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Flying Stingaree

<h2>CHAPTER XVI</h2> <h3>Steve Waits It Out</h3> The two-boat procession moved down Martins Creek at slow speed, Scotty leading in the runabout and Rick following in Orvil's boat. The boys had decided to take the crab boat back to Steve's, because it could not be left adrift, and they did not know where Orvil berthed it. Both agreed it was senseless to return to Swamp Creek. That wouldn't help Orvil, at least for now, and they might possibly be picked off by the riflemen. As they neared the pier, Scotty moved out of the way while Rick backed the big crab boat into the runabout's place. Before he had finished, Steve was coming down the walk at a run. The agent took the line Rick tossed and made it fast, then caught another line and secured the bow. Scotty backed in with the runabout and Rick helped him secure the smaller boat to the side of the crabber. "Bumpers on the houseboat," Rick called. "Under the cockpit deck." Steve hurried to get them, and they were placed between the crab boat and the runabout to prevent rubbing. The boys climbed to the pier and faced their friend. "We found the boat headed into the bay," Rick said grimly. "Bloodstain on the deck, but no other sign of violence. We had a phone call telling us to keep away from the creek and the house, or Orvil would be fed to the crabs. There's no doubt about it. They have Orvil." Strangely, Steve replied, "Yes, I know. Come on in the house." The three walked up the path to the farmhouse, with Rick and Scotty staring incredulously at the agent. How had he known? "Did you get a phone call after we left?" Rick asked. Steve shook his head. "Then how did you know?" Scotty demanded. Steve held up a hand. "Easy, kids. I'm trying to get my thoughts straightened out a little and make some plans. We'll talk it over shortly." Inside the house, Rick went at once to the refrigerator. As the others watched, he pulled the bottom panel loose, took out the small rocket, and replaced the panel. Then he turned the refrigerator control back to normal and handed the rocket to Steve. The agent examined it wordlessly, his forehead wrinkled in thought. Then he put it down on the kitchen table and investigated the state of the coffeepot while Rick and Scotty stood first on one foot, then the other, and fumed quietly. Steve decided more coffee was needed and proceeded to make it. Not until the pot was heating did he motion the boys to sit down at the kitchen table. He joined them, turning a chair around and straddling it, his chin resting on his hands on the back, his eyes alert. "Testing our patience again?" Rick asked acidly. Steve's warm grin flashed. "Sorry, kids. I was working over a few facts in my head, trying to make them add up. Okay, let's talk. Start by telling me about last night." The boys reported, taking turns. "At first we thought Orvil might have told the riflemen guards we were on the bottom," Rick said finally, "but that's out. He's a victim, not a member of the gang. I saw his boat just before Scotty picked me up, but I couldn't see him." Scotty picked up the tale. "After Rick dropped off, I made a high-speed run out into the river, then turned and headed for a spot on the north bank opposite where I thought the guards were. I got in close to shore and throttled down, deliberately giving them a chance at me if they wanted to take it. There weren't any shots, but I saw one of the guards. The visibility wasn't very good, so I propped the extra tank up in the seat and put my headpiece and mask on it, hoping any watchers would think there were two of us. I don't know whether they were fooled or not." "Pretty smart," Steve approved. "Thanks. I ran back out into the river and fished around in the locker under the seat. You had a few old wrenches there, and some rags. Well, I owe you a wrench. It was the biggest one, which means it isn't used very often on an outboard, anyway." "Just so long as it wasn't my size seven-sixteenths wrench," Steve said with a grin. "Go on." "It wasn't. I wrapped rags around it and tied them with a hunk of line, then searched for matches. I finally found a paper folder in the glove compartment. I had to open the gas tank and let out pressure to get any gas on the rags, and it wasn't easy, standing on my head in the cockpit. What I really needed was a Coke bottle. I could have made a Molotov cocktail by filling it with gas and using the rag for a fuse. Well, I made another run inshore and watched for the boys with rifles. They didn't show up. I got as close as I could without grounding, touched a match to my bomb, and heaved it into the marsh grass. My eyebrows took a beating." Scotty rubbed the slightly scorched areas. "I wanted to set the marsh on fire, but the blaze was only a small one. I figured if the grass would burn, the riflemen would have to run upstream to safety. But the stuff only charred in a circle. Anyway, it scared them. They came running to stamp it out, and one of them took a shot at me. But I was nearly a mile out from the creek by then, and he didn't even come close." "Let's hope I never have you two for enemies," Steve said fervently. Scotty concluded, "I decided Rick probably had been in and out of the cove by that time, so I moved to where I could watch with binoculars, putting the sunrise behind where I thought he would appear. I knew I could see him better against the light. Finally up he popped, and away I went, and here we are." Rick ended their recital. "We got back and took off our diving suits, then went for a swim with a bar of soap. When we were clean, except for my hands, which got stained by the mud, we dressed and came into the house. We were sitting down enjoying coffee and trying to keep awake when the phone rang. How did those hoods get the number, anyway?" "That's not hard," Steve said. "It's probable that Camillion's boys started checking up on you the moment you showed interest. My car is known at the local gas stations. It would be just a matter of asking who owns a convertible of that description. Name and telephone directory add up to the right number. Watching you enter Martins Creek would cap the information. You could be seen easily with glasses from the river shore opposite the cove." The agent got up and turned down the stove as the coffee began to percolate. "My tale is pretty short." "Wag it, anyway," Rick suggested. Steve put a hand to his forehead. "Gags like that at this time of day cause shooting pains. Please be attentive, and not waggish." "Ouch!" Scotty exclaimed. Steve sat down again. "After you were safely on your way I changed to dark clothes, smeared a little black goo on my face, and took off for Calvert's Favor. I drove to within a half mile and parked the car in the woods, then hiked. The first thing I came to was a chain-link fence. It took some time to see if it was wired for an alarm—and it was. So I had to find a tree with a limb that overhung the fence. I'd taken the precaution of carrying a rope. I found the tree, fixed the rope to an overhanging limb, and down I went." "We could have postponed recovering the payload and helped you," Scotty said reproachfully. "Sure you could. But I'm used to operating alone, and I was interested in what you might find in the cove. Anyway, I approached from behind the barn and had to take cover when two men went by. They had rifles. They headed down the peninsula toward the cove. I scouted around, but no other guards were in sight, so I started with the barn." Steve paused. "That is quite a barn. No hay, no oats, no horses. But it has the loveliest dish antenna in it you've ever seen." "A microwave dish?" Rick gasped. "Exactly. It's mounted on a truck, and I suspect the electronic gear is inside. I couldn't get a good look. There are also little cubicles inside the barn, probably horse stalls, and I could hear a man snoring in one of them. There wasn't much light, and I couldn't use my little flashlight beam too freely, but I did get a look at several gas bottles racked along one wall. They were big ones, of the kind used for commercial gases like propane or oxygen." "Or hydrogen?" Scotty asked quickly. "Or hydrogen," Steve agreed. "And that's probably what they contain, for inflating the balloons." He got up, turned off the coffee, and poured three cups. "Along about that time, I heard rifleshots. You can imagine what I thought. I had a vision of two bodies sinking slowly into the mud. If I'd had a weapon, I think I'd have run down to see what was going on. But common sense got the better of me, and I figured it was highly unlikely that a pair of divers could be picked off with rifles if they were underwater. I was sure you had sense enough to stay down. So I left the barn and went to the house." "You actually went in?" Rick asked, his eyes wide. "Sure. It was safe enough. The gang was sleeping upstairs and the two guards were interested in you and Orvil. No papers were left where I could get them. There's a built-in safe, but I'm no Jimmy Valentine who sandpapers his fingers and opens boxes by touch. I couldn't do anything with it. Finally, I figured all had been seen that could be seen, and left the house. I could hear a motor racing, and I recognized the runabout, so I knew you were still alive. I retired to the woods behind the barn and headed for the riverbank. I saw Scotty hurl his homemade bomb." Scotty shook his head. "I didn't see you." "You weren't supposed to. I decided Scotty must be creating a diversion, and that meant you, Rick, were still diving in the cove. I took off for the cove, keeping a weather eye out for the guards. There was plenty of cover along the bank, so it wasn't hard. I got a good view of the festivities. After the fire was stamped out, the two guards walked up to the bank of the cove and waited until Orvil got close, then they pointed their rifles at him and invited him to come closer still. He didn't have much choice." Rick thought that was an understatement. "They questioned him for a while. Who were the divers and what were they after? Orvil played dumb. He said he knew nothing about divers and of course he had seen bubbles. He always saw bubbles. Marsh gas was rising all the time. He couldn't understand what all the shooting was about." "Good for Orvil," Scotty muttered. "He put on a pretty good act, saying he didn't know what they were shooting at, but the guards weren't having any. They finally made him pull up his lines, throw his bait overboard, and get everything shipshape. Then one of the guards invited him to step ashore. Orvil balked and took a swing at the nearest one and got a rifle across the head. He dropped to the deck. That must be how the stain got there. They slapped him back into consciousness and made him get out. One guard held a rifle on him while the other put his weapon down and got in the boat. He took the boat out into the middle of the cove, aimed it toward the river, and put it in gear, then dove over the side and swam ashore. The boat headed out and the guards walked Orvil back." "So he's alive," Rick said with relief. "Probably. I waited until the parade went by, then fell in line. They took Orvil into the barn, and I managed to get a look through a window. They tossed him into one of the horse stalls and locked the barn door. I decided it was time to leave." Steve sipped his coffee and made a face as it burned his tongue. "You can imagine how I felt. If one had gone away, I could have jumped the other. But two with guns, and me with not even a rock—I was dead certain to end up with Orvil. Besides, I couldn't take the chance." Rick stared. If Steve felt he couldn't take a chance on rescuing Orvil, there had to be a good reason. The only reason Rick could think of was that Steve had decided there was more at stake than Orvil himself. "We know where Orvil is," Scotty pointed out. "We can go after him. This time we'll be armed." Steve shook his head. "Sorry. I wish it could be like that, but we're not engaged in a personal vendetta. Orvil may be out of there by tonight, or he may not. He'll have to take his chances." One thing had been bothering Rick, aside from Steve's untypical attitude about rescuing Orvil. "You haven't accounted for all your time. You could have reached here before we did if you had started back right away." Steve shook his head. "I didn't. I went to the airport and used a public phone booth by the side of the road to call Patuxent Naval Air Station. In twenty minutes I had a Navy jet fighter on the Cambridge field. I handed the pilot the pictures you took and told him what to do with them, then I made another call to my office in Washington to tell them the pictures were on the way and to look them over and take action accordingly. We'll be seeing the results pretty soon." The young agent stopped smiling. "Your little mystery has turned into a case for JANIG, kids. I'm pretty sure of my facts, but I'll know definitely before noon. Right now, you'd better finish your coffee and get into bed. You'll need sleep if things start to pop. That rockoon idea of yours about cinches things." Rick blurted, "If it's a case for JANIG, there must be security involved somewhere. Is Wallops Island involved somehow?" "Go to bed," Steve said sternly. "By the time you wake up, I'll have a lot more than guesses, and I'll give you the details then." <hr style="width: 65%;" /> <div style="break-after:column;"></div>

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