The Phantom Patrol by L. Ron Hubbard

Author:L. Ron Hubbard
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: Fiction
Publisher: Galaxy Press
Published: 2010-07-01T00:00:00+00:00

“Your record is none too savory now, Trescott,

without adding insubordination to the list.”

Johnny interrupted. “Higher authority, did you say? Listen, Lieutenant. On that score I’ve only got this to say. Thank God for the enlisted men of the Coast Guard!”

“Meaning?” grated Maitland.

“You don’t have to look far to get my meaning, Lieutenant. If you’d attend a few less pink teas you’d know something about what we’re up against. You’d know what we’ve had to face on the high seas.”

“I’ll have you—” began Maitland.

“You’re letting them hang us now. A few minor offenses don’t make any difference to us.”

Maitland executed a perfect about-face. Behind him the cell door slammed, its bars shivering. The stamping feet echoed in the passage.

“Anybody but him!” said Heinie. “It’s just our luck. Out of all the swell guys in this outfit, we have to get picked up by Edwards, and they appoint Maitland to act as our counsel. Ain’t that hell, Johnny?”

“Pretty rotten. But there wasn’t any luck about it. The job of counsel is a tough one, and everybody thinks we’re as guilty as sin, and nobody else likes Maitland, so they handed the job over to him. And as for Barney picking us up, we knew that before it happened. But I do wish it had been almost anybody else.”

Heinie sighed and slumped down on his bunk. “And all because Georges Coquelin has white hair and blue eyes! My God, Johnny, that description would fit any one of a hundred thousand men!”

“Sure it would. But you’ve got to think of this. A Coast Guard boat runs crazy, boarding and looting. We disappear at the same time. After that the public gets leery of the Coast Guard and refuses to place any confidence in it. That was a tough blow, after all the underhand propaganda that was shot around during prohibition days. We no more than pull out of that—I mean the Coast Guard—than the public gets hot about this Phantom.”

“Funny Georges hasn’t done anything since we were taken in. Do you suppose that he knows they’ll nail us?”

“It’s in all the papers,” said Johnny, “and it’s been released through all of the radio dispatches. He’s picked it up all right. And he’ll do one of two things.”

“And what are those?”

Johnny slapped his palm, his eyes narrow. “By golly, I just happened to get this figured out! It’s bad!”

“What is?”

Johnny shook his head. “Bad. Georges will be able to approach vessels, now that the scare is over. He’ll repaint the numbers on the bow. He’ll blast out their radio masts and then board the boats and loot them. After that, he’ll have to sink them with all hands.”

“Good Lord! You think he’d do that?”

“Sure he would, no question about it. Remember Henri? That puts us right up against it, Heinie, right smack against it. Ferguson is out there. He’ll have to be rescued.”

“That—”

“I know, I know. But he’ll have to be rescued anyway. They’ll ask for ransom after we’ve been hung. Either that, or, more

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