The Military Megapack

by Harry Harrison

  “Dangerous persons should be removed. Who is this girl? Is she so important that we must go to death rather than send her there?”

  “You would commit murder?” Hamlin cried.

  “I am working for my country. Even if I escaped, my flight would ruin many well-laid plans and put government officials on guard. I am afraid that the young woman must not be allowed to tell her story.”

  He got up from the box as he finished speaking, and Betty Burns recoiled a step. But Kenderdine caught her by an arm and whirled her inside the cabin.

  “If you rebel at such a thing, Hamlin, you had better start for the city now,” he said. “I will not need any help.”

  “I’ll not be a party to murder!”

  “I fear that it is necessary. The young lady says she did not come here for money, and she appears sincere.”

  “I’ll not have anything to do with it!”

  “Do you wish to allow her to return to the city and tell what she knows? Do you want to be known as a traitor, to face a firing squad?”

  “A traitor!” Betty Burns cried, her eyes flaming into Hamlin’s. “Traitor to your country, and to the railroad you serve! And you have preached to me of loyalty to the road. A traitor—you a railroad man! The first railroad man in the world, in my life, to play such a part!”

  “Enough of this!” Kenderdine cried; and Brooks sensed the change in his mood. “Make up your mind, Hamlin! Either help me, or go back to the city and leave me to do this thing alone! We’ll be safe, man! A grave on this forsaken island never will be found, and, if it should be by accident, nobody ever will know the guilty man. It’ll be just another mysterious disappearance of a girl. You can sympathy with the family, help them financially—”

  Hamlin got up from the box. Jimmie Brooks grasped an automatic pistol and crept nearer the door.

  V

  Listening to the girl’s recital, Jimmie Brooks had seen the plot instantly. These precious scoundrels, fearful of discovery, had been careful to remain away from each other. By means of the little cards Kenderdine had sent word from time to time to change from one code to another. Betty Burns, not realizing what she was doing, had received those cards and had worn red and white carnations accordingly.

  She had walked into Baker’s drug-store. Some person there had noticed the carnations and had known what code to use. In some manner information about the troop-trains was conveyed to this person. At night he flashed the light in the store window—and Kenderdine, in his suite across the street, read the information conveyed.

  Through prepared channels, Kenderdine passed the word on—and soldiers died in wreckage. Perhaps Hamlin had worked that flashlight at times, perhaps some other man. Baker, the druggist, must be an accomplice, Brooks thought. There was a gang, of course: such a big thing could not be handled by a couple of men. Brooks was eager to know certain things—how Baker was implicated, and how the information regarding the trains was sent from the railroad offices to the drug¬store. The latter may have been done over the telephone, of course. A few words would suffice.

  Brooks admired the pluck and loyalty of Betty Burns, but he found himself wishing he could have stopped her before she confronted the men in the cabin. Not knowing they had been discovered, they might have led him to where the remainder of the gang was.

  But now that she was in danger, Jimmie Brooks did not hesitate. He knew that Kenderdine was the sort of man who would not stop short of murder when not to slay meant the ruination of his plans and threatened his freedom.

  Crouching just outside the doorway in the darkness, Brooks waited. He did not have long to wait. Hamlin walked to the door, and there stopped and turned.

  “I—I wish there was some other way,” he stammered.

  “Don’t be a fool!” Kenderdine exclaimed. “Either help me, or get away from here!”

  Betty Burns jerked away, but Kenderdine had her in his grasp again instantly, and now he clapped a hand over her mouth to stifle the cries she was about to voice. Jimmie Brooks grasped his automatic firmly, thumb on the safety catch, and stepped nearer the doorway.

  “There must be some other way,” Hamlin said.

  “Go, you fool! And forget the entire business!” Kenderdine commanded. “Keep your wits about you, and you’ll never come under suspicion.”

  “You sha’n’t do it!” Hamlin cried.

  He turned upon Kenderdine like an angry beast. Kenderdine hurled the girl to a corner of the cabin and sprang at Hamlin’s throat. Jimmie Brooks knew that Hamlin was no match for the other man, and he feared that Kenderdine might decide to do a couple of murders this night. He didn’t want Hamlin killed. He wanted him a prisoner, a frightened prisoner who might break down under the third degree and name his accomplices.

  Jimmie Brooks stepped inside the door calmly and leveled his automatic.

  “Hands up, gentlemen!” he requested, in a hard voice. “It isn’t necessary for you to murder each other. I’ll do all the violence that’s to be done here to-night!”

  They whirled to face him, falling away from each other. In Hamlin’s face was a look of wonder, in Kenderdine’s an expression of cold rage. A squeal of thankfulness came from Betty Burns in the corner.

  Ordinarily, an armed man can control two others upon whom he has the “drop,” but not always when the others face ignoble death for their crimes. Hamlin fell back a step, his hands high above his head, and made no other move.

  “Who is this?” Kenderdine snarled.

  “I happen to be connected with the United States government,” Jimmie explained. “I am here because you dropped a little card out of your window at noon. It struck my hat, and I read it. Afterward I saw your pleasure when you recovered it. That set me to thinking of ‘red and white’ with this result.”

  “So! A Secret Service man?”

  “Call me whatever you like,” Jimmie said. “I fancy you gentlemen are at the end of your ropes.”

  “Not yet!” Kenderdine screamed, and sprang!

  Jimmie Brooks was watching for that spring, and was ready to put a bullet where it would disable but not kill. And in the instant when his finger was ready to press the trigger, he saw that Betty Burns was in the line of fire. In that same instant Kenderdine was upon him.

  Kenderdine was a powerful man. Jimmie Brooks knew that he would have no time to strike his antagonist a telling blow on the head with the butt of the automatic, and he feared that he might be overcome and Kenderdine get possession of the weapon. He tossed it quickly at the feet of Betty Burns as he clashed with the spy.

  “Take it—watch Hamlin!” he cried.

  The girl was quick to comply. She snatched the gun up from the floor and turned to cover the traffic manager with it. And Hamlin remained standing against the wall, his hands high above his head, taking no part in the fray. The girl’s flashing eyes warned him that a move would mean a shower of bullets.

  Years before Jimmie Brooks had learned that, when it became necessary to fight, it behooved a man to fight with his whole will and power. He lashed into Kenderdine like a maniac, yet did not forget what science he knew in his display of brute force, He fought Kenderdine back to the wall of the cabin as a whirlwind tosses a tumbleweed. But, the first surprise of his vigorous onslaught over, he found that Kenderdine was something of a fighter himself. He, too, coupled brute strength with science. Foot by foot he fought Jimmie Brooks back to the center of the cabin again, trying to come into a clinch—the thing that Brooks was eager to avoid.

  Neither made a sound; it was a battle of determined men. From the corners of his eyes, Brooks saw that Betty Burns was still holding Hamlin at bay, and Kenderdine, noticing the same thing, gave up all hope that the traffic manager would aid him.

  Now he had Brooks at bay in a corner, but Jimmie eluded the strong arms that sought to clasp him, and whirled into the middle of the cabin again. Kenderdine charged—and slipped. Brooks planted two blows in the approved place, and Kenderdine measured his unconscious length on the floor. />
  Brooks reeled away from him, gasped for breath, and then stumbled forward again. He snapped handcuffs on the wrists of the prostrate man and glanced around for something with which to secure him better. There was an old fish-net in a corner; he used a part of that. It made clumsy bonds, but served. And then he whirled toward the traffic manager.

  “I’ll just take that automatic, now. Miss Burns,” he said. “Thanks for holding him off while I attended to the other man. He’s a precious scoundrel, isn’t he? We’ll just tie his hands behind him and trot him down to the motor-boat he came here in. We’ll put Kenderdine in with him and run back to town, and hand them over. And I’ll see that you have your pretty picture in the newspapers, young lady.”

  “Oh, it is so dreadful!” she said. “And I—I played a part in it, you know!”

  “An innocent part! I heard your little recital. I’m quite sure your name need not be mentioned in connection with this case. The gentleman standing against the wall with his hands in the air probably will have the good sense to make a simple confession that will not involve you. If he does not, and we have to present evidence his sentence will be greater, naturally.”

  Hamlin was wetting his lips with his tongue, and there was a peculiar expression on his face. Jimmie Brooks believed it as expression of bewilderment because he had been caught.

  “Think of it! A railroad man a traitor to his country!” Betty Burns cried, “And think what he has done!”

  “I fancy we’d better take our prisoners back to the city. It is rather late to be out,” Brooks said. “By the way, you must pardon me, Miss Burns. I suspected you for a time. I’ll explain all that later. Now we’ll—”

  “Great Scott!” exclaimed a voice at the door.

  VI

  Jimmie Brooks had been in many a narrow place during his career. He had trained himself to think and act quickly. And he had been taught that one of the greatest crimes is to lose a prisoner after taking one.

  So now he whirled around so that his back was against the wall, and he continued to cover Hamlin while he took in the scene in the doorway, ready to battle new foe if it proved necessary, wondering if accomplices had arrived at an inopportune time.

  Just inside the door stood a railroad detective he knew. Framed in the doorway behind him were half a dozen faces—more railroad operatives. Jimmie Brooks gave a sigh of relief and allowed a slight smile to play about his lips.

  “Just in time, boys,” he observed, “There is one scoundrel groaning on the floor, and another with his hands in the air. But you are a little late. This young lady and myself are entitled to all the honors.”

  The man in the doorway threw back his head and laughed long and loudly, and Jimmie Brooks stared at him in astonishment.

  “My hands are tired!” came the voice of Hamlin.

  “Well, you’ll keep them up in the air, just the same!” Brooks told him. “A man who has done the things you have done—”

  “It’s all right, Jimmie! Let him put his hands down,” said the detective at the door. “He’s as innocent as a new-born babe.”

  “Oh, is he? I know it’s a facer to find a railroad man engaged in treason, but here is one.”

  The men outside crowded into the room. Hamlin dropped his hands and sank on a box.

  “Innocent as a lamb,” the detective went on. “It is all finished, Mr. Hamlin. Jimmie, I’m sorry, but you’re not wise to the whole thing. You certainly worked well, and swiftly, but you were off the track. And Miss Burns-”

  “Miss Burns almost—er—spilled the beans,” Hamlin said.

  “What’s the proper meaning of all this?” Brooks demanded.

  “Let me explain,” said Hamlin. “Kenderdine approached me some time ago and tried to get me to play traitor. I took the railroad’s operatives into my confidence. They suggested that I ‘play’ him in order to discover his accomplices.

  “So I pretended to fall in with Kenderdine’s plans. I arranged for the cards to be sent to Miss Burns, and I arranged for Baker’s lamp to flash the messages. Baker already was in Kenderdine’s pay. I was to telephone him information regarding the movement of troop-trains, and he was to flash the messages across to Kenderdine.

  “The information I furnished was fake, of course—but the information flashed across the street was genuine! I would say that a train was to start Monday morning, but the lamp would flash Tuesday morning, the correct time of departure. That mystified us. We knew there was a real traitor somewhere. Kenderdine was getting genuine information. So we kept at work, trying to capture the guilty man. I got money from Kenderdine, acted the part well, met him here a couple of times. You see, we wanted to know the whole plot before we made a move. We wanted to get the entire gang.”

  “And we’ve landed them,” said the chief of the railroad’s operatives. “The guilty man is the alien janitor in the railroad building. He had a dictaphone arrangement stretched from your private office to the boiler-room. He knew of your deal with Kenderdine, and he was in it with Baker, the druggist. We nabbed him to-night, and he confessed. He knew you were giving false information. He gave Baker the correct information to be flashed across the street, and Baker split with him. They were afraid to notify Kenderdine that you were fooling him, afraid he would grow alarmed and call off the whole plot—and then the money would stop. So Baker disregarded your information and sent what the janitor telephoned.

  “We nabbed Baker, too, and got a confession out of him. Then we hurried here to catch Kenderdine—and found that Jimmie Brooks had been mussing around. We’ve found a small wireless outfit here on the island that Kenderdine used to convey his information to his confederates in other parts of the country, and there’ll be a lot of men in jail before another night. Sorry to spoil your triumph, Brooks.”

  “How can you ever forgive me for doubting you?” Betty Burns asked her employer.

  “It was natural for you to suspect me,” Hamlin replied. “I experienced several bad minutes when you made your appearance here. I feared Kenderdine would— And when Mr. Brooks appeared, I was about ready to collapse. I knew I would be cleared at once, of course, but we would lose our chances to take Kenderdine’s confederates and discover the real traitor.”

  “Anyway, Brooks, you get credit for nabbing Kenderdine,” the railroad’s chief said. “That ought to help some. Let’s take him to the launch and go back to town.”

  “Oh, I fancy I haven’t lost out entirely,” Jimmie Brooks answered.

  He was looking at Betty Burns as he spoke. And later, when they sat in the stern of the launch, he said:

  “Stupid of me not to have noticed it at noon when I bumped into you. I was thinking that red and white without the blue wasn’t proper at all. And you were showing your whole colors all the time. Blue? Huh!”

  “What do you mean?” she asked.

  “Your eyes,” he replied. “Blue as you can find ’em! I always did like blue eyes!”

  PRIVATE WAR, by Norman A. Daniels

  The Vultee V-12 was idling along at about two hundred miles an hour, high above the Pacific. The nine-hundred-horsepower Roberts motor purred like a dream. Two heavy bombs were in the racks below. On each wing were two machine-guns of .30 and .50 calibers each. There was also a pair of flexible mounted .30s, the mechanism of which Second Lieutenant Mike O’Malley was fingering. At the controls First Lieutenant Bob Roberts kept a sharp eye over the spreading vastness of the Pacific. His fuel supply was getting low and the distance back to the secret base had to be calculated to a particular fineness. “All we do is ride around,” O’Malley complained. “The ocean is full of Brown-bellies, but they sure keep out of our way.”

  Roberts grinned. “Maybe they know how you can handle those guns, Mike. Seriously though, we’ve got to turn back. Can’t afford to undershoot our base.”

  O’Malley hunched forward a bit. “Look, Bob, I was transferred to this job only a couple of days ago. Since then, I’ve done nothing but fly. No chance to check up on what this is all abou
t. Why the secret base and why this constant patrolling?”

  “I figured you’d guess by now,” Roberts said. “We’ve a small force on that island. The Japs could take us for a terrific buggy ride if they could find us. Our job is to stay there and patrol this area which regular Army and Navy patrols can’t include. The reason? This is a nice direct route to Hawaii, Mike. The brown-bellies would love to take a hop across this spot, especially in a couple of plane carriers and launch their birds before dawn, just as they did at Pearl Harbor.”

  “Oh!” O’Malley nodded. “I get it. So long as we keep the island base a secret, the Japs won’t have any idea we’re around. If they come, we just pile into ’em and hand ’em all we got.”

  “The devil we will,” Roberts said. “We run for it, my friend. Run like old Nick was after us. Then we radio the news and keep running. The carrier will find itself trapped and our job is done. In this war, Mike, it isn’t all fighting. Not yet.”

  O’Malley looked glum. “Say, those islands just below us. Must be a dozen of ’em. They’re even closer to Hawaii than the regular Jap bases. Why don’t the Japs grab themselves a few, rig ’em up and shoot from there?”

  “Because you and I are up here,” Roberts declared. “That’s another of our jobs. Some of those islands were in the process of being fortified by our own forces before Hirohito yanked that knife out of China’s back and used it on us.… Well, looks like the end of the run for you and me. We’re going back, Mike, but keep your eyes open. It’s a long way to home.”

  Mike O’Malley kept his eyes wide open. That was why he spotted the thin spiral of smoke miles to the west. He tapped Roberts on the shoulder and pointed. Roberts instantly nosed up, seeking all the altitude he could get.

  “Might be a Jap destroyer or a merchant ship,” he said. “I can’t think of any reason why it should be prowling these waters unless it’s a raider. We’ll just run over there and find out. Use the glasses, Mike, and keep me advised.”

  “I am using ’em.” O’Malley had a cheer in his voice. “Boy, oh boy, we’re going to have a party, Bob! Whatever that ship is, she’s escorted by two planes. Uh-huh—I can see the old Rising Sun. How about setting her, pal?”