The Deadly Dutchman

by John Blaine

  “There was no way we could do that,” Scotty retorted.

  “No? I suggest that you still hope to profit.”

  The boys stared. Rick demanded, “Why do you think that?”

  “You have had a police guard since you leftThe Hague . Tonight you, Mr. Brant, obviously followed Gretchen here. Then you rejoined Mr. Scott. The two of you then sneaked out-that is the term? Yes, sneaked out, away from your police guard. You came here without the police knowing your whereabouts. I find that provocative.”

  “I still don’t see why,” Rick retorted.

  “Put it this way. What would be the interest of innocent student tourists, such as you pretend to be?

  Why, simply to turn everything over to the police and to disengage Innocents would not deliberately avoid their police guards and come to the Tiger’s Lair, would they? I think not. So, you are here for a purpose. My men captured you as you came to our doorway. I suggest to you that you simply intended to ring our bell and demand admittance, in order to put some proposition to me.”

  Rick gulped. It was such a logical interpretation that he knew simple protests wouldn’t change the deadly Dutchman’s mind. The man couldn’t know the extent of Rick and Scotty’s curiosity, and how it had directed their actions tonight.

  Santa spread his hands.“Very well. Let me hear your proposition.”

  “We have none,” Scotty answered.“Except this. Let us go and take Gretchen with us. Then you can do what the message says quickly, before the police arrive.”

  Santa again reminded Rick of an animated wax dummy. He moved, he spoke, but absolutely no emotion showed.

  “Your solicitude for my niece is touching, and I consider it a very small point in your favor. But I assure you that I am quite competent to look after her interests. Now, Mr. Scott, perhaps you can explain how the police know where to come? We have our sources, and we know of your telephone calls. You have tried to reach Inspector Vandiveer without success. You made no calls immediately before leaving the hotel. You came down the back stairs, leaving your police guard. No, I do not think we need fear the Page 53

  arrival of the police. What other proposition have you?”

  The boys remained silent. Rick saw that Gretchen’s eyes moved from face to face, and that she looked scared.

  “I take it that you have reconsidered making a sensible proposition.Very well. We will approach the matter from another direction.”

  Santa paused. His eyes bored into Scotty’s. Rick shifted uncomfortably.

  “Now tell me, Mr. Scott, what did the message say?”

  “We told Gretchen,” Scotty replied.

  “Come now, Mr. Scott. I do not treat you as a fool. Do me the courtesy of not playing silly games. You handed my niece a phrase. It was too easy, Mr. Scott. And I am ashamed of you for taking advantage of an inexperienced girl with such nonsense.”

  “How do you knowit’s nonsense?” Rick asked quickly.

  “Simply because you gave it to her without argument, after holding out for so long.This makes no sense.

  Now, what is the correct message?”

  “Why don’t you guess?” Scotty retorted.

  “I will do so. I will guess that the reference to a brick was correct, and that you gave her the wrong coordinates.”

  The expressions on the boys’ faces must have told him that he had hit the mark squarely, Rick thought Santa nodded a fraction of an inch. “I thought so. Otherwise you would not have mentioned brick at all.

  Now, what are the correct coordinates?”

  The boys remained silent.

  Sidneye leaned forward. “I can make them tell.”

  “By lashing them to the chairs and beating them?You are a fool, Sidneye. Can’t you tell they would not respond to such treatment? A beating could be endured by either.”

  “I’ve made others talk,” Sidneye grumbled, his hate-filled eyes on Scotty.

  “Yes, but not types like these. Come now, Mr. Scott. The exact message, please. I have no wish to become unpleasant. I am aware that Sidneye’s methods would not work, but I have some of my own.

  You would find his much preferable.”

  The boys didn’t answer. Rick choked back a comment and sat quietly.

  Santa waved his hand. “This is a soundproof room. Your screams will not be heard by anyone.”

  Rick saw Gretchen’s small white teeth sink into her lower lip.

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  “Also, it is a cool night,” Santa continued. “I think a fire in the stove would be useful.”

  Rick noticed for the first time that the ancient ceramic stove in one corner of the room was more than merely ornamental. It was a lovely antique, finished in hand-painted porcelain. The stovepipe had been hidden from him by the bulk of the stove when he first came into the room and he hadn’t looked that way since. Now he saw that the pipe went from the back of the stove into the wall, tilting upward at an angle to permit a draft. The stove was clearly usable.

  “Light a fire, Kurt,” Santa directed.

  He addressed the boys. “Have you ever noticed what a poor knowledge of anatomy torturers often show? For example, a hot poker is most often applied to the chest, to the palms of the hands, or to the feet. All places well-cushioned, and not particularly well-equipped with nerve endings in comparison with others. But the backs of the hands, that is a different matter. Of course there is a problem. If the victim fails to speak promptly enough, the tendons of the hand are destroyed.Unfortunate. I trust you will not be so foolish.”

  Kurt had obtained kindling and paper from a box. He stuffed them into the stove, opened a draft, and struck a match.

  Rick watched as flame rose in the firebox. He began to sweat, although the room was not warm.

  CHAPTER XV

  The Wrong Brick

  Rick looked at the faces around the room. Sidneye was sitting back in his chair with a satisfied smile on his face. He was anticipating the pleasure he would get from seeing the hand that had knocked him out subjected to a hot poker. Rick wished for an opportunity to apply a lighted match to the fringe of whiskers under Sidneye’s chin.

  Kurt, the big man, watched the fire, encouraging it with small bits of kindling.

  The guard waited by the door, gun in hand and ready to use. His eyes moved from Rick to Scotty and back again. He was all business, disinterested in the fire or what it portended, concerned only about doing his job as guard properly.

  Gretchen was staring at her uncle, blue eyes wide in disbelief, her face white.

  And her uncle was watching Rick and Scotty, his face as expressionless as that of a stone Buddha.

  Rick looked at Scotty. His friend had a half-smile on his face, but it was not a pleasant expression.

  The fire settled down somewhat, and Kurt added chunks of wood. “Just a few minutes more,” he told Santa. “When the pieces catch, then we can heat the poker.”

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  “There is no hurry,” Santa told him.

  Rick couldn’t resist adding, “No, Kurt. Don’t rush. Scotty and I will be glad to wait.”

  This brought a grin from Kurt and the guard, a snarl from Sidneye, a hysterical-sounding giggle from Gretchen, and no response at all from the deadly Dutchman.

  Scotty gave Rick a quick grin.

  Rick glanced at his wrist watch. It was nearly ten-thirty. If only they could hold out for another hour and a half! If Vandiveer arrived beforemidnight , or if the officer in charge opened the message atmidnight , help would be on the way within minutes, arriving just a few minutes later. They would stall as long as they could. He was tempted to introduce a new ploy, but decided the time was not yet ripe. Nothing was happening to them yet.

  Kurt took a poker from under the stove. It was a simple rod of heavy iron, hammered into a diamond shape at the end. Rick watched, fascinated, as the man pushed the tip into the glowing coals under the burning wood chunks in the stove.

  All hands watched the stove except Santa, who watched the boys. Rick shot a g
lance at Gretchen. She was obviously horrified at the thought her uncle would use torture. But how deep was her revulsion?

  Deep enough so they could count on her for help if a break came? He noticed that she had moved a little closer to Scotty, almost protectively.

  The minutes ticked past, and the room grew uncomfortably warm. The ceramic stove was a highly efficient radiator of heat. It was probably also a highly efficient heater of pokers. He wondered how much longer it would take to bring the poker to heat.

  As though in answer to Rick’s unspoken thought, Kurt withdrew the poker from the stove.It glowed with a faint cherry color.

  “Make it hotter, Kurt, hotter!” Sidneye urged, his eyes gleaming.

  Kurt looked at him with disdain. “Don’t be a fool. If the iron is too hot it will sear, destroying the nerve ends and the pain will not be intense. No, it must be just the right temperature.”

  Santa ignored the exchange. He looked at Scotty. “Surely, Mr. Scott, we need not go to such unpleasant extremes?”

  “Of course not,” Scotty said. “Why don’t we agree to call the whole thing off?”

  “We can do so,” Santa stated. “I will be glad to drop this nasty business if you give me the correct message.”

  “I can’t,” Scotty said.

  “Then we must proceed. I tell you frankly, the odor of burning flesh sickens me.”

  “Spare yourself the discomfort,” Scotty retorted.

  “Would that I could.Of course I do not expect you to consider my unhappiness, but you should think of Page 56

  Gretchen. See how white she is. This is nothing for a young girl to see.”

  “She has my sympathy,” Scotty said dryly. “Why don’t you spare her feelings by dropping this idea?”

  “Why don’t you give me the message?”

  Scotty grinned. “When I said I couldn’t, I meant it. What we didn’t tell you was that the message was written in Indonesian script, which neither of us could read.”

  “Where is it?”

  “Hidden in our room at the hotel.”

  Santa considered. “I believe you when you say it was in Indonesian. Rilke would have done that in case it fell into the wrong hands. He knew I could read it, naturally. But I do not believe you when you say you do not know the message.Kurt, who have these boys seen tonight?”

  “The report is that they dined at Bali House with a man we do not know.”

  “So.”Santa’s eyes went from Scotty to Rick and back again. “Am I to believe you would not ask one of the Indonesian waiters to translate for you?Nonsense. Kurt, is the poker ready?”

  Gretchen rushed forward and leaned over the desk. “You can’t burn them! You can’t!”

  Her uncle’s icy eyes met the girl’s horrified ones. “Control yourself, Gretchen.At once!”

  “But it’s horrible! I won’t let you, I won’t!”

  Santa’s hand moved like a striking snake and cracked like a whip against Gretchen’s face. The girl was knocked sideways, grabbing at the desk for balance. Scotty and Rick were half out of their chairs when the guard leaped into position to shoot, and let out a warning bark, “ Neen !”

  Gretchen yelled, “No!”

  The boys stopped in mid-spring and sank back.

  “Sit in the corner, Gretchen. At once, or I will have Kurt put you there and tie you in place.”

  The girl obeyed. She had no choice.

  Santa motioned to Sidneye.“That old sea captain’s chair, Sidneye. Move it close to the stove.”

  Rick watched as Sidneye picked up a massive oaken chair with carved arms and carried it close to the hot stove.

  “You will sit in that chair, Mr. Scott.”

  Scotty grinned. “Thanks just the same. I like this one.”

  “I’m sure of it. Nevertheless, you will sit in that chair.”

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  “I doubt it,” Scotty said cheerfully. “I’d rather be shot than burned any day, and when you sendyour hired apes to pull me out of this chair we’re all going to have fun.”

  “You disappoint me. It is only necessary to have Kurt and Sidneye approach you from either side.”

  “My arms are free, thanks to your oversight in not tying us up,” Scotty pointed out. “Send your dogs and let’s see what happens.”

  “It was not an oversight,” Santa explained. “I am not so without resources that I overlook the consequences of my actions. You will get up of your own accord and walk to the oak chair, Mr. Scott.”

  “I’d rather not,” Scotty said calmly.

  “Very well.Johann, Mr. Scott has overlooked a critical point. I need only one of these boys. So, I will count to five, aloud. If Mr. Scott has not walked quietly to that armchair and seated himself by the time I have finished, you are to shoot Mr. Brant through the head. Do you understand?”

  Johann nodded. “ Ja , mijhneer.”

  Scotty got up without a word, walked over to the chair, and sat down.

  “I’m pleased that you respond so well,” Santa stated. “Kurt, lash his arms to the chair arms, with a good tight tie at the wrists. Use his necktie to secure his head to the chair back.”

  Kurt did so. Gretchen moaned softly from the corner of the room. Sidneye hitched his chair around to get a better look.

  Rick, moving carefully, got his feet under him and tensed his arms, ready to leap. Johann anticipated the move. He took two steps, into position to take a frontal shot at Rick if the boy moved.

  “The poker, Kurt!”Santa directed.

  Kurt had thrust the poker back into the stove. Now he withdrew it, glowing white-hot. “It has to cool for a moment,” he said casually.

  Santa nodded. “While it cools to the best temperature for producing pain, Mr. Scott, I give you one more chance.”

  “I’ll think it over,” Scotty said. He glanced at Rick, and one eyelid flicked imperceptibly. Rick smiled at Johann and nodded, knowing Scotty would understand that the nod was for him.

  The poker cooled to cherry red, then to a dull orange. Kurt waited until it had lost almost all color.

  “Ready,” he announced.

  “Apply just in back of the knuckles,” Santa ordered.

  The poker descended. Rick yelled, “Wait!”

  Kurt looked up. Santa’s eyes turned to Rick. “Yes?”

  “Don’t burn him,” Rick cried hysterically. “Don’t! I’ll tell you the message.”

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  “No!” Scotty bellowed. “Don’t tell him, Rick! I can take it.”

  “Maybe you can, but I can’t,” Rick said, his voice shaking. He wiped sweat from his face. A salamander would have sweated in the hot room, and he wasn’t faking the gesture. “I’m going to tell him.”

  “Don’t,” Scotty groaned. “You’ll ruin everything.”

  “I have to,” Rick said stubbornly “I have to.’

  “Don’t turn yellow now,” Scotty grated.“You cheap little punk!”

  “You know I can’t stand pain,” Rick whined. “I’m doing you a favor. Why should you get the poker when I’ll only tell, anyway?”

  Santa snapped, “Enough! Tell me at once, or we will proceed.”

  Rick slumped in his chair.“All right. It’s ‘Brick seven up, five out.’”

  “You blew it!” Scotty screamed. “You dumped the whole plan! I’ll kill you for this!”

  Sidneye slapped Scotty across the face, hard. “Shut up!”

  “Say it again,” Santa ordered.

  “I gave it to you the way the waiter told us,” Rick said, the whine still in his voice. “ ‘Brick seven up, five out.’” He added, “Only we still don’t know what it means.”

  Santa’s cold eyes impaled him. “You must have had some idea, or you wouldn’t have worked out a plan, whatever your foolish plan might have been. What did you think it meant?”

  “We thought it meant a brick in a wall, maybe in this building,” Rick said dully. “Rilke van Hooch is a jewel thief-or he was before he died.Amsterdam is the diamond-cutting center o
f the world. So that meant a big haul in diamonds behind the brick.”

  “Not a bad guess,” Santa conceded. “Only it happens to be slightly wrong. We will show you what it means. Kurt, release Scott from the chair and tie his hands behind his back, at the wrists and elbows.

  Sidneye, tie Brant the same way. Make sure of the knots.”

  Rick stood up on order, and submitted meekly while his hands were tied behind him. Sidneye came around and stood in front of him and grinned evilly. “We are not through with you yet.”

  Rick looked into the man’s face. He wondered how he could ever have found it pleasant, even when he was in ignorance of Sidneye’s identity at the airport. He remembered how the fuzzy-whiskered swine had gloated over Scotty, waiting for the poker to get hot.

  “We’re not through with you, either,” Rick said calmly. He gave Sidneye a gentle smile, then moved, still smiling.

  Sidneye had made the mistake of standing too close. Rick’s left foot hooked around his ankle, and the boy bent in a sudden hard bow that drove his forehead into Sidneye’s chest. The Dutchman went over Page 59

  backward and landed with a crash. Rick jumped, braced, kicked. His toe caught the man exactly at the point where his upper lip joined his nose, a blow that would have killed him instantly had Rick not been wearing sneakers.

  Rick’s sudden move had not been entirely a matter of revenge or dislike of the whiskered Dutchman. He had also intended to take one of their enemies out of the play. Sidneye would be unconscious for a long time.

  Johann, pistol ready, had looked at the deadly Dutchman for instructions. Santa rose and shook his head. “Do nothing, Johann. Merely stay out of reach of both of them. Shoot if either makes a sudden move. Sidneye is a fool who lets his emotions run away with him. We will have to dispose of him before long. Such men are dangerous.”

  Rick thought that the deadly Dutchman would never be guilty of letting emotion get the best of him. He even looked incapable of smiling.

  “Kurt, get lights and tools. Gretchen, go with him. Brant and Scott, follow me. Johann, bring up the rear.”

  The big man opened the door and went out. Gretchen rose and followed. As she passed Rick, she looked at him, a puzzled expression on her pretty face. Rick winked, and she gave him the ghost of a smile.