by John Blaine
“We’d better find out,” Rick said. He took Doug aside and rapidly told him of seeing the big man at the restaurant where they had first seen Gunner.
Doug beckoned to Tom and the four of them faced the big man. He was not very old, and built like an athlete. Under his jacket he wore the same red shirt the boys remembered.
“We’ve seen you before,” Rick stated.“In Zukky’s , a couple of Sundays ago.”
White teeth flashed in an engaging grin. “Ho! You gotta good mem’ries , I think. You remember Mike Kozac, hey? Well. Mike he remember you, too. You almost have fight with that fat man, hey?”
“What were you doing in Crayville?” Scotty demanded.
“Where do you live?” Tom’s question followed at once.
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The big man’s candid blue eyes were puzzled. “I gotta gal in Crayville. I come here maybe two, three times a week. Me, I live in Bridgeport, and the employ’ man, he say who wants work Crayville, so I think by golly I take this job and maybe see my Carlotta. She’s a nice gal, that Carlotta. Maybe so we get married, I like this job. We see.”
“Sounds reasonable,” Doug said.
Rick liked the blond giant’s looks. He had a wide, friendly grin, and he didn’t look as though he were capable of doing anyonea meanness . “I think he’s okay,” he agreed.
“I think you okay, too,” Mike Kozac said amiably. “Well, why we wait? Where’s this work we do, hey?”
“Tony!” Doug called. “Let’s get going. Take ten of these men and start the new foundations for the pressure domes. I’ve marked them out. You know what’s wanted. Now, which of you men are carpenters? We asked for ten.”
A group of men stepped forward.
“Got your tools?In the trucks? Okay, get them and come with rne .”
Doug inspected the remaining twenty men,then beckoned to Kozac.
“Kozac, I’m making you a straw boss. We want this fence torn down and the boards stacked over by those tanks. Don’t damage the lumber any more than you can help. You’ll find pinch bars, crowbars, and hammers in the Quonset hut. Think you can handle it?”
Kozac’sgrin flashed.“Is a lead peep cinch. Come on, you strong guys, tearing down is more easy than build’.”
Things began to hum. The boys found themselves abandoned and had to hurry after Doug for instructions. He got the carpenters started on building the chemical platforms and roofing over the sediment tanks, then led the boys to a corner of the Quonset hut where a number of boxes were stacked.
“These are the chemical nozzles. You’ll find them packed in cosmoline . They’ll have to be cleaned.
“ Cosmoline,” Scotty groaned. “I thought I was through with that when I got out of the Marines!”
“What is it?” Rick asked.
“Preservative.Gummy as tar and stubborn as glue.We’ll have to use gasoline.”
Rick found out that Scotty hadn’t exaggerated. Cleaning the nozzles was a messy, aggravating job. The gasoline fumes made his head ache. He suggested taking the job out of doors and Scotty readily agreed.
Outside, they found the fence vanishing at a miraculous rate. Already one full side, the one toward town, was gone, uprights and all. It looked strange to see the town across the fields of bunch grass and scrub growth. The carpenters were working rapidly, too. They had one platform partially completed. A second group was putting up the uprights that would support the roof over the tank. Two men did nothing but examine the boards that Mike’s men brought, take out the nails, select those to be used, and pass them up to the other carpenters.
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Tom came and scowled at them.
“So Doug softened up, did he? But don’t think you’re getting away with anything. I’ll have my eye on you.” He winked and went into the hut. They heard him humming as he began his paper work.
“A great pair,” Rick said.
“Yes.” Scotty agreed. “Swell guys, both of them. Listen, are we actually going home tonight?”
“Guess we’ll have to. Besides, it’s probably the smart thing to do.”
They were quiet for a time as they worked at the brown, gummy preservative. The pile of clean, shining nozzles was growing; they were making progress.
“Funny the fishermen didn’t try to interfere with the trucks,” Scotty said at last.
“Maybe they didn’t want to buck the police,” Rick replied absently.
“Could be.But, say, how would they know the police would be there?” Scotty asked, puzzled.
That hadn’t occurred to Rick. He thought it over. “Well, maybe they didn’t. Maybe it was a bluff.”
“If it was, Gunner fell down on the job. Maybe Tony tipped them off.”
“Gosh, that’s right,” Rick said. “If Tony-“
“Watch it!” Scotty warned, and pointed.
The fence in front of the plant was vanishing board by board. Mike Kozac was walking over toward them from where his crew was working.
“Pretty fast, hey?” he grinned. “Mike Kozac is one good worker, like I told you.”
“We believe it,” Rick said.
Mike sat down and mopped his face. “This is funny place. What they make here, hey?”
“All kinds of things.”
The big man pointed toward the secret vault. “What’s fa there?Maybe money?”
“Maybe,” Rick answered shortly.
“You’ll have to ask the boss,” Scotty said.
“I ask already.” Mike yawned. “Hedon’t know, too.”
The boys laughed as he went back to his gang.
“That’s some accent,” Rick remarked. “What is it?Slav?French?”
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Scotty grinned.“A little of everything.”
Tom came out of the hut, consulting his watch. “Knock off, you beavers. It’s time for chow. Pass the word, will you?”
It didn’t seem possible that the morning had gone so fast, but Rick’s appetite told him that it had. He and Scotty ran to the various working groups, passing the word that it was noontime.
Doug looked displeased. “Well,” he said, “if we have to eat, I suppose we just have to. Okay, fellows.
Break out the lunches.”
He walked back to the hut with the boys. “I hate to take time out even to eat. Oh, well, I shouldn’t complain. Everything’s going like clockwork.You hungry?”
Rick grinned. “Scotty is.”
“And you’re not, of course. No hungrier than a starving wolf,” Scotty said derisively.
“We’ll break out that can of beans I’ve been saving,” Doug suggested.“Bean sandwiches. Best indigestion breeders I ever invented.”
Tom had already put the coffee pot on and was opening the beans. Bread andbutter, and a can of pickles were on the table.
“If the goblins don’t get you, the chow will,” Doug said cheerfully.
Outside, the workmen were sitting down to the lunches they had brought. They were a good-natured crew, Rick thought. They seemed to take their cue from big Mike Kozac.
“Start making sandwiches,” Tom invited. “If you’re really hungry, you’ll find cold meat in the icebox.”
“That’s more like it,” Doug exclaimed.
A voice outside the door demanded, “Where’s them two boys?The young ones?”
Rick started. “Listen, that’s Cap’n Gait!”
He hurried to the door and called, “In here, Cap’n .”
The old man looked hot and uncomfortable. He pulled open the screen door and glared at them. “Well, what you waitin ’ on? Ain’t you goin ’ to fight?”
“Fight?”Tom spoke past a mouthful of sandwich. “Fight whom?”
“I reckonI knowed you wouldn’t be awake,” the Cap’n snorted. “The fishermen, that’swho ! They’re gettin ’ worked up down at Zukky’s , and they’ll be here afore long, Gunner leadin ’ ‘em. And they’re mad, I’ll tell a man! Killin’ mad. On account of the oyster beds has been poisoned!”
Rick spoke out of the
stunned silence. “ Cap’n, are you sure?”
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“Sure? Sure I’m sure! Now don’t say you ain’t been warned.” Cap’n Gait turned and stomped out.
Doug jumped into action. Picking up the phone, he demanded State Police headquarters. The connection took only a minute. He explained rapidly what was coming and asked for aid.
“Be there within fifteen minutes,” the police officer said.
“That’s that,” Doug said as he hung up. He went to the door and called, “Tony! Get the workmen up here, and hurry it up!”
Tom hurried out, calling back, “I’ll keep an eye open up the road.”
“How did they find out the oyster beds were poisoned?” Scotty demanded. “There’s no Y in June.
Oysters aren’t in season.”
“That business of oysters not being in season when there’s no V in the month doesn’t mean anything on the coast,” Rick said. “People around here eat oysters any time. Anyway, the only reason that stuff was started about not eating oysters during the summer months was because they spoiled in the heat. We have refrigeration nowadays.” He broke off and pointed. “Here come the workmen.”
The workers gathered before the Quonset hut, waiting curiously for what Doug had to say. When they were all clustered around, he spoke to them.
“Men, we’ve just had word that the Crayville fishermen are coming to wreck the plant. They claim the ^
ysterbeds have been poisoned. Perhaps they have, but certainly not by us. If you stay here, it means a fight, probably a tough one. I’d like to offer you bonuses to stay and fight, but the plant just hasn’t the money.Whatever you decide to do will be all right.”
The men were quiet for a moment, looking at each other as though in silent question, then Mike Kozac stepped forward.
“Mr. Boss,” he said quietly, “no one runs Mike Kozac off a job. I don’t care how many fishersis coming. They come; they find Mike. And I have a big club in my hand, you bet.”
A carpenter stepped to Mike’s side. “He’s talking for me, too. I’m sticking.”
Rick glanced at Tony. The foreman was watching, his face impassive.
The other workers stepped forward, too, all talking at once. They agreed with Mike. No one was running them off their new jobs!
Only Tony hung back. Doug Chambers called out, “How about you, Tony?”
The foreman shook his head. “You pay me to work, not to fight. I want no part of it.”
Scotty took a half step toward him, and Rick saw his friend’s dislike of the dark man coming to the surface.
“Timid, Tony?” he asked. “Or don’t you want to fight your friends?”
The foreman’s hands came up. “You don’t talk to me like that, kid I’ll beat your ears down!”
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“Start beating,” Scotty said cheerfully.
Doug stepped between them. “That’s enough. Tony, it’s your privilege to decide for yourself. But if our only old hand runs off while the new men stay, I don’t think that leaves me much choice. I’ll make out your check right now.”
The workers scattered as Tony and Doug went into the hut. Rick sawthem hefting pieces of two by four.
Some of them picked up the steel pinch bars with which they had torn down the fence.
“Better find something to swing with,” Scotty advised. “Those fishermen won’t be using powder puffs.”
He found a club and handed it to Rick. “I’ll use this,” he said, unbuckling his belt. Scotty always wore a Marine belt with a heavy brass buckle. Now he wound it around his hand, leaving the buckle hanging free. It made a lethal weapon.
Scotty gave Rick a strained grin. “I’m not swinging, except in self-defense. We have to remember that these fishermen have been lied to and stirred up. They’re acting honestly, according to their way of thinking.”
“My sentiments exactly,” Doug said from behind them.
Rick turned and saw Tony leaving the plant, cutting across the field. Good riddance, he thought.
Doug hailed the workmen, and they crowded around. They were all armed.
“We want no trouble,” Doug said. “If they want a fight, let them start it. And try not to get too rough.
We’re only defending our property. We want no unnecessary violence.”
Tom arrived out of breath.
“They’re coming,” he said.“Down the road. There must be fifty of them. And Gunner Stoles is in the lead. I recognized him from Rick’s description.”
The body of workmen moved toward what had been the front gate of the plant, Doug, Tom, and the boys in the lead. Glancing up the road, Rick saw a phalanx of roughly dressed men walking slowly toward them. They were carrying what appeared to be baseball bats.
Both groups were silent as the fishermen advanced, and then tlie marching gang of townsmen reached the plant and the two bodies of men faced each other.
Gunner Stoles, his face redder than ever, a wicked-looking billy in his hand, stepped forward.
“Your plant’s going to get wrecked,” he stated. “We don’t want to hurt anyone, but we’re aimin ’ to break up this thing once and for all. You poisoned our oyster beds and ruined the living of some of us.
The oysters are all green, and they’re dyin ’. So step aside. We’re comin ’ in.”
“Not so fast!” Doug stepped forward to meet him. “We didn’t poison the beds. We haven’t even been operating.”
“We heard your pump last night. We know you’re lying.
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Behind Gunner, the fishermen growled angrily.
Mike Kozac came out of the group of plant workmen. “It’s you who lies, Gunner,” he said flatly. “You been pumpin’ these men full of lies for weeks. I heard you.This plant don’t poison nothin ’. And what you care about oyster beds? You cheap, rotting,good for nuttin ’ You never do a day’s good work long as you live.”
Rick took a deep breath. Gunner’s face was scarlet, the veins standing out on it.
“Don’t you say that tome! ”
“I say it,” Mike said. “I mean it.” He addressed the fishermen.“You honest men. You work. Why you listen to this Gunner?You a bunch of fools? When he evertell the truth, I ask you? Not once! You believe him now? Ha! You are stupids .”
There was a low murmur from the fishermen. For a moment Rick felt hopeful. Mike’s words made sense to them. Give them time to think . . .
But Gunner didn’t. With a wild yell he flung himself on Mike Kozac.
Mike’s big fist lifted and caught Gunner squarely on the chin, lifting him bodily, throwing him back into the ranks of fishermen. But the Crayville men were already charging forward; the possibility of peace had vanished with Gunner’s act.
For a heartbeat the press of men held Gunner Stoles upright, then they surged by and he fell face down in the road. When Big Mike hit anyone, they stayed hit.
The two groups surged toward each other yelling. For a moment Rick stood hesitant, then a fisherman jumped at him, club raised. All around him there was the shock of man meeting man, club meeting club.
The fight to save the sea mine plant was on.
CHAPTER X’
The Car with the Broken Bumper
Rick side-stepped the blow aimed at him by the fisherman and the club whizzed harmlessly by. He lifted his own stick, but the fishermen suddenly hesitated and backed up. Then, amazingly, he threw down his weapon and stalked off.
For an instant Rick was puzzled,then he realized that Mike Kozac’s words hadn’t fallen on barren soil.
They had taken much of the anger out of the Crayville men. He turned and saw Scotty engaged in a duel with a burly fisherman. His friend was parrying halfhearted swings of a long club.
Down near the Quonset hut, however, a vicious fight was raging. Doug was in the thick of it, warding off blows from threefisherman . Rick saw Mike Kozac sprint to the engineer’s rescue and started for the Page 65
fight himself, running past Scotty and his ass
ailant. Then a terrible wave of sound engulfed him, froze him in his tracks.
BAROOM!
The fishermen and workmen halted in mid-swing and stood like a horrified tableau for a fraction of a second,then they were all running toward the sound of the explosion. Rick saw smoke billowing from one of the sediment tanks and rushed toward the spot.
“Grenades!”Scotty yelled.
BAROOOOOOMI
The concussion jarred Rick, almost knocked him down. He staggered, then recovered his balance and streaked toward the sediment tanks. Scotty came up almost abreast of him, his legs driving like pistons.
Smoke blanketed the tanks now, and a workman staggered out of the veil and fell headlong. Rick turned to help him, and from the corner of his eye he saw two running figures crossing the field next to the plant.
Then noting that Scotty was almost at the fallen workman’s, side, Rick turned again toward the field and the two sprinting men.
He recognized them instantly: Fred Lewis! There was no mistaking that black suit and gray hat. The other was Tony Larzo. Rick sprang after them.
They reached the road while Rick was still far behind. He saw Lewis run down the highway toward town, saw Tony dash across it into the brush on the other side.
They were the grenade throwers, he was sure of it!
For an instant Rick hesitated, unsure of which one to follow,then he kept going after Fred Lewis. Tony was only a hireling; perhaps Lewis was the boss. He had to stay with him. If someone had actually seen the grenades thrown, they had Lewis cold!
Rick reached the road and saw the black-suited figure a hundred yards ahead, still running all out. The boy increased his stride, arms and legs pumping as he tried to catch up. Lewis swerved into a patch of woods, and Rick ran off the road, intent on cutting him off.
A car engine roared. Through the trees he saw a black sedan spurt forward, reach the road, and turn toward town. He let out a yell of frustrated anger. Lewis was getting away!
The black sedan’s tires screamed on the pavement as it turned the corner onto the road and then it was gone, leaving him standing helplessly, staring after it. He caught a glimpse of a yellow license plate and knew that it was aNew York car, but the sedan had gone too fast to give him time to get the license number. He had also noticed that the bumper was hanging on one side as though it had caught on something and pulled free.