"You hurt bad, Freddy?" Dave asked anxiously as he stood motionless in the dark. "Fancy I'll survive!" Freddy replied bitterly. "The dirty beggar. Man! I never thought I'd ever be able to enjoy killing a man. But I'm sure I'd enjoy killing that filthy swine!" "After me, you come next," Dave said grimly, and started putting one foot cautiously in front of the other. "I guess this place is empty, so we might as well sit on the deck and try to be comfortable. Come on over here, Freddy. We can use this bulkhead wall for a back rest. We _are_ in a jam, Freddy!" The English-born air ace didn't speak until both of them were sitting on the smooth steel deck and were leaning back against the bulkhead wall. Then he sighed, and groaned softly. "Quite!" he muttered. "A blasted awful mess, too. It makes me ill to think of what they said. Man! Dave! The blighters _know_ about our plans to attack Guadalcanal. I thought I'd choke when I heard that. That's bad, you know, Dave." "You're telling me, son?" Dawson echoed. "It's worse than that. But it doesn't help much to groan about it. What worries me is what's going to happen when that ten cent Jap dumps us in Suicide Sasebo's lap? We had that thick-headed Nazi believing us about our forces being way up north. I thought for a moment--that is, I hoped that--Aw, nuts! We couldn't hope to work a break _that_ good!" "We may yet," Freddy Farmer remarked after a long moment of silence. "If we could only just get this Sasebo to believe that there is nothing south of him, and that all our naval and air forces are way up north and about to strike at Japan direct, then--" The English youth suddenly seemed to realize he was reaching for stars, and let the rest trail off into silence. "And get him to change his plans and go high balling with his whole force north for another one of his pet suicide ventures?" Dave more or less finished for him. "Sure, pal, that would be tops. It would be almost as good as if we could dive right out through these steel plates and swim to the Carson and tell Admiral Jackson the exact location of Suicide's force moving south." "Yes, absolutely!" Freddy grunted. Then, after a slight pause, he added, "And the truth of the matter is that I _could_ tell Admiral Jackson where Sasebo's force is, _if_ I could get to him." Dawson gasped, choked, and gaped toward his pal in the pitch darkness. "Whoa, pal!" he cried. "That clout on the head _did_ send you spinning. Take it easy, kid!" "Take it easy, nothing!" Freddy replied hotly. "I _could_, Dave. And if you'd used your eyes, you'd have learned what I did!" "The--the location of Suicide's force?" Dawson asked incredulously. "Exactly!" Freddy told him firmly. "At least what it was at ten o'clock this morning. It was One Hundred and Forty degrees West, and Five degrees North. I saw the position marked on the desk chart in that Nazi's cabin. And do you know what _that_ means, Dave?"