by John Blaine
There was sign of a fight in the dirt alongside the road, and there was also-this.”
Rick reached into his pocket and pulled out the object he had carried as a souvenir pocket piece since the cutting of the rudder cables. He dropped it on the table in front of Van der Klaffens.
The Dutchman’s eyes opened wide.“A tooth of a shark!” He touched it, then drew his hand away.
“Have you told the police?”
“No,” Rick said. He shrugged eloquently. “What happened when we told them about our rudder cables?Nothing.”
Van der Klaffens nodded slowly. “They are helpless against such a criminal as this. Well, I join you in lamenting for your countryman. If I can be of service, you must call on me.” He rose. “I must go. I did not intend to stop by, but I glanced in and saw you, so I took the opportunity to say hello. I will see you later in the day, perhaps. By the way, Kenwood is here. Doubtless he will lunch here, as usual. You might tell him your story. He is a man with much strange knowledge. Possibly he can help you.”
The Dutchman bowed and left.
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“Wow!Such yarns!” Chahda exclaimed. “What was big idea?”
“I don’t know.” Rick grinned. “I had an idea we might try a half-true yarn on a few people to see how they would react. Van der Klaffens reacted, all right. Did you see him freeze up for a second? And he did intend to come in here, probably to meet Kenwood. It’s bright outside and dark in here. He couldn’t have seen us by just glancing in.Right?”
“Is true,” Chahda agreed.“Now what?”
“Now you follow him,” Rick directed. “I’d have trouble, because he knows me too well and I stand out on the streets, especially where there are a lot of natives.”
“Leave it to me,” Chahda said. “Remember how I track Parsee inBombay ?Cinch. I meet you here or back at ship.”
In a moment Rick was left alone. Chahda would stick to the Dutchman with no trouble, he was sure.
The Hindu boy had a knack for being inconspicuous when he wanted to be. He could remove his tie, rumple his hair, change his style of walk and blend right in with a crowd of brown folk like these.
The impulse to tell Van der Klaffens a partially true version of Jerrold’s kidnaping had sprung into being full-blown. When he tried to analyze his reasons, he realized that he had always been unsure of the Dutchman. True, he had been inSuva the night Barthelemi had seen Jerrold meet the Phantom Shark. But his quick defense when he thought they suspected him of cutting the cable had been too pat, almost as though he had been prepared. Then, there was the odd way in which he and Kenwood had told them about the Phantom Shark. Both had known it; neither had admitted it in the other’s presence.
There was one danger the impulse had led him into. Once the story was out, it would be easy to check on Henri. Then Henri would be in danger, even though he had kept his word to Barthelemi by not mentioning the driver’s name or divulging the actual story. The answer to that problem, he decided, was to hire Henri for the duration of their stay-or until Jerrold was found.
Rick left a franc tip for the waiter and started out of the cafe to find Barby and the driver. Then he stopped short. Kenwood was walking across the street from the Place des Cocotiers . The lanky Australian waved a hand and shouted a greeting.
As he came close, Kenwood asked, “Well, Yank, how was the trip? Bump into any Phantom Sharks?”
Rick shook his hand. The Aussie had a firm, warm grip. “Not a single phantom. But I know someone who did.”
Kenwood’s brows lifted.“Aye? Come into Ptomaine Willie’s and tell me about it.”
There was nothing else Rick could do. He went into the restaurant with Kenwood and accepted a cup of chocolate, then he repeated his wild yarn substantially as he had told it to Van der Klaffens.
“Lordstone the crows!” Kenwood muttered softly. “So the Shark has been inNoumea , hey? I’ve been kicking around the islands-just got in day before yesterday. I haven’t heard a thing. What did you say the taxi driver’s name was?”
“I didn’t say,” Rick corrected. “Rather not. He might get in trouble for not reporting it to the police.”
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“Aye, thathe might. Well, I don’t know’s there’s any advice I have that might be helpful, except this.
Wait a couple of days and see if Jerrold shows up. If he doesn’t, better go to your American Consul and tell him what you know.”
“Good idea,” Rick said.
Kenwood finished his chocolate and stood up. “See you later? Got a bit of business to attend to, then I’m having chow with Van der Klaffens. Remember him? He’s at a boardinghouse near by where the food is good-he says. But maybe we’ll see you here for supper?”
“Could be,” Rick agreed. “Anyway, come abroad the Tarpon and pay us a call.”
“That I will.See you later, Yank.”
Rick got busy as soon as the Australian left. He found a menu on the table. It was blank on one side. He tore it in half, borrowed a pencil from the waiter, and quickly wrote two notes.
One, to Barby and Scotty, said: “Hire Henri for as long aswe’re in town. I may have stuck his neck out.
If I have a chance, I’ll phone you here.”
The second note he addressed to Dr. Warren. “Chahda and I had a chance to do a little sight-seeing.
Knew you wouldn’t mind.Will be back early.” He signed his name and handed the chits to the waiter, first folding them and turning down the corners.
“You know girl and boy here with us? This one is for them. Second one is for tall American with little beard. You savvy?”
The Javanese nodded.“Much savvy.”
Rick tipped him and hurried out. Kenwood’s words and actions didn’t jibe with those of Van der Klaffens. The Dutchman had mentioned no date with the Aussie. On the contrary, he had suggested that Kenwood would probably eat at Le Bagnard . And Kenwood had tried that old gag about ‘what name did he mention.’
The story had stirred up something, all right, although it was too soon to tell what. Rick felt like a man who dives into a clear pool and deliberately stirs up the muddy bottom. But, he hoped, out of the murky cloud he had created would come something concrete. With Chahda on Van der Klaffens’ trail and himself sticking with Kenwood, something was bound to turn up.
Barby and Scotty walked into Le Bagnard less than ten minutes after Rick’s departure. The waiter pondered over two notes, then finally handed them one. Barby noted that they looked like two halves of a menu.
She read the note, then gave it to Scotty. As he glanced through it she went to the waiter. “Let me have the other one, too.”
He shook his head.“Is for tall American with beard.”
“My guardian,” Barby said. “Illgiveit to him.
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The waiter looked dubious. Barby found an American twenty-five-cent piece in her handbag and gave it to him. It brought results. She unfolded it and read Rick’s scrawl.
“Leave it to Rick to stir up trouble! Well, what now?” Scotty said. “Do we just sit here and wait, or shall we go hire Henri and then come back?”
Barby gave him a direct look. “What would you do if you were alone, Scotty?”
Scotty shrugged. “Probably go hotfooting after him and get us both in a jam. Always provided I could find out which way he went.”
“You could,” Barby said. “Suppose you get started? I’ll write a note to theWarrens and then go get Henri, and we’ll swing around the park and pick you up.”
Scotty considered. He didn’t like the idea of Rick and Chahda going off without him. Not that he resented being left out, but he knew that there was strength in their sticking together.
“Okay,” he said finally. “But be careful!”
“Don’t worry,” Barby said. “I’ll be right behind you. She took another menu, found a pencil in her bag, then stopped as an idea struck her. She beckoned to the waiter. “Was anyone in here with my brother?”
“Yes, mi
ssy.Was two men.Was Tuan Vandklaff and Tuan Kenwood.”
She might have known those two would be in it somewhere, although her idea had been simply that Rick and Chahda must have met someone in the restaurant. She hadn’t guessed whom.
She wrote rapidly on the back of the menu. “We are taking the old touring car for a short trip. Plane passage all arranged.Will be back early.Love, Barby.”
“This is for the tall American with the beard,” Barby said, and handed her note to the waiter, then she ran out of doors and looked for some sign of Scotty. He was in conversation with a Kanaka on the edge of the park. She turned up the street and walked rapidly to where Henri was parked in front of Jerrold’s former hotel.
The big Kanaka driver gave her a wide smile. “No more tell, missy.All gone.”
“I know you told me all that happened,” Barby said. “We won’t talk about it any more, Henri. I want to hire your taxi.”
He bowed her into the back seat, then ran around to the front, his bare feet making a splatting noise on the hot pavement. The old touring car groaned into life. Barby pointed down the street toward where she had seen Scotty. Henri moved away from the curb with a great grinding of gears.
Scotty was waiting at the curb.
“Rick went up the hill toward the cathedral.
“Letsgo.”
“Did that man see him?”
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“Yes. I told him my friend and I had gotten separated in the market.”
At Scotty’s direction, Henri took the main street leading to the cathedral. But there were other streets, some that hugged the hillside and others that wound around through the houses. Although Scotty asked several people if they had seen a young American, they could not pick up the trail. He knew it was no use to ask for Chahda. The Hindu boy with his brown skin would not be noticed.
“What can we do, Scotty?” Bar by asked, worried.
“Go back to the restaurant, I guess.”
“We can’t do that. I left a note for theWarrens that we were going for a ride into the country. They’ll be there by this time, or in just a few minutes. It’s almostnoon .”
Scotty thought for a moment, his quick glance taking in the surrounding area. His eyes stopped on the cathedral tower.
“Then there’s only one thing we can do. You’ll have to pretend to be a tourist in search of a view, and charm the caretaker into letting you go up into the tower. I’ll take a stand down the street and Henri can park around the corner. Between us, we’ll have a view of this entire area. If Rick or Chahda or either of the two mencome out into the street, we’ll see them.”
“Suppose they don’t come out?” Barby objected.
“If they don’t . . .” Scotty didn’t finish the thought. It would mean that by disobeying Rick’s orders to wait in the restaurant, they had cut themselves off from communication with him. It would mean that Rick and Chahda, if they got into a dangerous spot, would have no one to call on for help!
CHAPTER XVII
Three Twisted Trails
Kenwood’s long legs took him swiftly across the Place des Cocotiers and into a side street. Rick followed at a discreet distance.
With Van der Klaffens, Rick thought, the reaction had been surprise. Why? The Dutchman had a right to be surprised, of course, but why should his surprise have led him to lie?
Kenwood had concealed his reaction better. Only the fact that his story didn’t jibe with the Dutchman’s gave grounds for suspicion. What did the two know about Jerrold?
Rick crossed the street to take advantage of the cover offered by a line of trucks discharging produce, but his caution wasn’t really necessary. Kenwood was hiking at a pace that made Rick hurry to keep up, and the Australian wasn’t taking time out to look behind him.
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They passed from the business district into a residential part of town where old houses with balconies overhanging the street clustered together. Kenwood strode past the row of houses, then turned into a narrow street. Rick sprinted to catch up and looked around the corner in time to see the Australian go into a door.
The house into which the Australian had gone was set slightly apart from its neighbors. Rick cast about and saw that it was separated from the neighboring house by an alley about three feet wide, overgrown with weeds. Rick looked down the narrow alley and saw that there were windows in both houses, but that they were well above ground. If he crouched low, he wouldn’t be seen.
He took a quick look around and saw no one on the street or in the windows of any of the surrounding houses. He scooted into the alley. The weeds were almost to his waist. He kept low and picked his way cautiously.
The last window was open. Rick took shelter under a stoop at the rear of the house and waited. He thought he could hear voices. But were they coming from the rear of the house, or from the window he had just passed? He decided to try the window. He crept from his shelter.
Kenwood was in the room. Rick kept his head below window level. He didn’t dare look in, but he heard the Australian’s voice, raised in an irritable question.
The voice that answered spoke almost unintelligible English. “Tuan Van, he asks. Not know. Soon he goes.”
“Where did he go?” Kenwood demanded.
“Not know.Took car.”
“Think! When did you last see Nondo?”
“Nondo come yesty . Soon go.”
“Where did he go?”
“Not know, Tuan.”
“Did he go to Laguerre?”
“Not know, Tuan.”
“All right!Blast it, I’ll have to find out some other way. Call Gelima, and tell him to bring out my car.”
“Yes, Tuan.”
A door slammed inside the house. Rick moved away, sure that he had heard the last of the conversation.
Kenwood was angry at the ignorance of his houseboy. But Rick had gained a little information. Van der Klaffens had come, and he had gone in a car. What had Chahda done then? Kenwood was also about to go somewhere in a car.
Rick moved swiftly from the little alley and took up a post on a corner diagonally across from Kenwood’s house. He was in time to see a Tonkinese boy hurry out of the front door and down the Page 82
street. That would be Kenwood’s houseboy, hurrying to find Gelima, whoever he might be.
Rick pondered what he had heard. Kenwood had been anxious to find out about someone called Nondo. He had never heard the name before. He wondered if Nondo might be the Phantom Shark. One thing was becoming clear: Van der Klaffens and Kenwood knew a great deal more about the Phantom Shark than they had let on.
What was the next step? If Kenwood left by car, Rick would be stranded. He thought about Barby and Scotty waiting at Le Bagnard with Henri. If he could contact them, it might be possible to follow the Australian.
He had to chance getting to a telephone. He left his hiding place and ran back the way he had come, trying to recall where he had seen a store that might have a telephone. He had almost reached the corner of the street when a small car of French make rolled by. The Tonkinese houseboy was in the front seat next to the driver, a Kanaka. Rick stepped into a doorway and waited. The car pulled up in front of Kenwood’s house. The Tonkinese houseboy got out, and at the same time Kenwood came from the house and jumped into the car.
Rick watched unhappily. It was too late now. He had lost Kenwood. The car flashed away from the curb, turned rapidly around in the narrow street, and roared toward Rick. He flattened himself in the doorway.
The car sped by. Kenwood, looking straight ahead, didn’t see Rick.
He waited until the car rounded the next corner, then ran for the business district, in the opposite direction from that which Kenwood had taken. He reached the corner of the residential street and hesitated. There were a number of stores. He turned right and started downhill to a group that looked more prosperous and were more likely to have phones.
Had Rick crossed the street, he would have been within sight of the cathedral steeple
and Barby would have seen him. Had he continued straight ahead, he would have walked right into Scotty. But by turning right, he kept buildings between him and the others.
In an office supply store he found a telephone. The proprietor cheerfully gave his permission to use it.
Rick thumbed through the thin phone book and found the number of Le Bagnard . The operator got the connection and a voice with an accent answered.
“I want the American girl or the American boy,” Rick said. “Are they there?”
“Theygone.”
“Where did they go?”
“Not know. See them go in car.”
“How long ago?”
“Not so long.”
Rick thanked him and hung up, then stared thoughtfully through the store window. Barby and Scotty had gone in a car, probably Henri’s.But where had they gone, and why? He shook his head. He couldn’t Page 83
chase all over the city looking for them now. Kenwood was on his way somewhere, probably following the same route Van der Klaffens had taken. And where was Chahda?
There was only one clue to follow. Kenwood had mentioned a name that sounded like Laguerre. Who, or where was Laguerre?
“Have you a map?” he asked the proprietor.
“Certainly, monsieur.OfNoumea?”
“I’m looking for something called Laguerre,” Rick explained. “Have you ever heard the name?”
“But yes. It is a small village, not far from here. You wish to locate it on a map?”
“It you please.”
The man selected a map from a counter case and unfolded it. It was a large-scale map ofNew Caledonia , with a smaller insert showing the area aroundNoumeaHarbor . He pointed to a point on the coast aboveNoumea .“Port Laguerre. There is a village, a small place of no consequence.”
Rick looked at the map scale, then estimated the distance. It was seven or eight miles fromNoumea , allowing for the irregular coast line.
“How can I get there?” he asked.
“By car, although it is a rough trip.Also, if you are lucky, you may find a railroad coach.”