Janig.
That was the name Colonel Blythe had given, the name on their identity cards. Rick asked: "Sir, what is JANIG?”
"It is one of
the organizations, perhaps the chief one, engaged in protecting the security of
the
Rick repeated the title aloud. It had a strange sound. He had the sudden feeling that he and Scotty had been projected into the middle of a novel, a thriller about spies.
Dr. Keppner divined his thought. "It sounds romantic, I suppose. It isn't. Not the slightest. It is mostly very dull detail work. Only in times like this, when the unexpected threatens to break down security precautions, does the entire force go into action. And I assure you that they do not fail.”
It was a comforting thought. Rick remembered the way Steve Ames had impressed him.
"Do we go to work right away?” Scotty asked.
Dr. Keppner consulted his watch. "I think not. Suppose you report at eight in the morning? The persons you are actually to assist will be here then. Meanwhile, I have a problem that I can tackle better alone.”
Scotty and Rick looked at each other, the same thought in their minds. Return to that hotel room for another day?
"Do we have to hang around the hotel?” Rick queried anxiously.
"No. Go back and check to be sure there are no further instructions for you, then you may do as you please. However, don't be out of touch with the hotel for more than two hours at a time. Phone in. the desk clerks can be trusted. They're Steve's men.”
"I hope we can help,” Rick said doubtfully. He wasn't at all sure of himself when it came to working with strangers. He had worked with the Spindrift scientists for so long that he could anticipate their requests for equipment or materials. He knew the Spindrift equipment thoroughly. But new scientists in a new lab…
The doctor ushered them to the door and waved as they went down the stairs.
On the sidewalk, Rick put his hat on and looked at Scotty.
"I'm really snowed,” Scotty said. "We've stepped into something this time.”
"No wonder Dad couldn't tell us anything,” Rick agreed. "Scotty, do you suppose Weiss and Zircon are alright?”
"I don't know. I wish I did. You can see why they were kidnapped, can't you?”
"Because the other side, whoever they are, doesn't want to give the government a chance to build a counterweapon. But that can't be all the answer. If they wanted to stop the work entirely, they'd have to get rid of all the other scientists.”
Scotty nodded. "But by kidnapping Weiss and Zircon they gain time. They're the two best men in the field on this kind of thing. Remember, your dad turned all the ultrasonic work over to Weiss.”
They had walked slowly in the direction of the hotel as they talked.
"But if they're stalling for time, that must mean they're planning a really big job and they can't afford interference,” Rick said thoughtfully. "Maybe one more strike at some secret lab or something and they'll quit.”
"No use making guesses,” Scotty said. "We might as well wait until there are some answers.”
At the hotel, the clerk greeted them with an envelope. Rick took it, his hands suddenly unsteady. It might be more instructions. It might even be news of Weiss and Zircon. Then he saw the return address.
"It's from Barby,” he said.
He sat down on a couch in the lobby, Scotty next to him, and tore the envelope open. It was in Barby's distinctive handwriting. She always made her letters large, with flourishes, and it usually took a sheet for half a dozen sentences.
"Read it with me,” Rick invited, and held the letter so Scotty could see.
Dear Rick and Scotty:
By now your are
enjoying the sights of the Capital, and I wish I were with you. Have you met any congressmen? If you see the President, tell him to pass a
law so that girls have to go with their brothers on all long trips.
What I'm writing about especially is
that Dismal almost caught the woodchuck.
He came home, and he had some fur in his mouth. I think he must have caught him just as he
went into his hole, but didn't get a firm grip.
When he came home he was as proud as anything. He ate a big meal and then went right
back. It was the first time he came home
without being called, so I guess he thought he had done a pretty good day's
work.
Mr. Huggins was here yesterday,
though, and he said unless we get rid of the woodchuck, there won't be enough
lettuce left in the garden to garnish a salad for a churchmouse,
which certainly isn't much lettuce. He
said he would get a gun and shoot the woodchuck, but mother came to the rescue
and said not to, it was Dismal's woodchuck and no one
was going to get it but him. Mr. Huggins
shrugged and said, if you want to buy lettuce and feed what we grow to a
woodchuck, that's all right with me. I'm
just a farmer. I guess I don't know
anything about dog sicology. (Is that how you spell it? I can't find my dictionary.)
Everything else is very quiet, and the
island is lonesome with everyone away. I
went on a picnic yesterday and got sunburned, so now my nose is peeling.
Oh, yes. There is one thing more. The other day the phone rang and I answered. It was for Dad. He told whoever it was to hold the line, then
came into the switchboard and made me go into the kitchen so I couldn't listen. I think that was mean. Anyway, right after that, Professor Gordon
took your Cub, Rick, and flew Dad somewhere.
When he came back (Professor Gordon, I mean) he was
all alone. I don't know where Dad
went. I don't think Mom does,
either. Anyway, we haven't heard a word
from him. That was on Friday
afternoon. I think it's very funny he
should go off like that, but I guess it's all right. Send me some postcards, and please try to get
me some good autographs. Mom sends her
love, and so does
Your
loving sister,
Rick let the letter fall to his lap and looked at Scotty, his face pale.
"Dad has vanished, too!”
"Take it easy,” Scotty said quickly. "Don't go jumping to conclusions. It must have been a legitimate phone call, because Professor Gordon flew him to the mainland. He's probably working on the case somewhere else.”
"I wish I knew that for sure,” Rick said. He stared at the letter. "That's Barby for you. She puts it at the end of the letter.”
"She can't know what's going on,” Scotty reminded him. "To her, I guess it's more important about Dismal and the woodchuck. It wouldn't even occur to her that Dad might be in any danger.”
"I suppose not,” Rick agreed. "I hope it never does.”
Scotty stood up. "Where do we go? We can't hang around here. We'll go crazy. How about a movie?”
Rick knew that Scotty was right. Staying at the hotel, with nothing to think about but the mysterious enemy who had taken Weiss and Zircon, and possibly his father, would be worse than foolish. It would leave them in such a state of mind that they wouldn't be able to work efficiently when the time came.
"I suppose you want to see an Oat Opera,” he said.
"Fine way to describe the sweeping panorama of an historical, Western motion picture,” Scotty retorted.
"Historical or hysterical?”
"Take your pick. Anyway, I don't care about seeing a Western. A nice horror picture would suit me fine.”
"Entertainment to suit the mood,” Rick agreed. "Let's hike downtown and look at the shows.”
"Okay. Better stop at the desk first.”
Rick nodded and walked to where the sleepy clerk was reading the sports section of the Washington Star.
"Anything for Room 408?”
Drowsy eyes scanned them briefly. "Not a thing. Going out?”
"To a movie,” Scotty said.
"Call back in a couple of hours.”
"We will.”
They left the
hotel and walked down
"Mr. Brant!”
Rick and Scotty turned. The hotel clerk was standing on the steps waving at them.
Rick's first thought was that some word had suddenly come from Steve Ames, then he saw that the clerk held a hat in his hands. His hat. The sudden excitement died. He walked back and took the hat. Thanking the clerk, he put the hat on and rejoined Scotty and they continued on their way. Neither of them noticed the dark-blue sedan parked across the street from the hotel. At the sound of Rick's name, the two men in it had showed quick interest. Now, as the boys continued toward the center of the city, the sedan pulled away from the curb, heading in the opposite direction, and started around the block.
"I'm plenty worried about Dad,” Rick told Scotty. "You know the kind of people we're working against. Anyone with brass enough to walk right into a guarded government building wouldn't have any qualms about removing people who stood in their way.”
"Do you think I don't realize that?”
A few cars
had been drifting past, but Rick paid no attention. As they approached the corner of
Rick glanced up, not particularly curious. He noticed that the man sitting beside the driver was past middle age and wore sunglasses. Then, unexpectedly, the driver of the car, a younger man with a flattened nose like an unsuccessful prize fighter, leaned past the older man and called:
"You're Mr. Brant. Right?”
"Yes,” Rick said.
"Steve Ames sent us to pick you up. Get in.” The back door of the sedan swung open.
Rick started to obey. He walked to the open door with Scotty behind him. Then, he caught a movement out of the corner of his eye. To get into the back seat, he half-turned, and the steps of the hotel, half a block down the street, came into his line of vision.
He saw the clerk, still on the hotel steps. He saw him start toward the sedan, then abruptly change his mind and run into the hotel!
Rick's mind clicked at lightning speed. The clerk was Steve's man. Dr. Keppner had said so! Then why had the clerk acted so strangely?
"Run, Scotty!” Rick turned and sprinted.
He was ten paces from the car when the thing hit.
There was a high, shrill whispering, then total silence. His mind commanded his legs to continue running, but there was suddenly no feeling anywhere in his body. He fought to keep his balance, but he could no longer exercise control. He fell sideways, and as he half turned in mid-air, he saw the driver getting out of the sedan.
Rick knew when he struck the sidewalk, because rough cement was suddenly close to his eyes. But he felt nothing! He must have rolled when he hit, because blue sky, filtered by green leaves, was in his eyes. The thing had happened so suddenly there was no time to be afraid. He couldn't believe that he was paralyzed. He tried to move and saw the sky shake and knew he was moving, but he couldn't feel his muscles respond!
He tried to yell, and in his own mind he did yell, but his lips didn't move and he could hear nothing!
Then the sky was blotted out as the driver leaned over him, reaching for him. They were pulling him into the car!
It was like a scene in a silent movie, as though it were happening to someone else. He tried to fight and his muscles refused to obey. He saw the car door loom up as he was prop0elled toward it, then the scene gyrated. Black macadam road came up with frightening speed and got blacker and blacker.
Then there was nothing at all.
Rick struggled up through syrupy blackness. Once he thought he heard a voice, but he couldn't be sure. He thought that he was encased in black tar, unable to move even a finger, but he couldn't be sure of that, either.
He heard someone groaning and wondered if it were Scotty. What had happened to Scotty? He struggled again, trying to free himself from the dark bonds that held him fast. The groaning was louder now. It sounded like someone making a mighty effort to free himself from something.
He pressed his lips tight with the effort of moving and the groaning stopped abruptly. That startled him. The groans were his! He tried to force his eyes open and a glimmer of light showed through.
"He's coming out of it.” The voice was small and faraway.
Rick opened his eyes and stared up at a white ceiling. He tried to roll his eyes, and miracle of miracles, he succeeded! Faces were bent over him, anxious and familiar.
Dr. Keppner. And Hartson Brant!
Rick yelled, "Dad!”
Hartson Brant was white, but he managed a joke. "Now you know how Dismal felt, son.”
With his father's help, Rick sat up and looked around him. He was in Dr. Keppner's lab, on a leather couch. And Scotty was sitting next to him on a chair, a dazed grin on his face.
"We've had it,” Scotty said. "We've really had it good!”
"What happened?” Questions poured from him.
"Didn't those men get us? Dad, where did you come from? How did we get here?”
"One thing at a time.”
Hartson Brant smiled. "You got here with the help of the hotel
clerk and Steve Ames. As for me, I got
in by train half an hour ago after stopping over in
"I don't know how you felt,” Scotty said, "but I didn't feel anything. I just heard a whispering noise and then I turned into a statue and fell flat on my back and lay there. The men got out of the car, and the driver went for you and the other one started for me. The driver put you on your feet like a length of cordwood and started to shove you into the car head first.”
"I remember that,” Rick said. He was slowly realizing that he hurt all over and that his head throbbed like an ulcerated tooth.
"That was when the hotel clerk and two other came steaming down the street. Or that's what I was told later by the clerk. My range of vision didn't extend that far. I only know that the driver dropped you. You landed face first in the road. Isn't your nose sure?”
Rick reached up with his hand and felt gingerly, then he let out a yelp of anguish.
"I thought it was,” Scotty said. "I guess the driver must have left the whispering box in the car, otherwise he would have used it on the clerk. As it was, he didn't dare take time to get it, I guess, because the clerk was waving a pistol. So the two guys hopped in the car and roared off. This is hearsay, remember. I was lying there stiff as a hunk of hickory.
"Anyway, the clerk and his two helpers picked us up and carried us to the hotel. Quite a crowd was gathering. While we were in the hotel, I snapped out of it. I didn't lose consciousness, but you must have been knocked silly when you hit the road. When I could walk, we carried you out the back way and loaded you into a car. Steve Ames had arrived by this time. The effects of the box had worn off, all right, because you were limp.”
"That was about five minutes ago,” Dr. Keppner said. "Steve has gone to try to get a line on that car.”
"But how did those men know us?” Rick asked. "How did they know we'd be there for them to get?”
"They evidently know a lot more than we give them credit for,” Keppner said grimly. "As for the rest, they obviously had the hotel under observation. Perhaps a traitor on the staff tipped them off. We'll find out sooner or later. They merely waited until you left, then swung around the block to meet you.”
Scotty rubbed his head. "But why did they want us?”
"For information, possibly,” Dr. Keppner said. "And another possibility is that they wanted you as hostages.”
Rick got to his feet a little unsteady until Hartson Brant slipped an arm around his shoulder. There was a mirror on the other side of the small room. Rick stared, and he couldn't believe it.
There was a large purple bruise on his forehead, and his nose was a swollen red blot that spread across the middle of his face. No wonder he felt as though he had come off second best in a war with an armored truck.
"The nose isn't broken,” Dr. Keppner said. "It only feels broken, Rick. It's fortunate that you have a good, thick skull. Other wise we'd still be working over you.”
Scotty laughed. "A good thick skull! That disposes of brother Brant. Wait until I tell Barby what the doctor said.”
"If you do,” Rick warned, "it won't be whispers that you'll hear, it'll be birdies.”
Hartson Brant and Kr. Keppner chuckled.
"Unfortunate choice of words for a very fortunate boy,” Dr. Keppner said. "The clerk, who is very alert in spite of his apparent sleepiness, had been keeping an eye on the sedan, which had been parked across the street. That's why he happened to be out there at the crucial moment. He was looking to see where it had gone.”
"We're a lucky family,” Hartson Brant said.
"I'll say!” Rick looked at his father. "We got a letter form Barby. She said you had vanished. We were worried sick. Honest, Dad, it was worth getting knocked out just to wake up and find that those men didn't have you.”
"Thanks, son,” Hartson Brant said seriously. "But we mustn't lose sight of another important fact. Those men do have Weiss and Zircon.”
"If they're still alive,” Dr. Keppner added grimly.