A huge ball of gold and red hung balanced on the western lip of the world. Shafts of shimmering fire radiated out from it in all directions. They filled the sky with a mixture of shades that ranged from a delicate pink to blood red. They bathed the earth with the same hues, and seemed actually to creep into every nook and corner. The line of planes on the San Diego field looked like the work of an imaginative artist on nature's canvas rather than the real thing. It was a sight to hold the eye and catch the breath—but Dave Dawson stared at it and wasn't even conscious of what he was looking at.

He and Freddy Farmer were in the field Commandant's office, waiting for Colonel Welsh to show up. But that was just the trouble. They had been waiting for three solid hours for the Intelligence chief to return from wherever he had gone. Three hours before Dave had put the Stinson down on the field. At Colonel Welsh's order he had taxied it straight into an empty hangar and cut the engines. The Colonel had jumped out and disappeared for five minutes. He had returned with the field's C.O. and a half dozen mechanics, and a closed car. The two fifth columnists had been dumped in the car, and driven away. After hasty introductions to the field Commandant, the Colonel had led them over to the field office and told them to wait for him to return.

That had been three hours ago, and they were still waiting.

"Stop worrying, and come finish this food they sent over," Freddy Farmer presently broke the silence. "Good grief, Dave, it doesn't do any good to wear out the floor like that. Come on and have some more to eat. Eggs, mind you! I haven't had an egg since I don't know when."

"You and your stomach!" Dave grated, and half turned from the window. "You should choke on them. Look out there. The Indian! If they're not getting ready to weigh anchor, then I'm nuts! Where is that guy, anyway? He should have told us that—Jeepers!"

Freddy stopped some egg halfway to his mouth and looked up.

"What?" he demanded. "What's the matter?"

"The Colonel," Dave said with an effort. "I mean—I sure hope nothing's happened to him."

Freddy Farmer considered that for a moment, then shrugged and carried the egg the rest of the way to his mouth.

"Not likely, I think," he finally said. "Probably got those two chaps to talk. Maybe it's made a difference. I mean, maybe he's decided to call off this Indian show. Wouldn't mind that at all. They might post us here at this field. Wonderful food, you know."

"It certainly sounds good!" Dave cracked. Then, glancing out the window again: "I sure hope they don't call off the show. That Indian looks pretty nice to me out there. I could go for a trip on her. Besides, I'm itching to take a whack or six at those dirty Japs. I think I hate them worse than the Nazis, Freddy."

"Me, too, if that's possible," the English youth replied. "But I was really talking just to hear myself. I'd like a trip on the Indian, too. She's the latest of her class, and should have everything. Also, according to the Colonel, she's steaming out to do battle. I could fancy a little combat work. Doesn't pay to get rusty. My, but that meal was good!"

"What a man!" Dave sighed at the window. "On an empty stomach he's not worth a dime. Fill him up and he's a one man air force, and raring to go. He's—"

Dave stopped short and wheeled quickly as the door opened and Colonel Welsh came inside. The man's face was grim, and there was the look of angry defeat in his eyes.

"Sorry I took so long, fellows," he said, and dropped into a chair. "I had to check up on a few things, and get a few things underway. Took longer than I figured."

"Those rats told the truth, eh?" Dave grunted. "They still don't know a thing about the Indian?"

The Colonel shook his head and clenched his two fists in a helpless gesture.

"Not a thing!" he got out savagely. "But they seem to be the only two who don't."

"What do you mean by that, sir?" Freddy asked.

"Well, I don't mean it exactly the way I put it," the Colonel said with a shake of his head. "But it seems the entire Axis organization in this country has found out that their agent aboard the Indian has stolen the battle plans of the carrier, and that I was to put four men aboard to try and trap him and nail him to the mast. Those two agents of mine, and you two."

"Your two agents got aboard last night, sir?" Dave prompted as the senior officer stopped talking abruptly.

"No," was the bitter reply. "They were shot and killed as they stepped into the waiting tender at the Navy pier."

"Shot?" Dave gasped. "Gee! That was tough. I hope the killers were caught."

"They were, and captured dead," the Colonel said bluntly. "Two waterfront rats. Looked that, anyway. One a Jap, obviously. The other looked like a German. No papers or anything on him, though. So he could have been almost any nationality. But the important thing is, that I found the leak in my own organization. I put through a call to Captain Lamb and he told me. He'd sent word to our San Diego office last night for me to contact him at once. I called him, and—"

"The bloke reading the book in your outer office!" Freddy Farmer cried.

"The man who ran the elevator!" Dave exclaimed.

Colonel Welsh caught his breath and shot a hard look at Dawson.

"How did you know?" he demanded.

"I didn't," Dave replied. "But I had a hunch it might be one of those two. It had to be somebody close to you, and—well, Freddy had already picked the one in the outer office."

"It was the one who brought you up in the elevator," Colonel Welsh said with an effort. "It's—it's things like this that almost make me lose faith. That man had been in the bureau for six years. For four years before that he was connected with Secret Service. His record was spotless. And the amazing part is that he had performed some valuable services for me. But that goes to show you the finesse of the Gestapo and Nazi agent technique. Shows you how long ago Hitler laid plans for America. I would have staked my life on Babson, but—"

The officer paused and gestured despairingly.

"But of course I would have lost my life!" he suddenly bit off. "But for an accident I'd never have found out, perhaps. And who knows what else that would have cost us? He was taking Lamb down late last night. As he opened the doors a slip of paper fell out of his pocket. Lamb caught it in mid-air, and was starting to hand it back when he saw what was on the paper. It was a bit of code, obviously jotted down in a hurry. But it was a code that only Lamb and I knew, not another soul in the world. For years he and I have been working on a code that can't possibly be broken down by any of the experts. We thought we had found it. Kept our papers on it in a safe. Only Lamb and I knew the combination—we thought."

"What happened, sir?" Freddy asked eagerly as Colonel Welsh let his voice trail off into silence. "Did Captain Lamb make the dirty beggar confess?"

The chief of U. S. Intelligence shook his head.

"He didn't have time," he said. "Babson realized instantly that he'd never in the world be able to explain his possession of that bit of copied code. His only hope was quick action, and flight. He went for his gun. Lamb didn't give me the details of the fight. He won, and Babson is dead. Then Lamb got busy. He began with the little office Babson used on the ground floor. He—It seems incredible! I thought that Lamb was crazy, or blind drunk, and making it up. But he wasn't, of course. Babson had actually installed a dictograph in our working room. The other end was in his office. The wire led out behind the files, under the corridor boards and down the elevator shaft, and under the lobby floor to his office. He could hear every word we said up there. How he learned that safe combination, we'll probably never find out. In his Washington hotel room Lamb found enough stuff to hang the man a dozen times over. Too bad we won't be able to do it. I feel like going out and shooting myself. I'm the one responsible, of course. One of my own trusted men! That's the worst of it!"

The Colonel gave a bewildered shake of his head, and groaned heavily.

"That's war, I guess," Dave murmured sympathetically. "And the same thing has happened in other countries, sir. It isn't going to help any to take it too hard, you know. Anyway, the rat is dead, and the leak is plugged up. That's something, at least."

"But mighty little!" the Colonel said bitterly. Then, stabbing a finger at the window facing the harbor, he grated, "There's the Indian out there. In an hour she weighs anchor. Aboard her is the most dangerous rat of all. He possesses information that could well mean the difference between victory and defeat if it falls into Jap hands. We can't hold the Indian. She's got to sail. Without her the whole battle plan is mixed up. Yet if she sails and we don't catch that scoundrel, who knows what will happen? I had hoped, but—well, now that's all shot, too."

"What's all shot, sir?" Dave asked quickly.

"The job I had planned for you and Farmer aboard the Indian," the Colonel replied. "It was a wild hope even at best, but now it isn't even that. The rats know why I wanted you two aboard her. True, maybe the man you're after doesn't know. I've a feeling, though, he does. The way things have gone, I feel certain they got word to him somehow. If they did, he'd know exactly why you were there the moment you came over the side. And—well, to put it bluntly, he's killed twice already. Twice more wouldn't bother him if he suspected you were getting close to him. He'd—"

"We can watch our step," Dave cut in grimly.

"Too great a risk," the Colonel replied. "You see, it wouldn't be a matter of your actually getting close, but the matter of his thinking that you were close. He'd know who you were, and why you were aboard. The advantage would be all his. It would be unfair to ask any man to tackle a job like that."

"I don't fancy so, sir," Freddy Farmer spoke up quietly. "After all, rats usually do have all the advantage until you get them cornered. Supposing he does know why we're there? Let him, I say. It's a job to be done, and somebody's got to tackle it, sir. Good grief! If somebody doesn't go after the blighter, it's like letting the Indian sail with a lighted fuse leading to her powder magazine."

"I check on that, too, sir!" Dave cried eagerly. "Freddy and I aren't trying to toot our horns, Colonel. Maybe we'll fall flat on our faces. But maybe we won't. However, at least we'll be aboard in case something does turn up that gives us a clue."

"Yes, of course," the Colonel grunted, and frowned. "That's quite true. But you could be throwing your lives away—and uselessly, too. You two helped accomplish something almost as big today, perhaps even bigger. I can't say yet. But capturing those two American born rats was a mighty big step toward smashing a lot of the Fifth Column business in this country. I mean that, too. That place was one of their arsenals where they've cached guns to be used when Berlin sends the order to strike at the United States from within. It's one of several arsenals located about the country. Those papers contained names and addresses of key men in their organization. And right now some of my agents, and F.B.I. agents, are waiting in that shack for the so-called big boss. His capture alone will be something mighty big. Yes, you two played a major part today in nipping something big in the bud. So it isn't fair to ask you to—"

"Okay, okay!" Dave suddenly snapped. "If you don't think we rate a crack at it, then have the Indian sail without us. I'm willing to take the chance. So's Freddy. But if you think we'd mess up things, then skip it. Let it slide."

The Colonel blinked and gave Dave a startled look. It wasn't every day that a junior officer flung words into his teeth, and it caught him completely off balance.

"But it's you I'm thinking of!" he blurted out. "I—"

"Oh, quite!" Freddy snapped him off. "We understand perfectly! We bungled it last night, Dave and I, not getting away from that beggar in the Waco. Shouldn't let him hit the engine. Yet, we'd probably make a worse mess of things if you sent us aboard the Indian."

"Now, that's not true!" the Colonel shouted. Then, sucking in his breath: "You two are making me mad. You're taking it the wrong way. I—"

"And how do you think we feel?" Dave stepped right in on him. "Last night you had a job for us to tackle. We might click on it, or we might muff it. You didn't have a thing for us to work on. But at least we were going to have a crack at it, and be aboard a ship that's going into action. Well, have you any more for us to work on, now, than you had last night? No. Not a thing more. The only difference is that the rat aboard knows we're coming aboard. At least we think he knows. But we're not even sure of that! Yet—well, holy catfish! Now you want to call everything off because the other guy holds more cards than we do; because we might get hurt. Look, Colonel! What do you think Freddy and I have been doing with the enemy ever since we got into the Royal Air Force? Playing snowball with them? We run the risk of being blacked out for keeps. So what? Doggone it! We've seen enough of this war to know it's no tea party."

"Exactly, and absolutely!" Freddy Farmer echoed vigorously as Dave ran out of breath.

Colonel Welsh glared at them for a full ten seconds. Then his stern face slowly broke into a grin, and he gave a little baffled shake of his head.

"Wild men!" he grunted. "I don't believe either of you knows even how to spell common sense. But maybe that's been the secret of your war success. That, and cold courage. All right, you win. You sail with the Indian. I'll see that you're put aboard the tender and taken out to her. The least I can do is spare your lives as long as I can."

"You mean because of what happened to your two agents last night?" Dave asked with a grin.

Colonel Welsh stood up and shook his head.

"No," he said. "The tender will leave in secret from a point up the shore, and the Indian's Captain will be informed of your coming. No, I mean sparing your lives for a while by sending you out officially. Otherwise, you two would probably try to swim out to her and be shot in the water by the deck watch. So I'll send you officially, and—well, God bless both of you—and keep you in His shadow. Amen!"