CHAPTER XVIII
The Stingaree's Tail
"This is the plan," Steve Ames said. "Joe and Chuck will approach fromupriver and go around the mansion fence by wading downstream. They'llstay under cover somewhere at the edge of the mansion grounds until theyhear my signal on the radio to close in--or until they see the balloonlaunched. I'll go in the way I did before."
The two JANIG agents nodded, and bent over the chart borrowed from thehouseboat.
"Cobb will set up his equipment here at my house," Steve continued, "andtry to intercept all signals from the mansion. McDevitt will set up heretoo, and track the balloon through my telescope--if it rises--watchinguntil the rocket fires. McDevitt also will keep in touch with WallopsIsland by radio, and notify me on the walkie-talkie when the countdownreaches thirty minutes."
Steve turned to Rick and Scotty. "Before I go to my post, I'll take youtwo to the creek mouth in the runabout. Then you will swim up the creek,underwater, and take up stations in the weeds directly in front of thehouse."
Rick's pulse stopped. "They'll see our bubbles," he protested. "It wouldgive the whole show away!"
Steve motioned to Joe Vitalli. "Show 'em."
Joe walked to the car in which he and Chuck had driven from Washington,and opened the trunk. He brought out a pair of riot guns, automaticshotguns, which he handed to Chuck, then he reached into the trunk andbrought out a pair of small cylinders with full face masks attached.
"Rebreathers!" Rick exclaimed. He grinned at Steve. "You planned thisbefore you ever told us what was on your mind!"
"I thought it was best to be prepared," Steve said. "You know how thesework?"
Rick nodded. "We both do." The rebreathers, unlike Scubas, which werefilled with compressed air, used oxygen which was recycled through acanister of chemicals that removed water vapor and carbon dioxide. Theywere completely self-contained; no bubbles were emitted.
Cobb was already opening a pair of leather-covered cases, exposingelectronic gear. He had also brought a portable antenna, which he begansetting up. McDevitt had a radio in his car with which to talk toWallops, and Steve handed him one unit of a walkie-talkie radio network.Another unit went to Chuck, and Steve retained one.
Steve glanced at his watch. "Let's get going. Time your travel so youwill be in place at eight o'clock on the nose." He looked at the boys."Get into your gear, and take spear guns with you. When we move intoaction, I want you to bring that balloon down if you can."
The boys ran to the houseboat. Rick was excited, and he knew Scotty wasfeeling the same way. It was the first time they had been in on a JANIGoperation as full partners. Their previous adventures had either been asaccidental participants or as observers.
They got into full gear, including their skin-tight neoprene helmets andfootgear. Then, leaving their fins and rebreathers, they hurried back tothe others. Joe and Chuck were in their own car, the riot guns andwalkie-talkie out of sight. McDevitt had the telescope set up next tohis car and was practicing with it by tracking a high-flying osprey.Cobb was finishing work on his electronic setup. His antenna was inplace, the dish on top of the collapsible pole aligned on the compassdirection to Calvert's Favor.
Steve shook hands with Joe and Chuck. "On your way. See you when theballoon goes up." He motioned to the boys. "Got spear guns?"
"We left that till last," Rick said. "Ready to go?"
"Ready."
The three hurried down the pier to the houseboat, where the boys tookguns from their spear box. Each chose a high-powered gas gun, operatedby a carbon dioxide cartridge, and selected the spears that would cutthe biggest holes. There would be time for only one shot.
"Get on the floor in the runabout when we cast off," Steve directed. "Ifthere are any watchers, I want them to see only one man."
The boys cast off, then climbed in as Steve backed into the creek. Theycrouched on the floor and adjusted the straps on their face masks untilthe fit was tight. There was no conversation. Rick was so excited it washard to sit still. As they began the crossing of the Little ChoptankRiver, Steve gave them instructions. "When we get opposite the creekmouth, the engine is going to stutter and kick up a lot of smoke. Theboat will drift into the smoke and out again. You'll have a few secondsto go over. I'll pretend to work on the motor, and finally get itstarted, but running rough. Then I'll take off and pretend I'm headinghome. Okay?"
"How are you going to make smoke?" Rick asked.
Steve reached into his breast pocket and produced a small bottle. "Theseare chemicals that smoke when they touch water. Got your plans allmade?"
Rick looked at Scotty. "We'll have to stick our heads up once in awhile. I'll lead, since I know the creek as far as the cove. When Ithink I'm lost, I'll head for the north bank, making a sharp turn. Thatwill be your signal to stay put, while I look. What I'd like to do isbring us out in back of the duck blind. We can pick our spots then andcross the creek when we're ready."
"Got it," Scotty agreed.
Steve reached down a hand and squeezed their hands in turn. "Good luck,kids. And no unnecessary chances. If shooting starts, get underwateragain. We'll have guns, but you'll have only single-shot spear guns."
"Good luck," the boys said in unison. They put on the masks and turnedthe valves that started the oxygen cycles. Rick grinned at Scottythrough the glass, and knew that his grin was strained. Scotty grinnedback and held up his hand with thumb and forefinger making the signalfor "Okay."
"Be ready," Steve said.
Rick checked himself once again to be sure all was in order. Weightbelt, knife, compass, spear gun with safety cap on, mask fittingtightly, and the pack in place. He got ready to jump on Steve's command.
The outboard slowed, raced, slowed, raced, back-fired, slowed. Steve'shand went over and trailed chemical in the water. The boat turned, andRick saw the smoke cloud rising. The boat went into it, and the motorcut out.
"Go," Steve said.
Rick stood upright and went over the gunwale in a dive, knifing towardthe bottom. He felt the pressure wave as Scotty followed and reached ahand upward to meet his pal. His hand touched Scotty's arm, found thehand, and gave it a squeeze. Then, with a glance at his compass toorient him, Rick started the long swim.
It was odd to be wearing the oxygen lung. The sound of bubbles from thecustomary compressed-air Scubas was missing, and the silence wasstrange. Then Steve started the motor of the runabout and Rick heard thebroken rhythm as the motor skipped. He knew that Steve probably hadturned the carburetor mixture to too lean or too rich. Either wouldcause the motor to run rough. He kept moving, his fins keeping a steadystroke. The motor sound grew distant, and finally faded entirely.
Rick usually depended on pressure to tell him location, but the creekwas too shallow for any strong indication on his ears. He kept goinguntil the visibility and brightness told him he was in the shallows,then steered out into the middle of the stream again.
He thought they must be halfway to the mansion, but wasn't sure. He gavea pair of swift kicks to alert Scotty, then turned sharp left, rollingover on his back. He could see the water surface clearly. Rising alittle, he lifted his face above the water for a brief second, then wentback under.
Now was the time to get behind the duck blind. Rick swam back to whereScotty waited, and plucked at his shoulder. This time he started offclose to the north shore, heading directly for the duck blind. Hiscourse was straight. In a few moments he found himself among the pilingsand turned to put the blind between himself and the mansion on theopposite shore. Scotty followed.
Rick lifted his head cautiously. He saw only the marsh grass and theback of the blind. He tapped Scotty, who rose until his head was levelwith Rick's, his face only a few inches away. They pulled off theirmasks.
"We can swim under the blind and look out the front," Rick whispered."There's enough brush to give us cover. We'll each pick our own spot andgo to it. Sound all right?"
"Okay. Better fix our guns right here, though."
It was good adv
ice. Rick removed the safety cap from his spear, makingsure the barbed shaft was properly seated. Now he needed only to flickoff the safety catch and fire. Scotty did the same.
"You go right and I'll go left," Scotty suggested softly. "Be better ifthere's a little spread between us. We'll also want to find places wherewe can look out. There's some weed along the shore, and I think Iremember a brush pile around a stake near the right-hand edge of thelawn. One piling is there. There's a bunch of old pilings off to theleft where the original pier was. I can see if there's cover there. Ifnot, I'll find something."
Scotty had worn his waterproof watch. It was just four minutes to eight.Time to get going.
The boys shook hands, grinned at each other, and pulled their masks backon. They ducked under the blind, side by side, and swam to the front ofthe structure where brush from last year's cover remained.
Cautiously Rick peered out, then sucked in his breath. A truck had beenwheeled out of the barn. It had a dish antenna on top. And next to thetruck, a mass of black plastic was slowly inflating. A flying stingaree!
Rick looked quickly for a spot to which he could swim. Near the edge ofthe cut lawn was the piling Scotty had mentioned. It was tall, with alight on it for night navigation. Rick realized he had seen it onearlier trips, but had not noticed it particularly because his attentionhad been on the house and its occupants. Slightly upstream from the tallpiling were a series of stakes, saplings pushed into the bottom toindicate the limits of water deep enough for a boat. Around three of thepilings brush and grass had gathered, picked up from the current. Themiddle pile was highest. Rick decided to head for it.
Scotty was also searching for a hiding place. Apparently he found onethat was satisfactory, because he gripped Rick's shoulder for a moment,then submerged. Rick saw him as a shadow, hugging the bottom.
Now was the time. Rick took a deep breath to quiet his taut and shakynerves, then sank to the bottom and began the last leg of the trip. Itwas only a few dozen yards to the sapling he had chosen. He reached itand glanced upward. The mass of debris made a black blotch on the brightsurface of the water. Moving with infinite caution and using the saplingas a guide, he swung his legs under him and rose to a sitting position.The debris was still above the level of his eyes, so he swung his legsback again and knelt. The kneeling position brought his head to just theright level. He lifted his face and looked at the debris. Workingcautiously, he brought a hand up and poked a hole through. His fingersenlarged the hole until he could see sufficiently.
The flying stingaree was tugging at the rope that held it! The shape wasalmost perfect, Rick thought, but he doubted that it had been designedto look like a sting ray. More likely it had been picked to look aslittle like a conventional balloon as possible. Well, it had served itspurpose.
Merlin, alias Lefty Camillion, and his electronics wizard were fitting arocket into a loop on a plastic strap that dangled from the balloon.Rick couldn't see it clearly, but thought it was a replica of the one hehad recovered.
There was sound from the truck containing the dish antenna. Rick pulledhis mask away to hear a little better and heard a loudspeaker,rebroadcasting something.
"... reports no aircraft within range limits. We are now at thirty-oneminutes and counting. On my mark the time will be zero minus thirtyexactly."
There was only the crackle of the loudspeaker. The set was tuned in onthe Wallops Island command frequency, Rick realized. That was howCamillion and company knew when to release the balloon, and when totrigger the rocket!
Camillion's bodyguard was manning the rope holding the balloon. It wasattached to a ring on the truck. As Rick watched, the bodyguard let outmore line and the balloon rose slightly, tugging at the rope, and movingtoward Rick. The tail hung down almost to the ground, the rocket hangingat an angle at its end.
The loudspeaker voice said, "Stand by. Mark! Zero minus thirty."
The bodyguard reached up and cut the rope!
Rick saw the flying stingaree heading directly toward him, risingslowly, caught by the ground wind. He brought his spear gun intoposition and rose to his full height, snapping off the safety catch.Oblivious to the yells from the lawn, he aimed and fired. With a sharphiss, the spear flashed through the air--into the balloon and rightthrough it!
The balloon didn't even falter. It would take time to lose sufficientgas to bring it down. The wind swept it right toward Rick, still rising.As it passed over him, the dangling rocket would be almost within reach.
Rick didn't hesitate. He saw the track of the balloon curving, as thewind shifted direction downstream over the water. He threw himself toone side and forward, dropping the spear gun, one hand outstretched. Therocket slapped into his palm and his fingers closed around it. The jerkpulled him forward and he grabbed with his other hand, missed, andgrabbed again. This time he caught the rocket, and both hands grippedtight.
The flying stingaree lifted him, dragging him through the water. Rickspun around at the end of the line, and caught a glimpse of thebodyguard raising a pistol to shoot at him! Then the scene whirled andhe saw Scotty, standing in water to his waist, spear gun lifted to fire.
_The flying stingaree lifted him!_]
Rick saw the spear leave his pal's gun, and he whirled his head in timeto see the bodyguard looking down with horror at the shaft protrudingfrom his side.
The boy didn't see the piling. His last quick impression was of thebodyguard falling forward, then there was a stunning impact as the sideof his head met creosoted wood and darkness flooded in.
The Flying Stingaree: A Rick Brant Science-Adventure Story Page 18