by John Blaine
“Will you get it for us, son?”
‘Tilgo,” Scotty offered.
Rick nodded his thanks. It would take him a little while to recover from the shock of what had happened. Golly, if he had really hurt Dismal! The pup was an important member of the family.
“Let’s go into the library,” Hartson Brant said. He motioned to Rick, Weiss, Zircon, and Gordon, then led the way.
The library, a huge room that served Hartson Brant as an office, was filled with books written in several languages, most of them on scientific subjects. On one wall were framed degrees and certificates stating that Hartson William Brant was an engineer, a doctor of science in physics, a member of numerous scientific societies, and a Fellow of the American Institute of Atomic Scientists.
In the center of the room was a massive, oaken desk, surrounded by chairs, most of which were comfortable and upholstered in leather.
The group sat down, and Hartson Brant said, “All right, Rick. Let’s have the story from the very beginning. Don’t leave out any details.”
Rick didn’t. Now that his fright was over, he was as anxious as any of them to find out what had happened. He described the day’s events from the moment Barby brought up the subject until they had seen Dismal with their own eyes, stiff andunresponding on the kitchen table.
When he had finished, he watched his father’s face anxiously. Hartson Brant looked at Professor Gordon and his eyebrows lifted in an unspoken question.
Gordon nodded. “It could very well be, Hartson.”
Julius Weiss spoke up. “At least it’s worth an intensive investigation.”
“Yes,” Zircon boomed. “Do you all realize that would explain why the clerk’s hearing aid exploded?”
Rick stared. They were talking gibberish! They weren’t talking about Dismal at all!
Scotty, the air pistol in his hand, knocked at the door.
“Come in,” Hartson Brant said. He took the pistol from Scotty, then smiled at Rick.
“That’s all, son. Why don’t you and Scotty go keep an eye on Dismal?”
At any other time, Rick might have asked questions, but now he permitted himself to be ushered into the hall without the slightest protest. He was too confused by all that had happened, by the accident to Dismal, by the strange conversation he had just heard, by being barred from the lab.
“What goes on?” Scotty asked.
“I don’t know,” he said. “Honest, I haven’t the glimmer of an idea. Is Dismal okay?”
Scotty grinned. “By the time I got down there, he was on his stomach trying to sneak up on the wood-chuck again. He’s all right, Rick. Don’t worry about him any more.”
“That’s easy to say.” Rick shuddered. “For a while I thought I had . . .”
“Skip it,” Scotty said roughly. “I thought so, too. Come on, let’s go on down and keep an eye on him.”
“That was an excuse,” Rick said. “Dad just wanted to get us out of the library. I’d rather go get a glass of milk. My throat feels like the tail end of a sandstorm.”
In the kitchen, they found Mrs. Brant just pouring three tall, cold glasses of milk while Barby was putting fresh doughnuts on a plate.
“I thought you might be thirsty,” Mrs. Brant said as the boys entered.
Scotty grinned as Rick gave his mother a hug. “Talk about woman’s intuition,” he said.
“The Brant kitchen is full of it.”
Barby handed Rick the doughnut platter. “I’ve decided,” she said firmly. “From now on, I’m going to get Dismal myself when it’s time for him to eat.”
“You and us,” Scotty said past a mouthful. “If the boy genius tries any more tricks like that, I’ll bean him personally.”
“You and how many other Marines?”Rick demanded. “You talk to me like that and I won’t invent any more armchairs for you to sleep in.”
“Armchair or cement floor, it’s all the same to me,” Scotty said airily. “I’m the rugged type. I can sleep anywhere.”
Rick finished his glass of milk, then walked out to the big porch that faced the sea. The excitement had made him restless. He wondered again what the scientists were
discussing, what was so secret that even he and Scotty couldn’t be let in on it. But most of all, he wondered what had happened to Dismal.
Scotty came out to the porch and gauged his mood accurately. “No use hanging around and making bum guesses about what’s going on. What say we take a ride?”
“Boat or plane?”
“Plane.I need a little flying time. I’m getting rusty.”
Scotty had got his flying license a short while before, and like Rick, had fallen in love with flying.
“Okay,” Rick agreed. “We can take a swing over Whiteside and see what the town looks like. Do you realize you haven’t been off the island more than half a dozen times since we got back fromKwangara ?”
“After that particular island,” Scotty said fervently, “I don’t care if we ever leave Spindrift again.” He led the way from the porch to where the Cub waited on the grassy landing strip. “Incidentally, I wonder how Chahda is makingout? ”
Chahda, the little Hindu boy who had been their companion on the trip toTibet and later to theislandofKwangara , had remained inHawaii at the invitation of Dr. Warren of the Pacific Ethnographic Institute. They corresponded, but irregularly, after the fashion of boys their age. Besides, Chahda was very busy studying. He had a positive passion for learning, probably because his schooling inIndia had been so haphazard. His only textbook, until his informal adoption by theBrants , had been an ancient copy of The World Almanac.
“He’ll do all right wherever he is,” Rick said. “His last letter said he had made a lot of friends, but he missed us.” He motioned to the plane. “Get in. I’ll crank the prop for you.”
As Scotty climbed into the little yellow Cub, Rick untied the ropes that protected it against sudden winds, then pulled the prop through to prime it.
“Switch on,” Scotty called.
Rick snapped the prop down and the engine caught at once. He went around and
climbed into the passenger’s seat and fastened his belt as Scotty warmed the engine.
“All set?”
“Any time.”
Scotty pushed the throttle forward and the plane moved into take-off position. Then, with a final quick testing of the controls, Scotty took off.
Rick looked down as Spindrift fell away under them. As Scotty banked and headed toward theNew Jersey coast, he could see the island in its entirety. It was shaped, as Scotty sometimes said, “likea T-bone steak without the bone.” At the back side of the island were tidal flats connecting it to the mainland. The flats were under water when the tide was in, so that communication with the mainland had to be by boat, or by Rick’s Cub.
“Let’s take a look at Whiteside,” he suggested. “Just fly over so we can see what’s up.”
Scotty obligingly turned toward the town, a small community where theBrants did most of their shopping and where the younger members of the Spindrift family went to school. In a few moments Rick saw the outline of the airport, a single strip with a small hangar run by his friend Gus who made a living doing repairs and teaching flying to the members ofWhite-sideHigh School ’s flying club.
On the edge of Whiteside was the boat dock where theSpindriftIsland boats tied up.
Rick looked down at it idly, then did a double-take.
“Hey!” he exclaimed. “Let’s go down and take a look at that!”
Scotty had been gazing off toward theNew Jersey flatlands.“At what?”
“The dock!I think that cabin cruiser is there.”
Scotty flipped the plane on its side and banked around. “By golly, I think you’re right!”
He straightened out and let the plane slip down, losingaltiude rapidly.
“It is,” Rick said. “Do you suppose it stays there all the time?”
“I doubt it,” Scotty remarked. “It must be the business at th
e island that’s keeping it around. Sure it’s the same one?”
“I’m sure,” Rick nodded. “Look, it’s just getting under way, too! Shall we follow it?”
“Okay. You don’t think it’s going to Spindrift, do you?”
“It was there earlier. They wouldn’t be going back so soon. Let’s keep their trail and see where they do go.”
Scotty kept the Cub in a lazy circle as the white cabin cruiser left the dock and started south along the coast. Rick watched it, wondering. There wasn’t anything to the south until Spindrift. But maybe they were going right on by, heading for a point on the coast farther down. He began to feel guilty about trailing the boat when his father obviously wanted him to know nothing about it. He was even on the point of calling the whole thing off when he realized the boat was on a course that could only take it to Spindrift. If it had been continuing on past the island, the course would have lain more to sea.
“No luck,” Scotty said. “It’s heading for home. Well, what now?”
Rick shrugged. “Got any ideas?”
“Yes,” Scotty said wryly. “Let’s put a microphone in the library. It looks like that’s the only way we’ll find out anything.”
He put the plane in a shallow dive, pointing it toward the back of the island. Rick sat still and said nothing as the sea came up. About thirty feet over the water, Scotty leveled off, holding the plane on a course that would take them behind the farmhouse.
“Watch for Dismal,” he said.
Rick dropped the side window so he could lean out a little as the edge of the island loomed in front of them. Scotty climbed a few feet, just enough to clear the trees, then they flashed over die garden. Rick got a glimpse of the pup, a dark blot of fur against the green grass. He couldn’t see the woodchuck, but it was a relief to know that Diz was well enough to stay on the job. Then the garden was past and they were over the woods.
He looked out to the east, toward Pirate’s Field, the clearing on the south side of the island. The moon-rocket launcher had been there once, but now it was gone-dismantled and turned over to the Army for further rocket experiment at White Sands Proving Ground. Only a patch of barren soil, fused sand from the terrible heat of the launching, remained to show where the first rocket to the moon had rested.
Scotty flew south along the coast for a short distance, then turned back to Spindrift.
Rick smiled to himself. Scotty, in spite of his more casual attitude toward the mysterious visitors to the island, was burning with curiosity. He wanted to be around, just in case any information turned up.
Approaching the landing strip from the south, Scotty let down gradually, then cut the throttle just before they reached the lab. The plane settled into a glide, dropping down over the radar antenna on the lab roof, and rolled to a smooth landing on the strip.
The strange cruiser was already tied up at the pier. Rick looked at it thoughtfully before they went into the house through the kitchen. The boat’s captain, if he could be called such, was leaning against the cabin, patiently waiting. The men must be inside with Hart-son Brant.
Rick’s mother greeted him. “Where have you been? Dad wants to see you in the
library!”
Rick and Scotty stared at each other for a moment, then Rick dashed for the library and knocked at the door.
“Come in,” Hartson Brant called.
Rick opened the door and went in. His father was seated at the desk. The room’s only other occupant was the younger of the two strangers. He had the air pistol and he was idly rubbing the barrel while he looked at Rick.
The boy returned the glance with interest. The stranger was young, not more than twenty-five, and there was a look of hardness about him, like that of a trained athlete.
His hair was brown, but of a shade lighter than Rick’s. His blue eyes had a penetrating quality that Rick found uncomfortable. He felt as though in the moment it tookhim to walk to the desk the stranger had analyzed his opinions, his likes and dislikes, his most secret thoughts. He wouldn’t have been at all surprised to have the man say casually,
“You were the one who wiredBarby’s chair so that every time she tried to sit down a siren went off.”
“Sit down, Rick,” Hartson Brant said.
He obeyed eagerly, and his pulse speeded. Could it be that the moment had come when he would actually learn something of theSpindriftIsland mystery?
CHAPTER IV
Report-and Ask No Questions!
The stranger held up the pistol. “This thing was your idea?”
“Yes, sir.”
“Your father tells me you’re a handy man in a laboratory.”
Rick didn’t know what to say to that. He looked at his father. The scientist smiled and nodded.
“Can you keep your mouth shut?” the stranger demanded.
Rick stiffened. “I always have, sir.”
“Good. Now, tell me all you know about Scotty.”
The interview wasn’t going at all as he had expected. Instead of getting information, he was giving it. “What do you want to know about him?”
“Everything.The way you met him, where he came from, why he is living with you when he isn’t a member of the family.”
“He is a member of the family,” Rick said. “Anyway, we think of him as one.”
“Start at the beginning,” Hartson Brant said.
“Yes, sir.It was during the moon-rocket experiment. I got caught by the gang that was trying to wreck our rocket, and they were just about to beat me up when Scotty sailed in.
He was in uniform then. He was a sergeant in the Marines. After he rescued me, I brought him home and Dad hired him as a guard to keep people away from the rocket launcher.”
“Did you examine his papers?” the stranger asked.
“Yes, sir.He had an honorable discharge that said he had served atTarawa ,Saipan , andOkinawa . He told us he had talked a recruiting sergeant into enlisting him, even if he was away underage. He’s only a year older than I am. Anyway, he served as a guard for a while, and he went with us toTibet . But by that time he wasn’t a guard any more.
He was just sort of one of the family. I mean, he’s like a brother to Barby and me, and Dad and Mom treat him just the way they do us.”
“Does he know anything about lab work?” The question was addressed to Hartson
Brant.
“Yes. Since we took him into the family he has become an unofficial lab assistant, just as Rick is. He’s very handy with tools, especially machine tools. We pay both of them a salary for helping around the lab, and they earn it.”
“You wouldn’t question his loyalty?”
“We’ve trusted him with our lives,” Hartson Brant said simply. “We wouldn’t hesitate to do it again.”
Rick couldn’t see where the conversation was leading, but he didn’t dare ask questions.
His father and the stranger would come to the point in due time. He sat quietly and waited. Presently the stranger laid the air pistol on the desk.
“You’re so curious you’re ready to pop like a balloon,” he said, and grinned suddenly. It was a warm, friendly grin. Rick couldn’t help returning it.
“I wish I could answer all of your questions,” he said, “but that is not possible. In the interests of security, I had to ask your father not to tell you anything, or even to explain why he couldn’t tell you what was going on. For the same reason, I asked him to restrict the laboratory to only the scientists who were actually at work on this particular project.”
Rick stopped grinning. So he wasn’t actually to learn anything after all.
Hartson Brant laughed. “Don’t look so unhappy, Rick. You look as though the world was coming to an end. As it happens, the air pistol you developed, and its effect on Dismal, interested Mr. Ames enough so that he has asked me to lend you to him.”
“Lend me?Scotty too?” Rick looked at the stranger anxiously.“What for?”
“The first thing you must learn is not to ask questions,
” the stranger said. “Incidentally, my name is Steve Ames. If you just call me Steve, it will make things a little more informal. Are you and Scotty willing to take a trip?”
Rick jumped out of his chair.“Are we!Where to?”
Steve chuckled. “Remember what I said about not asking questions? I’ll supply all the answers you’ll need. Your father is lending us Zircon and Weiss, too. You and Scotty will act as their assistants. Now, listen carefully. At no time must you tell anyone what you are doing, or give them the slightest hint of what is going on. And that means absolutely no one, not even the pup that got you into this. Do you understand?”
“Yes, sir.”Rick was listening attentively now.
“By helping Weiss and Zircon you will be serving the government in a very important project. If you talk, it will be comparable to treason. That’s how serious this thing is.
Now, you and Scotty are to go toWashington as soon as possible. I don’t care how you get there-you can fly your plane, take a train, or drive. That’s up to you. But I want you there on Friday. This is Tuesday, so you have two full days. Can you do it?”
“You bet we can!”
Steve Ames smiled. “An eager beaver, I see. Well, don’t be too eager. At no time will you try to do more than you are specifically ordered to do. Got that?”
“Got it,” Rick said happily.
“Okay. When you get toWashington , go to the Elliston Hotel. Take a double room.
Then just wait there until such time as you get further instructions.”
“Elliston,” Rick repeated. “I won’t forget.But how about Weiss and Zircon? Will they be there too?”
Steve sighed deeply.
“I take it back,” Rick said quickly. “I didn’t ask anything.”
Steve laughed, then rose and held out his hand. “Okay, Rick. You’ll see me again before long.” He turned to Hartson Brant. “I must be getting back. It’s lucky your phone call caught me. I was on my way out the hotel door when the bellhop shouted.” He shook hands with the scientist. “I won’t be seeing you again until we’ve made sure we’re on the right track. Meanwhile, you and Gordon can keep working on that other angle.”
“Good luck,” Hartson Brant said. “You can be sure we’re doing our best.”