But no voice answered him. Once the scratching increased in his ear and he thought he heard a voice. He shouted into his mike, but the voice faded away and there was only silence.
Spume and spray that was like ice shot high in the air as he sat the Lancer down on the waters of the Bering Sea. The five red-and-black amphibians landed beside him. He slipped an automatic out of a pocket and stuck it in his overall as they taxied toward him.
They made motions for him to kill his engines and he obeyed. The five pilots had pushed their goggles back on their foreheads and were laughing at him when he climbed out to catch the line one of them threw him.
“Bill Barnes, the boy wonder, eh?” one of them shouted at him. “Throw that gat you have in your pocket over the side!”
Bill remained silent as he watched his automatic disappear beneath the water. As the line tightened, he manipulated his steerable water rudder to follow the course of the red-and-black ship in front of him. The other four ships taxied along beside him as they headed toward the little harbor.
The five hard-faced pilots weren't laughing as they ordered Bill out of the cockpit of the Lancer into a boat one of them rowed. They didn't even speak to him. But he could tell by the glitter in their eyes that any one of them would have been glad to cut his throat.
Two men, who were even harder-' looking than the five pilots, took charge of Bill when he stepped out on the dock.
“Git up there with your pal, punk,” one of them said to Bill.
Bill didn't even look at him. He started toward the crude little hut a hundred feet from the waterfront and saw Red Gleason standing in the doorway. He was so tired he could hardly walk.
VIII—THE PLAN
“THEY got you, too, did they?” Red said. “I didn't think you'd try to come alone.”
His face was cut and battered. Both his eyes were half closed and tinged with yellow, blue, and black. But his carrot-colored hair flamed as brightly as ever.
“I slammed one of those plug-uglies on the nose,” Red went on in answer to the question in Bill's eyes. “They tied my hands behind my back and went to work on me.”
“Who are they?” Bill asked as he slumped onto a bench and put his head in his hands. “I'm tired. They wore me down and shot my controls in half.”
“They're fighting so-and-sos,” Red said. “They did the same thing to me. Whoever is running this show is smart. Things have been clicking perfectly for them. They forced me down, then forced me to fly my ship in here. They let me know that you would be at Unalaska, then gave me a chance to slip away and make contact with you. They knew you'd come to get me and then they could get you.”
Bill lifted his head as the motors of the five red-and-black ships roared. He watched their pilots whip them into the air with admiration in his eyes.
“They're going after the BT-4 now,” Red said.
“Why do they want it?” Bill asked.
“I don't know,” Red said. “I never found any information about young Reynolds. That story was a stall to get us up here.”
“I know that now,” Bill said. “But what's behind the whole thing? If they wanted my bomber why didn't they steal it down on Long Island without all these elaborate plans? Why——-”
A shadow loomed in the doorway and the man who stood there said, “Maybe I can help you out with that one.” He laughed. “I'm glad you arrived this morning, Barnes. It is going to make things a lot easier for me.”
“The pleasure,” Bill said with no little trepidation as he gazed into the eyes of Slip Ogden, “is entirely yours.” He knew without asking that this was the enemy he had been fighting in the dark. He knew that only such a man would be capable of the cold, ruthless efficiency with which he had been lured to the Aleutian Islands.
“I imagine it is,” Slip Ogden said. “You're younger, than I thought you would be—young to have such a reputation.”
Bill didn't answer him. He would have liked to have answered him by crashing his fist into his cool, insolent face.
“I wanted you up here with your bomber, Barnes,” Slip went on. “That's why I didn't get it on Long Island. You'd probably like to hear all about it.” He sat down. “But let me warn you first not to try to get rough. Two of my men are outside—Ugly Barillo and Lippy Freeman. You may have heard of them. They have quite a reputation, also. Not quite so savory as yours, but a reputation. Your friend here will testify that they are very handy with their fists.”
“Nuts!” Red said. “If you have anything to tell us, tell it!”
“In my own good time, my friend,” Ogden said and his cold eyes bored into Bed. “It might relieve your mind to know, Barnes,” he said, turning back to Bill, “that your young friend Sanders is safe. From the report I have he is a better combat pilot than you are. And that report comes from no less a person than Claw Lawson.”
“Claw Lawson!” Bill said. The image of an evil-faced man with a hook for a left hand flashed through his mind. He knew “Claw” Lawson as founder and leader of a nefarious squadron of fliers who would undertake anything criminal if it promised to pay enough money. “What has Claw Lawson to do with Sanders?”
“Claw was out scouting your ships when they got up this way,” Ogden said. “He ran into young Sanders alone over the Gulf and thought he would make' you one less. But Sanders out-fought him and forced him to peel off to get patched up. Sanders started to follow you, but had to turn back. He landed at Flat.”
“Thanks,” Bill said, and he meant it.
“But about your bomber, Barnes,” Ogden said. “You probably know that I was forced to get out of New York a few months ago. The way things turned out I had to stay out. So I had to find a new way to live.
“An item in a New York newspaper caught my eye and attracted my fancy. It told about all the gold that is being moved from the Orient to San Francisco these days. It mentioned that they did not let the authorities in San Francisco know of the day of arrival until a day or two before the ships arrived. It was thought that was because of all the war trouble in the Orient. It suggested an idea to me. It suggested that one of those ships could be robbed at sea, from the air. I used to be something of a flier myself, Barnes.”
He waited a moment, hoping Bill would ask him about his flying. But Bill did not open his lips.
“I got in touch with Claw Lawson and he said he thought it could be done,” Ogden went on. “But if we put men on one of the boats coming from the Orient to subdue the crew, what would we do with the gold after we had it? If we transferred it to a yacht or a tramp we might buy. United States destroyers would catch up to us. I thought about your bomber. I know a great deal about that bomber now, Barnes. I know it will carry nearly six million dollars in gold bullion. That is just about what these shipments come to.
“We figured we could take the gold off the boat from the Orient, load it on your bomber and then load it on a yacht a couple of thousand miles away, where no one would possibly look for us.”
“Why did you want Red Gleason up here?” Bill asked.
“I didn't,” Ogden said. “We tried to think of a way to get you up here with vour bomber. We planted a girl on Miss Reynolds as her secretary. We knew, impersonating Miss Reynolds, she could give you a plausible reason for coming up here with your men and your bomber. But you didn't fall for it. You sent Gleason. So we had to get him so you'd follow to rescue him.
“You see, Barnes, we had figured on your reputation for sticking your nose in other people's business. It worked; you came. There will be a steamer along on the Yokohama-San Francisco lane tomorrow. She is carrying a little under six million in gold. After we figure nearly a million for our expenses, we will have about five million left. That will keep us for a couple of years, and we won't be bothered by having G-men chasing us all over the world.”