Rick Brant 3 Sea Gold

by John Blaine

  There was an interruption as one of the guards knocked at the door. The guards were ex-policemen who looked capable of dealing with anything that came up. They were armed, and on their toes.

  “A guy out here wants to come in,” the guard said.“Says his name is Curtis.”

  “We’ve been expecting him,” Doug said. “Let him in.

  Rick looked toward the door curiously. Curtis? The name wasn’t familiar.

  The door opened and Mike Kozac came in!

  “Mike!” Scotty jumped to his feet. “Where did you go?”

  Rick had heard of Mike’s disappearance. He chimed in, “Yes, and since when is your name Curtis?”

  Mike grinned.“All my life.Once a Curtis, always a Curtis.”

  The boys stared. Mike’s accent had vanished. He looked different, too, in a well-tailored tweed suit and a soft hat.

  Tom took the floor, grinning widely. “You two aren’t the only ones with surprises. Boys, meet Mr.

  Michael Curtis, head of Curtis Investigations.”

  “Best detective agency inNew York ,” Mike added with a smile.

  “Well, I’m beat” Scotty exclaimed, and Rick echoed him.

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  “Mike phoned this morning,” Doug explained. “He was hired by my Uncle Frank to investigate the trouble we’ve been having, and, unknown to us, he’s been on the job for two weeks.”

  Mike took a chair and straddled it. “That’s right. I’ve told Doug and Tom some of the story, but I suppose I’d better start at the beginning.”

  “Yes,” Rick agreed. “We want to know all of it.”

  “Okay,” Mike said. “Well, it starts when Mr. Chambers hired me. Doug thought his uncle had invested only ten thousand in the plant because he was stingy, I guess, but that wasn’t the reason. Mr. Chambers just didn’t want to make things too easy. He believes that young men should work for what they get.

  Anyway, when he heard of the trouble they’d had, he got worried and hired me to check up. I started by coming to Crayville, as Mike Kozac.”

  Mike had discovered at once that Gunner was stirring up the fishermen, and had kept an eye on the fat man until he made contact with Fred Lewis-or Wessel. Then the detective had dropped Gunner and trailed the white-faced man for a full week, hoping that Wes- selwould lead him to the big boss. Mike had discovered that Wessel always parked his car at the same garage, onEighth Avenue , but the trail had never led to anyone higher up. Instead, it had led back to Crayville, and to Tony Larzo!

  The detective had debated telling the partners that Tony was mixed up in a plot against them, and decided against it, on the grounds that it was easier to keep track of a known accomplice. Had they fired Tony, the plotters would have been warned that they were under suspicion and would have covered their tracks better.

  On a Sunday, Mike had gone to Zukky’s to try to find out how far Gunner’s agitation among the fishermen had progressed. The boys had seen him there.

  What Mike had learned worried him, and he decided to get a job at the sea mine plant in order to keep a closer watch on Tony, and to be on hand if the fishermen started anything. The recruiting of workmen atBridgeport had given him his chance. One of his operators had told him about the employment agency that wanted men for the plant; the same operator had driven Mike’s car into Crayville on the morning the detective showed up as a workman, and had left it parked in an alley on the edge of town.

  The rest was known to the partners and the boys, up to the time of the explosions. Mike, like Rick, had seen the two men in the field. He had seen Wessel leave in his car and Rick run for the Cub. And, like Rick, Mike had chosen to follow Wessel.

  “I ran and got my car,” he continued. “I saw the Cub go by. I knew Rick was chasing Wessel, but I didn’t think he could stay with him. I was sure he was heading forNew York , maybe to report to his boss. Instead of trying to chase Wessel down the parkway, and perhaps have him find out he was being followed, I cut across the truck road toBridgeport , breaking every speed law ever invented. I knew there was a train at12:33 that would beat Wessel intoNew York . Well, I made it, but only by luck. It was five minutes late. I got toNew York , took a taxi to the garage-where I figured Wessel was heading-and waited on the corner. Sure enough, he showed up. And who should come pussyfooting behind him, but our friend Brant!”

  “But I didn’t see you!” Rick exclaimed.

  Mike grinned. “You weren’t supposed to. Because, if he found out you were trailing him and shook you Page 95

  off, I’d still be with himBut you stayed with him. Nice going, too. You can have a job any time you want it.”

  Mike had followed Rick and Wessel to the restaurant, but had remained outside. He saw Wessel go into the booth with his friend, and saw Rick follow. In a few moments Rick came running out, with Wessel behind him.

  “I thought you’d shake him with no trouble,” Mike explained, “or I would have given you a hand. But I figured seeinghim with his friend was a big break, so I let you and Wessel go, and I followed his pal.”

  Rick couldn’t sit still. “He’s the big boss, Mike! Who is he? Where did he go?”

  “Easy.” Mike grinned. “You’ll get high blood pressure. He led me to an office in the RCA building. I got chummy with his receptionist and got some good leads. I spent today tracking them down, and now I have the full story.”

  All of them were leaning forward now, their full attention on Mike.

  “Our friend,” he continued, “is Mr. J. Arthur Brink, president of Amalgamated Mines, Inc. And today I found out that he is also the principal stockholder of the Carstairs Company!”

  The pieces of the puzzle clicked into place.

  Brink had learned about Doug’s processes when the young engineer first approached Amalgamated!

  Then, when the partners refused to sell out, Brink had gone after them in his own way. He had used Wessel, Tony, and Gunner to slow down the plant construction and to sabotage the work. Meanwhile, he had given orders to Carstairs, the plant’s biggest creditor. Now, with the bombing of the tanks as the final straw, Carstairs could simply demand payment of their note, and since the partners couldn’t meet payment, the plant would be forced into bankruptcy. Then, Carstairs, as their principal creditor, could simply pay off the other creditors and take over the plant and the processes! It was so simple, yet so foolproof that Rick was staggered.

  “Then he’ll get the plant!” he groaned. “And we can’t do anything about it!”

  “No,” Mike denied. “He won’t get the plant. Mr. Chambers has offered to help with enough money to cover the Carstairs note.”

  Rick and Scotty were about to let out exultant yells, but Mike’s next words stopped them.

  “He doesn’t get the plant, but we don’t get him, either. All his business deals have been legitimate, and we’ll never prove that he was tied in with Wessel and the others. Seeing him with Wessel means nothing.

  Wessel and Tony won’t talk, and Gunner wouldn’t dare. He knows what happens to squealers, even in jail.”

  The boys and the partners fell silent as the truth of Mike’s words became evident. They didn’t have a thing on Brink.

  Rick remembered the confident, smug face of the businessman as he had teased Wessel about the envelope. He remembered how Brink had smiled as he opened the envelope and glanced through the pictures . . .

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  “Fingerprints!” he exploded.“Fingerprints on the pictures! Listen, we have got him! His fingerprints must be all over those pictures of Wessel!”

  “Golly, yes!” Scotty shouted. “That’ll prove he knew who Wessel was, and it’s a crime to aid a fugitive from justice! And not only that, we can get the others! They’ll try to pick up the envelope atBridgeport !

  They’ve probably tried already, but figured the mail was slow.”

  Mike Curtis looked dazed. “What envelope?” he asked. “What’s all this?”

  The boys had forgotten that he didn’t know Rick’s full story. When
they had explained, the detective jumped up.

  “You’re right! We’ve got all of them cold! Listen, we’ll report this to the police. First thing in the morning we’ll pick up that envelope atMilford , where Rick actually mailed it, and we’ll take a fingerprint expert with us. Brink did some work for the government at one time, so the FBI will have his fingerprints on file! ThenWe’ll go toBridgeport and help the police set a trap for Wessel and the others. Wessel wouldn’t dare not to try to get that envelope, and he thinks you two are dead!”

  “Won’t he besurprised! ” Rick exclaimed exultantly.

  “Surprised,” Scotty chuckled, slapping Rick on the back, “but, brother, he won’t be pleased!”

  CHAPTER XIX

  The Trap Closes

  Rick was fidgety. He shifted from one foot to the other and wondered how much longer they would have to wait. He wondered, too, at Scotty’s patience. His friend was leaning calmly against a pillar, reading post-office literature.

  The boys were in a dim corner of the post office, close to a side door. They had a good view of the front door, through which Wessel and Tony, and perhaps Gunner, would probably come.

  Near the front door, Mike Curtis chatted with a husky plain-clothes man of theBridgeport police force.

  Mike was dressed in a business suit, and he had a felt hat pulled low over his forehead. Anyone would have to look twice to see any resemblance to the workman, Mike Kozac.

  At the other side door, two more plain-clothes officers waited, with instructions to bar the door if Mike signaled that the fugitives were inside.

  Rick glanced at his watch. It was nearingten o’clock , and they had been waiting since the general delivery window opened at eight. In the preceding hour, they had gone toMilford , accompanied by two State Police officers. The postmaster had opened up early, at their request, and delivered the envelope.

  The police officers had taken it, unopened. By now they must have classified all the fingerprints on it and teletyped their descriptions toWashington .

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  “Take it easy, boy,” Scotty said. “You’re as nervous as a bee in a bird cage.”

  “I wish something would happen,” Rick complained. “I’m getting hungry.”

  A man next to them said, “You get used to it. Here, have an apple. I always bring a couple along.”

  Rick stared. Another detective! “How many of you are there?” he asked.

  “Eight. We’re taking no chances. The outside of the building is covered, too.”

  Rick wondered where Tom and Doug had gone, and decided they probably had been posted outside, to help the outside police identify the wanted men. He yawned and leaned against a post.

  Scotty dug an elbow into his ribs. He looked up, a little irritably.

  “Those are my ribs you’re breaking, friend.”

  Then the irritation died, because Scotty was looking at two men who had just come through the side door. The sunlight through the window was in Rick’s eyes, so he ducked back for a better look. His breath stopped.

  The men were Wessel and Tony Larzo!

  He raised his arm, in the agreed-upon signal to Mike, and at that moment Tony glanced around and looked straight into his eyes I

  For a shocked instant Tony stared,then he grabbed Wessel and shouted:

  “Scram!”

  The detective next to the boys leaped forward with a shout, but Tony’s foot lifted in a vicious arc and caught the officer in the stomach. Then the two fugitives turned and ran for the side door.

  “Get ‘em,” Scotty shouted, and the two boys sprinted after them.

  The officers outside had to be warned! Rick raised his voice in a yell of warning, and bolted through the swinging doors. He caught a glimpse of men running toward him down the sidewalk,then he let out another yell. Gunner Stoles was waiting at the curb in a car, and Wessel and Tony were just opening the door!

  Rick made a wild leap, but Scotty was there before him. Tony whirled, a blackjack uplifted. Scotty caught his wrist and twisted. Rick danced around, looking for an opening. Wessel was pushed against the door by Tony and Scotty, and he was struggling to get free.

  Tony’s other arm lifted, and Rick saw that it was in a plaster cast. The cast descended on Scotty’s head.

  Scotty fell back for a moment,then his foot shot out and kicked Tony’s legs from under him. Wessel, freed, started around the front of the car, but Rick was after him. He charged headlong, and his shoulder caught the fleeing criminal right behind the knees.

  It would have brought a penalty for “clipping” on a football field, but here it brought quick victory.

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  Wessel slammed to the cement sidewalk, face first. He didn’t even have time to break his fall.

  Then, as ready hands lifted Rick to his feet, a police cruiser shot across in front of the getaway car, effectively blocking Gunner’s retreat. Tony, who was sprawled against the car, was being dragged to his feet by two officers. Scotty was nursing his knuckles.

  Mike Curtis arrived, and Rick saw Tom and Doug sprinting down the sidewalk from the other side of the post office.

  “Great going,” Mike said.“All three of them at once! Anyone hurt?”

  “I saw the dark guy clip Joe with his foot,” an officer said, “but he just knocked him down. Everyone else is all right, I guess.”

  Rick walked over as a husky detective pulled Gunner out of the car by the coat collar.

  “Well,” Rick said, “if it isn’t our fat friend. Surprised to see us, Gunner?”

  He was surprised by the man’s reaction. Gunner straightened up and met his glance levelly. “You’ll never believe this,” Gunner said, “but I’m glad it’s over. And I’m glad you boys didn’t drown. I was afraid I’d never get a good night’s sleep again.”

  Scotty joined Rick. “This life of crime is sure hard on our friend Wessel’s face.” He grinned. “When you clipped him, he landed nose first. He’ll need another plastic surgery job.”

  “How about Tony?”Rick returned with a smile.

  “They’ll have to feed him with a spoon,” Mike Curtis said from behind them. “Scotty plays rough.”

  “It washis own fault. He tried to jerk away while I had him in a Japanese wristlock.”

  “No matter whose fault it is,” Mike returned, “he now has two broken wrists. So I guess you boys are even.”

  A siren put an end to the conversation. The boys watched as the three prisoners were herded into the police wagon. The last thing Rick saw as it drove away was Manfred Wessel. The ex-scientist was holding a blood-soaked handkerchief to his crushed nose, and from above it two dark, venomous eyes glared at the boys.

  Later, as the boys and the partners rode back to Crayville in Mike’s car, the detective asked them to repeat their story, being careful not to leave anything out, even scraps of conversation.

  As they drew up to the plant gate, Mike nodded. “Sorry to make you go all over it again, but I wondered if there might not be something we’ve overlooked. Are you sure of Wessel’s words about his dealings with Brink?”

  “I did some work for him along the line of cartels inEurope ,’” Rick repeated. “I’m sure that was exactly what he said.”

  “That’s how I remember it, too,” Scotty said.

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  “Good. It isn’t much, but at least we can ask the Department of Justice to start an investigation into Brink’s foreign tie-ups. We may get him on something big yet.”

  Tom spoke up from the back seat. “When do we find out about the fingerprints?”

  “Sometime today, I hope,” Mike said.

  It was three that afternoon when the phone rang. The State Police wanted to talk with Mike. The private detective took the phone and listened while the officer reported. When he hung up, he was grinning.

  “There were three sets of prints,” he reported. “Two were identified as Rick’s and Wessel’s . They had Rick’s from his license application, and they had Wessel’s from a pas
sport application.”

  “The third set,” Rick prompted. “Come on, Mike!”’

  “The third set belonged to Mr. Jeremy Arthur Brink. They were nice clear prints. And now the police want to ask Mr. Brink some pointed questions about harboring a known criminal!”

  CHAPTER XX

  Success!

  The door of the process vault stood open, revealing great banks of electronic tubes. Some of them glowed like radio tubes, but some were a bright, pulsating blue, like mercury vapor lamps. There was a hum, as of a million bees.

  Hartson Brant was inspecting everything with scientific interest, but Mrs. Brant and Barby were more interested in the play of iridescent color over the tube banks.

  Mike Curtis, Steve Hollis, whose car had been returned by the police, Cap’n Gait, and Uncle Frank Chambers, a distinguished-looking man whom Doug resembled, were standing at the door, chatting.

  They were interested, of course, but anything as complex as the electronic processes were far afield from their professions and interests.

  Rick and Scotty were at the far end of the vault, watching a series of six heavy glass tanks which looked like the aquarium tanks that goldfish fanciers sometimes use. The tanks were filling slowly with dark, greenish liquid that seemed as thick as syrup.

  “Doesn’t look much like sea water,” Scotty commented.

  “It isn’t any more,” Rick said.

  After the sea water passed through the fractionators, the pressure domes, and the sediment tanks, only this stuff, like green molasses, was left.

  Clipped to the side of each tank, and projecting down into the liquid, were pairs of gleaming metal rods, Page 100

  called electrodes. Insulated wires led from them to the banks of electronic tubes.

  Doug and Tom entered and came to where the boys were watching.

  “Ah okay,” Doug said. “Now, let’s see what we get.”

  “It better be something,” Tom added, grinning.“With all this audience.”

  “It will be,” Rick said confidently. “You weren’t here when we ran the first tests. You’ll see.”