Rick Brant 9 Stairway to Danger

by John Blaine

  Rick led the way through the mirror room into the main part of the fun house. “Wish I didn’t have a bum leg,” he said. “I’d like to try the slide.”

  Captain Douglas looked the big room over. “What’s upstairs?”

  “There used to be a dark labyrinth,” Rick told him. “I don’t remember anything else.”

  “Let’s take a look.” The captain led the way and the boys followed him up the stairs to the landing. At the top they found a small booth, just to the left of the stairs. Inside the booth was a lever projecting from the floor. Scotty tried the lever and the stairs ironed out to a slide. He pulled the lever back and the slide became stairs again.

  “Go stand on the stairs and let me try it,” Scotty suggested to Jerry.

  The reporter grinned. “Not me. I’m too old and brittle. You stand on the stairs and I’ll work the lever.”

  Behind the booth, the roof slanted down sharply. Rick saw light leaking through a crack and called the captain. “There’s a trap door of some kind in the roof.”

  Douglasfound the catch and threw it open. A short distance away a ladder rose from the roof to the roller coaster track. The captain got out onto the roof and took a closer look at the very top of the coaster, which was perhaps fifty feet beyond the fun house.

  “Nothing there,” he reported.

  They closed the door and inspected the room that had once been a mysterious, noisy labyrinth. The partitions were still in, but the roof leaked light and the paint had flaked off. By night it would still be a labyrinth. By day it was merely an odd, dirty room.

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  “Nothing to be gained by hanging around here,” Captain Douglas said. “Suppose we walk next door to the project, Rick? I’d like to see this thing you’re building. Besides, it’s about lunchtime. Think we could wrangle a bite to eat?”

  “If you like beans,” Scotty said, grinning. “There isn’t a cook in the place, and beans and coffee are the only things on hand.”

  “In my youth,” Captain Douglas said, “I served in the Marine Corps. I estimated once that I had probably eaten about ten billion beans while I was in uniform. I think I could eat a few more.”

  Rick cautioned Jerry as they walked to the fence and around the corner to the project. “We don’t mind our friends looking in on the project, but no stories, please. We’d rather not have any publicity.”

  Weiss and Winston greeted the boys and the officer. “We’re making very good progress,” Weiss reported. “There will be a preliminary test tomorrow sometime, and perhaps we can make an outdoor test on the following day, unless we run into unexpected difficulty.”

  “Incidentally,” Winston added, “your father called, Rick. He said to tell you Mike Curtis had phoned.

  He asked if you could meet him at the Whiteside landing at nine tonight. He has something to tell you.”

  Rick looked at Captain Douglas. “Mike has been working on the amusement park ownership, I guess.

  We’ll meet him, Captain,then give you a call. This may be a lead.If so, it will be our first one!”

  CHAPTER XI

  Shots in the Dark

  “I suppose it isn’t really strange that those men should leave a perfectly good car behind,” Barby remarked. “After all, it wasn’t their car.”

  Rick grinned. “The owner is going to be surprised when the police return it. He loses a maroon sedan and gets a black one back.”

  “I hope it isn’t a girl who owns it,” Barby said.

  The two boys and Barby were sitting on the front porch of the big house looking at the ocean, waiting until time for Scotty and Rick to go to the pier to meet Mike. Scotty hadn’t been paying much attention to the small talk between Rick and Barby, but he looked up at her last remark.

  “Why do you hope it isn’t a girl?”

  “She probably picked all her clothes to go with the color of the car,” Barby said seriously. “Now she’ll either have to have the car repainted or get a whole new wardrobe.”

  The boys laughed so hard that Hartson Brant came out on the porch to see what had happened. When Barby repeated her remark, the scientist grinned. “I don’t know what all the laughter is about. That’s a Page 53

  good theoretical conclusion, based on empirical data.”

  Rick lifted his eyebrows. “And just what is empirical data?”

  His father chuckled. “You’ll find a dictionary in the library.”

  Scotty looked at his watch. “We have time enough for a little research. I’ll go look it up.”

  While Scotty was gone, Hartson Brant asked, “Do you feel well enough to go out tonight, Rick? I could go to meet Mike for you.”

  “Thanks, Dad,” Rick replied. “I’m fine, honestly.”

  “I knew you’d get into trouble if you tried finding that car,” Barby said.

  Hartson Brant smiled.“More empirical data.”

  “Now I’m really getting curious,” Rick replied. “What’s keeping Scotty?”

  Barby looked in through the front door. “Here he comes now.”

  Scotty was grinning. “Add a new word to the vocabulary,” he told Rick. “Empirical means based on observation and experience, rather than on science or theory. In other words, it’s the way girls reach conclusions.”

  “Well,” Barby said smugly, “if I may make an observation, it’s my experience that every time you two start to unravel a mystery, you get into trouble.” She looked pointedly at Rick. “That may be empirical, but it’s true!”

  “I can’t deny it,” Rick said. “But this case has taught me a lesson.”

  “You mean you won’t try to solve any more mysteries?” Barby asked quickly.

  “Not exactly,” Rick replied with a grin. “The lesson is to be more careful and to invent a new warning system for the next plane I get.One that can’t be disconnected by some smart guy like the one who sabotaged us.”

  “Listen, Rick,” Scotty said with a glance at his watch> “we’d better get started. Mike should be arriving in the next fifteen minutes.”

  “I hope he has something that will give us a new lead,” Rick said. “An empty amusement park isn’t much help to Captain Douglas. Chances are the caretaker and hispal are out of the area by now in some other car.”

  “I’m afraid you’re right, Rick,” Hartson Brant agreed. “But every possibility should be explored. Ask Mike to stay here tonight if he plans to stay over.”

  The boys said good night to Barby and the scientist. Rick patted Dismal, who had been asleep at Barby’s feet, and the two walked down the path to the landing steps.

  It was dark, with only a faint trace of sunset remaining on the western horizon. Rick chose thespeediest Page 54

  of the island’s two boats and asked Scotty to take over. He was most comfortable with his leg stretched out, and that wasn’t possible in the driver’s seat. He cast off the lines and got aboard as Scotty started the engine. Then he relaxed as the other boy backed out of the slip, spun the wheel, and started them off toward Whiteside.

  Scotty switched on the searchlight mounted on the bow and a swath of white light showed them the water ahead. He advanced the gas lever and the bow lifted with the increased speed.

  Rick spoke over the engine’s roar. “It will be good to see Mike again.”

  Scotty nodded.“Even if he doesn’t have much news.”

  The run to Whiteside was a short one. Before long the lights of the town were bright enough to make use of the big searchlight unnecessary. Scotty cut the switch and steered toward the string of lights that marked the dock area. The small boat pier which they used was beyond, and it had no lights.

  A few other boats were tied up when they arrived, but there was no one in sight. Scotty cut the engine as Rick tied the craft to a cleat.

  “We must be a little early,” Rick said. His voice sounded loud in the sudden silence. “Might as well wait right here.”

  Scotty agreed and they sat in companionable silence, waiting. A car came down the road towa
rd Whiteside but turned off before it reached the pier. The water lapped gently against the side of the boat, and Rick began to feel sleepy. Once he thought he saw someone move across the shore end of the pier.

  It was too dark to see details. He saw only a vague silhouette against the glow from the city. He started to call out,then realized that Mike would drive into the parking lot among the trees that lined the water front at this point. He sank back in the leather seat.Probably someone out for a breath of cool sea air. It was a good night for it.

  Car lights appeared from the direction of town. Rick waited to see if the car was going to swing into the parking area, or whether it was a casual passer-by going along the water-front road toward the summer cottages a half mile beyond.

  The car slowed, passed the end of the pier, and swung into the parking lot. Rick jumped to his feet and started to yell a greeting, but the words clogged in his throat. Scotty’s grip on his arm told him his pal had seen the same thing!

  At the edge of the tree belt, on the water front a few yards up from the pier, three men were crouching, and the lights of the car had glittered from metal in their hands!

  Rick and Scotty acted instinctively, as a unit, in such cases. Without speaking, they got to the pier, crouched, and ran along it. At the end of the boardwalk was crushed rock fill which anchored the inshore piles. They reached it, scooped up rocks without stopping, and ran toward the parking lot.

  The car engine died and the lights switched off. Rick yelled, “Mike! Watch out!Ambush!”

  A gun barked spitefully ten feet away and Rick heard a brief crack as something sailed past his head. He threw a rock at the flash, a powerful overhand throw with his shoulder behind it. The rock landed with a meaty thud, followed by a cry of pain. Scotty pulled Rick down as three guns blazed.

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  For a moment Rick thought they were all shooting at him. His mouth dried up and his tongue stuck to the roof of his mouth. Then he realized the shots were aimed at the parking area. The men were shooting at Mike!

  He rose to one knee and started hurling rocks. Scotty was right beside him. From somewhere in the trees, Mike yelled, “Give it to them, guys!” A gun cracked from the direction of the voice and Rick knew Mike was shooting back.

  An instant later there was silence. The three men had realized that they were wasting their shots. That meant they were jockeying for a better position.

  Rick felt around, careful to make no noise, and collected a few more rocks. Scotty was inching ahead on his stomach. Rick followed. He felt sudden pain in his injured leg as he dragged it over some obstacle.

  He bit his lip. The three men would shoot at noise, he knew. He didn’t intend making any.

  Scotty was a dim figure, moving slowly forward. Rick kept his eyes on him, ready to take a cue from his friend. He saw Scotty rise to one knee and saw his arm move. A rock landed off to their left. Instantly guns cracked as the unknown enemy fired at the sound.

  Scotty had tossed the rock with his left arm. His ready right arm flashed down in a strong throw and a lucky one. The rock clashed with metal and one of theenemy let out a strangled yelp. Something-Rick hoped it was a pistol-clattered to the rocky ground.

  And in that instant Mike Curtis switched on his car lights.

  The twin beams caught and blinded the three men. They turned to flee from the revealing glare and ran head on into a barrage of rocks hurled by Rick and Scotty.

  The boys were outside the glare of the headlights, but they were only a dozen feet from the three men.

  And two of theenemy were the caretaker and his pal!

  Rick threw, and wild anger sped the rock straight to its mark. These were the men who had tried to kill him and Scotty! His rock caught the caretaker over the eye, sent him reeling backward. Scotty’s arm flashed down in an overhand throw that had all his weight behind it. The stone brought a groan from the caretaker’s friend.

  But the enemy wasn’t taking it lying down. All three were firing blindly at the rock throwers.

  Rick and Scotty were past caring. They knew only that here were the men who had tried to kill them, one of them the driver of the hit-and-run car that had struck Barby. They stood upright, anger giving accuracy and weight to their throws. Rocks crashed into faces, chests, and stomachs. The rocks bruised or brought blood, but they couldn’t land a knockout blow because the rocks weren’t heavy enough.

  Mike Curtis was firing, too. Suddenly the third man clutched at his arm and dropped his pistol.

  Instantly the redheaded man who had been with the caretaker let out a yell.“Get the lights!”

  As though on signal, the lights went out. Mike Curtis had turned them off before the enemy could fire.

  Scotty whispered hoarsely in Rick’s ear. “I’m out of rocks and I can’t find any. We’d better retreat.”

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  Rick had only one left. With the lights out, he no longer had a target. He started moving backward, slowly, carefully, feeling for each footstep.

  Now that the face-to-face fight was over, at least for the moment, he realized how foolish he and Scotty had been to stand up to guns while armed only with stones. But he felt exultation. The gunmen had come off second best!

  So far! The fight wasn’t over yet.

  He backed cautiously, eyes peeled for movement in front of him, until his foot grated on loose stones.

  Then he knew he was at the pier once more. He stooped and took a handful of stones. This time he rejected all but the biggest. He filled his pockets with them, one at a time, careful to make no noise.

  Where were the gunmen? He lobbed a rock into the air in the direction in which he had last seen them.

  He listened carefully, and heard the rock bounce off a tree trunk. There was no reaction.

  Scotty was crouching next to him. Rick got down in a crouching position, too, and felt sudden wetness as the motion put too much strain on his leg. He had opened the wound again. It hurt like the very dickens, too. He gritted his teeth and tried to ignore it.

  There was silence except for the lapping of the water under the pier and the sound of a breeze high in the trees. Somewhere in the darkness ahead men were moving, or waiting. They had no choice but to wait it out.

  Rick grinned in the darkness. He had repaid part of the debt.So had Scotty.

  From the direction of town a siren wailed. Rick stiffened. The police! Of course someone would have heard the shooting and reported it.

  There was a sudden crashing in the underbrush some distance away.

  “They’re getting away,” Scotty said. He started off on a run, and his foot crashed into a tin can someone had left.

  Mike Curtis’ voice rose. “Stay where you are! Don’t try to follow.”

  A gun shot answered him, and the flash was faint through the trees. The gunmen had made good their escape. Rick was sure of it when an engine coughed into life and tires spinning on gravel marked the getaway car.

  He and Scotty ran to the road to meet the oncoming police car. Mike Curtis emerged from the trees and joined them. The three shook hands.

  “Fine reception committee you fixed up for me,” Mike said. “I can tell you don’t live in glass houses.”

  He chuckled. “Not after seeing you throw those stones.”

  The police car saw the three and skidded to a stop. An officer leaned out. “Who’s been shooting?”

  “Go after them,” Mike snapped. “They headed up the road. Not a minute ago. You may catch them if you step on it.”

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  “Not so fast,” the officer said. “Who are you?”

  Rick stepped forward. “I’m Rick Brant. Please hurry! You might be able to catch them.”

  The driver of the police car turned a flashlight on the three. “Those are the kids from Spindrift, all right.

  Let’s go. Where can we find you when we get back?”

  “State Police Barracks,” Rick said swiftly.

  The police car shot ahead, siren wailing.

&
nbsp; “Too bad we didn’t see the car,” Scotty said. “We can’t even pass on a description to the road blocks.”

  Rick had a sudden thought. “Who says we can’t? Listen, they’re marked up plenty. Let’s get to Captain Douglas and he can radio a description of the men. The road blocks can stop every car and look the occupants over, can’t they?”

  Mike Curtis was already running for his car.

  “You’re right!” Scotty exclaimed. “Come on. We may get them yet!”

  CHAPTER XII

  Lefty the Gonif

  Rick sat in the comfortable armchair in Captain Douglas’ quarters at the State Police Barracks. His leg was stretched out on another chair while the doctor, brought to the barracks by a patrol car, repaired the damage.

  The doctor muttered while he worked. “Of course you can keep this from healing very simply, Rick. It isn’t necessary to crawl over rocks. Just kick it against a door now and then.”

  Rick smothered a grin. The doctor was definitely irritated. The state troopers had fetched him from a movie-the first one he had been able to attend in weeks, he said. When he finished, the leg was throbbing like a sore tooth.

  “There you are,” the doctor said. He added tartly, “If you expect to crawl over any more rocks before thatheals , stop by my house first. My son has a pair of catcher’s leg guards. I’m sure he’ll be glad to lend you one.” He turned to Captain Douglas. “If you’ll have me returned to the theater, Ed, I may be able to get back to my seat in time to see the villain caught.”

  As he departed in company with a trooper, Captain Douglas grinned at Rick. “You’re not very popular with the doctor. And I’m not so sure you’re popular with me. You’ve got blood all over my chair seat.”

  He went to a bureau and opened a drawer, rummaged around and found a pair of socks. “Here. Put these on.”

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  Rick’s sock was saturated because his leg had bled freely. His shoe was wet, too, but there was nothing he could do about it. As he changed, Scotty described what had happened. Mike Curtis paced the floor, adding explanations from his point of view.