by Mark Walker
The Dasher thundered and rumbled as they tore up the steps. Without the safety belts, the children would have been thrown from the car. All but Bellows and Riggs cried aloud, and there was a hiccupping cacophony of screams and ughs and oos and yows from the back seat, as they bounced heavily up the steps.
It was only the Anti-Gravity forces that saved the Dasher and its passengers that night.
Finally they were back on the solid road beside the Albert Hall, just in time to catch a glimpse of Tex. He was heading back toward Kensington Road, and the two Flying Squad cars waiting for him there.
The drivers saw him coming and moved to intercept him, but Tex tore straight at them. It was impossible to tell which way he would take the horse. The horse’s hooves clattered down the street. At the last moment, he took the horse straight past the patrol cars, straight into the Gardens.
Riggs pulled up in the Dasher, in front of the immobile mobile unit. “Everyone all right?” he shouted.
“Right enough, but he’s done a runner into the park.”
Without further ado, Riggs slammed the gears and went tearing through the wrought-iron gates into Kensington Gardens. Bellows hit the spotlight again and tried to keep it trained on the fleeing figure ahead. Keeping one hand on the light, he grabbed the microphone in the other.
“This is Dasher One. Tex entered Kensington Gardens at Queen’s Gate, heading north/northeast. Request mounted as well as mobile units in the Gardens and Hyde Park. Request barricades on the northern gates to the park. Over and out!”
He slammed down the mic as Riggs opened up the supercharger and stamped down on the throttle. With a shrill whine the Dasher shot down the gravel road, past the black edifice of the Albert Memorial. The fog had thinned, and the moon began to shine faintly through the mist. They tore through the night.
With Riggs closing from behind, Tex took the first path that swerved away from the Gardens toward the Serpentine, the long, winding lake that runs through Hyde Park. Lights showed ahead. Backup, coming from the east side of the park. The police were waiting for him!
Tex seemed cornered, but once again he eluded the Flying Squad with expert ease. The patrol car was the first to attempt to intercept him, but Tex charged the car, causing the driver to lose control. It bounced over a small hedge and plunged with a great splash into the Serpentine. Next it was the mounted officer’s turn, but he was no match for Tex’s horsemanship. As he tried to block the road, Tex simply bypassed him, and when the officer pursued, Tex ran rings around him, making the officer dizzy. But the Dasher was now upon him.
Tex darted off the road to the north and soon had the advantage of the trees. He took them into the woods, making every yard treacherous for the roaring red and black roadster. Several times Riggs almost smashed into a tree, each time slamming on the brakes or downshifting savagely like a racing driver.
Once he went into a spin. The children screamed. Brendalynn was secretly thrilled. He turned into the skid, throwing up a spray of mud and gravel, and finally came out of it and continued thundering after Tex. They were gaining on him, but Tex only used this to his advantage, and began rushing the car. As a result of the AG effects, Riggs had to fight to keep the Dasher earthbound, as he crashed past various obstacles. Lights showed ahead, glittering through the trees from the northeast. More backup! Sergeant Bellows pulled his Webley revolver. They broke into a clearing and he let off two rounds, but it was impossible with the weaving Dasher and the agility of Tex.
“It’s all right, Sergeant, he’s hemmed in now!”
The mist was clearing and the moon had risen, casting eerie, white light over the twisting scene below.
Riggs felt as if he were in a bizarre American cowboy film. He caught monochromatic glimpses of Tex streaking in and out of the trees, the moon sailing through the breaks in the fog above him, casting his black shadow on the rushing ground. They were only a few hundred yards away from the gates on the north side of the park, and it was mostly open ground between them. The Dasher screamed after the black figure on the great white horse.
Mandy and Jen had been sharing a safety belt, but Jen was so excited that she had managed to squirm out of it. The rest were oblivious, so caught up were they in the chase. Each time the car swung about, they were thrown against each other and the car. Jen began shouting at Tex and shaking her fist. Mandy joined in the harangue. “You better stop it, stop right now!”
“Yeah! You better stop it, you mean old man!” squeaked Jen. “You’re a mean old man and I hate you!”
Tex swerved toward the Dasher, even as Riggs flung the wheel in an effort to avoid him, but Tex was upon them. Mud and dirt flew from the thrashing hooves of the horse and the tires of the Dasher. Just as Jen rose to shake her fist, Tex twirled his rope like a cowboy’s lasso. With the speed of a rattlesnake he whipped the loop out and caught little Jen, pulled the rope taut, and whisked her up onto his saddle.
Michael and Mandy tried to grab her, but it was too late.
“Jen!” they all cried.
Tex pulled up the horse to a sharp stop, arranged his captive, and galloped toward the north gates of the park. Riggs cursed and threw the car into a skid, tearing at the gears. He slammed into fourth, the burr of the Dasher becoming a roar as he kicked in the supercharger, and they flew after the dark phantom shape stealing away from them. Bellows did his best to keep the spotlight trained ahead. If they could force Tex into the barricade, they might save the child. Cars and mounted officers were tearing along behind him now. It looked as if the trap would work, if only the line at the gates held.
In seconds Tex would reach the barricade, but it didn’t look as if he would stop. He wasn’t! Gathering the reins like an expert, Tex took total control of the horse and, like a prize-winning jumper, vaulted over the barricade and the bonnets of two police cars before the officers could move.
Riggs cursed and screeched to a halt, only feet from the fence. Mandy began to cry and Brendalynn and Michael tried to comfort her. Riggs leapt from the Dasher and ran to the barricades. The sirens and bells began to wail again, as the static crackle of the radios broadcast the direction of the kidnapper to all stations. The hunt was still on, but Tex and the Black and Blue Hand held Jenny captive.
chapter twenty-nine
The Last Option
ON THE CHARGING HORSE, TEX was thinking furiously. I’ve got you now, but what the hell do I do with you? Another prize to put him back in Boss Stilton’s good graces? He regarded her with a sneer. He clutched her roughly, barely conscious of her other than as a small weight, an inconvenience. The rope bit through Jen’s coat, and she cried, beating and clawing at Tex’s back. Ignoring her cries, he drove the horse on. The smell of the horse filled Jen’s nostrils. The cold wind tore at her hair. She had no idea where they were, and she held on for dear life. She was more afraid of falling off the horse than of Tex. They disappeared into the swirling white fog.
Riggs was sick with worry. Brendalynn and Bellows consoled him. But for Riggs, the only meaningful thing was action. This was no time for self-doubt. Everyone made mistakes and he was no exception. But now there could be no recriminations, although outwardly he was seething, pacing up and down and twirling his stick. There were no reports of Tex being sighted beyond the park. It appeared he might have gone to ground. Yet somehow, Riggs knew he was not finished with the chase. He prayed furiously for some break, some sign.
The radio crackled on. “This is Car 28-B. We have the horse, abandoned by a warehouse just behind Bayswater Road. There’s no sign of the suspect or the child.”
It was then Riggs looked heavenwards, and his prayer of a few moments before was answered, as he saw the glint of a Zeppo rising through the fog just across the road from the park. A Zeppo! On a night like this? It was a black Zeppo, an unusual color, with a blue stripe. The Black and Blue Hand! They must have a private Zeppo. Even the Yard hadn’t their own. The Zeppo finished climbing and was starting to move slowly forward. Although Zeppos were technically bann
ed on AG Days and at night, with the shifting fog it could easily make three or four miles before having to touch down. As there were no lights, there was no way to track it.
“Sergeant, we never removed the PUFF Pack from the Dasher the other day, did we?” Riggs was already on the move, with a glint in his eye that was all too well known to Sergeant Bellows.
“Oh, sir, but it’s an AG Day on, and we certainly don’t want to try anything that dangerous … why … we’ll pick them up for sure … sir?” For Kelly Riggs was already donning the PUFF Pack and strapping himself in. Unfortunately he had to leave the Fox and Hound cane behind, but he still had the .32 Colt with its six shots. As he pulled on the safety cap and goggles, he said, “I’ll try to keep you posted by the radio mic—if it works, that is. Sergeant, do you have any idea of the amount of fuel, or how much might be left?”
“No idea, sir, oh—be careful!”
Riggs double-checked the fastenings of the straps. “Will do, Sergeant.” To the others he said, “Don’t worry. I’ll get her back safe and sound. Well, for king and country!” He started up the PUFF Pack, the propellant whistled out, and he rose into the air.
Truth be told, Kelly Riggs had never flown in a PUFF Pack. Although he should have completed at least two test flights, he simply hadn’t had the time, now much to his regret. He gulped inwardly as he quickly ascended, making jerky adjustments to augment his height, and then maneuvering to follow the disappearing black shadow of the Zeppo. Already he could feel the shifting air currents caused by the AG forces. Although the fog had lifted slightly down below, he now found himself fighting it as it rose to his level. He gained some altitude so as to be clear of most obstacles, though he still knew he must take care. Through the wisps of fog, he could just catch sight of the tail of the Zeppo. He increased the speed slightly, but was fearful of using up the fuel supply too quickly. They were heading east, and to Riggs it meant only one thing: their final destination must be the Tip Top Club. He tried the radio mic, using the PUFF Pack control handle on his right. It was awkwardly placed, and he jiggled in the air slightly as his hand fumbled for it. It didn’t help the knot in his stomach, nor the fact that all the joy he got from the radio headphones in the flying cap was static. He switched it off to try again later. He sailed across the silent landscape of the foggy skies of London.
As Riggs was lifting into the fog, down below Brendalynn Welles saw an opportunity. Sergeant Bellows was busy on the radio, and she felt they must try to follow Riggs without delay. She quickly climbed into the front seat of the Dasher.
“My dear, what on earth?” cried Bellows.
“Don’t worry Sergeant, I know how to drive,” she said confidently. She pressed the starter and the Dasher purred to life. She went for first, pushing the gear lever forward, and proceeded to scratch the gears. After giving Bellows a don’t you dare say a word—it won’t happen again look, she pursed her lips and raised her pretty nose a little higher. Determined and fearless, she engaged the clutch with the gearshift simultaneously and properly, and they set off after Riggs and the Zeppo.
Kelly Riggs was finally gaining ground on the Zeppo, but not without constantly having to fight against the air currents. An occasional gust would buffet him off course, and the PUFF Pack apparatus would tremble around him. He hoped they’d be putting down soon, but the odds didn’t seem in his favor, and he was still worried about how far the fuel would take him. He wondered what was going on inside the Zeppo and how Jen was holding up, for he felt sure she was in there. Although there were side windows on a Zeppo, he could not see inside from his position behind and slightly below it. He was almost close enough to reach one of the trailing docking lines. The ingenious design of the Zeppo was that helium inflated the outer shell and roof, so that the passengers and driver were encased in the shell. Small wings were also inflated and used for balance, and a small prop and rudder were used for steering. He strained to see into the cab, but it was impossible. At times it seemed to Riggs as if he were skiing across vast, undulating hills of white fog. He checked the radio again. This time there was a crackle, and he heard the fuzzy voice of Fred Bellows hailing him.
He replied, “I don’t know if you can hear me, but I’m headed east. Over.”
“Copy. We have you in sight. Miss Welles is piloting the Dasher. Over.” Riggs nearly crashed himself with this news, but the connection fluttered into static and he wasn’t able to reply. If they had him in sight, then at least there would be someone to pick up the pieces. Pick up the pieces, indeed! And to complicate matters, it had begun to mist. Suddenly he saw a huge looming form on his right. It seemed to pull him straight toward it, and he had to fight with all his will to keep from turning directly into it. Then he saw it was the dome of St Paul’s, rising majestically and uncomfortably close as he sailed past. He decided to risk increasing his speed, and drew nearer the fleeing Zeppo.
It was then the PUFF Pack suddenly started to buck and shudder. A small red light began to blink on the left-hand control. The fuel was running out! Once the countdown started, he had only three minutes left before he would drop like a stone, to be smashed on whatever lay below the swirling curtain of white fog.
On the ground, Brendalynn, Sergeant Bellows, Michael, and Mandy in the Dasher had pursued as best they could. The children had been a great help in keeping sight of Riggs whilst Brendalynn and Bellows dealt with driving and directions. But ultimately the radio interference combined with the fog to hamper their search, and finally, somewhere near St Paul’s, Riggs disappeared from their view. Instinctively, Bellows gave Brendalynn directions, and they continued heading east.
The fog and mist seemed to be rising, further engulfing Riggs, limiting his vision of the Zeppo. He had seconds to decide what to do. Land, or try to catch and grab hold of the docking line trailing behind the little craft. Four or five yards more was all he needed. He could risk a sudden spurt of the last of the PUFF Pack’s fuel, but if he misjudged, it meant almost certain death.
Kelly Riggs gritted his teeth, leaning his body forward, and pressed the propellant. With a whoosh he jetted forward, almost missing the line.
Just as he grasped hold, the fuel of the PUFF Pack ran out in a gasp, and he suddenly felt his own weight plus that of the pack.
His hands were slipping on the line, wet with the mist and fog. The pack was cumbersome, and he wished he could rid himself of it, but there was simply no way. The wind buffeted him. He began slipping down the rope. He simply couldn’t get a grip. Inch by inch he was sliding. Now his legs were almost to the rope’s end. He gave a final squeeze with his entire body and that stopped the slide. Painstakingly he worked his way slowly back up the rope, closer to the cab. He couldn’t tell whether his weight on the line had alerted the crew of the Zeppo, but he saw no evidence they were aware of him.
Then he felt the Zeppo beginning to descend slightly and heard the puffing wheeze of the helium in the exhaust and valve exchanges. He pulled himself a farther couple of hands up the line, to better prepare for the landing. Getting off, encumbered by the PUFF Pack, would be tricky. He hoped it wouldn’t be fatal. They continued to descend, down into the white sea of fog.
Here and there patches of ground showed through, and he could see occasional rooftops and buildings. Then, fuzzily, he saw a pinkish-red glow emanating up through the fog at a height just below his own. As they got closer, Riggs could see a flashing set of green globe lights on a step sequence. Then he saw the giant cocktail glass lit by pink and red lights. It was the Tip Top Club.
chapter 30
Tip Top
RIGGS COULD SEE A DOCKING and landing pad in one corner of the large roof. The giant cocktail glass was turning slowly with the chasing green globes, and from this point of view you could clearly see the roulette wheel. The seats looked out from the center, and each of the thirty-seven slots were appropriately colored red or black. Four wide aisles with steps ran out from the center, forming quadrants.
They were still slowly descending
and beginning to circle the building. At eleven stories, it was by far the tallest on the block. He could see three men heading to the landing pad on the roof. If he could see them, they could see him. Which they did, as each looked up in turn. He didn’t know if they had radio or if he had been spotted before. So that made the odds these three, plus probably the pilot and Tex, if not another. Five against one for sure, and he had to keep little Jenny safe.
The Zeppo was spiraling down, making eerie whistling and moaning sounds. The roof of the Zeppo and its landing canopy opened, as did others on the little wing flaps. They were sinking at a 45-degree angle on a straight line down now. Within seconds the lines would be in reach of the men on the roof, and Riggs was hanging on to one of those lines. There was a rocking of the air currents from the AG Day, and that’s when he saw his way out. The line on the right nearest to him was in reach, and he grabbed at it, catching it. As they passed the great red and pink cocktail glass, Riggs threw the weighted line, catching the stem of the glass.
With a groan, the Zeppo caught and sagged. The bow dipped toward the edge of the roulette wheel seating area, as the few customers there scattered. There was another whispering groan as the Zeppo’s operator fought with the controls and, using the prop and release of helium, was able to partially right the ship. But in the process, Riggs was pitched to the floor near the base of the huge glass that towered above him.
As he regained his footing, he saw that one of the men from the dock was coming down one of the wide aisles, almost on top of him. Riggs had ripped off the headgear and worthless radio, but now he had to shed the bulky PUFF Pack. This offered him the perfect opportunity, as he slammed round, undoing the central buckle and crashing into the startled thug as he slipped out of the harness. He pulled hard on the rope nearest him, which brought another squealing hiss of protest from the Zeppo. He tied the rope to one of the seats. At least the Zeppo was secure, if not level, and slightly above the seats. He stopped to see that the man he had decked with the PUFF Pack was still out, and ran up the aisle to the landing on the edge of the wheel. As he reached the top, the next member of the Hand ran to meet him.
