“For Christ’s sake, Jumbo. You’ll spring your fracture again. I’ll handle the job. I can get the boys down there and sort it out.”
“Nope.” Jumbo Hooligan clamped his jaw. “This is my hunt. I want to be there at the kill. Get Sheba . . “He winced again. “Get her and say I want a chopper on the roof here in half an hour. And tell the doctor that I’ve got to get out. If he’s worried, tell him I’ll be back in a couple of hours.”
“You’re crazy, Jumbo. But, okay, I’ll fix it.”
“And warn Two-O Precinct. Tell them that my team is heading for Welfare Island. I want the whole place sealed off. Stop all traffic crossing the bridge. Keep a path through for our cars. Break out the special equipment and fix up roadblocks. Don’t let anyone on, or off, the island.”
“Okay, boss.” Adam turned by the door. “Gee, you’re a wild bastard.”
“Nurse,” roared Hooligan, “N-U-R-S-E!”
A frightened young Sister trotted in.
“Get me a wheelchair. And I want to get on the roof.” He took a deep breath, “and pronto!”
They winched Jumbo Hooligan, in his shiny chrome wheelchair, into the helicopter. Half a dozen medical orderlies sweated and heaved. A posse of worried doctors and nurses watched.
“Hurry up, damn ya,” shouted Hooligan. The pilot pulled the chair backwards into the cabin. “You,” screamed Jumbo, pointing at the broadest of the orderlies. “You come along. I want a pusher.”
The orderly swallowed and climbed aboard. The rotors sputtered into life. The nurses’ skirts flapped as the helicopter lifted into the dusk. It climbed quickly and headed towards the East River. Hooligan bellowed loud instructions to the pilot, clamped on headphones and buckled a throat microphone into position. He looked down. The evening lights of the New York traffic seemed a long way below. The aircraft started to drop towards the Queensboro Bridge.
Hooligan was ahead of his team. The home-going New York traffic had slowed them, even though their sirens blasted a path. The precinct police were already there. Hooligan watched them flagging down cars. He spoke into his radio.
“Where are you, Adam?”
“Be at the bridge in a few seconds,” replied a static- crackling voice. “We can see the roadblock ahead.” Hooligan looked down the approach road to the bridge. He could see his team’s car lights flashing. He spoke again into his microphone.
“Okay, okay. Check with the lieutenant and make sure he’s got the island properly sealed.” As he looked down, he could see Adam’s car stopping alongside the police barrier. He watched his deputy open the door and run to the officer standing by the bridge rails. A moment later, Adam called him on the radio.
“Everything okay down here, Jumbo. The bridge and all approach roads are covered. The river police boats are deployed. The island’s watertight. How’s the leg?”
“Doing better than my stomach,” said Hooligan, as the helicopter dropped another few feet. “Right, start the men moving in slowly. Get all the searchlights trained on to the island.”
“Hey, Chief ...” Adam’s voice, metallic through the radio, was startled. “I can see a flashlight, and men outside one of the buildings--and a truck.”
“Get the boys in close, and line up the arcs. We’ll swing the chopper round and drop onto the car park at the other end of the island. We don’t want to wise them up. Let me know when you’re ‘go.’ “
Hooligan bit his nails until Adam called back a few minutes later. “All ready, Chief.”
“Get me down.” Jumbo signalled the pilot, and pointed to the ambulance park. He tensed his muscles as the helicopter dropped, like an express elevator, toward the concrete square. The machine vibrated to a halt, the long blades swishing. The young orderly and the pilot pushed the Hooligan-laden wheelchair out of the doorway, and winched it, revolving slowly, the five feet to the ground.
“Cummon,” growled Hooligan. “Cut me loose of the damn bird.”
The orderly unhooked the cable and began wheeling the chair in the direction of Hooligan’s pointing finger.
Jumbo hissed over his shoulder: “If any shooting starts, make sure you get behind something solid. Just stay out of my way.”
The orderly eyed Hooligan’s broad back, and decided exactly what he’d do if any bullets started flying.
“Hurry,” snapped Hooligan, pointing to a group of men standing near the bridge. Adam, holding a submachine gun, ran to meet him. The orderly watched him arrive, saw the gun, let go of the handles of the chair and raised his arms above his head.
“Push,” hissed Hooligan. “Push, you crazy nut. He’s one of mine.”
Adam panted over.
“You got everything how I want?” Hooligan demanded.
“Yup. And we can see some figures. Seem to be a lot of them. There’s some inside the building, some outside with the truck, and a few in the bushes. I think they’re shifting the bones.”
“Right,” said Jumbo. “Give me your special.”
Adam pulled his police revolver from the holster on his belt. He passed it over to his chief. Hooligan flicked it open and spun the cylinder. “Don’t lose it,” said Adam. “It cost me money.”
Hooligan ignored the jibe. “Tell everyone to get their lights ready. When I raise my arms, I want everything turned on. No shooting unless they open fire.” He paused. “And tell the uniformed men not to perforate one of my boys this time.”
He motioned to the orderly to start pushing again. “And make it real quiet,” he told him. Nervously, the orderly padded forward. The wheelchair made a soft, crunching noise. Suddenly, Hooligan signalled him to stop. They could hear voices arguing by the derelict building ahead.
“But, madam, of course it’s MY dinosaur ...”
“Absolutely nae proof, laddie ... yours isn’t the ONLY dinosaur in the world, you know ...” Hooligan shuddered as he recognized the voice of the Scots nanny.
“What about our ten grand, then?”
Hooligan’s eyes searched the gloom. He could make out darker than dark shadows amongst the trees. He looked out towards the river, the patrol boats were lined up in midstream, their bows pointing towards him. He glanced up at the bridge. It was lined with figures.
Hooligan whispered behind him. “Hold me up. I want to stand.” He raised himself gingerly and balanced his weight on his good leg.
Jumbo Hooligan took a deep breath. Dressing gown flowing like biblical robes, he raised his arms in a God-like gesture. Miraculously it became daylight.
“Hold it, you there . .he bawled. “This is the police. Freeeeeze.”
Jumbo Hooligan wheeled himself across the office, spun the chair and wheeled it back again. His team lined the side walls, pistols drawn and held, resting on folded arms, penning Hooligan’s captives.
“HA?” roared Jumbo. “A fine collection. All fresh from the hoosegow. Let me have a look at you. White collar workers... nurses ... hobos ... and spies.”
Una sneezed, loudly. Hooligan glared at her. “You, lady, I know you’ve got to do it. But do it quietly.” He swung his chair again and stopped in front of the museum official, “HA,” he shouted, again. The man quivered.
“Er . . Mister Hooligan, you remember me. I’m from the museum . .”
“Mmmmm,” said Jumbo. “So what were YOU doing down on the island? Excavating?”
“I ... er ... I had a tip-off.” He pointed to Billie Big Canoe. “This man, Mr. Canute. He came and told me he’d found our dinosaur. We just went along to collect it.”
“And of course, you notified the police first. Hell, man, the 20th Precinct have been screwing this town inside out for the past week, trying to get those god-dammed bones for you.”
“I... er ... forgot. The excitement,” mumbled the embarrassed official.
“But you notified the Chinese.”
“Of course ... er ... no. I’m afraid I don’t know them. Just these three gentlemen, my colleagues. We went together.”
“Okay,” growled Jumbo. “Ivor, tak
e those four outside. Get statements from them.” He looked back at the museum official. “I’ll want to see you again later.”
Ivor and the four men shuffled out of the room. Hooligan spun his wheelchair again and stopped it in front of Billie Big Canoe.
“Who are you . . . ?”
“Billie Big Canoe, Chief,” said Billie. “And this is my buddy, Herman.” Herman nodded, wildly. “We was just along there with the museum man. We found the bones. We went and brought him back with us. Say, this won’t affect the reward, will it? I mean, ten thou . . .” Hooligan held up his hand. “Huw, get these two outside. Statements again. And you’d better hold them until we check ’em out.”
“Boss ... we ain’t done nothin’. We was only helping,” said Billie Big Canoe.
“How about trespass?” asked Jumbo Hooligan. He twisted himself in the wheelchair until he could view the five Chinese.
“Okay, Lui Ho. Spill it.”
“Tourists,” said Lui Ho, in pained English. “We are tourists over here on cultural mission. We visiting hospital on Welfare Island. Only to inquire as to entertainment offered to inmates.”
“Nuts,” grunted Jumbo Hooligan.
“And, generally furthermore,” continued Lui Ho, wearing his most innocent expression, “we claim special consideration, because we are exceedingly patriotic NATIONALIST Chinese--from Formosa. God bless Chiang Kai-Shek. Long may he reign over us. Hurrah for Imperialist dragon and for Nationalist Chinamen. And also, four cheers for America, for great kindnesses shown to our beloved Nationalist China.”
“Crap,” snarled Hooligan, remembering the hours spent debugging his office after the last visit paid by Lui Ho’s team.
Jumbo Hooligan pushed himself up in his chair, so he could stare into Lui Ho’s eyes behind the frosted lenses. “All right, all right. I know all about you, Lui Ho, and all about your stinking team of Reds. I know how you got here, and where you came from. And I know how you got your Nationalist visas. I’ve been waiting quite a while to put the finger on you.” He paused. “So okay, you want to be real Nationalist Chinese! Well, that’s how we’ll treat you.”
Lui Ho smiled with relief.
“And we’ll send you back to Nationalist China.”
Lui Ho’s face bleached.
“We have some very, VERY good friends there. They’re ALWAYS very happy to receive ex-patriots. You know, Lui Ho, I never have trouble with the Turks or the French. Why don’t you Reds behave like the other spies?” Hooligan sighed. “I almost wish we were at war. Then I could have you shot here and now.” He signalled Boots and Ulysses. “Get this load of crap out of my office. Get them down to Kennedy Airport. Don’t let them collect or take anything with them. Get them on the first flight to Taipeh. AND have them escorted all the way. If they argue, chain ’em in the freight hold.”
Lui Ho visualized a bare concrete cell, its walls painted in yellow and black zig-zag stripes. And he thought of the early morning walk across the Nationalist Chinese courtyard to a bullet-scarred wall.
Lui Ho played his last card. “One moment, Mister Jumbles Hooligan,” he said. “I wish to make a bartering. To ask for political asylum. In exchange, I give complete information on Communist Chinese spy network Tse Eih Aei.”
Hooligan looked at him with contempt. He thought of the Western agents killed by the Chinese organization. “If it was Sam Ling asking, I could say yes. In fact, any of the others. Because they might be of some use to us. But you, Lui Ho--you’re just a brainwashed, political thug. A Maoist zombie, you think nothing. Boots, get them on their way, now.”
He waited until the door closed behind the spies, then he turned to the five nannies. “Ladies,” he said, quietly. “I think the time has arrived for intimate conversation. If you play dumb,” warned Hooligan, “I’ll have you taken down and charged with conspiring with a Communist state. Then I’ll have you locked away in little cells in The Tombs while I take a long vacation. Sometime, someone may just get round to wondering what happened to you all. Do I make myself clear?”
They nodded.
“Okay, we’ll begin at the beginning. And, as far as I can see, the story begins on the steps of the museum. Right?”
The nannies stayed silent.
“So why did you steal the dinosaur?”
“For the emancipation of women ...” began Emily.
“Espionage ...” cut in Jumbo Hooligan. “The time is long gone for bedtime stories, nanny. I know WHY the dinosaur was stolen. Your British Secret Service has told us all about the man who died on the steps, and what he was doing in the museum. For God’s sake, ladies, WE’RE ON THE SAME SIDE. Don’t you see that?”
Melissa grimaced. “But we were told not to trust anyone.”
Jumbo looked at them benignly. “You’ve got to trust me. So, suppose you tell me EXACTLY what happened? Every last detail.”
“Er ...” Hettie spoke, cautiously. “Would you mind very much if we whispered together? We ken it’s not really polite.”
“You’ve got one minute,” said Jumbo.
The nannies whispered.
Hettie looked at Hooligan again. “We’ve agreed,” she told him. “We’ll tell you all about it. But it was really all my fault.”
“Lady,” said Jumbo, calmly. “You didn’t need to tell me that.”
Hettie spoke for half an hour. She began, and ended, with the same sentence. “We did it for our dear Queen and Country.”
“Just one point I want to check,” said Hooligan, when she’d finished. “Tell me again, exactly, what he said when he was dying.”
“World security, and avoid total destruction ... museum ... the message ... microdot. And then he said, ‘room thirteen ... the largest exhibit.’ “
“Hold it,” said Hooligan. He pressed the button on his desk and called into the intercom. “Sheba, bring me in a guide book for the museum.”
A few seconds passed, then the door opened and Sheba walked smoothly into the office. She handed her boss the book and left.
Jumbo rested it on his knee and flipped the pages. “Ha ...” he exclaimed. “Women!” He looked at Hettie. “Did you buy a guide book?”
Hettie shook her head.
“Holy cow,” said Jumbo Hooligan. “The museum authorities have a guide book printed, and five dames who want to knock off an exhibit don’t even buy one. Don’t misunderstand me, ladies. I got a lot of time for your patriotism. I like your guts. And boy, I sure envy you your determination and energy. But, phew, you make lousy agents. Here . . .He held the book out to Hettie. “Take a close look at this.” He pointed.
Hettie studied the floor plan. “Oh, heavens,” she groaned. The four other nannies stared at her. “There are three room thirteens. One on every floor of the museum.”
Hooligan smiled. “So, the largest exhibit in room thirteen could be any one of three things.”
“Oh, dear,” said Hettie. “So the message mightn’t be in the dinosaur?”
“Almost certainly isn’t,” growled Jumbo Hooligan. “I’ve got some of the boys, in the basement right now, giving the bones the going-over. But, from what we know, the agent didn’t have time to get up to the Early Dinosaur Hall to make his plant. My money’s in one of the other two room thirteens.”
“All that wasted energy,” Melissa.
“No ...” said Hooligan, brightly. “Not wasted. You didn’t do that much of a bad job. In fact I’m pleased. You gave me the opportunity I needed to clear out these Red Chinese spies, and you kept them occupied chasing the wrong thing. Even if they’d got the dinosaur, they wouldn’t have got the message. You didn’t do a bad job at all.”
“Thanks,” said Hettie, quietly. Una was stifling another sneeze.
“Aw, cummon,” said Jumbo. “Look, ladies, to show you how pleased I am, I’ll let you come along to the museum with us and see if we can find that message. Then I’ll take you all out to dinner. Right?” He banged a hand on each wheel of his chair. “I could sure use a professional buggypusher. Will you c
ome?”
The nannies nodded.
“After we’ve put the bairns abed,” said Hettie. “Good God.” Emily grabbed Hettie by the arm. “The children ... they’re in the truck. We forgot them.”
“No,” said Jumbo. “Don’t panic. They’re down in the canteen. Sheba’s laid on some food for them.” Hettie’s eyes flared. “Food . .she roared. “Canteen food? Police canteen food? Good gracious, no! The poor wee darlings--they’ll be poisoned.” She drew herself up in front of Hooligan. “How dare you, laddie? How DARE you take it on yourself to interfere with our bairns? Wait until the British Embassy hears about this. I’ll have you sacked. How dare you take liberties with British citizens, like this?”
Jumbo Hooligan held his head in his hands. “Screwballs,” he sighed.
ELEVEN
The invitation read: “His Excellency, the British Ambassador, requests the pleasure of the company of Mr. and Mrs. W. Badenberg, at a reception at the Carlyle Hotel, East 76th Street, on Friday, 17th of October, at 7:45 p.m. Guests are requested to bring their children, and children’s nurses. Special facilities have been arranged.”
“Oh, gee, Walt,” gasped Mrs. Badenberg. “A reception at die Carlyle. Our first diplomatic invitation.” She smiled at her husband. “I guess that means we’re ‘in.’ “
He raised his eyebrows.
“And it says here,” she added, excitedly, “that decorations should be worn. Gee, you’ll be able to wear that medal you won at the golf tournament last week.” Walter Badenberg groaned. “They mean war medals, honey. They want me to wear my war medals.”
“Those dull old things. Wear the golf one as well. It’s kind of pretty. And not everybody has one of those.”
Randy Andy lay on his bed, looking up at the mirror on the ceiling, watching the sun-tanned young man staring down at him. He was in love with the redhead lying next to the man in the mirror. He fanned the air with his invitation.
“Of course, I shall go. We shall both go. After all, YOU'RE my nanny, and I’m YOUR employer, and, the card is addressed to me.”
One Of Our Dinosaurs Is Missing Page 18