Cherry Ames Boxed Set 17-20
Page 60
“You know, Mr. Hendrix, I think you’re even better-looking without that mustache. Does it come off?”
He actually was flattered. “Yeah, it comes off because I only glue it on. Say, I thought all along you probably recognized me.”
Val said to Hendrix, “All we want here is the sick man. Will you let us take him with us peaceably?”
“What do you want with him?” Hendrix demanded.
“Have you no common decency?” Joe Wardi said. “So he can get medical care and get well.”
A dead silence fell. From his cot Jacob said rapidly, as if afraid of being interrupted, “He—he doesn’t want me to get well. I know too much. To murder me with a gun, it’s too—”
“You shut your mouth!” Hendrix yelled.
“—dangerous for him, so instead he lets me die of neglect. Kidnapped me, he and that man Shorty—”
Hendrix hit him in the face with the back of his hamlike hand. Val quivered, suppressing his reaction to strike back. Joe Wardi blew out an angry breath. The gun stopped them. Jacob sat dazed, then said:
“I’m not afraid of you, I’m going to die soon, anyway.”
“No, you’re not!” Cherry silently promised. Hendrix raised his arm to hit Jacob Lenk again. To divert Hendrix, she said:
“That—ah—green notebook you brought to Madame Sully that day we met on the stairs—”
Cherry was gambling, merely guessing. She had said the first thing that came to mind. Hendrix confirmed her guess by turning a sickly color.
“What about what notebook?” he bluffed. “Toni, did she see the—any notebook?”
Toni shrugged, deadpan, then shook his head.
Hendrix snorted. “I got to get things ready. Otto! You lunkhead!”
The farmer and his wife still stood in the front room, smirking at the rescuers’ plight. Otto hunched forward. “Yes, Boss, what?”
“That kitchen door—it’s locked and barred?” Jack Lenk asked.
“Yes, Boss, from the outside.”
“So you did one thing right. Now listen, Otto, where’s the—” Jack Lenk reached out to cuff Toni, who was fingering the iron climbing hook that hung on his belt. “A gun’s faster, Toni. A whole lot deadlier, too, Toni. Just the same, take that hook off you and hand it over.”
Toni did as he was ordered. Jack Lenk tossed the iron hook in a corner on the floor. He looked to see whether Val and Joe Wardi wore the same mountaineering hooks.
“Hand over the hooks!” Hendrix ordered them. “Otto, take their ropes away, too!”
Everything landed in a jangling heap on the floor. Cherry’s hopes sank. How far away were the police?
“Otto, where are our three pairs of skis?” Hendrix asked. “And the toboggan?”
“Everything’s in the shed, Boss,” Otto said.
“Go get them. Wait! First, get the box of kitchen matches, and the kerosene, and rags out of your wife’s cleaning pail. We’ll use sheets and blankets, too, so we’ll have enough rags.”
“Matches, kerosene, rope,” the farmer repeated. He went into the kitchen. “Should I bring some dry paper, too, to set this hut afire?”
“Yes. Bring kindling wood when you go to the shed,” Jack Lenk said. “When we leave, we’ll bar the front door from the outside, same as the back door.”
He waited while the farmer collected his lethal things in the kitchen. Cherry watched and listened numbly, as if none of this could really be happening to her, as if she must surely awake from this evil dream. Another part of her mind reasoned: Val is waiting for the farmer to go to the shed and leave Hendrix in here alone. She noticed Val and Joe tensely exchange glances. Hendrix stood with his leveled gun out of their reach. Toni sulked alone.
The farmer and his wife left the hut, locking the door after him. As the lock clicked, Jack Lenk said, “You’ll be tied up and locked in. Except you, Your Highness. You go in the toboggan with us. I want to make absolutely sure what happens to you. Want to see it with my own eyes.”
His voice was so evil that Cherry shivered. He said, “Toni, light a cigarette for me. Here—” He took a cigarette from his pocket, handed it to Toni who lit it, and returned it to him burning-end first—and then Toni grabbed for the gun. Instantly Val and Joe moved in to help Toni. Hendrix crouched, backed, and the gun stayed in his hand. The cigarette, having burned a raw red spot on his gun hand, lay smoking on the floor. He let it burn there, and leveled his gun once more.
“I’m still boss here! Go on into the kitchen,” Hendrix said. “All of you except His Highness. Hurry up!”
They trooped silently through the small middle room and stood huddled in the narrow kitchen.
“Hey, Boss,” Toni pleaded, “can’t I just sit on the cot with him, huh?” Without waiting for permission, he stepped in and sat down beside Jacob, who smiled a little at him.
Hendrix sneered, “Ain’t that sweet. I didn’t know you two poor jokers were such friends. Jeepers, you only saw each other those two Sundays—”
But he let Toni stay. A key scraped in the lock. Cherry hoped it was the police.
The farmer and his wife came back in. Both carried armsful of wood and old newspapers. Kerosene, rags, and matches waited in the middle room. Hendrix looked to see what they were bringing.
In that off-guard instant Toni sprang for the corner, seized an iron climbing hook, and went for Hendrix. The hook caught Hendrix across the face. His gun spat fire with a roar. The bullet missed Toni. One of the small windows shattered.
The farmer ran in to help. Joe Wardi grabbed him and backed him again into the front room.
“Drop that gun!” Val yelled and his fist smacked against Hendrix’s jaw. Hendrix staggered back, then leaped forward to thrust his knee up into Val’s belly, doubling him up. Toni rushed at Hendrix, but Hendrix kicked him away, and took full aim at—to Cherry’s horror—the sick man on the cot.
“I’m getting rid of you!” Hendrix yelled.
Joe Wardi came up fast from behind and hit Hendrix a tremendous blow between the shoulder blades. Stunned, Hendrix’s arms froze. Val grabbed his gun arm and twisted it back. The gun slipped out of the scarred left hand and clattered onto the floor.
“All right, all right, all right,” Hendrix said. He wiped his bloodied face with his sleeve.
Outdoors a whistle blew. Another whistle answered. Both sounded near and piercing. Cherry heard men’s voices and the clank of metal equipment of some sort. It sounded like a snowcat, a tractor-like vehicle. As the police entered the hut, Cherry heard Jacob groan. He swayed back on his cot.
Toni reached the sick man even before Cherry did. “Have you the—the insulin?” the boy asked her.
“Yes. In my pocket.” Cherry helped Jacob to lie down, and covered him with the blanket. “Toni, I left the medical kit on the far side of the woodshed. Would you bring it?”
Toni was collared by a police officer. “He must stay here, miss. I will have someone bring you the medical kit.”
The policeman went through the crowded front room where Hendrix and the farmer sat on the cots, with wrists outstretched. The police were putting handcuffs on them. The farmer seemed to have a superficial leg wound, Cherry noticed.
“Toni,” said Jacob weakly, “you are in trouble. Poor, bad Toni. You were good to me. You were my friend.”
“Sh,” Cherry said. “Tell me again, Jacob, when did you last have insulin?”
He thought, lying on his cot, staring at the low ceiling. “Day before yesterday. They should have given it to me today with breakfast.”
Toni looked shocked, worried.
Cherry smiled and nodded at him. “Just to be very sure, we’ll ask Jacob his dosage, shall we?” In discussing with Dr. Portman, they had decided to accept the patient’s word for his correct dosage and diet. She took the syringe in its sterile wrappings from her parka’s roomy pocket.
Val, smeared with dirt and blood from the fight but composed, brought the medical kit. “Cherry, can I help you—and Toni?”
“Yes, you both can help,” Cherry said, “by going away while I give Jacob an injection.” The sick man was too exhausted to give it to himself, as he usually did. She glanced up at Toni and handed him some medicated gauze pads from the kit. “Use these until we can clean up your face,” Cherry said.
Now she gave her full attention to Jacob. She inserted the hypodermic needle into the vial of insulin and drew out the proper dosage. Then she wiped the site of injection near Jacob’s shoulder with a cotton swab dipped in alcohol, pinched up the skin at the injection site, quickly inserted the needle, and injected the insulin. Holding the skin firmly with the cotton, she withdrew the needle and gently wiped the site of injection with alcohol.
Jacob Lenk gave an audible sigh, obviously relieved at getting his insulin. Normal color began to seep back into his face and he seemed less lethargic. His breathing grew deeper and steadier.
She tried to ignore the distraction of the three prisoners being hustled outdoors. Police waited in the snow with skis and toboggans. The snowcat rolled up closer to the hut.
“Feeling better now?” she asked Jacob, after letting him rest—as much as anyone could rest in the midst of men moving around and orders being given.
“Yes, thank you, miss. Better.” Jacob struggled to sit up. “Where’s my watch? Mr. Hendrix gave it today to Otto’s wife—she is wearing it under her sleeve—my watch! He gave it to her as payment for taking care of me. Please don’t let them—please—” Jacob ran out of breath.
“I’ll get it for you,” Toni said, starting off. Once again, a policeman halted him, but did listen to Toni’s plea. In minutes he had recovered the watch.
“You see,” Jacob said to Cherry and Toni, “how special this watch is? How many things it tells you—not only the time, but also the day, month, year, and here is a chronometer and here is a stopwatch device and here is a sweep second hand, even an alarm to wake me—
“Swiss watches are my hobby. I am proud to tell you that my factory, the Gold Ribbon, assembled this watch for me, in honor of my long service with them, just before they transferred me. Just before I went to Lugano—and got kidnapped.”
“Toni Peter!” The captain of the police called out. “You are under arrest and will come with us.”
Toni slowly got up. “Maybe I’ll see you again, Cherry, Jacob.” He looked around for Val, but he was not in sight. “Tell Val—Well, never mind.”
“I will put in a good word for you,” Jacob promised. Cherry thought she might, too, when the time came.
“Thanks,” Toni said to Jacob. “Helping you is the first decent thing I’ve done in a long time.” He walked away beside a policeman.
By the time Cherry gave Jacob all the fluids—water and hot tea—he could comfortably drink, the hut and slope had grown quiet. Everyone had gone except one policeman who would stay with the rescue party. Jacob wanted very much to stay with Cherry rather than go to the big, impersonal hospital in Morten, and the police had agreed. The remaining policeman and Joe Wardi half carried Jacob to the snowcat, covered him warmly, then strapped him in. Cherry gave him a stimulant—a little brandy—to help him endure the journey back, which would have to be via highways and would take quite a long time.
Val said that Madame Sully now was under house arrest at the chateau, in the custody of Eric the “waiter.” Simultaneously, the Italian police in Rosalia had arrested Marco at the garage—on the radioed advice of Swiss police. Shorty, Hendrix’s companion in the kidnapping, had also been taken into custody in Rosalia. He was wanted by the police on other charges.
Hendrix, Otto, Otto’s wife, and Toni were on their way to prison in Morten. Later all seven of them—Marco on extradition—might be transferred to one central prison, near the court where their smuggling case and Hendrix’s kidnapping case would be heard.
“Poor Toni,” Cherry said that evening. “Prison.”
“He asked for it,” Val said. “But I feel sorry, too. Cherry, I nearly forgot to tell you! The key man of this ring—the one who supplies the watchworks—is still at large! The police think they know who he is. But they want to ask Jacob some questions. So Dr. Portman and you have to get him into good enough condition to talk to the police. Soon.”
CHAPTER XI
Goodbye, Snow Bunny
THE NEXT MORNING CHERRY WATCHED MADAME BLANCHE Sully being escorted into a police car. Along with her went her tacky luggage, parakeet, furs, and photograph albums. Already in the car were her two regular visitors, Trude and old Laura, with the leather-garbed man, all looking glum. They drove away toward Morten.
Eric the detective was putting a few gift boxes into a second police car. Cherry recognized the boxes as coming from Madame’s room. He smiled as Cherry inquisitively came over.
“You’re the American girl who cracked this case, aren’t you? I heard about yesterday’s rescue.” He held out his hand. “I’m Eric Neff. You did a nice job of detective work, Cherry Ames.” She smiled back at him. “Have a look in these boxes.”
Cherry peered into the fancy boxes. They were filled with dozens of small wads of cotton, each tightly wound around some tiny, precious contents. They were of assorted sizes. Eric Neff carefully uncoiled one cotton wrapping.
Val waved from a dining-room window, where guests sat at breakfast. She beckoned him to come out. Val got there on the double. “May I see?” he asked Neff.
“Of course. There you are!” The detective held out the opened cotton pad. On it lay a tiny bit of precision machinery, unbelievably wafer-thin and complicated.
“A watchworks,” Neff said. “All it needs is to be put in a case.”
Cherry was interested. Val explained to her, “The finest Swiss watchworks sell for hundreds of dollars, and can cost as much as a thousand and more. That’s because the movements are made by hand to work perfectly and last a lifetime.”
Neff said, “These are Gold Ribbon—the finest and costliest watches made.”
“Cherry!” Mama Nicholas appeared in the doorway of the chateau. “Dr. Portman is telephoning to ask if you will be able to come to work, after your hard trip yesterday.”
“Oh, my goodness! Yes, yes, please tell Doctor I’m coming.” Cherry hastily excused herself.
Walking across the village toward the hospital, she thought about Jacob. He had stayed at the hospital last night; Dr. Portman as well as Eugene Constant had stayed with him. “Not that Jacob is critically sick,” the doctor had explained to Cherry and Val last evening when they had brought Jacob in. “But he is a sick man who is exhausted and emotionally upset. We will keep him under close observation for the next few days.”
As Cherry came in, Dr. Portman said, “Good morning. You did a good job yesterday with Jacob. He is much better this morning.”
“Thank you, Doctor,” Cherry said. “I’m glad.”
They discussed Jacob’s care needs, which were mostly comfort measures and a strict diabetic diet.
She found Jacob sitting up in bed, drinking a glass of milk. Eugene Constant had given him breakfast, and was going off duty. Jacob blinked at Cherry and made a stiff joke about the nine other beds, all empty. Then smiling shyly, he said:
“Thank you, Miss Cherry, for taking such good care of me. But your brandy almost made me intoxicated.
“You know,” he went on, “I have never been intoxicated in my life except once,” Jacob confessed. “That one time happened because I met those criminals in Lugano, first Shorty and then his friend Mr. Hendrix. Shorty introduced me to Hendrix. Shorty said he had heard I was sick—I guess he was keeping watch on me. So one day he drove up and invited me to have lunch and a country drive with him. Only first we stopped in another part of Lugano and picked up Mr. Hendrix, too. I know I shouldn’t trust strangers, but I can’t tell you how lonesome I felt!”
Cherry nodded, remembering him alone at lunch that day in Lugano. She took his empty gl
ass, and brought a basin of warm water, soap, washcloth, and towel. As Cherry helped him to wash his face and hands, Jacob talked.
“You see, Miss Cherry, I have no family, no one at all. I never married. I lived in pensions among strangers. It has always been work, work, work for me. That’s all right; it is good to be useful. Oh, I have a few friends up north in Berne, where I worked for many years, but we were never very close. As you can see, I am an awkward man, plain, quiet. I can never think what to say to people. So I am happiest with my newspaper and my pipe.”
Jacob explained that he was a bonded messenger for the Gold Ribbon Company. Affixed to his motorcycle was a stout metal lockbox, a handy European equivalent of a small American delivery truck. Jacob’s job required him to travel in and around Berne. He carried watch parts from one Gold Ribbon branch factory where they were made, to another for final assembly, and carried completed watchworks to the post office for shipment to other countries. His company had honored him for long service by presenting him with the many-gadget wristwatch, and a credit card. Jacob was proud of these and of his responsible job.
“The week before I am to transfer to the Gold Ribbon branch in the Jura, I go first for a holiday in Lugano—”
Jacob lay back on the hospital bed. “Ah, what a simpleton I was! I was—can you believe it?—flattered that a man of the world like Mr. Hendrix would be so friendly with a lump, a stick, like me. He was good company, made me enjoy myself, and feel like I—I, too—was somebody.” Even now Jacob sounded admiring and wishful. “Mr. Hendrix invited me and Shorty to go with him to visit his friends, and I felt, ‘Now I am living at last!’”
They had started out for the friends’ house in Shorty’s car, Jacob said. First they stopped for a late lunch, not far from Lugano, and his new friends urged Jacob to have cocktails with them.
“Oh, how my head swam! My limbs turned weak as water,” Jacob said. “Now I wonder if Mr. Hendrix drugged me. Surely a few cocktails would not render me so helpless?”