.

"He does all the talking for us, sir," he said. "He can't help it. A habit he can't break. However, I agree with him completely this time."

"The miracle has come to pass!" Dave chuckled. "The little man agrees with me! The best omen of good luck possible. We can't lose, now!"

Air Marshal Manners smiled, but in his eyes there was the glow of warm and frank admiration. And his heart was bursting with pride. Here indeed was the true expression of the unbeatable spirit of the Royal Air Force. With death awaiting them out over the Atlantic these two youths, with the minds, and skill, and courage of full grown men, were enjoying themselves in a bit of horse-play. Manners swallowed hard, then drew some papers from his tunic pocket and slid them across the sand.

"The codes and the locations of the Fleet units," he said as Dave closed his hand over them. "Well, I guess we'd better be starting back. It's close to mess time. Continue your act, and after mess ease outside whenever you think the time best. Play sleepy and heading for your quarters if you like. You probably won't be noticed, and most certainly not missed. Except by me. And my prayers will be with you every single second of the time. And.... God bless you!"

The Air Marshal's voice was heavy and husky as he finished. He looked the boys straight in the eye for a brief moment, then shook himself slightly and got briskly up onto his feet.