by John Blaine
“Straight ahead,” Scotty gasped. “Miss the piers and stay under as much as you can. They’re manning a searchlight.”
The swim was a nightmare. Rick stayed under until his lungs burned, then he came to the top, rolling like a seal to see if light were playing on the surface. Once he had to wait until the beam passed, and thought his lungs would burst.
Then they pissed the last pier and angled toward shore.
Scotty swam close.“How you making it?”
“All right,” Rick said briefly.
“Try to keep going until we get near the plant. It’s not far.”
It wasn’t far when you said it quickly.but it seemed eternity before they got to the underwater bulk of the sea inlet. Rick gave thanks a dozen times that they had worn sneakers. Leather shoes would have been too heavy, and they would have had to drop them.
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Then, at last, they were walking up past the inlet pipe, breathing deeply, too relieved to do more than grin at each other.
There were lights in the Quonset hut. They ran to the door and knocked.
Tom opened the door,then his eyes opened even wider. “Come in,” he said. “Come in.”
Doug rose as they entered. “Good gosh, what happened?”
“A little swim,” Scotty managed.
“That’s nice,” Tom said. “Did you take a bar of soap with you?”
“No time,” Rick said. He sank down in a chair and let the water drip from him. It was easy enough to joke now that it was over.
“Get out of those clothes,” Doug directed. He found an electric heater and plugged it in. “Good thing we saved this. We used it on cool nights last month.”
In a short time the boys were wrapped in blankets, their clothes drying on chair backs, and they were busily drinking hot cocoa. Only when the cocoa was down did Doug permit them to talk.
“Now,” he said, “let’s have it.”
The story didn’t take long to tell. Rick quoted the bit of conversation they had heard, with verification from Scotty.
Doug and Tom gave each other a long look.
“You’ll take no more chances,” Tom said decisively. Then his warm grin flashed. “But I’m glad you did this time, as long as you got out of it all right. Now we know for sure what we’re up against, even if we don’t know who the enemy is.”
“Stoles and Lewis,” Scotty said.
“I don’t know Lewis, of course, but I’ll bet he is only a part of it,” Tom remarked.
“That’s my thought,” Doug said. “Now, what do we do about it?”
“We can’t have them arrested, I suppose.” Rick ventured.
“Not a chance.” Scotty was definite. “What we heard wouldn’t convince a jury of old ladies, even if it did convince us.”
“Anyway,” Rick said stoutly, “we’re making progress.
“Yes,” Scotty cracked.“From well-dressed detective to blanket Indian in ten minutes flat.”
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CHAPTER VIII
The Playing Gets Rough
The partners were just finishing breakfast when Rick and Scotty arrived at the plant the following morning.
“Well, if it isn’t the moonlight bathers,” Tom greeted them.
“There wasn’t any moonlight,” Doug said.
“See the scientific mind in action?” Tom grinned.“Always a stickler for the precise fact. I was only speaking poetically.”
“Never mind.”Doug smiled. “Let’s put that energy to work instead of wasting it on oratory.”
Tony Larzo stuck his head in the door. “What first?”
“Bolt up that panel by fractionator one,” Doug directed. “Rick and I will start work on that this morning.”
Scotty watched Tony pick up a box of tools and depart,then he asked, “How much stuff needs to be done before the plant gets into operation?”
Rick had been curious about that, too.
“The domes, of course,” Doug began. “You know about those. If the company phones in an okay this morning, we can expect to have them up and rewired by the end of next week. Then there are the fraction- ators. Rick and I can finish wiring them today and tomorrow.”
“Carstairs should have the units ready,” Tom said thoughtfully. “I think I’ll take a trip intoBridgeport today and see about them.”
“The fractionator boxes are empty now,” Doug explained. “But it won’t take long to install and connect the units, once they’re delivered. Then we have to rig the chemical platforms and dumps. They’re the platforms that will hold the tanks of chemicals over the sediment tanks. When we want to add anything to the sea water, we’ll just turn a valve.”
“And mix until done,” Tom said. “The mixing arrangement was my idea. I’m a scientist, too.”
“What did you do,” Rick asked with a grin, “invent a better egg beater?”
Doug smiled.“Just about. I wanted to use wooden paddles, agitated by hand, but Tom showed up one day with an electric outboard motor. It runs on twelve volts. Fishermen use them for trolling, I understand. But they’ll work fine for us. Well just hang one on the edge of each tank and pretend we’re fishing.”
“Smart,” Scotty complimented. “I’ve seen them advertised in sporting magazines. Well, is that all that Page 46
has to be done?”
“Not quite. We need an exhaust pipe for waste water. The workmen can install that in a day.” Doug rose and picked up the kit that contained his tools. “Rick, you’ll work with me. Scotty, you can continue cleaning the tanks. Tony will bear a hand as soon as he finishes at the fractionators.”
Scotty departed in the direction of the tanks and Tom hunted for a necktie to wear into town. Rick fell in step with Doug and they walked down to the square concrete boxes where the fractional process would take place.
“Isn’t there anything to do in there?” Rick asked, indicating the vaultlike building that housed the central processes.
“Nothing but minor adjustments.That was the first thing I did. It took two months of hard work.”
“I think I’m beginning to see how it works,” Rick said. “Those electronic coefficients duplicate the electrical structure of the molecules in the minerals you want to get.”
“That’s right,” Doug said. “But it isn’t an exact duplication. We leave enough difference in structure to form a potential. Do you understand that?”
Rick thought it over. “I think so.Like in a storage battery. That’s what makes the current flow-a difference in potential between the positive and negative plates.”
“That’s a good way of expressing it. Well, the potential we set up between our electronic circuit and the mineral we’re after is just enough to separate the mineral from the water. So the mineral gathers around the electrodes of the circuit.”
“And you just scrape off the gold or silver,” Rick finished.
Doug laughed. “You make it sound so easy. Actually, there’s a lot more to it than that, but you’re getting on to the basic idea.”
As they reached the square fractionator boxes, Tony looked up from putting his tools in the box.“All done. What now?”
“Help Scotty at the sediment tanks.”
“Okay,” Tony grunted.
“There goes a man of very few words,” Rick said as Tony left them.
“He’s a good worker, though,” Doug told him. “Well, let’s see what we have.”
Tony had bolted steel uprights together at the side of the concrete box numbered “1.” The uprights supported what looked like the painted aluminum chassis for a radio set. They were to install the electronic control equipment on which they had worked yesterday in there, wire in the instruments, and connect them to the circuits that led into the fractionator itself.
While Doug consulted his wiring diagrams, Rick took a look at the concrete structure. A six-inch pipe led into one side. Evidently that was for the sea water.
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At the bottom were other, smaller pipes that would lead
the water out after treatment. The valves for all the pipes were outside, since the concrete structure would be full of water when in operation.
There were no windows, of course, and only one door -if it could be called a door. It was like the door on a big safe, swinging on its massive hinges until it fitted flush into the opening. A thick rubber gasket made the door waterproof, and it could be sealed shut by turning a wheel on the outside.
Rick spun the wheel with the door open and saw steel fingers about an inch in diameter push out around the rim of the door. The fingers would fit into receptacles in the doorframe, sealing it against anything but a blast of explosive. The locking mechanism was protected on the inside from the water by a stainless steel plate set on a rubber gasket.
He stooped low and went into the box. Projecting, threaded rods showed him where the fractionator units were to be installed. There were evidently four of them. High on one wall was the inlet pipe. Lower down, the outlets thrust through, ready to be connected. The entire inside was coated with the same hard, shiny plastic Doug had used inside the pressure domes.
Doug called to him and he went out. They pored over the wiring diagrams while the soldering irons heated, and then they went to work.
The wiring was complex, but it went smoothly under Doug’s guidance. They took time out for a brief lunch and then went right back at it again. Scotty reported that they would finish cleaning the tanks by nightfall.
“A messy job,” he said. “We have to dig off the transparent stuff they coated the sides with to protect the chrome finish. First we scrape, then we wipe with solvent. Not hard, but tiresome.”
Late in the afternoon, Tom returned with both good and bad news. He came to where Doug and Rick were working and gave them the good news first.
“The construction company will have a crew out here next Tuesday to pour the domes, and the price is even lower than I expected.”
The bad news was that, while the Carstairs Company had the fractionator units ready, they had hedged when he asked about delivery. They wanted to see both the partners tomorrow afternoon.
Doug looked grave.
“What does that mean?” Rick asked.
“That our credit has run out. We’re going to have to do some fast talking.” Tom addressed Doug. “I’ve made a date withKent for tonight. We’ll run over the books, so well know just how we stand before we see Carstairs.”
“Kentis an accountant who has been working on the books with Tom,” Doug explained. “But, Tom, we can’t leave the plant unprotected. The guards don’t start until tomorrow night.”
Rick spoke up instantly. “Scotty and I will stand by for you.”
Tom grinned. “That was what I had hoped. Thanks. It won’t be more than a couple of hours. You can Page 48
go into town and eat, then come back about seven. We’ll leave then.”
Doug put his hand on Rick’s shoulder. “I don’t know what we’d do without you two.”
“But no detecting,” Tom cautioned. “We don’t want you eager beavers to get into a jam you might not be able to get out of.”
“No detecting,” Rick promised. “It’s too wet. We found that out last night.”
Scotty walked to the door of the Quonset hut. “It’s almost dark out.”
Rick looked up from the magazine Electronics he had borrowed from Doug. “They should be back before long. What time is it?”
“Half past eight. They won’t beback much before ten, I bet. What are they doing, anyway?”
“Getting ready to give Carstairs a battle,” Rick said, putting the magazine down. He joined Scotty at the door.
“This finance stuff is beyond me,” Scotty said. “What’s it all about? Why should Carstairs hold up delivery?”
“They’re afraid they won’t get paid,” Rick explained.
“It’s because new plants like this get started on credit. They buy the stuff, to be paid for when they get operating.”
“You mean the manufacturers give you the stuff with which to make the money to pay them back?”
“That’s it. Sounds queer, but it always works that way. But they only let you have the equipment if your credit is good. Now Tom and Doug are close to being broke, and I guess their credit isn’t good any more. So Carstairs has doubts about getting paid.”
Scotty had stopped listening and was staring down toward the water front.
“What is it?” Rick asked quickly.
“Thought I saw a light.”
Rick stepped close to the screen, straining to see. After a moment he caught the faintest suggestion of a flickering light down beyond the sediment tanks.
“I saw it,” Rick said softly. “Down by the fractionators.”
The boys looked at each other. The gate was closed, and they hadn’t heard it open. Silently Scotty reached under the table and picked up a heavy, steel pinch bar. Rick found an electric lantern of the type that holds two dry cell batteries.
“No noise,” he whispered.
Scotty nodded and slipped out through the screen door, Rick right behind him. Rick’s heart was beating Page 49
fast. If they caught a prowler, they might be able to get the answers to some of their questions about the troubles at the plant. He motioned toward the process vault. Scotty moved silently into its shadow and Rick joined him, peering around the corner.
He saw the light again, a thin beam like that of a pencil flashlight. It was partially shielded by the fractionator panel. The thought leaped into his mind that someone was trying to destroy the work they had done that day. He left the shelter of the process vault and ran, picking up a sizable rock as he went.
There was no idea of concealment now. They couldn’t let that wiring job be destroyed!
Scotty ran at his side, the pinch bar held ready. Rick called to him: “Be careful!” They reached the fractionators and ran around them, their weapons raised.
There was no one in sight.
Rick stopped and switched on the electric lantern. The beam cut a white swath through the night down to the water front. He flashed it around, searching for a sign of the prowler.
“Don’t see him,” Scotty said.
Rick switched off the light and waited. After a second he heard the sound of brush crunching under running feet, a sound that came from outside the fence.
“He’s gone!” Scotty exclaimed. “He must have heard us and beat it down to the water front and skipped around the fence. Do we go after him?”
Rick considered. “No,” he said finally. “We shouldn’t leave the plant. Let’s look around and see what he was after.”
He tinned on his light and shot it at the fractionator control panel, but it seemed intact. To make sure, he opened the back and looked in at the circuits. The wiring had not been disturbed.
“Funny,” he mused. “What do you suppose he was after?”
He walked back to the front of the concrete structure and shot his light around. It came to rest on the door.
“Open,” he said. “We closed it.” He shot the light inside, and the rays gleamed on something metallic.
“What is it?” Then Scotty gasped. “Looks like a dynamite cap.”
Rick was already going through the door, his light on the coppery thing.
“Careful,” Scotty urged, pushing in behind him. “We may have got here just as he was fixing to blow up the fractionators.”
Rick knelt and Scotty crouched beside him. It was a dynamite cap, all right, but it wasn’t connected to anything. Scotty reached out and picked it up. “No fuse, no dynamite. What the heck do you suppose . .
.”
They whirled suddenly as air pushed against them.
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“Hey!” Scotty yelled, and threw himself forward.
Too late! The door slapped into place and there was a click as the bolts shot home.
They were trapped.
Both boys threw their weight against the door, once, twice,then Rick called a halt.
“No
use. We couldn’t open it with a battering ram.”
Scotty straightened up. “What a pair of saps,” he moaned. “There were two of them, and they mouse-trapped us I They can wreck the place while we’re in here.”
Rick, too, had seen at once what had happened. One man had run away, deliberately making enough noise to be heard. The second man had waited in the darkness, perhaps behind the second fractionator , until they found the dynamite cap and went in to investigate. Then it had been a simple thing to slam the door shut and bolt it. Even now the other man would be coming back, and they could wreck the unprotected plant at leisure.
“Gunner and Lewis,” he said bitterly.
“Who else?Rick, there must be a way out.”
Rick shot the light around without comment, showing Scotty that the door was the only way.
“Listen,” Scotty said suddenly. “Did you hear anything?”
Rick tensed, holding his breath. After a moment he heard it faintly through the heavy walls. The noise of the pump engine! On its heels came a gurgle that made his heart almost stop.
Waterl
As he shot the electric lantern at the inlet water started to gush out. Then they were ducking back against the nearest wall while salt water poured into the concrete box and splashed against their legs.
Rick turned his light downward, to the outlet pipes. The water would run right out again . . .
But the rising flood passed the outlets and kept rising. The outlets were closed!
“We’ve got to get out or we’ll be drowned,” he gasped.
“But how?”Scotty’s voice was almost lost in the roar of the water.
The door was the only way. Rick crouched beside it, shooting his light over it. The rubber seal protruded a little, but that was no help. He remembered the steel bolts that had thrust out when he turned the wheel that morning.
“The locking mechanism,” Scotty yelled. “Can we get at it?”
The steel plate Rick had noticed was secured by a dozen screw heads. If they had a chance, that was it.
He reached into his pocket and brought out his scout knife, thanking his guardian angel that he had Page 51
acquired the habit of always carrying it. There was a screw driver blade. He unsnapped it, handed Scotty the light, and went to work.