CHAPTER SIX
Another Visitor
The battery of presses in the basement awoke with a roar and newsboysscurried on to the street, their shrill cries of "Extra! Extra!"echoing between the lanes of buildings.
A copy boy came up from the press room with an armful of papers sofresh the ink was soft and smeary on the page. He handed one to thechief copyreader and another to Tim, then proceeded down the roomleaving them at the various desks where they were eagerly scanned byreporters and copyreaders.
"You turned in a great story on the pursuit and death of McDowell,"said the copyreader.
"Thanks, Dan," smiled Tim. "Coming from you, those words meansomething."
The managing editor stuck his head out of his office and, seeing Tim,beckoned to him. In one hand he held a copy of the extra.
"Fine work," Carson told the flying reporter, "but I guess we havegotten in the habit of expecting good stories from you."
"The answer to that is easy," grinned Tim. "I like reporting and if youreally like a thing I believe you can do it well."
"Any flying assignments for you today?"
"Not so far."
"I'm glad of that. After your gruelling flight of yesterday it will doyou good to be out of the air for at least a day."
Tim returned to his desk and sat down to the routine task of gleaningenough aviation news to make an interesting column. He always tried towork a day in advance on the column. It was well after mid-forenoonwhen he had completed the column and turned it in at the copydesk.
The city editor, Ed Campbell, a comparative newcomer on the staff,looked up from his assignment book.
"I've just received a wire that June O'Malley, new star of theHollywood Follies, is coming through on the noon plane eastbound. Canyou hop down to the field for an interview?"
"Right away," promised Tim.
"Better take a cameraman."
Tim stopped at the photo department and a photographer was assigned toaccompany him.
Interviewing the latest sensation of the film capital was little morethan routine and Tim found that the girl had little that she could orwould say. The photographer got several snaps and they returned uptownwhere Tim managed, by hard work, to grind out half a column on thevisit of June O'Malley to the airport.
"This is poor stuff and I'm making no apologies," he said as he laidthe sheet and a half of copy on the copydesk. "She didn't have anythingto say and I don't believe she could have said it if she had."
"They're usually pretty poor copy," nodded Dan, "but you should kick ona few assignments like this after your thrilling flight of yesterday."
"I guess you're right at that," nodded Tim.
"I know what's the matter," said Dan. "You can't get thoughts of 'Mr.Seven' out of your head."
"You'd better have a sign painted and start in the mind readingbusiness," grinned Tim.
"It didn't take a mind reader to figure that one out." Dan dialed theautomatic telephone. "Ransom House? This is the _News_. Has 'Mr. Seven'returned?"
"Not back yet," said Dan as he hung up the receiver. "Let's go out tolunch?"
Tim agreed and they had their noonday meal at a nearby restaurant.
"How far are the garages where 'Mr. Seven' might have rented a car?"asked Dan.
"Only three or four blocks. The porter at the Ransom House recommendedboth Kelleys and Brackens."
They paid their checks and Tim turned toward the _News_, but Danstopped him.
"Things are light today. We'll take a few extra minutes and see what wecan learn at the garages."
Kelleys, the first rent-a-car agency visited, could supply noinformation but at Brackens they found their visit more fruitful.
The man in charge of the office consulted his records and informed themthat on the Saturday night previous a "Mr. G. Seven" had rented one oftheir best cars, putting up a cash deposit of $100 since he intended totake the car outside the city limits.
Tim described "Mr. Seven" in detail.
"That's the man," said the garage employe firmly. "There's no mistakeabout it; he's got one of our cars. Is he in some kind of trouble?"
"Not as far as we know," replied Tim. "Did you hear him say where hewas going?"
"No, but I saw him looking at the state map on the wall over there. Hewas a little different from the average run of our customers and I keptan eye on him. He was looking at the roads leading into the Cedar rivercountry."
"But there aren't any really good roads in that part of the state,"said Tim.
"That's one reason why I noticed him looking at that section of themap. He made a detailed study of it, but never asked a question of menor any of the boys who serviced the car for him."
There was no further information to be gained at the garage and Tim andthe chief copyreader returned to the _News_ office.
"Looks like you're on the trail of a real story," commented Dan."What's going to be the next angle of attack?"
"The files. I'm going to start with this month and go back into themday by day. Somewhere I'm sure there will be a picture that will giveme the identity of 'Mr. Seven.'"
The afternoon passed in routine tasks but when the final edition rolledfrom the press Tim went over to the room which housed the paper'slibrary and ordered out the files for the last year. When they wereavailable he carried the large, sturdily bound books to his desk wherehe placed them one on top of another. Ralph's desk was not in use andhe opened the last volume of the file and placed it there. Drawing up achair he started the slow task of scrutinizing every picture which hadappeared in the _News_ for the last year.
The job was doubly difficult since one of the boasts of the _News_ wasthat it carried an interesting picture on every page. Members of thestaff left the office, one by one, until Tim alone remained, bent overthe file and scanning the pages as he riffled through them.
Daylight faded and he snapped on the light over Ralph's desk. Under theglow of the electric he continued his task until his shoulders achedfrom the continued strain of bending over. When he finally straightenedup it was 7:30 o'clock and the telephone was buzzing.
"Atkinson _News_," said Tim.
"Hello, Tim," said Carl Hunter. "There's a big amphibian coming inwithin the next half hour. Thought you might want a story. We don't getmany ships like that here."
"Who's on board?"
"Haven't got anything on that yet. Will you be down?"
"Right away," promised Tim. He closed the file, snapped off the lightand hurried around to the garage in the rear where he signed an orderfor one of the _News_' cars.
Hunter was waiting for him at the airport. In one hand he held one ofthe pink slips on which the radiograms were copied.
"Just got a report on the ownership of the amphib," said the fieldmanager. "It belongs to some fellow by the name of Sladek in New YorkCity."
"Is it Jack Sladek?" asked Tim.
"Can't say. The message asking for refueling here is just signedSladek. You know someone by that name?"
"No, but I've read a lot about a Jack Sladek of New York. He'ssomething of an international figure; been mixed up in a lot ofdifferent things, South American revolutions, Arctic explorations,underwater treasure hunts and rum running when that business wasprofitable. I've seen feature stories in eastern papers that creditSladek with having made a fortune in deals that are just inside thelaw."
"You'll have a chance to see him first hand," grinned Hunter, "for theship was over Spencer half an hour ago. It should be here in anotherfifteen minutes."
"That's just time enough for me to get a lunch. I got interested in alittle work at the office and forgot to go out and get supper." Timordered a hot lunch and while he ate scanned the last edition of the_Advance_, the rival newspaper. He chuckled once or twice as he readthe story of the pursuit of McDowell. The _Advance_ had only thesketchiest of details and all of the rest of the story was obviouslythe product of the imagination of Mogridge, the reporter who had beena
ssigned to the story. It could not compare with the brilliantaccurately written story which Tim had woven for the _News_ and whichhad been featured on the front page through all the editions that day.As Tim finished his lunch the drone of twin motors sounded highoverhead. The amphibian was coming in. He stepped out of the lunchroom.The riding lights of the plane were visible as it circled to come downinto the wind. Tim walked over and stood beside Hunter as the big shipdropped down and rolled to a stop on the ramp.
The amphibian was a beauty, trimmed in green and silver, and with alarge cabin.
"Twin-engines, 575 horsepower each," said Hunter. "That's a high-speedship."
"Stream-lined down to get every ounce of speed out of it, too," saidTim. "It cost plenty of shekels to build that flying boat."
Inside the commodious cabin men were preparing to get out through thehatch at the rear. The first to appear was short, squat, with a nosethat looked like a substantial fist had pushed it back against his face.
"Nice looking customer to meet on a dark night," said Hunter.
Tim recognized the second man to appear as Sladek. He looked to beabout 40 with a strong, hard face and eyes set so far back that theyhad a peculiar penetrating intentness and gave you the idea that Sladekwas trying to ferret out your innermost secrets. The owner of theamphib was followed by a third man, who appeared to be a second-ratefighter, while the pilot was the last to emerge.
Hunter stepped forward and spoke to the former rum runner.
"We'll have your ship refueled and ready to go in fifteen minutes."
"Thanks. I've got to look at some maps. We'll be here half an hour atleast; perhaps longer."
Tim remained in the background. He'd pick up as much as he could fromthe conversation of the visitors before stepping in and asking for astory. It was evident that the two with Sladek and the pilot werebodyguards, for they kept close to their employer and scanned everyonewith suspicious eyes.
Sladek went into the administration building and scanned the largescale map of the state which hung on one wall. Tim, loitering behind,started involuntarily as he saw the section of the state whichinterested Sladek. It was the Cedar river country--the same sectioninto which his mysterious "Mr. Seven" had gone.
The Treasure Hunt of the S-18 Page 6
