Read Online The Devil—With Wings by L. Ron Hubbard - Free Book Online

direction. In case anything happens to me and should this ever reach you, I have buried the eighty thousand in dust at the foot of a white rock which has a profile like an old man’s face. We won’t have to worry about anything anymore!
    She turned to Forsythe again. “You…you really think he’s alive?”
    â€œCertainly,” said Forsythe, pushing back his plate. “I’ve thought it all along.”
    â€œBut how could you know unless…”
    â€œHe’s an engineer, isn’t he? You also know of that dredge, Ching.”
    â€œSure I do,” cried Ching. “An American brought it upriver chunk by chunk and assembled it. But his men revolted and he had to skin out with nothing much more than his life. Why, that thing’s been there for ten years!”
    â€œWe’ll find him at the dredge,” said Forsythe. “Working.” He stood up and made a gesture toward the door. “Roll out the ship, boys. We’ve got to fly about a hundred kilometers. We’ll start in a few hours and meantime we can check over the crate . You’re through at this stand, Lin.”
    Lin’s brass face lifted worriedly. “You not come back? No wantchee this place no more?”
    â€œNo.”
    â€œYou…you got a dream?” persisted Lin.
    â€œA hunch?” Forsythe laughed, but there was a false note in his voice.
    Ching was alarmed. “Hey, are you kidding me or what? You’ve gotten hunches about getting bumped off before.”
    â€œNot like this one,” said Forsythe quietly, lighting a smoke. “Never mind. Let’s start working on the ship.”

CHAPTER EIGHT
    The Wings of Death
    T HE silver attack plane’s engine battered the surface of the Amur, so low that the slipstream sent yellow waves leaping back from the blast of passage.
    The yellow day was nearing a hazy close and long streamers of red had begun to creep toward the zenith like wounds in the cobalt of the sky.
    The ship was badly overweighted and no one knew as well as Forsythe that an attack against it in number would result disastrously for himself.
    Ching had rigged a board across the roomy gunner’s pit and Lin sat there, eyes glazed, looking at the river lashing out behind them like a saffron snake.
    Patricia and Ching were crowded together on the gunner’s seat. The girl was so enrapt with the anticipation of seeing her brother that she did not mind being crowded—in fact she hardly noticed it.
    Only Ching and Forsythe knew how they were raising the odds against themselves. But without beacons by which to land they could not go at night, and though they could feel the intensity of spying eyes behind every rock along the riverbank, and though they could sense the passage of radio waves which told of their going, it was for Forsythe to order and Ching to obey.
    Suddenly a flash of light against the setting sun caused Ching to glance westward. He stiffened, eyes nailed to the far-off brace of dots which grew in size even as he watched.
    He seized the inter-cockpit phone. “ Kawasaki pursuits coming!”
    Forsythe’s goggles flashed redly as he glanced up. His black gauntlet yanked back on the stick and the attack shot skyward with diminishing engine pitch. It leveled out at two thousand. The Japanese ships were still boring in.
    Forsythe gripped the phone. “Buckle your belts and leave your machine guns alone! I’ll handle this from the front.”
    Ching nodded though Forsythe could not see. Ching could not have said a word at that moment. Forsythe knew he was going to die. That time seemed to be coming all too soon.
    â€œDo you think they’ll attack us?” said Patricia, trying to appear calm.
    Ching nodded and tightened his belt. He had Lin hold on solidly to the drum racks.
    The Japanese ships were spaced one above the other. With the sun streaming crimson around them, they climbed steadily to gain the best advantage of