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

screaming chant dimly through her engine-deafened ears. She had to look closely at the earth to see it.
    Abruptly a whole hill exploded. Wings and tattered fabric blasted outward from a violent ball of smoke and flame. The concussion reached them like an easy bump.
    Forsythe evened out the attack and started in a slow dive back toward the river. She could see his goggles flashing as he looked around the sky.
    Suddenly she felt very sick. Weakly she steadied her head in her hands, sobbing.
    Ching was beaming at the earth behind them. He turned with a grin and said, “No chance of him slipping, yet ! He sure nailed those devils!” He saw her, then. “Hello, what’s wrong? Yeah, I know. You can’t tell which is up yet. Cheer up. We’re almost there!”

CHAPTER NINE
    Shinohari’s Squadrons
    W ITH dusk hazy upon the earth under a scarlet-bannered sky, they sighted the dredge.
    It stood in a backwash of the Amur and looked like some gigantic animal skeleton of prehistoric days propped up in the black water. The chain buckets were running up and returning empty in an endless stream. Water poured out from pipes and steam rose busily over the shacks on the deck of the barge.
    Forsythe banked once around it, flying low. He could see men diving hastily down the swinging catwalk which connected the dredge with the shore. Another man in a white shirt stood on the deck, staring up.
    Forsythe stabbed away from there like a silver arrow and picked up a nearby field. Gun cut and wires shrilling, he settled down for a landing upon the dark ground.
    Before the ship stopped rolling, the man in the white shirt was seen sprinting over the river bank toward them. No one else could be seen anywhere. The top of the dredge was visible against the sunset of yellow and flame, and Forsythe, looking at it, thought of the gallows.
    The man in the white shirt bobbed up beside the pilot’s pit. He was young and tanned and eager, eyes bright with hope. Eyes as courageous and swift as Patricia’s.
    â€œHey, what’s it all about?” cried Bob Weston. “One glimpse of your crate and those cutthroats ran like quail yellin’ ‘Akuma-no-Hané !’” He glanced away before Forsythe could answer and incredulity flooded in upon him to hold him for a frozen instant of amazement. Joy exploded in him and with a whoop he leaped up into the stirrup so hard that the ship rocked. He pried up the hood.
    Patricia grabbed him and held him tightly as he lifted her down to earth. They said nothing because they couldn’t talk. Patricia’s eyes were shining with tears and happiness as she held him off and looked at him.
    Forsythe, looking down at them, felt suddenly cold and lonely. She would never look at him that way. Never.
    Ching and Lin got out and scouted with drawn automatics up to the bluff and lay there, protected by the edge, looking all around for possible ambush.
    Bob Weston finally subsided enough to turn and shout at Forsythe: “Gee, you don’t know how I want to thank you! Those guys went out of here as though they’d been shot from guns. Say, what was that they were shouting about?”
    â€œIt means ‘The Devil With Wings,’” said Patricia slowly.
    Bob’s eyes grew big and he gaped with amazement, releasing his sister and taking a step back.
    Ruffled slightly, Forsythe growled, “I don’t bite.”
    â€œOh, I didn’t mean anything. But…but gee! I’ve heard about you so much since I’ve been up here I…” He was still backing away. He dragged his eyes from Forsythe’s goggles and turned to stare his question at Patricia.
    â€œHe…he kidnaped me and brought me up here,” she began.
    Anger clouded Bob’s imperious face but before it could spread to action, she caught his arm.
    â€œPlease,” she begged. “You don’t understand. I don’t either. He’s doing something against the Japanese