When Dawson reached flight deck level he slowed up his pace as though waiting for the big Jap to give him the order to continue on toward the flight bridge. As a matter of fact, though, that was not his real intention. He slowed up a little to give Freddy Farmer time to catch up closer, and, also, to take a quick furtive look around. What he saw caused his heart to pound harder than ever. Not thirty yards away, and right smack in take-off position, was a Jap Mitsubishi two-seater, long range "Karigane" MK-11. And what's more, its prop was idling over! And if that wasn't enough to make Dawson's heart sing with wild happiness, there was not a single Jap anywhere near it. Not even a member of the deck crew."Hot dog, hot dog!" Dawson whispered inwardly. "Almost as though we'd requested these slant-eyed rats to set the stage for us, and they had done it. An MK-11, no less. Boy, oh boy! Do Freddy and I know that Jap crate, and how! Lady Luck, you're my dream girl for life, and I don't mean perhaps!"[B]

Hardly daring to risk it, Dawson shot a quick glance at Freddy Farmer just the same. And that one quick look was enough to tell him that Freddy had spotted the MK-11, and was simply waiting for him to make the break. In fact, Dawson was positive that he had seen his English-born pal give a faint nod of his head in a signal as their eyes met.

"You will walk toward the flight bridge, please!" the big Jap snapped and pointed. "The Honorable Admiral is waiting."

Dawson nodded, shrugged, and turned forward to start walking a little faster. But he took only six or seven steps; then he suddenly half whirled, ducked down fast, and went under the wing of a parked plane. As he came out on the other side of the wing he shot a quick glance back over his shoulder and felt like yelling with joy. Good old Freddy Farmer was so close behind that the English youth was practically running up his back.But even as he snapped a glance back to make e that Freddy was right there with him, Dawson was in high gear again. Like a broken field runner going absolutely haywire he dodged this way and that, and ducked under wings, or around parked planes. Every split second of the time he expected to hear the big Jap let out a scream of rage, but if there was a scream he didn't hear it. Nor, praise be to God, did any other Japs pop up in his path.

As a matter of fact nothing popped up to stop either of the youthful air aces as they zigzagged through the parked planes at top speed, and then reached the MK-11 and virtually hurled themselves into the pits. No sooner was Dawson in the plane than he kicked off the wheel brakes, and hand heeled home the throttle. The one thousand horsepower engine in the nose roared out its song of mighty power, and the two-seater fairly leaped forward along the narrow lane on the deck that permitted room for taking-off. With every revolution of the prop the plane picked up more and more speed, so that in no time at all the parked planes that formed the two sides of the take-off lane were little more than blurred streaks rushing past either wingtip.No wild cries from the Japs, and no bursts of machine gun or pistol fire? Dawson was surprised by the absence of fire from the Japs for maybe a whole split second. And then he forgot all about it. The MK-11 had cleared the flight deck of the Jap carrier and was prop clawing upward. However, Dawson checked the climb instantly. In fact, he actually nosed the aircraft downward until the belly of the plane was practically kissing the tops of the long blue-green rollers of the Southwest Pacific. To climb for altitude would make him an even better target for the shipboard anti-aircraft guns that were bound to go into action in another second or two. Also, to climb would mean to sacrifice speed, and speed with which to get away from the whole darn task force in a hurry was what he wanted most. And so he hugged the wave tops, headed straight for an escorting cruiser, and went past it with his wingtips almost kissing the cruiser's mast top.

"Hey, not so close!" Freddy Farmer shouted in a moment of wild alarm. "Don't spoil our luck by ramming into one of these cursed things!"

"Just hold onto your hat, pal, and don't worry!" Dawson shouted back happily. "Pretty good we are, huh, kid? Guess those slant-eyes are still wondering what the heck happened. They haven't fired a single shot at us. Boy, we are good, I guess!"

"Well, don't make too much of it, old thing!" the English youth shouted with a new note of alarm in his voice. "Three of the blighters are taking off from the very same carrier we did. Fancy they think they can get us in the air, and save gun shells. So keep right on going, old thing!"

Dawson gulped at that announcement and took a second or two off from his flying to sneak a quick glance back over his shoulder. And, sure enough, Freddy Farmer hadn't been kidding him! Three Jap planes were taking off from the same carrier. And his heart leaped up into his throat when he saw that they were Jap carrier Zeros. And the reason his heart leaped into his throat was because he knew that a Zero can catch up with an MK-11 any day in the week.

"Hang on, Freddy, hang on!" he thundered, and turned front again. "We've just got to get away from those Zeros. If not, then you've got to keep them at a safe distance with your rear guns. So I'll fly for us, and you fight for us. That's the way it has got to be."

"Right you are, Dave!" the English youth called forward to him. "I'll—Oh, good gosh! Dave! How about your radio? Has it got a mike?"

Impulsively Dawson switched his gaze to his radio in the front pit. And it was then that he had the queer feeling of lumps of cold lead bouncing around in the pit of his stomach. There were earphones for the radio, but no mike. The little hook at the side was empty. And the wire that ran down into the set wasn't there. It had been removed completely.

"Sweet tripe!" he gasped. "This darn set's no good for sending. Not even a mike. Hey, Freddy, have—?"

Dawson didn't bother to finish the rest. He choked off his words and twisted around in the seat instead. And when he saw the look on Freddy's face, and saw his pal sadly shake his head, little fingers of ice seemed to clutch at his heartstrings. Freddy's radio set was the same as his. Okay for receiving, but not a darned bit of good for sending.

And so it was Satan's turn to laugh now. They had stolen a plane, and had managed to get away from the Jap carrier, but what they had hoped and prayed for most had been denied them. They had been denied the chance to raise Admiral Jackson's task force on the radio and reveal to the Admiral the position and course of Admiral Suicide Sasebo's carrier force.

Yes, that hope was gone now. Their only chance of making any kind of a success out of this cockeyed venture was to find the Yank task force wherever it was in that vast corner of the Southwest Pacific. They had to find that Yank force somehow, but—but what about those three Jap Zeros that had taken off in pursuit of them? Yes, what about them?

As that heart-chilling question pounded and hammered around in Dawson's head he turned in the seat again for another look at those three Zeros. They were in the air, now, but climbing. Yes, instead of coming straight after the MK-11 the three Zeros were heading up for altitude as though they were actually setting off on some routine patrol. Incidentally, were it not for the fact that the three Zeros were heading in the same direction as the MK-11, Dawson would have believed that Freddy and he had made their escape one hundred per cent successful. He knew differently, however. He knew darned well that the Jap pilot in each of the three Zeros had his double-lidded eyes fixed on the MK-11, and was keeping them fixed on it, too. But why the thunder were they climbing? Why didn't they come flat out so as to catch up with the stolen MK-11 as fast as they could?"There's something blasted funny about this, Dave!" Freddy Farmer's voice cut into his thoughts. "We neither of us can use the radio, and those blighters back there are making no effort to catch up with us. I don't like it at all. In fact—but, good Heavens, that couldn't possibly be, I'm sure!"

Dawson took his eyes off the climbing Zeros long enough to look at his pal.

"What now?" he barked. "What do you mean by that last, huh?"

Freddy Farmer didn't reply at once, and the dark frown on his face told clearly that he was struggling with some very disagreeable thoughts. Eventually the English youth bit his lip and pointed at the little hook in his pit that should have a broadcasting mike hanging on it, but didn't.

"I—I wonder if the beggars let us escape, Dave?" he finally spoke in a hesitant voice. "Yes, I wonder very much if they didn't let us get away. After all, not a shot was fired. Fact is, I didn't see a single Jap on that flight deck try to head us off from reaching this plane. And it was square in position for a quick take-off, too!"

Dawson gulped, and his mouth seemed full of sawdust, and little cold shivers rippled through his body. He stared at Freddy, and then shook his head angrily.

"Don't be nuts, Freddy!" he snapped. "Why in thunder should they let us escape? You're crazy, pal!"

"Possibly," Freddy Farmer replied. "But you're forgetting that there are two sides to this business."

"And so?" Dawson echoed when Freddy stopped talking. "Out with the rest of it! What do you mean, two sides?"

"What the Japs want to know, of course!" the English youth flung at him. "Why do you suppose the Japs let us stay alive so long? Because they knew we were from some Yank carrier task force, and because they wanted to find out from us where it is. We made that thick-headed Nazi U-boat commander believe something that wasn't the truth. But Sasebo didn't swallow our story, Dave. Not one bit of it. So they tried a trick to find out for themselves. You see?"

Dawson didn't. In fact, he didn't see any part of it. But he didn't say anything for a while. He turned front, and gave half of his attention to his flying, and mulled over Freddy's most unpleasant words. A couple of times he glanced back at the Zeros. They had leveled off at around five thousand feet, and seemed to be coasting along a couple of miles behind the MK-11. And each time Dawson turned front a few more cold shivers rippled through his body. And the lumps of lead in his stomach did some more bouncing around.

And so little by little he was forced to admit that maybe there was something in what Freddy Farmer had said. Yet it still didn't make sense to him. Heck! How did the Japs know that they planned to escape? And darn it, why did the Japs let them get away without a struggle? Finally Dawson turned around and caught Freddy's eye again.

"Okay, okay, maybe," he said. "But tell me this, kid? How the heck did they know we would plan to escape? And why?"

"I can only guess, Dave," the English youth replied with a frown. "But I have a very strong feeling that it is the truth. Look at the facts, Dave. They had a pretty good idea that we knew where our task force was. They figured that we would head straight for it if we ever got our hands on a plane. Fact is, Dave, they knew we'd do just that because they heard us talking about it!"

"What?" Dawson exploded. "Heard us? What in thunder are you raving about?"

Freddy Farmer made a little impatient motion with one hand and leaned farther forward."Look, Dave," he said, "right after you went to town on that Sasebo he said something to that other Jap. The other Jap answered him. Then Sasebo nodded, and spoke again. And then, with not so much as a how do you do, or why, we were taken back to that empty cabin. There we talked over our plans of how we might manage an escape. We agreed to give it a good try, and then what happens? Everything works out as smooth as can be. We're not stopped, an aircraft is in take-off position practically waiting for us, and not a shot is fired at us from any of the task force ships. But now two things we didn't count on pop up. One, neither of us can raise Admiral Jackson's task force because the speaker units have been removed from both sets. And, two, three faster Jap Zeros are trailing us, and making no effort to catch up! Why? Because they hope for us to lead them to Jackson's force. Then they can send the news back to Sasebo, and shoot us down. As the saying goes, old thing, dead men tell no tales. Sasebo will know where Jackson is, but Jackson won't know where Sasebo is. And knowing where the other chap is, so that you can sneak up on him in surprise, is half the battle with aircraft carrier task forces, you see?"

"That much, yes," Dawson replied with a frown. "Yes, you're selling me a fair load of goods, Freddy. But there's one thing you haven't explained. How in thunder did they hear us chewing over what we were going to do? Answer me that?"

"I can't prove it, unless you want to take us back to that Jap carrier!" the English youth replied in an exasperated tone. "But I'd bet anything on it. And I'm amazed that you haven't thought of it yet!"

"Okay, wonderful one!" Dawson growled. "Folks call me Dummy Dawson. So be big-hearted, and tell me the answer."

"A dictograph, of course!" Freddy snapped at him. "A dictograph put in that empty cabin while we were having our little chat-chat with Sasebo. Or maybe the confounded thing was hidden there all along. But it must have been a dictograph, and—and the beggars made all the arrangements we wanted!"

Dawson didn't say anything. He just sat stiff and straight as though he had been shot. Then he gasped, and clapped his free hand to his forehead.

"So help me, the guy must be right!" he mumbled. "The guy must be right! A dictograph as sure as the earth grows little apples. And me thinking that we'd pulled off something very bright. Holy smoke! We really are in a jam now, Freddy!"

"Quite!" the English youth replied, and glanced back over his shoulder. "If we lead those Zero pilots to within sight of Admiral Jackson's force, it might result in a terrible thing. Just the exact opposite of what we really want to do. And that's why those devils are hanging back up there, Dave, instead of coming down to do us in. They are going to follow us until Jackson's force is sighted. Then the beggars will come down, no fear!"

"What now, what now?" Dawson mumbled helplessly, and stared back at the Jap Zeros himself. "If we let them trail us to Jackson's position, who knows what may come of it? And if we lead them in the wrong direction, we'll run out of gas eventually, and be forced to sit down in the water. Then Jackson will not know that Sasebo's force is moving down on Guadalcanal by a roundabout course. And Jackson will not know that Sasebo knows about the attempt to take Guadalcanal and Tulagi. Jeepers! A choice of two things, and both bad!"

[B] Dave Dawson With The Flying Tigers.