by John Blaine
Sing spoke up. “I will go, and some of the lamas should, too. The monastery should know all about these caves, in case something like this ever happens again.” He spoke to the lamas in Tibetan. They consulted briefly, then nodded assent. Five of them stepped forward.
“And Scotty and I will go,” Rick volunteered. “I want to see how this spoon works.” He looked at Long Shadow and Ko. “Maybe they ought to go back and see the end of their racket, whatever it is.”
“No need,” Zircon said. “They know it’s the end, and Bradley does too. Which is more than we know, I must say. But we’ll find out from Bradley very soon.”
Rick hefted his rifle. “Incidentally, there’s one thing I want to do before we go back.”
“And that is?”
He grinned at the scientist. “I want to go hunting blue sheep.”
“Me, too,” Scotty chimed in.
Zircon chuckled. “Very well. One day for sheep before we hit the trail. Since Bradley prohibits our taking revenge on the enemy, we’ll take it out on the local livestock. Now get going. And do a thorough job.”
CHAPTER XIX
Canton Charlie’s
“You’ve come a long way, lads,” Keaton-Yeats said. “From golden mice to blue sheep and back to golden mice again. I must say, you should be thoroughly familiar with the animal kingdom by now.”
“They very familiar with animal world,” Chahda agreed. “Also, sometimes become part of that world by making jackasses of their selves. Like when shooting blue sheep.”
The boys had each bagged a blue sheep, but at considerable risk to life and limb. In the process, they had gotten themselves marooned on a rock ledge high above Korse Lenken, from which Sing, with the help of the bearers, had managed to rescue them.
“Never mind,” Carl Bradley said. “They got their sheep, even if it almost took their necks to do it. Those heads will make nice trophies by the time the taxidermist is through with them.”
The heads were in a Hong Kong shop, being mounted. Bradley had promised to ship them back to Spindrift by sea.
Canton Charlie made his way through the empty tables, followed by a Chinese who carried a tray laden with glasses.
“More dragon’s blood, meaning coke,” Zircon said with a smile. “I suggest we drink a toast to success and then get down to business. Carl, you’ve kept us waiting long enough to hear your story.”
“It’s the sort of tale that should be heard on a full stomach,” the ethnologist said. “That’s why I’ve made you wait. Now that we’ve filled up on Charlie’s excellent chow, we’ll talk. We have a little while before the mob gathers.”
Bradley had insisted that all of them, including Keaton-Yeats, dine with him at the Golden Mouse before swapping experiences and completing the story of the heavy water. They had eaten real Cantonese food, each using chopsticks, and they were full to the ears.
Scotty grinned at Canton Charlie. “We owe you an apology,” he said.
The proprietor of the Golden Mouse shook his head. “The other way around. Carl and Chahda told me you would come. If I’d kept a better lookout while waiting for Carl to come after I sent him a message, that Portuguese would never have had a chance to tip off Long Shadow, and the Chinese who dropped the message would have been caught in the act.”
After talking it over, they had decided that the Portuguese seaman who had been giving himself a manicure with a dagger probably had been the one who tipped off Long Shadow about three Americans who had asked for Chahda. Of course Long Shadow knew of Chahda’s connection with Bradley because of the incidents in Singapore.
Canton Charlie grinned evilly. “That Portuguese won’t do any more spyin’ for Long Shadow.”
His meaning was clear. Rick’s eyes met Scotty’s.
“Pull up a chair, Charlie,” Carl Bradley said. “We’ll drink a toast in coke to our former pals. Long Shadow and Worthington Ko.”
Zircon lifted his glass, then took a sip. “Long Shadow said he and Ko were finished,” he recalled. “And you said as much in your note, or implied it. But I’m hanged if I know why they’re finished. They were healthy enough when we left them at Korse Lenken.”
Bradley smiled without mirth. “To understand their punishment, you must understand what has happened. Suppose I start at the beginning?”
“Best place,” Chahda said. “Better start at Singapore, boss. Plenty I don’t know, too.”
“All right, Chahda. To begin with, I first heard about heavy water in Singapore from an informant with whom I deal. I’m no physicist, of course, I wouldn’t know heavy water if I were served coffee made with the stuff. But I saw the implications right away and I sent a cable to Washington. You know about that because Steve Ames contacted Hartson Brant, if I’m right.”
“You’re right,” Rick agreed.
“At the time I knew nothing except that heavy water had appeared in Singapore. I continued investigations at top speed. I managed to locate the house which was headquarters for the heavy-water dealers, again with the aid of an informant. At first I thought the stuff was coming overland, down the Malay Peninsula. Then I learned it was being shipped in by boat from Hong Kong.”
Customers were starting to come into the Golden Mouse. Bradley lowered his voice so as not to be overheard. “At the same time, the dealers spotted Chahda and me. It wasn’t hard to do for an expert such as we were up against. I walked into our hotel room and was jumped by Worthington Ko and some Chinese thugs. We had it hot and heavy for a while and some blood was shed.” He grinned. “Not mine, I’m happy to say. I managed to get clear and decided I’d better drop out of sight. So I became a Eurasian seaman. It’s a disguise I’ve used before, and it’s quite safe.
Rick studied Bradley’s face. He had a bone-deep tan, and his face, although pleasant, had no really distinguishing features. It was easy to see how he could become a Eurasian. Disguise, after all, was just putting yourself into a part. It wasn’t a matter of make-up.
“I hurried to Hong Kong,” Bradley went on, “sure that Chahda would piece together the story enough to follow me. I stopped at Saigon on the way and contacted our legation there. The minister had received the cable sent to all missions in the Far East giving your names, descriptions, and time of arrival in Hong Kong.”
“The timing must have been close,” Scotty said.
“It was. The legation had received the cable only hours before my arrival. It probably was the day you left New York.”
“Also I think it was day I left Singapore,” Chahda said.
“I got to Hong Kong and contacted Charlie,” Bradley continued. “Tell us what you found out, Charlie.”
Charlie shrugged. “No trouble. I got in touch with a pal in the Chinese Beggar’s Guild. He checked up and found out that a lot of coolies carrying goatskin water bags were crossing from China to Kowloon and from Kowloon to the island. Of course a lot of that goes on, anyway. But some of the coolies weren’t selling their water. I got my hands on one of the coolies and we sort of told him he ought to sing us a song about where the water came from.” Charlie grinned. “He sang all right. He yodeled real good, about Korse Lenken. He also said Long Shadow had been at the monastery.”
“Do you know Long Shadow?” Rick asked Bradley.
“Yes. I’d never met him, but I knew him by reputation.”
Charlie stood up. “Got to take care of the customers. See you later.”
As he left, Bradley continued, “Next step was to get a line on the source of the heavy water. We had the name of Korse Lenken, but that was all. I assumed it was being produced industrially somewhere on the Tibetan border. But that would take equipment, of course, so I put the consulate commercial section to work finding out if Long Shadow had been dabbling in industrial equipment. That’s routine for a consulate. Well, he hadn’t. But what turned up but the fact that he had imported some Nansen bottles.”
“I begin to see how it shaped up,” Zircon said.
“It wasn’t difficult, really,” Bra
dley admitted. “Just took plugging. At that time, Chahda arrived from Singapore, bringing Long Shadow with him, although he didn’t know it.”
“Unhappy me,” Chahda complained.
Bradley smiled at the Hindu boy. “Don’t be unhappy. Long Shadow is the best in the business. Well, I told Chahda to go to Korse Lenken, then dropped my disguise. As I had hoped, Long Shadow started following me, dropping Chahda. Once Chahda was on his way, I ditched Long Shadow and became the Eurasian once more. We had given Charlie instructions about you. He got in touch with me the moment you showed up, but I was delayed. Meanwhile, you had been spotted, probably when you asked for Chahda. Long Shadow must have figured the odds were piling up. He’d lost me, so he probably decided to keep the odds down by removing all of you.”
He nodded at Keaton-Yeats. “Thanks to our young British friend, we found you before you’d been knocked in the head. Then I took off after Long Shadow, as you know. Somewhere between times I’d gotten the consul to get a Nansen bottle, a rubber boat, and that other stuff for you. I didn’t know why you’d need the rubber boat, but I figured a Nansen bottle meant water and you’d better be prepared.”
“If we hadn’t been trapped in the caverns, we could have used the rubber boat,” Rick said. “But it was at camp with Sing when we needed it.”
“Fortunes of war,” Bradley said. “Well, while you were sneaking around through the caves, I kept busy. You probably know that the Far East is the happiest spying ground in the world. There are so many spies they have to spy on each other.” He turned suddenly to Keaton-Yeats. “Isn’t that right, colleague?”
The young Englishman’s expression never changed. “And some are almighty good,” he said calmly. “Like Bradley. Soon as I knew he was on the case, I reported to my superiors and we dropped the thing like a hot potato, just to avoid being at cross-purposes. We knew that the Americans would tip us off as soon as they had a definite answer.”
The boys stared at Keaton-Yeats. “But you’re a bank clerk!” Rick exclaimed.
“He’s also a British intelligence agent,” Bradley said, grinning. “That’s why I insisted he come tonight. We’ve already informed the British, through channels, that the heavy-water menace no longer exists. Keaton-Yeats is here tonight to get the details.”
“You chaps would be simply amazed at how much valuable information one picks up in a bank,” Keaton-Yeats said. “Astounding. Although I must say having lads ask for golden mice is a bit unusual.”
Scotty shook his head. “And you looked so innocent,” he complained. “We believed everything you said.”
The young Englishman grinned. “I am innocent,” he replied. “No woolly little lamb could be more so. And I did tell you the blessed truth, you know, even though I didn’t mention I had a bit of a job to do as well as having an interest in your welfare. Our own chaps had discovered heavy water was coming into Hong Kong, too, so naturally we were interested. But since Bradley was already on the job, and we co-operate with you Americans on matters atomic, we sat back and waited.”
“I’m astonished,” Zircon admitted. “But get on with your story, Carl.”
“Right. As I said, spies spy on each other. I contacted a French agent I know, and in the course of having lunch with him I casually asked how much he had paid for the information about an atomic pile. I was just fishing, of course. Well, he took the bait. He leaped at it like a striking tuna. I knew I had something then. From there on, it wasn’t hard to uncover the whole business, just by making contact with the espionage agents of various countries.”
The JANIG man wet his throat with another sip of coke. “And business is just what it was. I can’t say how long ago Long Shadow found out there was heavy water in tie Caves of Fear. I did find out that in his younger days he was something of a scientist and that he explored the Korse Lenken region thoroughly. That was shortly before the discovery of heavy water in Lake Baikal. I think we can assume that he pieced the story together and realized that the lake in the caverns had the same possibilities. It would have been only a matter of scientific curiosity then, but with recent developments in the atomic field, the possibilities took on a new light.”
He paused as a Filipino brushed by, then resumed, lowering his voice so only those at the table could hear. “He’s a smart one. I’ve known about him for a long time, as one of the best free-lance agents in the Far East. He has a good reputation for accuracy, and he sells-or sold-information to the highest bidder. He was riding on his reputation in this deal, because as soon as the facts became known, as they had to sooner or later, he was all washed up as a spy.”
“I don’t get it,” Rick complained.
“I’ll explain. He was selling a story to every country that was interested. He would contact the embassy, consulate, or chief espionage agent of, say, country X. He would report that country Y had a secret atomic pile-nuclear reactor, that is-in the mountains of West China. You can imagine the excitement. He would sell that information for a reasonable price. Then, for a considerably higher price, he would undertake to collect a sample of the deuterium they were using. Once he collected the sample, which of course came from Korse Lenken, he would contract to give them the location of the reactor for a very high price indeed. He made the rounds country by country, changing his story as needed. Of course he collected in advance for the location, which was to be delivered later, after he had risked his life getting it. That was the story he used-and some of the best agents in the Orient fell for it.”
The daring ingenuity of the thing made Rick shake his head. “But they were certain to catch up with him!”
“Of course. He knew it. But he intended to stall in giving them the final location until he had tapped every possible source. Then I believe he intended handing them some phony location in West China, after which he would disappear and live on the proceeds. He collected enough to make him very wealthy. He hadn’t reached us yet, but you can bet that if I hadn’t stumbled on the story, he would have made a sale to one of our embassies or consulates.”
“Ours, too,” Keaton-Yeats said. “He took advantage of all the interest in atomic weapons. And of his reputation, of course.”
“What about Ko?” Scotty asked.
“Ko had a side line,” Bradley explained. “He was selling heavy water to various institutions and schools all over Asia for normal experimental purposes. He claimed to be importing it from England. That was why they were bringing so much out.”
“That is also how we got interested,” Keaton-Yeats said. “We got queries about more heavy water at a lower price from one of the schools that had bought Ko’s product. Naturally, we knew no heavy water was coming from England, so we got interested very quickly.”
“We sure dropped a monkey wrench in a gold mine,” Rick said.
“Evidently,” Zircon agreed. “But you haven’t explained why Long Shadow and Ko are finished.”
Keaton-Yeats laughed grimly.
Bradley stretched his legs out. “Easy. The story had already spread about heavy water at Korse Lenken. Ronnie and I got the good word circulating right after we received your cable from Chungking. By now all the countries he sold his story to-and that is most countries-know they’ve been done in the eye, as our British friend would say. Do you know the penalty for a double cross in the espionage racket?”
“A bullet, a knife, or a blunt instrument,” Keaton-Yeats said. “It’s as certain as tomorrow’s dawn.”
Bradley nodded. “Also, the lamas won’t permit the two of them to remain after their wounds are healed. They are evil men, and the lamas know it. Sooner or later, they’ll have to leave the mountains and enter civilization. I know their type. They might survive if they wanted to live alone in the mountains like two wolves. But they won’t.”
Rick shuddered. He knew from experience what it was like to be hunted. Ko and Long Shadow would be hunted by agents of a dozen countries or more once they set foot in civilization. After that, it was only a matter of time. The two couldn�
��t escape for long.
“Now,” Bradley said, “let’s have the details of your trip.”
A burly English seaman brushed past. “I’ll be quick,” Zircon said. “You know . . .” Bradley let out a yelp as the seaman stepped squarely on his foot. “Watch out where you’re going, you big ox” he exclaimed.
The seaman stopped short. “Who you callin’ a ruddy ox, you little blighter?” He grabbed Bradley by the collar.
The JANIG man’s hands moved in a blur of speed. One struck the seaman’s hand away. The second caught him just above the solar plexus. The seaman rocked backward, stumbled over a table occupied by three Portuguese, and crashed to the floor, taking the table with him. One Portuguese clubbed the seaman over the head with a bottle. The second threw a glass at Bradley. The third picked up a chair.
“Look out!” Scotty yelled. He flung his coke into the face of the chair wielder, then jumped to grab the chair. The Portuguese, who had swung the bottle, threw it at Scotty, missed, and knocked the glass out of the hand of a Sikh seated at a near-by table. The Sikh rose with a battle yell and leaped.
Rick lost track after that. For a moment he stood amazed, then jumped to help Chahda, who was being tackled from behind by one of the Portuguese. Canton Charlie’s was in an uproar. The fight had spread like fire in dead leaves. Rick hadn’t been aware of the place filling up, but it was definitely full. Bottles and glasses flew.
He ducked a wild swing with a chair, then as he stood up he brought the table with him, dumping it over on three Chinese who were struggling with Scotty. A fist caught him behind the ear. He kicked backward, then whirled, his elbow catching a Filipino sailor in the chest. The Filipino sprawled backward.
A bottle whizzed past Rick’s ear. He ducked, then rushed to Zircon. The big scientist was holding a British seaman in each hand, busily knocking their heads together. Scotty rose out of his path, swinging. A Eurasian who had been about to swing with a bottle stopped short, swaying, as Scotty’s fist connected. The bottle dropped on Chahda, who was crawling out from under a table.