The Case of the Vanishing Boy (8 page)

“Don't be a fool, Doctor,” the voice said coldly. “The boy under discussion is with you now, and don't waste time denying it. Take him to the Midway Plaza shopping center on the Glendale highway, and drop him off at the southwest corner by the theatre. He is to be in the phone booth next to the theatre by exactly eleven o'clock to receive a call. Have you got it?”

“I've got it, blast you! But what about Ginny?”

“You'll be told where to find her in the morning. The Plaza is a twenty-minute drive from your house, so you'd better start immediately. When you have dropped the boy at the theatre, you are to drive on to the northwest corner of the parking area and wait under the last light for a half hour. Don't leave before then, and don't make the mistake of bringing another person with you.”

There was a click as the caller hung up.

For seconds after the connection had been broken, Heron stood clutching the receiver, his face white and drawn, his free hand clenched. He seemed caught between fear and explosive fury. Then slowly he replaced the receiver and his haunted eyes stabbed around the room.

“What in God's name am I to do?” he asked bleakly.

“Take me to the Plaza!” Jan cried instantly. “Can't you see? It's our only chance!”

Heron turned and tried to speak, but before words could form Otis gave a small cry and scrambled from the chair where he had been sitting so long.

“The fuzz!” he gasped. “An' the Bureau man's with 'im!”

8

EXCHANGE

The small, slender, gray-haired man that Sergeant Bricker brought into the library and hurriedly introduced was quiet of voice, steely-eyed, and had a mouth so thin that it seemed only a bloodless slit across the lower part of his face. He carried a black bag, and his manner was that of a person who had all the time in the world. But his narrow eyes darted quickly from face to face, and then swept the room and fastened instantly on the recorder.

Jackson Lane said, “Thank heaven you're here, Martin! We've just had a call from one of the kidnappers. They're holding Ginny and demanding that we turn Jan over to them in exchange. It has to be done immediately!”

“But those devils will keep them both!” Heron Rhodes bit out. “I'm sure of it!”

“So this is a hostage deal,” Nat Martin said in his low voice. “Let me hear the recording.”

Bill Zorn played it for him.

The State Bureau man listened carefully, his eyes closed. When it was over he stood a moment in thought, then looked at Heron.

“This doesn't give us much time, Doctor. Can you tell me why Jan is so valuable to them?”

“They want him because he has an extremely rare ability that would make him immensely valuable in espionage to a foreign power.”

Nat Martin's only reaction was to close his eyes slowly, then open them. “I see. Has your granddaughter also a rare ability that would make her valuable in the same way?”

Heron's jaws knotted. “She has. And I pray everyone present will treat this as a top-secret admission, and forget you ever heard it.”

Nat Martin nodded. “Then there's no question that they'll keep her. And from the tone of the recording, I'd say she won't be kept in this country long. Surely not long enough to trace her by the usual methods. So there's only one thing to do.”

Martin came over and touched Jan on the shoulder. “Bricker's told me a little about you,” he said in an almost gentle voice. “I realize you've had it rough. Are you game for this?”

“Of course I'm game!” Jan said impatiently, and glanced nervously at the clock. “But we'll have to hurry!”

“Right.” Martin calmly zipped open his bag, and with quick fingers took from it a thin disc and a roll of adhesive tape. “Lift your shirt,” he ordered. “I'm going to tape this little transmitter to the small of your back. It hasn't much range, but it gives a signal I can follow if I can manage to stay within a quarter of a mile of you. When they pick you up—it'll probably be in a car this time—I want you to remove it without being seen and stuff it behind the seat. Now, one more thing …”

Deftly he taped the tiny transmitter in place, then took another small object from his bag. “This is a voice transmitter,” he went on. “It's small enough to fit into the pocket of your jeans without being noticed. It's switched on now and ready for action. After you enter the phone booth and get your instructions, I want you to call me and let me know what they tell you to do. Someone may be watching, so put the thing on the shelf and pretend you're still talking on the phone after your caller hangs up. It's a two-way job, so if there's a question you have to ask, you must press this button to hear my reply. Don't take it with you when you leave the booth. Just leave it there and I'll pick it up later.”

The State agent paused, and Hecuba said, “Jan, it's chilly outside, so you'd better wear this jacket. It'll help hide that thing under your shirt.”

He slipped gratefully into the cotton jacket that went with his jeans, and put the transmitter in a side pocket. “We—we'd better go,” he said, with a glance at the clock.

“Two more things,” said Martin, not to be hurried. “First, I'll need someone to ride with me and help with the direction finder so I can keep track of Jan. Not you, Bricker—you're still in uniform.”

“I'll go,” said Bill Zorn. “I know how to handle the thing.”

“Good! Doctor, have you a phone in your car?”

“Yes. Want my number?”

“Right, and I'll give you mine. We may have to keep in touch.”

They exchanged numbers, and Martin said, “I'll follow you at a safe distance and park within sight of the theatre. Let's move!”

Jan started for the hall, but hesitated as he saw Hecuba looking at him, eyes moist. Suddenly she stepped forward and gave him a quick hug, holding him close. “Bless you!” she whispered. “I'll be praying for you!”

Wordless, he clung gratefully to her a moment, then swallowed and hurried after Heron.

Fear did not come until the speeding Rolls left the country road that went past the farm and shot into the Glendale highway. Then fear crept numbingly through him as if a deadly drug had been forced into his veins. So many things could go wrong, and it would take only one of them to put him back in the hands of that unknown creature they called Big Doc.

The doctor, as if sensing his dread, said firmly, “We're going to lick those rascals, son. No matter what happens, keep that thought in mind. We're going to catch 'em and get you and Ginny back. It may be only a matter of hours, or it may take a day or so. Martin will need help—he's probably phoning for it now—but it'll take a little time to locate you and set things up. So think tough, son, and don't let anything throw you.”

Jan mumbled that he wouldn't.

Heron said, “I can't shake the feeling that Big Doc's path has crossed mine somewhere. If I just had his name, or a description of him …”

“I know what he looks like,” he managed to say.

“Don't tell me you're beginning to remember him!”

“No, sir. But I keep dreaming of a man that I'm sure is Big Doc. It has to be, because it's always the same man, and I wake up scared.”

“Describe him, son.”

“He's big—not exactly tall, but real big, and sort of flabby. And he's got a short, dark beard, kind of pointed, that covers the lower part of his face. His voice is soft. When he gets mad, he doesn't raise it like most people do. It just gets softer.”

“Hm! I'd sure know him if I saw him. Does he speak with an accent?”

“I—I don't know. Maybe.”

“Could he be French or English?”

“Oh, no, sir. I'd say German, or something like that.”

“Well, now we're getting somewhere.”

Heron drove for a few seconds in silence. “I've met the rascal. I'm almost certain of it. But where in dingalated tarnation could it have been?”

“Do—do you go to medical conventions?”

“Only to those that deal with certain aspects of the mind. Now, let me think. I was in New York at one a few months back, and I went to another in London early last fall. Don't remember running across anyone like Big Doc at either of them. Then there was Geneva more than a year ago. Hm. That could have been the place. Come to think of it, there was a Viennese specialist—”

Heron broke off abruptly, slowed the car, and swung suddenly into a broad, brightly lighted parking area that flanked the highway in a great curve. “Almost forgot where we were going!” he muttered. “Suffering Caesar, I didn't expect to find it so crowded at this hour!”

“W-what's this place?” Jan asked, staring curiously at the orderly rows of parked cars and the continuous line of modern buildings beyond them. Strung overhead were thousands of bright pennants that flickered gaily in the lights, while lively music poured from hidden speakers.

“Midway Plaza,” said Heron. “Didn't you ever see a shopping mall before?”

“I—I don't think so.”

“Then you couldn't have been raised in America.” All at once the doctor muttered an exclamation, and said, “Yonder's the theatre straight ahead—and we're four minutes late!”

The Rolls shot forward, slowed, and turned at the corner by the theatre, and stopped. Jan fumbled at the door and managed to open it. He could see the phone booth to the right of the small crowd at the theatre entrance, filing in for the late show, and at the same time he was aware that the phone in the booth was ringing.

He felt the doctor's hand grip his shoulder as Heron, voice tight, whispered, “God be with you, son!”

Jan swallowed, stepped out, and ran to the phone booth. There was a cold knot in his stomach as he lifted the receiver from the hook.

“Yes?” he said unsteadily. “I—I'm here.”

“You're late!” someone said accusingly in his ear. It was the same person who had given orders over the speaker in the library.

“I'm sorry. W-what do you want me to do?”

As he spoke he drew the transmitter from his jacket pocket and placed it on the shelf beside the dogeared phone book.

The voice in his ear said, “Go to the main entrance of the mall and walk through to the rear parking area. You will see a taxicab parked by the light, directly opposite the rear entrance. The driver will take you to your first destination. Now, repeat what I've told you so there will be no mistake.”

Jan lifted the transmitter from the shelf, held it nearer the phone, and replied, “I'm to walk through the mall to the rear entrance and take a cab that will be waiting for me by the light. The driver will take me to my first destination.”

“You have it,” said the voice. “Now move!”

When the speaker hung up, Jan stood a moment in indecision, trying to think. Suddenly, still holding the phone receiver as if he were using it, he pressed the button on the transmitter and asked, “Did you hear that? Hadn't I better take the transmitter with me in the cab?”

“Better not,” came Nat Martin's voice, small and not too clear. I don't want you caught with it. We'll be tailing you. Good luck!”

Jan hung up the receiver, slipped the transmitter under the phone book, and hurried down the walk outside. Just hearing Nat Martin, knowing he was near and watching, helped restore his courage. The Rolls was nowhere in sight.

He found the main entrance and began walking through, wondering why so many people were shopping at such a late hour. Then he saw the signs and realized this must be a special bargain night, with prizes and free offerings that had attracted people from all around. How wonderful, he thought, to be safe and free, and have family and friends and be able to wander about in a place like this with money to spend for little things you wanted, and have no worry about the next hour or the next day.…

Then he thought of Ginny, locked away somewhere, alone and sick from the drug she had been given; he clenched his hands and hurried on through the rear entrance.

The cab was waiting where he had been told it would be. As he reached it, the thin-faced driver eyed him sharply and said in a low voice, “Your name Riggs?”

Jan nodded and got inside. “You know where to go?”

The driver grunted, started the motor, and they shot away with a jerk.

“Where are you taking me?” he asked the driver.

“Ardmore,” the man admitted. “Corner Fifth an' Cherry. That's where your old man said he'd meet you.”

“Oh.” Ardmore. He had no idea how far it was, for he'd never heard of the place. All at once he wished he'd disobeyed Martin and brought the transmitter with him. Something could go wrong so easily, and for the first time he had a nagging feeling that it would. What if Martin had tire trouble, or got caught in a traffic jam and lost him?

Jan dug his fists into the pockets of his jacket and stared morosely out at the late traffic, and the lights of cheap business districts flashing by. As the minutes passed his courage slowly ebbed and was replaced by the fear that had haunted him earlier. Once, leaning back in the seat, he felt the pressure of the small transmitter taped under his shirt. He felt it carefully, wondering if later, when the right moment came after changing cars, he would be able to remove it quickly and hide it.

He decided he could manage it if they didn't give him the needle, as the heavy-faced George had tried to do before they took him away in the van. But why would they bother with that tonight? After all, he was going with them voluntarily this time.

Then, with a feeling of mild astonishment, he remembered he had the ability to stop the needle if need be. He hoped the need wouldn't arise, for it suddenly came to him that it might be well to keep that particular ability hidden.

After what may have been a half hour or more, the cab left the highway and entered what seemed to be one of the older suburbs. Something about it, perhaps the rundown buildings and the general ugliness, added to his dread.