"Of unusual things taking place inside Germany, and inside Occupied France," the major replied. "As an example, we have received a report that a certain factory making landing gear parts has suddenly become a very hush-hush place. No one can get within a mile of the spot without being shot. The working force has been doubled, and no worker is allowed to leave that area. They eat, sleep, and work there. Why? We haven't the faintest idea. We've known since the very beginning of the war that that particular plant made landing gear parts. Nothing secret about it at all. One of our agents even went through the plant. But he can't get within a mile of it now. Nor can anybody else, without the proper authority. And that plant is but one of at least a dozen that of late have become forbidden ground, you might say. By itself, the report means nothing, but when added to other scraps of information we have been able to collect, it all points to the Nazis working up something very special. For the want of a better word, we call it a secret weapon." "And the little item that gives it even greater importance now, Major?" Colonel Fraser said, and smiled knowingly. "Yes, very much so," the other said grimly. Then he looked at Dawson, and tapped the picture of Colonel Frank Bowers. "This," he said. "Rather, that rat, Herr Baron, who posed as Colonel Frank Bowers. Both English and Yank Intelligence have been able to find out that the man called Herr Baron was directly connected with whatever is taking place in these suddenly double guarded factories. Don't ask me, Herr Baron who, because I don't know. Nobody seems to know. Not even in Germany, or the occupied countries, where he seems to be feared as much as Himmler, if not more so. Obviously he is a skilled actor, and an expert quick change and make-up artist. Also, he is clever, and has a heart of stone. But that's about all we know. At least, all that Yank Intelligence knows. Perhaps, Colonel, you can add to--" But Major Crandall didn't get the chance right then to finish the question. The side door opened, and Lieutenant Wilson came hurrying in. In one hand he held the little black book. And in the other he held two sheets of paper, and Dawson could see that they were both filled with closely typewritten lines. And Dawson could also see that Lieutenant Wilson was striving hard to be typically English, and not let his wild excitement show on his face. CHAPTER EIGHT _Sixteen Kholerstrasse_ As Lieutenant Wilson quickly crossed over to the desk Colonel Fraser turned his head and looked at him in mild surprise. "What is it, Wilson?" he asked. Then catching his breath, "Good grief, you've done it so soon, man?"