Free The Devil—With Wings by L. Ron Hubbard

and we…we sort of fit into the plan. I…I think he’ll let us go free.”
    Darkness was dropping steadily upon them. The mist was curling whitely up from the river in the still air. Forsythe stood wearily up in his pit, looking at Patricia. She could never know the blow her tone had dealt him.
    Even in the thickening gloom, the trickle which ran sluggishly down the front of his black jacket showed a glossy red like a streak painted there with lacquer.
    He dropped to the ground, landing heavily and reaching out for the stirrup to support himself. He straightened up then. Fumbling inside his leather coat for a cigarette, he brought out the pack. It was soggy. He stared at it for an instant and then crumpled it in his hand. Drops of red dripped from the end of his fingers very slowly as he held them out, watching the blood fall.
    Ching came back, gun in hand.
    â€œThey’ve beat it,” said Ching. “Do you think those ships got word through to their headquarters?”
    â€œI heard it,” said Forsythe tonelessly. “Shinohari is on his way.”
    â€œHe’ll bring squadrons with him!” cried Ching. “We’d better take off quick!”
    â€œNo,” said Forsythe. “I…”
    â€œYou’re hit!” cried Ching. “Wait. Let me see!”
    Forsythe thrust him back and left a dark print on Ching’s white jumper.
    Patricia and Bob, standing together, saw the streak which ran so slowly on the black leather of the jacket. Patricia clung hard to Bob’s arm. Her face was a pale heart in the dropping night.
    â€œYou’ve got gold?” said Forsythe to Bob Weston.
    â€œIf you’ve come for that, I can’t stop you from taking it,” replied Bob dispiritedly. “I bought this dredge sight unseen with my last cent down in Port Arthur. And I no more than started it going when a little guy with a pockmarked face barged in and took over. He put Japanese soldiers to work with me and made me show them how. I…I thought for a minute there I was saved.”
    His voice grew sharper. “Yes, I’ve got gold!” cried Bob. “Three hundred and fifty thousand dollars in dust! Take it!”
    Forsythe was standing erect with an effort. “Take it easy, lad. This ship wouldn’t carry an extra hundred pounds, much less thousands. Is there a car across the river?”
    â€œNo, but there’s one on this side and a bridge,” replied Bob doubtfully.
    â€œYou’ve got gas for it?”
    â€œSure. I haven’t used any.”
    Forsythe looked up at the darkening sky. A pale amber haze to the east showed where the moon would shortly appear.
    â€œYou haven’t got too much time,” said Forsythe. “Load your gold into the car and get across the river into Russia.”
    â€œBut there’s fighting around here,” protested Bob.
    â€œThat fighting was ordered to cover up this gold operation.” Forsythe smiled and fished absently again for a cigarette. He remembered then and brought his wet fingers back before him. “Not even the Imperial staff knows about this thing, Weston.”
    â€œBut I thought the Japanese government…”
    â€œNever mind that,” said Forsythe wearily. He fumbled in his pockets and finally brought out a card. “Here. Take this. When you reach the railroad, show them this and bribe the officials. Get to Vladivostok. Ching will make sure you get through.”
    â€œWhat’s that?” said Ching quickly.
    â€œYou’re going with them. Both you and Lin,” said Forsythe.
    â€œBut what about you?” demanded Ching.
    Forsythe glanced up at the sky. “I have an appointment very shortly. With Captain Shinohari.”
    Patricia stifled a gasp.
    Angrily Forsythe barked, “Get going! You’ve got until the moon rises.”
    â€œI won’t leave you!” said Ching.
    â€œYou’ve got your orders.”
    Ching hung his