by Helen Wells
Cherry questioned Toni, and he reported that the man being held prisoner owned a regular kit, and took insulin every day.
“That way his supply lasts for twenty days,” Toni said. “But allowing for the chance I might be delayed—I bring him insulin every two weeks. Every other Sunday. I mean, I did up until now.”
Cherry absorbed this information. And on other Sundays did Toni meet Marco in Rosalia? Cherry wondered. Never mind that now.
“Why can’t you buy insulin in the Morten pharmacy any more?” Cherry asked.
“I can’t talk about it. If I tell you, or tell anybody, I’ll be dead.”
Cherry stared at the skinny boy. Dead! He wasn’t joking. She thought of Madame Sully’s threats to Toni, to herself.
“—and the only other towns big enough to have pharmacies are too far away for me to buy insulin and bring it all the way to Spirit Mountain in my one day off from work,” Toni was saying. “Anyway, the money for me to buy insulin with—that’s stopped. That’s why I’m stealing it.”
Under Cherry’s prodding, Toni finally admitted in a low voice, “Somebody’s forbidden me to bring that man any more insulin.”
“But that’s murder!” Cherry exclaimed. “Who forbids you?”
“I can’t tell you who. I already talked too much. I’ll tell you this much, Cherry—when I got mixed up in this game, I only did it to make some quick money.”
“Dishonestly?” Cherry kept her voice quiet.
“Mm—yes, you could say that. I always wanted to have money and be a big guy, so I thought getting this job was a sort of first step. I thought I’d branch out from here. But I never figured on murder!” Toni blurted out.
“What did you figure on, Toni?”
“Ah—what’s the difference?” Then his troubled look returned, and Toni said:
“I was going to deliver the insulin a few days early, if he’s so sick. I thought maybe it went bad, or something. That’s why I was stealing it. That’s why I asked Mr. Nicholas for a day off.” Toni drew a deep, shaky breath. “Getting from here to Eagle’s Peak to Spirit Mountain and back in one day—it takes doing!”
“Listen, Toni,” Cherry said. “Insulin won’t spoil in a cool place, and that hut up on the mountain probably is cool. You have no reason to believe that the farm couple would take the man’s insulin away from him, have you?”
Toni shook his head.
“And you told me that man already has enough insulin,” Cherry said. “So it’s not lack of insulin that’s making him sick, is it? The cause could be wrong diet or an infection or—or something unconnected with diabetes. He needs a doctor, Toni. You can’t save that man by yourself.”
Toni looked defeated after hearing her explanation. He was concerned for the sick man.
“Who is this sick man?” Cherry asked.
“I don’t know his name.”
“Didn’t he tell you?” Cherry found Toni hard to believe.
“No, he didn’t! He couldn’t! He’s a prisoner in that hut, don’t you understand? The farmer watches him like a regular prison guard would! When I’m there, the poor, sick fellow don’t dare talk much to me because the farmer stands right there listening. Mostly we just visit a little bit, I say I hope he feels better—and then the farmer hustles me out.”
“Well, then,” Cherry asked, “what does the prisoner look like? How old is he?”
“Huh. He’s about forty, no, maybe only thirty-five. He’s maybe taller’n me, but I’m not sure because he’s always sitting or lying down. I’d say he was on the heavy side except now he’s losing weight fast.”
Cherry could get no clear picture from this. “What color hair has he? Any distinguishing marks?”
“He’s got ordinary brown hair. Brown eyes, I think. Nothing special about him. Looks like he’s always worked pretty hard for a living.”
Cherry gave up trying to establish the man’s identity, at least through Toni.
“Tell me something else, Toni. Who hired you to bring the man insulin?” Cherry asked. No answer. “Who told you where he is? Who pays you, Toni?”
Toni pressed his lips tight shut.
“You’ll have to tell sooner or later, you know,” Cherry said. “Who’s keeping that poor man there? If he’s a prisoner, he must have been kidnapped.”
“Don’t ask so many questions!” Toni burst out. “What does it matter to you about some insulin? I’d pay for it.”
“Was it your friend Jack Lenk?” Cherry persisted. “The man with the red sports car?”
Toni turned pale and mopped his face. His breathing grew quick.
“Stop it,” he said hoarsely. “Stop asking me things. I can’t stand any more.”
So it was Jack Lenk, Cherry thought. Toni would not be so agitated if she had not figured it correctly.
Out in the clinic, the telephone rang. Mrs. Barth answered, then called, “Miss Ames! Doctor wants to know where you are all this time.”
“I’ll talk with the Doctor…. Toni, listen,” Cherry said gently. “Why don’t you wait here until Dr. Portman decides what we’re all to do?”
The boy nodded. “I’ll wait. But look! The doctor or you can’t help that man unless—I—You won’t be able to go in that cabin unless I’m along. The farmer don’t open the door to anybody but Jack or me. So—”
Toni screwed up his face, deciding. She waited. Toni said broodingly:
“I don’t care what Jack Lenk does to me. He’s not going to get me mixed up with a murder! Cherry, you tell Dr. Portman I’ll help if a rescue party is sent up Spirit Mountain, up to where the man is.”
“I certainly will tell the doctor! Thanks, Toni!”
Cherry ran to the phone, apologized to Dr. Portman, and briefly relayed what she had just learned. He said they had better notify the police in order to protect the diabetic man. Mrs. Barth was to take the sterile gauze to him, and after visiting one more patient, his last today, the doctor would meet Val, Toni, and Cherry at the local police station in Morten. “Please notify Val to bring Joe Wardi.”
“Yes, Dr. Portman,” Cherry said, but she dreaded bringing Toni and Val together now. If she knew Val, he would ignore Toni in silence.
That afternoon Cherry, an unhappy Toni, a stonily silent Val, and Joe Wardi met Dr. Portman in Morten at the police station.
They gave their information to the police officers in charge.
Toni made what he said was a full confession. He described how the ring operated. Jack Lenk, whose true name was Hendrix, supplied Madame Sully with stolen watchworks. Hendrix gave them to Madame’s visitors, who delivered them as “presents.” Madame transferred them to Toni. Then Toni smuggled these across the border to Marco in Rosalia. Marco in turn carried them by car to Milan, where he sold them to certain jewelers, the ones listed in the green notebook. The jewelers put the watchworks into cases and sold them to peddlers and unsuspecting individuals, usually tourists.
“I think,” Toni said, “that there’s another man besides Lenk—I mean Hendrix—who’s part of this racket. But I don’t know who he is.”
The presiding police officer asked Toni, “Do you know where Lenk gets the watchworks that you smuggle into Italy?”
“No, sir, I don’t know,” Toni said.
Another police officer asked, “Are the watchworks marked with a trade name?”
“I never looked,” Toni answered. “The watchworks are wrapped up tight, each one in a tiny cotton and paper package, and I—Well, I never bothered to unwrap one.”
Val spoke up, suddenly realizing as Cherry did, the meaning of that thwarted phone call they had made to Jura to inquire about Jacob Lenk. “Gentlemen, it may be the Gold Ribbon Watch factory in the Jura.”
“Thanks, Mr. Nicholas,” the presiding officer said. “Then someone in the Gold Ribbon plant must be supplying Hendrix with stolen watchworks.” He looked inquiringly at Toni, who shrugged. “We’ll investigate there,” the police officer said. “Discreetly.”
The senior office
r explained to Toni that having been criminally involved in the racket, he was an accessory after the fact, and could be held in police custody. But because Toni could aid in a police plan to rescue the sick man, he would temporarily go free. He would be placed in the informal custody of Mr. Henry Nicholas at the chateau.
Next, the police described the several steps in their plan. Madame Sully would be kept under surveillance at the hotel. A police officer would join the staff of the Chateau Nicholas as a “waiter,” for this purpose. Marco, in the mountain village of Rosalia, would be watched by the local Italian police there.
As for Jack Lenk, alias Hendrix, the Swiss authorities would search for him. They also would notify the police in Milan to watch for him. Finally the police’s secret plan was worked out in detail, in a discussion with Joe, Val, and Cherry.
The police talked over with Joe Wardi how the rescue party and the police—in two separate groups—were to reach the hut far up on Spirit Mountain. If the weather permitted, a plane or helicopter would land up there. If not, Joe Wardi’s rescue party would go on skis, the most direct route.
The police, in automobiles to transport the criminals, would have a roundabout drive on highways to reach the desolate mountain. Then the police would go up the only trail on Spirit Mountain, leaving the cars below, using a snowcat, skis, and sleds.
“We’ll have to wait and see what the weather will be,” Joe Wardi said.
CHAPTER IX
Dangerous Journey
LATE THAT EVENING THE POLICE IN MORTEN telephoned Val at the Chateau Nicholas, with a message about Cherry. He came reluctantly to tell her, as she stood at the open entrance looking at the night sky.
“The police advise you not to go with the rescue party, Cherry. They think the trip will be excessively hard for a girl. Besides, they say you have no experience in mountain climbing.”
Cherry was disappointed and a little indignant.
“I’d like to have you along,” Val said. “You know that, Cherry. I’ll do what I can, but—” He shrugged.
“Can the police prevent me from going?”
“No, but they can refuse to assume any responsibility for your safety if you go in spite of their warning.” Val’s voice grew softer. “You see, they’re trying to protect you. But I think I could protect you.”
Val gave her a long gentle look, and then a quick kiss. “I like you. I like you very, very much, Cherry.”
“Ah—well—I like you, too, Val.” His kiss had taken her by surprise. She moved lightly out of the circle of his arm. “What will it be like up on Spirit Mountain?”
He laughed. “You certainly have courage! It will be beautiful and rugged.”
“Try to take me along,” she begged.
“I will. Now what are you up to?” he asked as Cherry glanced at her wristwatch.
Cherry hesitated. Should she tell Val what was worrying her? She didn’t know what to do about it, except wait for Toni to come home. She’d seen him go out earlier this evening.
“Val, you remember we saw Toni and Marco swap ski poles?” Val nodded and his face lost its merry look. Cherry said, “Well, we’d better have a look at those poles.”
“We have no right to enter Toni’s room,” Val objected.
“I know that. But, Val, what are we going to do? We know something special must be going on with those ski poles! We’d better find out what.”
The police reluctantly had decided to send Toni with the rescue party, for this reason: the farmer and his wife, who guarded the prisoner, knew Toni. They were under orders not to admit anyone to the hut except Toni. The only way the rescuers could enter the hut was to go in with Toni.
Cherry murmured, “Having Toni along might turn out to be risky.”
Val’s face tightened. “I thought of that, too. So did the police—Toni may lead us into a trap. Why don’t I ask Eric to look at those ski poles?” Eric was the undercover police agent posing as a waiter. He had begun his double job serving dinner this evening. “No, his job is to watch Madame Sully.”
They stood there wondering how to get a look at Toni’s ski poles. The ticking of the enormous grandfather clock in the hall sounded loud in the quiet house. Most of the guests and staff were sleeping.
It was late when Toni came tripping into the house at a quick, jerky gait like a puppet. Cherry wondered where he had been. Just with friends? Val stiffened with distrust.
Toni sensed their feelings. He looked toward Cherry in an embarrassed way, avoiding Val’s stern eyes.
“Cherry, have you a minute to spare?” Toni asked. “I’d like to show you something. It’s in my room, if you don’t mind waiting while I get it?”
She caught her breath, then said calmly, “I’d like to see it, whatever it is.”
Val said in a distant manner, “Why don’t we both come with you, Toni?” It was the first time he’d spoken to Toni since yesterday.
“Oh—sure, sure,” Toni floundered. “Glad to have you come.”
The three walked self-consciously to Toni’s room. He took his key out of his ski pants pocket and unlocked the door. As he switched on the light, Cherry saw two slim metal poles standing in a corner against the wall, with skis upright beside them.
What Toni wanted to show Cherry was a scrapbook containing a few dog-eared articles about Toni Peter’s skill on skis. Two years ago he had won prizes during winter festivals in small towns. Toni eagerly showed these notices to Cherry and Val, as if now, in disgrace, he might in this way regain some reputation.
“Very nice. Good for you, Toni,” Cherry said, rather painfully. Val remained silent.
“I guess a few prizes don’t cancel out the bad things I’ve done,” Toni stammered.
He was so hurt by Val’s contempt that he walked right into a small wooden chair. It fell over backwards and struck the ski poles, which clattered to the floor. They made a light, tinkling sound, being lightweight and hollow like all metal ski poles. In falling, the top was knocked loose from one pole.
Cherry and Val stared down at the floor. Ski-pole tops with their attached straps were not ordinarily removable! Not only had the top been dislodged from the pole, but it was a screw top! Toni, always negligent, had failed to screw the top firmly on the ski pole.
Toni talked fast in his confusion. He did not make much sense. Val cut him short, demanding:
“What are these special ski poles all about?” When Toni hedged, Val pressed him. “Don’t you want to clear yourself?”
“Of course I want to!” Toni cried. “Only you don’t realize what—what danger I’ve gotten myself into!”
“Is this how you did the smuggling?” Val asked.
“Yes,” Toni admitted. “I forgot a couple of details when I told the police in Morten. But I told them and you everything important. Honestly!”
Val was dissatisfied. “Well, I hope you’ll really do the right thing, sooner or later. Good night, Toni.” He took Cherry’s arm and walked out.
The next day the weather was rough. Although mountaintop rescues sometimes were made by helicopters or by a small, single-engine airplane, a police check of the weather reports, relayed to Joe Wardi, showed “there is too much wind up there today. At least forty knots.” Ten knots was the maximum wind for landing a small plane on skis on a glacier. They would have to go on foot.
So that morning Joe Wardi, using a telescope, studied Le Solitaire Mountain across the valley. Le Solitaire formed the far, east wall of the valley and half hid the more distant Spirit Mountain.
“I believe I’ve spotted a safe route across Le Solitaire,” the mountain guide reported. “I can’t make out much on Spirit Mountain in the overcast, though.”
That morning Val had notified the police about Toni’s ski poles with screw tops. Then he went off to help Joe Wardi gather equipment and gear for the rescue trip. It would be a dangerous journey and required the most careful preparations.
Cherry, meanwhile, had reported to work at the small hospital, to find two patien
ts in the ward beds. Yesterday afternoon while she and Dr. Portman had been in Morten, Mrs. Barth had admitted two new fracture patients, foolhardy skiers. Dr. Portman, after setting the bones, had had the women stay there overnight. Then, during the night, a seven-year-old boy in the village had developed pneumonia. Dr. Portman wanted to treat the boy at home with his family rather than send him to a hospital.
Besides his being overtired, Dr. Portman could not be spared to make the long, risky trip up Spirit Mountain. Farm communities in this valley and many skiers relied on him and his hospital.
Still, the man being held prisoner needed medical care. Someone qualified must go. His nurse would have to substitute. Cherry ignored the police warning and volunteered. At noon the police telephoned back accepting her.
“Cherry go along?” Mama Nicholas was horrified.
“A girl? It will be difficult for her,” said Joe Wardi. Papa Nicholas looked worried.
“I’ll take good care of Cherry,” Val said, in a tone that left no room for argument.
That evening after dinner, Mama Nicholas said anxiously to Cherry and Val, “I wish Toni was not going with you. I don’t trust him.”
“Don’t worry, Mama,” Val said.
But Mama Nicholas only sighed.
Val smiled at Cherry. “Our business now is to wax our skis, then go to bed early for a good, long night’s sleep. We’re starting at five tomorrow morning.”
Toni had warned the police that Jack Lenk might go to the remote hut on this same day. He wanted an additional handwritten letter from the kidnapped man. Toni did not know what for. The police would stay in hiding in two or three key areas near the hut in order not to scare Lenk off. They would approach Spirit Mountain from a different direction than the rescue party.
Val yawned. “It’s going to be five tomorrow morning before we know it!”
The snow was firm and thick, and the weather was good, Joe Wardi reported early the next morning. Night still darkened the west; the rest of the sky was opalescent through the windows of the chateau’s dining room as Val, Cherry, Joe Wardi, and Toni sat having breakfast. They were all too excited to eat much, despite Papa Nicholas’s urging. He had risen early, too, to see them off.