CHAPTER TWO
_Night Attack_
It was all Freddy Farmer could do not to snatch the letter from Dave'sextended hand. He took it, settled back in his chair, and bent his eyeson the typed words. Stunned amazement spread all over his wind- andsun-bronzed face as he read the two paragraphs.
"Upon receiving this you will leave your hotel and proceed to Six Hundred and Ninety-Seven (697) River Street.
"The route you will follow to this address is as follows. Walk from your hotel south to Cort Street. Go west along Cort Street to Tenth Avenue. Then south to River Street, and east to Number 697. There ring the bell under the name, Brown. Be sure to follow these route directions exactly.
"X-Fifteen"
Freddy read it through twice, and then raised his eyes to meet Dave's.
"X-Fifteen?" he murmured softly. "That's one of the code identificationsthat Colonel Welsh uses! So he must be here in New York, and not inWashington."
"Could be," Dave grunted, and started to push back his chair. "TheColonel gets around a lot, you know. Well, I guess that's us, pal.Certainly screwy orders. That's quite a walk from here. But maybe afteryou've had Commando training you're a sissy if you take a cab. So--Well,what do you know?"
"Eh?" Freddy Farmer ejaculated. "What do I know?"
Dave stood up and half nodded his head at the other side of the diningroom.
"Our rough tough-looking friends have vanished in thin air," he said."They aren't around any more. Must have got sick of giving us the eye,and pulled out."
"Their perfect right!" Freddy snorted, and got up also. "You wereprobably imagining things, anyway. Right you are. Let's get on with it.We--Half a minute, my fair weather friend! You haven't left enough moneyfor your share of the dinner."
"One fourth of the bill, plus tip," Dave grunted scornfully. "Read itand weep. Three fourths of that went inside you, sweetheart. I love youlike a brother, but I refuse to foot your food bills. Nix! And doublenix!"
"Phew, so I did!" Freddy gasped as he ran his eye down the list ofthings served them. "And the trouble is, I'm still hungry. Oh, verywell. Share and share alike, with a tightwad like you. Even figured itout to the penny, too! Now, if you were with me in England--"
"I'd be pleading with the cops not to have you shot for stomachhoarding!" Dave snapped. "Pay up, and shut up. Or pay it off washingdishes. You'd look cute in an apron, Freddy. I could meet you later andlet you know what Colonel Welsh has to say. I--"
He stopped and grinned wickedly as Freddy threw him a rapier glare. TheEnglish youth paid his share and then joined him as Dave walked out ofthe dining room. They got their hats from the check girl, and went onout through the hotel lobby to the street. The dim-out had come to NewYork City, and it made both of them think of London, and otherwar-scarred cities they had seen.
For several blocks they were too contented with their own thoughts tospeak. But when they were almost halfway to their destination, FreddyFarmer broke the silence.
"You know, Dave," he said, "this makes a chap feel rather silly. It'slike a game you'd play in school, or something. I mean, why in the worldhave us follow this particular route? You'd think we had valuableinformation, and were taking this route to some secret headquarters tothrow off possible pursuit. Blasted queer, I call it!"
"You tell me something about war that isn't screwy at first glance,"Dave grunted as they turned the corner into Cort Street. "But ColonelWelsh knows his business, and if he wants us to walk all over town toreport to him, then we walk all over town. But he sure did pick thedarker streets. This one right here makes me think of a coal mine. Watchyour step, Freddy, or you may spill into an ash can or something. Inthis section of town they don't always put them right on the curb.And--"
Dave stopped talking abruptly, and he also pulled up to a quick halt.Freddy went on a pace or two, then stopped and waited.
"What's the matter?" he asked. "Think you were running into one of them?An ash can, I mean?"
"No," Dawson grunted, and moved forward again. "Thought I saw somethingmoving up ahead--somebody ducking into a doorway. Doggone it! I must begetting the jimjams. You'd think I were trying to steal across Berlinand give the Gestapo the go-by. Good gosh! This is New York, for cat'ssake! And--_Freddy!_"
Dave had only time to bark out his pal's name as two shadows camecharging out of a night-darkened doorway. He sensed them, rather thansaw or heard them. It was more that sixth sense, that science callspremonition, that put him on the alert and made him drop halfway to oneknee and shoot his hands up and out in front of him.
One of the shadows came at him like a streak of black lightning. Hewasn't sure, but in the split second he was allowed to set himself hethought he saw the dull gleam of a knife in an upraised hand. Maybe so;maybe not. He didn't bother to make sure. The silent attacker was comingupon him too fast. There was no time for thought. There was only timefor action--furious, split second action for which he had been trainingthese last five weeks.
And so action it was! He dropped like a flash, ducked his head, and thenstiffened his legs and shot his body upward, half turning it at the sametime. He felt the top of his head crash into a broad chest, and he felthis hands lock about the wrist of the hand that held the knife. A quickpivot on the balls of his feet, and a bend downward that brought theattacker's arm down across his shoulder. He heard the gasp of pain,heard the clatter of a knife hitting the pavement, and then he wasarching his back and twisting viciously. The result was that hishelpless attacker flew over him like a sack of wet wheat, and slammeddown on the pavement on his side. Dave clung to the wrist, but theattacker's greater weight pulled it free, and the man went rolling overand over toward the gutter.
In a flash, Dave dived after him, but the attacker seemed full of coiledsteel springs. He was up on his feet in a flash and speeding down thebadly lighted street. Impulsively Dave streaked his hand to where hisholstered service gun should have been. Only it wasn't there. It wasback in the bureau drawer in his hotel room! He took a couple of leapingsteps after the fleeing shadow, but checked himself and swerved sharplyas a second shadow virtually flew past him. He shot out his hands, gothold of jacketcloth, but all the good that did him was that he rippedoff a piece of a jacket as the second shadow went by him and down thestreet.
"Dave! You all right?"
He turned to see Freddy Farmer at his elbow. The English youth wasbreathing hard, and fingering the right side of his jaw.
"I'm okay, but boiling!" Dave grated. "I had my bird cold, so I thought.But he must be made of rubber. I couldn't stay with him. What's thematter with your jaw?"
"The blighter's head!" Freddy Farmer muttered. "We connected violently.Say, Dave! Those beggars had knives. There's one! And there's the other.Phew! Wicked-looking things, aren't they?"
The English youth had stooped down and retrieved two knives out of thegutter. In the bad light Dave and Freddy saw that they were mates. Eachwas about seven inches long, razor sharp, and with a needle point. Davesquinted at them and whistled softly.
"You see what I see, Freddy?" he breathed. "They had knives exactly likethose at the Commando school! Looks like a couple of thugs stole acouple."
"But as you said, Dave," Freddy cried, "this is New York! I know yourunderworld characters use machine guns, and such. But do they also goabout the streets knifing people to steal their purses?"
Dave didn't reply at once. He stood scowling down at the pair of knives,as cold, clammy chills started rippling up and down his spine. He knewfull well that anything can happen in New York City, and usually does intime. But to be knifed for the few dollars he carried, instead of beingblackjacked, or held up at the point of a gun, was something that justdidn't jell right in his brain. He also was hit by another equallydisturbing thought. The light had been so bad, and the action so swiftand short lived, he hadn't got so much as a flash glimpse at either ofthe attackers. But for general build--well, he couldn't help but thinkof the two hard-faced men back in the hotel dining r
oom.
"I'm nuts, completely nuts!" he chided himself aloud. "It just couldn'thave been!"
"What couldn't have been?" Freddy Farmer wanted to know.
"Those two, just now," Dave replied. "I had the flash thought that theymight have been that hard-faced pair in the dining room. But they didn'tcome at us from behind. They were ahead of us. Besides, they left beforewe did. Well, which of these do you want for a souvenir?"
"Neither," Freddy replied. "I suggest we turn them over to ColonelWelsh. Those are Commando knives, right enough. He might be interestedto know that some of your American underworld chaps also carry them."
"Or--" Dave started to say, and then stopped himself with a snort ofdisgust. "Doggone, but my imagination is going haywire tonight! Must besomething I ate."
"You don't think they were underworld beggars?" the English youthdemanded. "Good grief! You're not thinking of Nazi agents, are you?"
"Well, I did give it a whirl for a second or two," Dawson confessed witha shrug. "But that's plain silly. No Nazi agents should have anyinterest in us, right now."
"I don't know about that," Freddy grunted as they started along thestreet again. "The Gestapo beggars are quite keen about revengekillings, you know. And we've been lucky enough to send a few of them towhere they belong in days gone by."
"Okay, Nazi agents!" Dave snorted. "They read those route instructionsbefore we did, and were waiting for us in the dark doorway! See? Itdoesn't make sense, Freddy. It's all cockeyed to drag Nazi agents intothis thing."
"You're right, of course," the English youth murmured. "But all I cansay is, praise the good Lord for our Commando training. I'm stillshuddering, thinking of one of those things slicing into my hide. Andmy beggar almost got me, I'll frankly confess."
"Well, mine didn't exactly send me a letter," Dave echoed. "I'm sore wedidn't stop them, though. After that scare it would have done me a worldof good to go to work on his mug. Well, one thing, and that's final.From now on I'm not going to leave my gun parked in a bureau drawer. Letthe public laugh and snicker. If I'd had it, I could have clipped thatbird in the leg and brought him down. But, boy! What a pair of brokenfield runners they were!"
"Let's try and forget about them, if you don't mind," Freddy said with alittle shudder. "And let's put on a bit of speed. My nerves never wereof the best, you know."
The remark brought a laugh from Dave.
"Listen to him lie, will you!" he cried. "Pal, if your nerves aren't thebest I ever came across, then I'm Uncle Bay-Window Goering. But I wasjust about to suggest, myself, that we get over on Tenth Avenue wherethere's more light and fewer darkened doorways. Not too fast, though.I've still got some jelly in my knee joints."
The rest of the trip, though, was made without incident or accident. Andin due time they were standing in front of a five storied brickbuilding that was Number 697 River Street. The street was dimmed outlike all the rest, but it wasn't half so dark as had been Cort Street.Also, there were plenty of people passing by on the sidewalks. Theystared up at the building front in silence for a moment. It showed onlyone lighted room, and that was on the third floor.
"Well let's go up the steps and push Mr. Brown's bell button," Daveeventually grunted. "There's an entryway light there, so we should beable to find it. Let's go."
They went up the stone steps to the small outer foyer that contained adouble row of bell buttons. They found the one that had "Brown" printedon the plate card, and Dave stabbed it with his thumb. They didn't hearthe ring inside, and for a couple of minutes they stood there justwaiting.
"Give it another go, Dave," Freddy suggested.
Dawson lifted his hand, but froze it in mid-air as the shadow of afigure appeared on the other side of the door. There was the sound of alocking bolt being shot, and a key being turned. Then the door waspulled inward to reveal the figure on the other side. Both Dave andFreddy gulped and stared. Standing in the lighted doorway was aSergeant of infantry, complete with side-arms. The Sergeant flashed themboth a searching look, then stepped back, opening the door wider.
"Come in, sirs," he said. "And follow me, please."