Mystery of the Third Mine

by Robert Lowndes

  She looked at it, then gave out a little cry of delight. “Peter! This is wonderful; it’s pure metallic platinum. Where did you find it? I mean, have you found it and have you staked a claim on it?”

  “I found one piece here on Glen Abend's claim and others on Vincennes’ ship. The day he and his crew came here and tried to toss us off, he had depth-mining equipment. Does that suggest anything to you?”

  “Why ... it sounds as if the platinum must be right here."

  “That’s what we think, and it explains why Vincennes wanted to keep us from working our claims." He paused, as what she’d said earlier hit him suddenly. “You said something about a strange seal on those papers, Laura? Well, I saw a strange seal myself, not too long ago. Your uncle used it when he sealed the special permit that was supposed to pass us through the cordon so we could make the trip to Mars, He didn’t use the ring on his finger; he took one out of his pocket,”

  “Are—are you sure, Peter?"

  “Quite sure." He took stylus and plastic out of his pocket. “Here, I'll draw a sketch of that seal for you. I looked at it very carefully."

  He started to draw, and as the girl watched, he could hear her breathing.

  “Oh . . . no/” she gasped.

  “That’s the seal your uncle carries around with him,"

  “That’s . . . the . . . seal.”

  There was a look of horror in her eyes, and her face was very white. She opened her mouth again, but no words came out. For a moment she stood looking at the design, then slumped back in her chair.

  Peter took the unit out of his pocket and spoke into it softly. “Barbara, Ben, Tom, did you hear? We have the proof. Webster's the head man, and Laura’s not a part of it, She just fainted.”

  “Good work,” came Honoye's voice. "Listen, now; don't revive her. Put a suit on her and take her to the mine. We just got a call from your father. He was stopped by the Patrol, and they wouldn’t let him through. They said they were sorry, but Webster’s permit wasn’t good unless he verified it personally. They tried to raise Webster, but he’s not on Ceres. Kreuder says that Webster and a number of Miners' Guard units have taken off in a body."

  “Where are they headed—here?”

  “I think they are. My guess is that they intend to start depth mining right away. . . . Well, there’s Webster for you. He knew his pass wouldn't get your father by.”

  “Then why did he give it to us? He could have just as easily said he was sorry, but that the Patrol wouldn’t accept it It doesn’t make sense that way.” Peter paused as a thought struck him. “Ben, look at it this way. Suppose Webster did expect us to go through on that pass? What if he really wanted us to make the trip after all?”

  “But he couldn't afford to let you get through. He couldn't afford to let anyone get through. That's the whole plan—to prevent anyone from making the trip to Mars to certify their filings. First he set it up so that was the only way they could prove . . .”

  Laura's voice interrupted, a little weak, but clear enough. “No—no, that can’t be the answer. Uncle Jeff gave out another pass—to a Mr. Yarrow, who also wanted to get certification. The Patrol stopped Yarrow, but I was at the office when they called in. Uncle Jeff said the pass was in order; they let Yarrow go on.”

  A groan came through the communicator. “Oh—no —no! The strategy must be to drive us all stark, raving mad. Just when we think we have the answer, it all falls to pieces."

  Peter found his thoughts whirling around madly. Pieces. That's what they had—pieces in a riddle Which didn't make sense. Yet, he was certain that they all fitted together. If he could just arrange them right, rearrange them, turn them around. . . .

  Turn them around! He felt a thrill shoot through him as the first inkling came.

  “Ben! Tom! Barbara! Everybody! I think I have it. It must be the answer, because—yes, because it explains everything. Eureka! That’s it!”

  “What's it, Peter?" asked Laura.

  He turned to her. “Laura . . . I’m sorry . . f “Don’t feel sorry for me; tell me.”

  “All right. We’ve been assuming all along that large-scale thievery was the reason behind all this skullduggery. We were right but it isn't direct thievery. I'll bet you'll find, if you look, that all the claims that managed to fall in the doubtful period are surface claims, none of them particularly rich.” “Why—why, yes,” Laura said. “Nearly all the ones I know of are. That’s why I couldn't believe the Ama was responsible. It was all so petty. . . .”

  “Sure. Those surface claims were petty. It’s been staring us in the face ever since Vincennes landed on 20-47, Laura. Depth mining. We knew there must be a third mine here. It’s beneath the surface, very likely running underneath our surface claims. That’s why Vincennes made us such a generous offer after we wouldn't scare away. It’s why Webster was willing to buy our claim at our own price. It’s why, when some of the others have been forced to sell, Ama has managed to see to it that they got fair prices." "Sounds pretty good so far, Pete." Black agreed. "But what about this cordon business—how does that fitin?

  “They wanted to be sure that no evidence got through to Mars,” Laura put in bitterly.

  "Part of it,” Peter agreed. "Yes, I guess it was an emergency measure, but they’d have had to find some excuse, anyway. The purpose of the blockade was simply to stop the Mars liner. Can’t you guess why?” “So it takes longer to get to Mars in a miners rocket,” Barbara Abend said. "So it’s a harder trip, and some miners said, ‘phooey with it' and sold out. Or maybe they couldn’t afford to take the liner.” “Oh!” gasped Laura.

  "Your uncles no dimwit, whatever else he is. Listen, fellows, suppose we went to Mars, got our certifications and came back with them. What do you think Ama would do? I’ll tell you. They’d accept them and see to it that our claims were honored. What we wouldn't know, of course, was what happened on 20-47 while we were gone!

  “You see, we never had equipment for depth prospecting, and the Claims Office wasn’t giving out a lot of information for quite a while. So . . . we’d probably never know that valuable property, which we might have filed on ourselves had we known about it, had been removed from the asteroid!

  "It’s a clever plot. I’m willing to bet that if we hadn’t discovered that something was queer, we’d never have been able to prove anything had been stolen. Probably we never would have suspected it. In eight months they could take a fortune. They probably wouldn’t bother to work our depth mine to the end—just take a good chunk from it, along with the other lodes, and cover up their tracks so no one suspected.”

  “We’d better not talk any longer, fellow,” came Honoye’s voice. “We’d better all start blasting for 20-47 right now, and see if we can give Webster a surprise when he arrives. Tell the girl to clear out before the shooting starts.”

  “You won't get rid of me that easily,” Laura cried. “I’m supposed to be learning how to run an honest organization, so I'll start in by helping make it honest. If your party will accept a new member!"

  Chapter 14 It's War, Now!

  If Peter had had any remaining doubts about Laura Webster's ability to fit in with the party, they vanished before the night was over. She took her watch as if she’d been doing sentry duty all her life. She followed it with a shift at the communicator, while Peter slept and Barbara Abend held the post outside. It was early morning when the first approaching ship was spotted and identified as Honoye’s. Ben Black was with him. A little later Peg Bjomsen arrived.

  Glen Abend was still sputtering when they reported the first arrivals. He hadn't yet recovered from the earlier report about Laura Webster. “This is mutiny, fellow; we put you on a dull job for discipline, and you get all the excitement!" He was also somewhat disgruntled at not having seen the solution to the mystery himself. "I'm supposed to be the investigator, and who comes up with the solution—an amateur!"

  “Well, Glen, anyone can put the pieces together once someone else has dumped them in his lap.” “Hm-m-
m. You may have something there. Yes, I think you do have something there. I must remember that.” Peter could picture his head cocked as he considered the other side of it. “On the other hand . . . oh, well” He laughed heartily. "Good work, Pete, and Im glad it was you, since I couldn’t be the detective hero.”

  The Claymore arrived the next day, to find that a good part of the “Gideon” forces were on the spot. Peter led the delegation that met Clay and Abend. The grin that split his face was almost audible in his words.

  “Hi, partners; unload quick so we can get to work.” Clay looked around, puzzled. “Hi, fellow. What s the strategy?”

  “Pete’s idea,” spoke Honoye. “We landed as far apart from each other as possible, and we darkened our ships so they wouldn’t be seen. But Pete here pointed out that searchlights could pick us out just as easily as you please. They could still wreck us and maroon us here until we were ready to give in.” Glen nodded gloomily. “If they want to do it, I don’t see how we can stop them. If they have fighting ships, that is. Our longmen would carry far enough, but I doubt that we could do any damage to ships.” “Darling,” broke in Barbara, “get busy while you are enjoying the misery, please. All the ammunition and supplies into the mine. There is still room for more pressure tents.”

  “Yeah . . . there’s room,” Ben Black agreed, “but it would crowd them together too much. The way things are now, explosions inside won’t hurt anything that isn't hit directly. I think the rest of us will have to set up living quarters outside.”

  "All right,” chuckled Peg Bjomsen.

  “A fine tiling,” muttered Abend. “Here I'm supposed to be the leader, and I don't know what is going on.” He shrugged resignedly and turned to unloading. The others were still standing around the Claymore when he returned.

  “Okay, fellows, up she goes!” sang out Peter, as he bent down and put a hand under the ship. The others did likewise, and the Claymore lifted easily off the asteroid s surface. In fact, the hard part was to remember not to make too hearty an effort, so that the craft wouldn't start floating up.

  “Hey!” came Clay s voice from inside. “What goes on?”

  “Free ride, partner,” replied Pete, They had the rocket on their shoulders now, and were shuffling away. Abend stared for a moment, then joined in the laughter and followed, to take a hand. “We're hiding it, huh?”

  “Not exactly,” Peg answered. “The idea is to have the ships where we can take off easily if we have to. We aren’t going too far away.” They trudged along for a few minutes, then Peter said, “Here's a good place.”

  The party halted, set the Claymore down and Alan came out. “Smoothest landing I ever had. Going to leave her here?” he asked Peter.

  “Right. But not the way she is now. She’s getting a paint job, just like the others. Grab a sprayer, partner, and join in ”

  “Camouflage, huh. Right smart idea, fellow.” He scrambled back inside, then emerged with a sprayer. The others had already started to work, covering the surface of the Claymore with a jagged pattern of rock-gray and black. Even under a searchlight it would appear to be part of the asteroid’s topography. Heretofore, miners' ships had been painted in order to make them stand out against the basic tones of a background. This would reverse things.

  “Glen,” came Barbara Abend's voice, “Mr. Kreuder wants to talk to you.”

  The standard spacesuit-communicator handled two systems, both sending and receiving. It could be set for reception alone either way, or on both systems. As a rule, miners kept one system open for reception on the general-communications band. That meant they’d pick up any signal that came their way, whether it was meant for them or not. General custom was to cut off when they heard the beginning of a message that was obviously none of their affair. The other system was used for conversation within small groups.

  Glen closed off his second band and opened the first onto Kreuder s wave. “Lon, you heard that we were turned back?”

  “Yes. You had a bit of luck, because the Patrol didn’t tell Ama what they were calling Webster about when they tried to reach him. So far as I know, he hasn’t heard yet and has no idea where you are. Here’s what I’ve found out: Webster’s fleet isn’t a very large one, but he does have fighting ships. That means he anticipates trouble. They aren’t in any hurry, apparently, as they didn’t head for 20-47 first of all. My guess is that they’ll arrive tomorrow or the next day. Are you ready for them?”

  “As ready as well ever be. A few haven’t made it yet.”

  “Tell those who haven’t arrived to be on the lookout, and keep on going if they spot the fleet. Listen, now; this is important. Stall as long as you can, but fight if you’re attacked. Whatever you do, don’t agree to their landing on 20-47!”

  “Shall do!”

  “One thing more. Have you relay sets on hand?” “Yes.”

  “Good. As soon as you hear from them, if they talk first, that is, pipe the conversation along to me. If they start shooting without any preliminaries, then just let me know it’s started."

  “Right. What do you plan, Lon?”

  “Old Caution is going to run a bluff.”

  Abend switched off and passed on the information to the others. “There’s just one thing that bothers me,” he said. “I don’t think Laura Webster should stay here any longer, even if she does sympathize. She wants to help make up for her uncle’s crookedness. But getting herself killed, as anyone here might be, won’t accomplish anything.”

  “Well,” said Clay, “let’s put it up to her. Were not her guardians, and she’s got a right to make her own decisions. I think she wants to stay, as much as it may hurt. My guess is that shell want to see for sure that things are as bad as they look . . . even while she hopes that they aren’t.”

  They returned to the mine to find Barbara and Laura busy at the communicators. Laura looked up as Peter came in. “We’ve called everyone, and it looks as if they’ll all make it in time.”

  “Good work, Miss Webster,” said Alan. He paused and looked around, as if hopeful that someone else would open up the subject. No one spoke, so he coughed shortly and started in, “Laura, none of us knows just what is going to happen when the guard arrives, but we all feel it's going to be unpleasant. I don’t think any of us feel particularly heroic. I'd just as soon be on the outside lending moral support, myself. The thing is, we can't expect anyone else to make our fight for us. We figure we have a chance of winning if we fight now.

  "But you haven’t any stake here, and you don’t belong on the other side, either. You’ve already helped us a great deal, and we’ll remember that if we come out of this. But we'd like you to go now, while there’s still a chance to get clear.”

  The small glow from the communicator dials lit up her face as she sat there. Peter could see that she wasn't going to take this well. "Go? Go where? Back to Ceres, where I can be a front for crookedness?” “You have some influence,” urged Abend. “Captain Ezzard is with you, for one. Were thinking of your safety, but we’re thinking of ourselves too. It means a lot to us, having you on our side. If anything happened to you, it might be worse for us than if someone else was hurt.”

  “I have a stake here,” she said quietly, “How do you know I’d still be on your side if I went back? How do you know I might not be persuaded to stick with Uncle Jeff—right or wrong? Could you trust me once I’d left?”

  Barbara Abend snorted. “Such a question. Don’t let them talk you out of what you want to do. You want to stay with us, good—then stay.”

  Alan chuckled. “Laura, we wouldn’t have said anything about your leaving if we weren’t sure of you.” "But you have everything to lose and nothing to gain by staying,” Peg Bjomsen said. "I don’t see . .

  “Darling,” broke in Barbara, “don’t try to think like a man. On you, it doesn’t look good.”

  “My thinking habits are irrelevant, if you don't mind,” snapped Peg.

  “Better than that I couldn’t have put it,” Barbara answered.
“So we re going to fight each other while we re waiting? Gevalt! Save the arguments for later and make with the plans.”

  “Now look,” began Glen, “we have to consider . .

  “I know what you’re thinking,” Laura cut in. “You’re afraid I’ll be hurt. Well, suppose I am? If I’m hit by a pellet, will it hurt me any more than it would hurt Barbara or Peg or Bette Demark? I know how to handle shortguns and longmen, and I can run a ship.” Peter thought he saw a tear in her eye as she paused. “And I’ve got to know ... just how bad it really is. Uncle Jeff has been good to me. I never dreamed he wasn’t honest with other people. I don’t want to believe he’s crooked now.”

  Her voice broke. “Don t you see? I must know! If I didn’t see and hear what happened, and he told a convincing story later, I’d believe him because I wanted to believe him. And . . . maybe . . . maybe there’s been a mistake . . .

  She turned to Peter. “Right now, I wish you’d been too late that day.”

  “So that settles it,” said Barbara Abend. “Laura stays with us.” No one said anything, and she went on. “A fine bunch you are, trying to throw her out when she needs us. Such wonderful reasoning you have, you dumbheads. You would send her away when she hasn’t anywhere to go. Now get out and start making like fighters. Give the brains a rest before they hit a short circuit!”

  The guard unit appeared the next day—four fighting ships that took up an orbit around the asteroid. According to plan, Glen Abend was stationed out in the open. His suit lights were on so he could be seen clearly. The others waited and listened inside.

  “Hello! Hello!” came a voice from one of the ships. “Miners’ Guard calling. This asteroid is closed, under protection. You’ll have to leave.”

  “Hello, Miners’ Guard,” Abend answered. “Glen Abend speaking; I am not working here—only watching the sky. Heard there were pilferers around.” Another voice came through, one that Peter, Alan and Laura recognized. “Webster speaking. Is that you, Abend? We’d heard you had been killed.” “The intent was murderous,” Abend answered, “but I was lucky.”