The sound was akin to that of an invisible giant of the sky tearing off a section of a tin roof with his bare hands. It began high up in the black night sky, and grew louder and louder until it seemed that their eardrums had been driven clear back into their brains. And then suddenly it turned into a gigantic explosion that made the very earth lurch and shudder, and seemed to stop spinning for a moment and go staggering across limitless space.

"If there was only a night fighter handy! Boy! What I wouldn't give for a night fighter right now!"

Dave Dawson muttered out the words aloud, hardly conscious that he had spoken them. With Freddy Farmer, and Senior Lieutenant Nasha Petrovski, he was standing out in the back yard of the Russian girl's home, and staring up at a sneak night raid by Nazi bombers on Moscow a dozen or so miles away. It was only a nuisance raid, and Soviet anti-aircraft guns and Soviet night fighters were making the Luftwaffe pay a heavy price for the few Moscow buildings they hit with their bombs.

However, though the Nazis were unable to hit anything, that fact did not curb Dawson's desire to be up there in the searchlight-laced sky, dealing out his share of trouble and doom to the raiding vultures. And, incidentally, complete inactivity for three days and nights added greatly to his desire to be aloft in all the fuss. And so it was only natural that such an expression should slip off his lips automatically.

"That is the way all good soldiers should feel, Captain Dawson," he suddenly heard the Russian girl's voice at his side. "To do nothing, when there is so much to be done, hurts more than the wounds of battle. I know just how you feel, yes. And I sympathize with you. Time never waits."

"You've got something there, Senior Lieutenant," Dave said, taking his eyes off the sky battle to look at her. "And I've been wondering. Do you think Colonel General Vladimir has forgotten about us? Or maybe that something has happened to him? It's been three days now."

"Quite," Freddy Farmer joined in the conversation. "He said he expected to join us the very next day. But we haven't even heard a word. Or have you, Senior Lieutenant?"

The Russian Intelligence agent shook her head, and made a faint gesture.

"To me there has come no word," she said slowly, as though selecting each English spoken word. "But I do not worry. The Colonel General never forgets anything. And nothing will ever happen to the Colonel General but good things. If it were to be different, the bad things would have happened long before this time. Like you I wait, and I am restless to be in action again. But I do not worry. When it is the right time, the Colonel General will arrive."

Dave considered that in silence for a couple of minutes and watched the sky battle move across the heavens farther and farther to the southwest. The Nazis had dumped their eggs hastily and were trying to scurry back home, but the Red Air Force was chopping down not a few of them en route. Over toward Moscow there were the crimson glows of half a dozen fires. But even as Dave stared at them the glows grew fainter and fainter, indicating that the city's fire fighters were quickly getting the flames under control. The "flak" fire had died out almost entirely, and the only sounds to be heard were the muffled roar of distant aircraft engines, punctuated now and then by the short, stabbing chatter of Red night fighter machine guns.

"Well, that's that," Dave finally spoke again. "The Berlin newspapers will probably scream tomorrow that there isn't anything left of Moscow. But Uncle Goering will know different when he gets the raiding reports. And maybe he'll worry another ten pounds off his bay window."

"But he'll no doubt put it right back on as soon as he has breakfast," Freddy Farmer grunted. "And speaking of food—Oh, so sorry, Senior Lieutenant. I beg your pardon."

"For what?" the Russian girl asked with a flashing smile, and a teasing lilt to her voice. "Because you speak the truth?"

"But I say, really!" the English youth stammered, and his face went beet red in the darkness. "I didn't think, you know. And it was most impolite. I—"

"Stop making pretty speeches!" Dawson ribbed him. "Be yourself, and truthful. I'll try to apologize to the Senior Lieutenant for you. You see, Senior Lieutenant, my friend has a hollow leg, so no matter how much he eats he never can seem to get enough. Confidentially, the British Air Ministry seriously considered dumping him off in Occupied France for a spell so that he could get used to going without food. But I put in a plea for him, and—"

"And why should not one of England's heroes eat, if he likes?" Senior Lieutenant Nasha Petrovski demanded quietly. "But of course! Come, Captain Farmer. Let us return inside the house. My mother will find us a good meal, have no fear."

"Your slave, Senior Lieutenant," Freddy said, and bowed low. Then turning to Dave, he said, "You may remain here on guard, Captain Dawson. And you might hunt around for a bit of anti-aircraft shrapnel that I could keep as a souvenir. After you, Senior Lieutenant."

"But no, no!" the Russian girl exclaimed with a laugh. "No doubt Captain Dawson is hungry, too. And is he not also one of England's heroes?"

"A debatable question, Senior Lieutenant," Freddy Farmer said quickly with a shrug. "But, if you insist. And to tell the truth, he is afraid of the dark, you know. Very well, Captain Dawson, you may join us."

"And I'll—!" Dave growled, but instantly checked his words, and the quick step he took toward his pal.

All three of them laughed as though there were no such thing as a war existing, and went trooping back into the house. Madam Petrovski had turned on the lights, and had also anticipated their wishes, for the table was set, and three bowls of energy-building hot soup were waiting for them. As Dave looked at her aged, wrinkled face, and the black eyes that glowed with the undying faith and determination of Russia, herself, a warm glow closed about his heart, and a polite and sincere compliment rose to his lips.

But he never spoke that compliment, for at that moment a car braked to a stop outside, and almost instantly there came the sound of feet on the front steps, and that of knuckles rapping sharply on the front door. And before Dawson could so much as blink, Senior Lieutenant Nasha Petrovski had glided out of the room, and opened the door. Split seconds later Colonel General Vladimir came striding into the room. Dave and Freddy sprang to attention and saluted. The Colonel General first bowed and saluted Madam Petrovski, and then he returned their salute.

"Good evening, Captains," he said with his odd smile. "You have perhaps been wondering, eh? Well, there have been things to wonder about. Be seated, please, all of you."

As the Colonel General spoke, the old familiar lumps of cold lead began to bounce around in Dawson's stomach. And it wasn't from hunger, either. The Colonel General's eyes were still flashing with inner fire, but in their depths Dawson could catch just the faintest tint of worry and concern. He turned to hold a chair for Madam Petrovski, only to realize that she had left the room, and closed the door. He must have blinked at that, for Senior Lieutenant Petrovski suddenly caught his eye, and smiled.

"It is always like that," she said softly. "My mother prefers to pray, and listen to the story when all has been accomplished."

"But there is no soldier who loves Russia more," the Colonel General spoke up gravely. "Nor one who would sacrifice more for his homeland."

The silence that followed the Russian officer's words seemed to say, "Amen," to that. Then a moment later the Colonel General motioned for them all to sit down, and took a chair for himself.

"There is a decision for us to make," he said bluntly. "A decision forced by bad news. But no! That is not correct. A decision because there has been no news at all."

"Agent Jones!" Dawson breathed softly, as he leaned forward on the edge of his seat. "I've had a feeling!"

Colonel General Vladimir shot him a sharp piercing look, and then nodded.

"You are correct, Captain Dawson," he said, tight-lipped. "No news of Agent Jones since he left Baghdad, in Syria, twenty-four hours ago. His plane was to land at Baku, in the south Caucasus, but it has not arrived."

A profound silence settled over the room as the Colonel General's words died away to the echo. Then Freddy Farmer broke it with a single word question.

"Weather?"

The Russian officer shrugged, and sighed heavily.

"Perhaps," he grunted. "My reports say that it has been very bad in that section for several days. True, he may have been forced down, and will continue as soon as weather permits. But—but it is also possible that other things may have happened to his pilot and plane. Who is there to tell? Our enemies have ears and eyes, as we all well know. They also have guns, and know how to use them. So the truth may be one of many answers."

"So what?" Dave murmured. Then, quickly catching himself, "I beg your pardon, sir. I mean, what is the decision to be made?"

The Russian looked at him, and Dawson had the sudden funny feeling that the man was looking straight down into his heart.

"You cannot guess, Captain Dawson?" he suddenly asked softly.

Dave looked blank for a moment, and then felt the rush of hot blood to his face.

"Yes, sir," he replied as soon as he could. "I think we should decide to carry on with our end of it, Agent Jones or no Agent Jones. Somebody's got to get to Tobolsk and find Ivan Nikolsk. So we're elected."

"Ah! The words of a gallant soldier that all Russia must admire!"

It was Senior Lieutenant Petrovski who had spoken the words, and Dave could almost feel the blood burst out through the skin of his face. Not for a million dollars would he have dared glance at the expression that must have been in Freddy Farmer's eyes. To do so would undoubtedly have meant the end of a beautiful friendship. So he kept his gaze riveted on the Colonel General's face. But there was no glint of merriment in the Russian's eyes, just the flash of fire and grim resolve.

"You speak wise words, Captain Dawson," he said quietly. "The stakes are so high they demand any and every effort. Without this Agent Jones the difficulties are increased six times over. But there is hope. And we must cling to that, always."

The Russian paused a brief moment to nod his head at Senior Lieutenant Nasha Petrovski, seated on the other side of the table.

"The Senior Lieutenant knows every foot of ground in the Tobolsk area," he continued presently. "She is sure she even remembers the old farm where Ivan Nikolsk was last seen. If anybody can find Ivan Nikolsk, it will be the Senior Lieutenant. And when she finds him—"

The Colonel General paused and frowned slightly. The Russian girl seemed instantly to guess what thought was in his mind, for she spoke up quickly.

"And if he will not tell to me, a Russian woman, the secrets that are buried deep in his brain," she said evenly, "then we will bring him to Moscow, to the Kremlin. And then the Russian in him will speak. It will have to be so!"

Dave, looking at the girl, suddenly didn't see a girl at all. He saw a soldier; a fighting soldier of the Soviet, who would not stop at bullets, or shells, or fire and flood to gain through to an objective. Nasha Petrovski was a girl, but hers was the bravery, the courage, and the fighting spirit, to be surpassed by no man's!

"Yes, it will have to be so!" Colonel General Vladimir echoed the words. "And when Ivan Nikolsk speaks we will have only to match in his words with all that Agent Jones has reported to Air Vice-Marshal Leman, which, of course, has been transmitted to me in secret code. Yes! The decision is to go to Urbakh, and if Agent Jones has not arrived, to go on over the enemy positions to Tobolsk, and find this Ivan Nikolsk. That is agreed, eh?"

Dave, Freddy, and the girl Senior Lieutenant simply nodded gravely. There was no need for words.

"Good!" the Colonel General said, and stood up. "So there is no time like this time to begin. Senior Lieutenant Petrovski! Five minutes to say farewell to your mother. Then you will conduct the Captains to the aircraft. I will be waiting for your return to Moscow, and like all Russia, praying my prayers for your safety and success!"

As the Russian officer stopped speaking, the girl sprang to her feet, saluted smartly, and then left the room. The Colonel General waited until the door was closed, and then looked hard at Dawson and Freddy Farmer.

"There is one thing of which I will speak, Captains," he said quietly. "The Senior Lieutenant is a woman, and there are those who do not believe that a woman's place is in the line of enemy fire. But here in the Soviet we are all soldiers of the line, men and women. Their courage is the same, their eyes just as sharp, and their trigger finger just as steady. And have no thoughts about the Senior Lieutenant under fire, or in the face of any danger. She has won her rank the same as any Soviet man soldier. She has won medals for valor, though she does not wear them. So have no worries because she is a woman. Three hundred and six Nazi soldiers have died from a rifle or a machine gun in her hands. Keep that truth in mind. And now I salute you in the name of the Soviet Republics. God's speed, God's courage, and God's blessings be with you from the beginning of your journey to your safe and successful return."

The Colonel General saluted, and by the time Dawson and Freddy were halfway up on their feet, he had whirled and walked out of the room. The two youths checked themselves, and sank back into their chairs. Dave swallowed hard, and whistled softly.

"Suffering catfish!" he gulped. "Three hundred and six Nazi tramps! My gosh! And me thinking I'd seen some of this war!"

"Quite!" Freddy Farmer murmured. "Makes a chap feel like he's only been playing at soldiers. But—"

"But what?" Dave grunted. And then as he saw the glint in Freddy Farmer's eyes he wished he had bitten off his tongue, instead.

"But I'll be in safe company," the English youth shot at him. "Oh, quite! With two gallant soldiers that all Russia must admire!"

Dave's eyes flashed fire, and he started up out of his chair. But he dropped quickly back as he heard the footsteps of Senior Lieutenant Nasha Petrovski returning to the room.

"Remember it always, you bum!" he whispered to Freddy. "That a girl once saved your life, by coming through that door over there!"