G-8 and his Battle Aces #14 November 1934 by RadioArchives.com

Author:RadioArchives.com
Language: eng
Format: mobi
Tags: Pulp Adventure
Published: 2020-09-17T07:00:00+00:00

THEY climbed into the roadster. G-8 took the wheel. The big engine started and then the long, fast roadster shot out of the hangar and turned for Paris.

The master spy drove like a madman — but with consummate skill. He dodged trucks and motorcycles and staff cars on the road. Bull and Nippy were hanging on for dear life.

Gendarmes tried to stop him as he ducked past. Then they recognized his car and attempted to motion him on. But by that time he’d be at the next corner and flashing forward.

With a squeal of brakes, he pulled up before headquarters building and leaped out. Nippy who had been in the middle moved over and took the wheel.

“Remember,” G-8 said. “The laboratory with that bottle as soon as you can get there. Then after you’ve left it come back and wait for me here.”

It was getting late. G-8 dashed in the building and on to the office of his chief. He burst through the door and found the general pacing the floor. “Hold it just a minute,” G-8 begged as the general turned sharply. “Got to call the laboratory and leave some orders.”

He picked up the phone on the general’s desk. The chief stopped his pacing while G-8 talked.

“There’s a bottle that is supposed to be filled with water,” he told the chemist. “My assistants will be there any minute to leave it with you. Perhaps you’ve heard about this thirst plague that’s striking at the Front?”

“Yes,” answered the other. “I’ve received reports of it.”

“This bottle,” G-8 continued, “was found in the footlocker of a German spy, whom I shot, at the 223rd squadron. The thirst didn’t touch him. And for the last few days he’s been drinking nothing but the contents of these bottles. I want you to find out what the flask contains, as soon as possible. It may be a cure for the disease. I’m almost positive that it’s a preventative, anyway.”

“I understand,” the chemist replied. “Wait, here comes someone now. I’ll let you know as soon as possible what I find.”

“Fine,” G-8 clipped.

He hung up the receiver and turned, half smiling, to the general.

“Well, you’ve heard that much,” he said.

“You mean,” demanded the general, “that you think you’ve found the cure for this plague?”

“A preventative,” G-8 corrected, “if not a cure.”

“By Heaven,” the general boomed, “I hope you’re right. Something has got to be done. Another forty-eight hours of this and we’ll be finished.”

G-8 motioned the general to his chair behind his desk.

“Why not sit down, general,” he suggested. “Take it easy. Then you can tell me what’s on your mind.”

The general shook his head.

“I couldn’t sit down while all this is going on — while men are dying of thirst by hundreds and thousands.”

He walked to a great map of the Front that covered the wall before him. He pointed to the section to the east from which G-8 had just come.

“That’s where all the trouble seems to be, so far,” said the general. “I’ve gotten

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