"Those punks that called themselves Harry"s Rhythm Rascals. They got a plane full of tommy guns. They can"t play but _one_ tune on those."
Drake"s eyes narrowed.
"How did you find out?"
"I couldn"t sleep," Puffy said. "Went up front to get a gla.s.s of water and find that pretty hostess to keep me company."
"So?"
Puffy gulped.
"So she isn"t aboard the plane. We landed somewhere last night right after we took off. I didn"t think nothin" of it. Ain"t used to these airplanes. Well, when I was up front I heard two of these punks talkin" in their berths."
He opened the curtain slightly and looked both ways along the narrow aisle.
"This whole d.a.m.ned plane is full of Lardner"s men. They were laughing at the trick they pulled on the airlines. Seems they forced the pilot to land, threw out both pilots and the hostess. Lardner was waiting at the private field and he came aboard."
"You"re sure Lardner"s on this plane?" Drake asked. "You didn"t dream all this?"
"Listen, Cinderella." Puffy was himself again. "This sky bird is headquarters for every ex-con in Chicago. I don"t know why they didn"t throw us off with the hostess, but I sure wish they had."
A hard smile twisted Drake"s lips.
"I think," he said, "that we"re going to see Sylvia Fanton much sooner than I had planned. Unless we do some fast thinking we may not see her alive."
They sat quietly as Drake studied the country under the plane. He tried to discover some landmark listed on the map. There was nothing but scarred, snowcapped mountain peaks. A sprinkling of toothpick pines relieved the monotony of blinding snow, here and there.
Gradually, as the plane droned on, even these were left behind.
Ahead--only the white wastes.
From somewhere forward in the plane came a hard chuckle of laughter.
"Our hosts are coming to life," Drake said. "It"s now or never." He pushed bare feet into the aisle and dropped, stretching his arms overhead with a yawn.
"As soon as I"m out of sight," he whispered, "get back to your berth and dress. I"ll see you in the cabin ahead. Act as though you know nothing. Understand?"
Puffy grinned sadly.
"That"ll be easy," he answered, "but I"ve been around those violins that talk death before. Don"t like a tommy gun unless it"s in my own hands."
"Okay," Drake said grimly. "Keep your mouth shut and you may get your wish."
He slipped into his shoes, dressing quickly, went toward the tiny wash room halfway up the aisle. One of Lardner"s men was making a hurried exit. They met, heads down, with a jarring blow. The gunman started to swear loudly, caught himself and said in a mock pleasant voice,
"Good morning. Say, ain"t this a darb of a trip?"
Drake nodded.
"Guess I"ll splash a little water over my face if you"re done."
The man"s heavy face lighted in an embarra.s.sed smile. He stepped hurriedly to one side.
"Oh--oh sure. The sink"s all yours."
Once inside, Drake locked the door quickly. He washed the sleepiness from his eyes. So the laugh was on him after all. Lardner was in control of the ship, and headed for the lost Flaming Diamond. Where, Drake wondered, did he and Puffy Adams fit into the picture?
Suddenly there was a difference in the tune the motors were humming.
The plane slanted down at an abrupt angle and Drake pitched forward against the wall. Struggling up, he heard a sharp knock at the door.
"Better strap yourself into a seat," a strange voice carried through the wall, m.u.f.fled and far away.
He turned the lock quickly, lurched out, and felt an automatic in the small of his back.
"Hey!" Drake feigned surprise. "What the h.e.l.l?"
"Never mind, buddy," the man gave him a sharp push toward the cabin, "get yourself strapped in. We ain"t got time to tell stories."
A sharp prod of the gun settled the argument. Silently Drake went forward. Puffy was already in his seat, his face an expressionless mask.
"Remember," he whispered, "keep your chin stiff and wait for a break.
The fun has really started."
The plane had dropped and leveled off. Lardner"s men seemed to have forgotten their captives in the excitement. They sat with faces glued to the windows, watching curiously as George Lardner at the controls brought them down in ever tightening circles toward the valley below.
Adams nudged his companion.
"Look at "em," he whispered. "The rattiest looking bunch of b.u.ms I"ve ever seen. What in h.e.l.l does Lardner need so many guns for?"
"To finish murdering a race of people," Drake answered coldly. "A job that he started when he found the Flaming Diamond. If he has a chance, he"ll finish the task to get it back again."
"Shut up, back there!" A lean, sharp nosed individual in the seat ahead turned slightly. "No talk now. You"ll have plenty of chance later on."
A ripple of hard laughter went through the cabin.
George Lardner was an expert pilot. More than that, he was familiar with the country over which they were flying. Realizing that any attempt to escape now would be futile, Drake tried to memorize the layout of the small valley into which Lardner seemed to be heading.
With the entire country a white layer of blowing snow it was difficult to make out the sharp walls of granite that arose from the cup-shaped hole below. It was like a huge bomb crater, perhaps ten miles across.
On the valley bottom was the smoothly swept blue-green of a frozen lake.
The plane banked abruptly and Lardner cut the motors. Drake felt the tenseness mount within the cabin. A fear was filling these State Street gunmen that had never troubled them before. The motors were silent. The ship dropped below the lip of the canyon wall and the wind died smoothly. Circling, Lardner gunned the motors again and roared in straight over the strip of frozen ice.
Try as he might Drake could see no sign of life or human habitation.
Heavy fir trees came straight to the edge of the lake, standing guard stiff and frozen.
The plane zoomed up sharply and cut back over the lake leaving a black shadow against the ice. It sank down, bounced gently and rolled ahead.
They went straight toward the high cliff at the far end of the lake.