The Case of the Vanishing Boy (5 page)

The instant Bricker caught him Jan went wild. In an explosion of fury he kicked, scratched, bit, and used thumbs, fists, and elbows with such unexpected force and speed that Bricker was thrown off balance and fell. Jan squirmed eel-like out of the other's grip, but in the next breath was caught in a more expert fashion by a guard in a white jacket. He promptly gave the guard a bad time, for the fellow cried out, “Quick, George, use the hypo! The kid's gone nuts!”

“No you don't!” Heron Rhodes shouted. “Don't you touch that boy with a needle!”

Jan, panting with exertion, glimpsed the other guard moving swiftly upon him with an outstretched hypodermic needle. While he fought to avoid it, he watched with a sort of horror as the point of the needle went quickly toward his shoulder. With all the power of his mind he tried to stop it. Miraculously it did stop. Then he gasped and momentarily forgot to fight as the hypodermic suddenly shattered into a thousand pieces.

The guard cursed, but instantly took advantage of the incident to shove Heron Rhodes and Jackson Lane aside, and seize Jan around the legs. With Sergeant Bricker helping, the three men hurriedly took their squirming prisoner outside and heaved him head-first into the back of the van. Before Jan could move the door was slammed shut and locked. Seconds later he heard the abrupt roar of the motor, and felt the twisting movement as the vehicle shot swaying down the lane.

It was some time before he got his breath and was able to sit up. Only now did he discover that the van was padded inside, which alone had saved him from being badly bruised when he was thrown into it. As he looked around at the padded interior his earlier fury was replaced by a black foreboding. This van, obviously, was specially made for transporting violent people. He swallowed at the thought. Was he really insane, as the police and guards certainly believed? And had he actually killed seven people?

“No!” he cried, springing up with returning fury and hurling himself like a caged young panther against the door. “No! It's a rotten lie—and Dr. Rhodes knows it!”

“Take it easy, kid,” came a voice from the front. “You can't get out. The strongest guy in the world couldn't.”

Jan whirled and glared at the impassive face of the guard named George, peering at him through the upper part of the partition, which was covered with heavy steel wire.

“Where are you taking me?” he demanded.

“You ought to know. You've been there before.”

Jan sank down again, his foreboding returning. Suddenly he remembered the peculiar thing that had happened to the hypodermic needle. Had he actually managed to stop it? Certainly he hadn't caused it to go to pieces. Then he realized that the guards were also wondering about it, for he could hear them discussing it.

“Right in my hand it did that,” said the heavy-faced George. “First it stopped. I couldn't move it! Then it exploded—only it wasn't exactly an explosion. It just went
pfff!
Right in my hand! Yeah!”

“I know there was something mighty funny-queer about it,” replied the other, who was driving. “But with that wildcat back there to hang onto … Say, you don't reckon the kid himself caused it, do you?”

“Dunno. Maybe. They say he's got a real twist to him, besides being a killer. Anyway, he's Big Doc's prize, so we'd better report what happened to the needle.”

Big Doc's prize, was he? Jan ground his teeth and tried to project his mind forward to what ought to be a familiar destination, but it was like plunging into a seething blackness. He recoiled, and sought a better mental route to travel. But before he could find one to his liking, he heard George mutter, “Harry, I think we've got a tail. Watch that second car behind us. The little blue one.”

“You could be right. I'll turn off at the next road, and then come back. If he stays with us …”

The van turned, traveled a short distance, and backed into a dirt road and waited. Jan peered curiously through the partition, and glimpsed a small blue car go past the intersection. When it was out of sight, the van returned to its former route on the highway.

Presently George said, “Here he comes. But he's staying farther behind now. Tell me, who'd want to tail us?”

“Not the cops,” Harry growled. “Big Doc's got 'em in his pocket. It has to be some snoop in the pay of that Rhodes guy. He's a kind of doc himself, and he's sure latched onto that kid. Big Doc wouldn't like that.”

“We'll have to ditch him. Still, if he's got our tag number—”

“It won't help him. I changed tags before we left the Center. Big Doc said not to take any chances. And they won't learn anything at Marysville. Big Doc has all the records. I'm turning at that road ahead. Hang on!”

Jan was thrown violently from side to side as the van abruptly left the highway and went careening at high speed along a winding country road. Unconsciously, as the van's course became more erratic and his fear of what lay ahead increased, he began playing a mental game he must have played many times in the past. It was born of a wish to be somewhere else, and the game's success depended upon the reality of the vision he could bring to his mind.

At the moment, more than anything else on earth, he wanted to be back in the pleasant safety of Heron Rhodes' library. He closed his eyes, saw the blue-carpeted room with enticing clearness, and fervently wished himself there.

Something seemed to whirl in his head. Then came a sharp sound, a sort of snap of air being displaced, and instantly the van's wild motion ceased. The rough texture of the padding beneath him now had the softness of a thick Chinese carpet. Almost in fear Jan opened his eyes.

He was back where he wanted to be. Heron Rhodes and Hecuba and Otis and Jackson Lane were staring at him in astonishment. Ginny alone was smiling.

“I knew it!” she cried, clapping her hands. “I knew it!”

Heron Rhodes said softly, “Great galloping Caesar's ghost! No wonder they want him!”

“Of course!” said Hecuba, with equal softness. “And there are certain groups on our planet who would pay anything to have him—if they could control him.”

“Yes,” Heron agreed. “You've put your finger directly on it.”

Jackson Lane had heaved his short, square bulk from a chair while he gaped at Jan. His mouth worked soundlessly for a moment, then he blurted in his deep voice, “How—how in the name of heaven did you get here?”

“He teleported,” little Otis said loftily.

“Nonsense!” rumbled the lawyer. “I don't believe in such things.”

“Seeing should be believing, Jackson,” Heron Rhodes put in quietly.

“I've seen you and Hecuba do a lot of things in the past fifty years I didn't believe in,” Jackson Lane muttered. “Naturally I've kept my mouth shut, but I still remember those blackbirds you used to point your finger at when we were kids. You'd say
‘Pow!'
and they'd drop over dead.”

“I've always been sorry about those birds,” the doctor admitted. “But it's the eye that does it, not the finger. In the Middle Ages I'd have been burned—” He stopped abruptly, then said, “Jan, I destroyed the hypodermic, but I didn't stop it. The only person who could have done that is you.”

“Me?” Jan repeated. He was still in a state of semishock over what he had accomplished.

“Yes, you. Why, that fellow couldn't move his hand! I was tempted to use my little weapon on him and his friend, but happily I didn't. It has a devastating effect on humans unless one is very careful, and things were happening much too fast. Anyway, Ginny was right about you. You have two talents, which makes you a very special person. I might say three, the way you fought those rascals. You really put up a fight!”

Chuckling, Heron came over and helped Jan to his feet. “Son, I can't wait to hear what happened in the van. I want you to tell us—”

“Not now,” Hecuba interrupted. “The poor boy hasn't had a bite since last night, and here it is afternoon! I'll tell the cook—”

“No!” Heron said quickly. “Just have her put snacks on the table for all of us, then send her home. Not a soul must know Jan is here. After we've eaten, we'll have to hide him, or at least keep him out of sight when someone comes. I don't want a word about him to get out to anyone—the help here, those on your staff, Jackson—except possibly Bill Zorn.…”

“Why Bill?” Jackson Lane asked, as Hecuba left the room.

“Because he's already on the case. Hecuba and I had a hunch something like this would happen today, so I had Bill come before you got here, and wait across the road in his car. He was to follow that white van. I'm certain it didn't come from Marysville.”

Jan said, “Does Bill Zorn drive a small blue car?”

“Yes. Why?”

“Because somebody in a small blue car did follow the van, but those guards spotted him. They were trying to get away from him when I—left.”

“If they spotted him,” said the lawyer, “then they probably got away. Bill's a top investigator, but tailing cars isn't his strong point. I'm sure he took their license number, but I doubt if that would help us.”

“It wouldn't,” Jan told him. “They'd switched plates. I heard them talking about it.”

“What else did you hear?” Heron Rhodes said eagerly.

“They—they were taking me to what they called the Center. It seems I escaped from there.”

“Did you get any idea of its location?”

“No, sir. But someone they called Big Doc is in charge.”

Hecuba, returning, said, “Not another word till he eats. The snacks are ready, and the cook's gone.”

As they filed into the beamed kitchen with its big round table, Jan heard Heron Rhodes mutter, “Big Doc. Hm. Big Doc. I've never heard anyone called that, but somehow it strikes a bell. It makes me very uneasy.”

“Why, Pops?” said Ginny.

“Blessed if I know, pet. But this thing's bigger than I thought. A lot bigger.”

“Pops, if those people find out Jan is back here with us, what do you think they'll do?”

“They'll try to kidnap him—but they'll make sure he's drugged so he can't get away.”

6

HIDING

They had finished eating and were going over the details of Jan's account for the third time when Otis slid off his chair and started out of the room.

Hecuba Rhodes said, “What is it, Otis?”

“Bill's comin',” said the small boy. “Gonna let 'im in.”

Jackson Lane looked blankly around the table. “How the dickens does that little fellow know someone's outside?”

“He just knows,” said Ginny.

“And he can find people,” Jan put in. “He found me last night after I'd run away from the train. I was hiding in a shed 'way over on the other side of town.”

The lawyer frowned, then the creases in his square face deepened. “I don't believe in this sort of thing,” he rumbled. “Never did, in spite of what I've seen. But why couldn't Otis help us locate that Center where Jan was being taken?”

“Oh, I'm sure he could find it in time,” Heron Rhodes answered. “But it might take him months. You see, the boy's range is only about a mile. Last night we had to circle around half of Westlake before Otis picked up the scent—if you want to call it that.”

“Pops,” said Ginny, “what makes you think this thing about Jan is so much bigger—”

They were interrupted by Otis coming back into the room with a pale, studious-looking young man in tow. The young man nodded politely to those at the table, then shook his head at Heron Rhodes.

“Sorry, sir. I did my best, but I goofed it. They got away.”

“Never mind, Bill,” Jackson Lane told him. “Their victim, er—escaped.” He motioned to Jan. “Here he is, back with us.”

Bill Zorn blinked at Jan. “But—but this is impossible, sir! Soon as I lost them, I drove back here as fast as I could. How—”

“He used a dif'rent route,” small Otis said, with a perfectly straight face. “An' quite speedy.”

“It's rather involved,” Heron Rhodes added quickly, “so we'll explain it to you later. Right now, Bill, we need answers to some questions, and we need 'em fast. Pour yourself a cup of coffee, and draw up a chair.”

“And Bill,” cautioned the lawyer, “not a word about Jan to anyone, not even Milly. No one is to know that he's here. Understand?”

“Of course, sir.” Bill Zorn looked curiously at Jan, shook his head, then poured his coffee and sat down. “If he's kept hidden here, do you think he'll be safe?”

“No,” Heron Rhodes said shortly. “He's much too valuable to someone. I expect, Jackson, you'd better hire guards. We should have at least two around the clock. They can bunk over at the guesthouse behind the lab.”

“Okay. What do you want me to tell 'em?”

“Don't mention Jan. Just say I've become concerned about my grandchildren, Ginny and Otis, and think it's time they had protection. And it
is
time, dadburn it! I've almost forgotten what a devilishly wicked world we're living in.”

Heron turned and scowled at Bill Zorn. “Haven't you got a fingerprinting outfit?”

“Sure. It's out in the car.”

“Then get it and take Jan's prints. I want you to hightail it over to Marysville with them and check them with the prints of someone named Brice Riggs. That was the name given on the court order that Bricker had.”

“But—but Doctor,” Jan interrupted, “those guards said—”

“—that Big Doc had all the records. I know. I know. But fingerprints are different. I don't know how Marysville handles their cases, but the criminally insane are often fingerprinted by the receiving officer for later identification in case of trouble or death. See what I'm driving at?”

“Of course. But what if Jan's prints match the Riggs prints—if they have them?”