by John Blaine
“At Mercury.There are public phones there.”
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“Not much help,” Rick observed. “There’s a big work force around the project that doesn’t have anything to do with the project itself. The phones must be in use often.”
Gordon agreed. “But Aster is an able officer. He’s not only a first-rate engineer, but a capable intelligence officer. He’ll track it down.”
The waitress arrived with Gordon’s food and coffee, took their orders for sundaes, and departed. A group of men moved into the next table, and conversation on sensitive subjects was no longer safe. The trio chatted of other things, finished their lunch, and left.
Aster was in his office when the boys arrived. He looked upset.
“Trouble?”Rick asked.
“Yes. No one left Jackass Flats this morning.No one at all. The people who used the phone are not only cleared and well known, but their conversations were overheard by several others. There’s no chance of a leak-but it happened.”
“Did anyone at this building have the dope?” Scotty queried.
“Not a soul. They didn’t even know at Jackass Flats until after the conference with Winston. That was at eight-thirty. The conference was over by nine. And the information was transmitted fromLas Vegas at ten.”
“Anything on the dealer?”Rick asked.
“He was at home in his trailer. He finished working at two this morning, went home, and went to bed.
No visitors at all, and no phone calls. We have his line monitored, so we’re sure.”
Rick shook his head. “It’s crazy. There’s a missing link somewhere.”
“Yes, and we’ll find it,” Aster said positively. “Now, let’s get to work. Jimmy will pick you up at two-thirty. You’ll make a dry run to the station, unload, set up, break down, and come back. Tomorrow morning you’ll dry run again, but this time we’ll give you a beeper unit to plug in and record your beep just to make sure we have a clear channel. Okay?
“Check,” Rick said, and Scotty nodded.
They went over the equipment once more, before loading it into the jeep. Rick worked absent-mindedly and almost got his finger caught as Scotty closed the lid on one box.
“Sorry,” Scotty said.“Didn’t mean to clip you.”
“You missed,” Rick replied. Clip you . . . clip ... he felt something stirring in the back of his mind. There was a connection . . .
Jimmy arrived, bringing a dust storm with him as usual. When the dust subsided, they loaded the equipment into the helicopter, lashing it into place under the pilot’s direction. “Got to balance the load,”
Jimmy explained, “or we’ll wobble through the air. Remember these positions. Use them every time.”
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On the way to the peak, Rick tried to bring forth the nagging bit of data at the back of his mind. Clip. It rang a faint bell. The redheaded lieutenant had been clipped . . . that wasn’t it. He gave up and studied the helicopter cabin, noting how each piece of equipment was lashed securely, or held in place by other means. He supposed it wouldn’t do to have stuff adrift, so that a sudden drop or lift while maneuvering could send it flying. Even the emergency flashlight, a long, six-battery job, was held by clips. . . .
He yelled, “The fishing rod!” No one heard him; he couldn’t even hear himself, because he had not pressed the “talk” button on his mike cord. The Jones Boy had brought along his fishing rod just to work on it ... only the pole fitted into clips above the counter! No one put up clips for something temporary.
Clips were for permanent placement. So the fishing rod, and probably its mate in the other Jones truck, was a permanent part of the equipment. Rick settled back in his seat. Why would a fishing rod be permanent equipment in a desert? He had a notion, but needed more information. He intended to get it as soon as they returned.
The helicopter settled to the station site, and the boys got their equipment out and set it up, working by check list, while Jimmy experimented with hanging the parachute cloth as a sun shield. It didn’t work.
“Not big enough,” he said.“An acre of cloth to shield the mighty sun. That’s what we need.How about two rides for my rigger friend?”
Rick grinned. “Promise him anything, but get the cloth.”
“Will do.When we finish, I’m going over to Nellis. This busy beetle has a small click in the rotor shaft.
Nothing serious, but I want to let my mechanic know. I will then wander down to the parachute loft and have a word or two with my friend the rigger. I may have to promise him your best necktie, too, but I won’t hesitate.”
The boys finished setting up, then tore down the equipment again and restowed it in the cases, carried them to the helicopter, and lashed them in place.
Scotty mopped his brow. “I used to think dry runs like this were silly. But they’re essential. Every time we’ve set up, we’ve learned something new.”
“They make sense,” Rick agreed.“Even though it’s a pretty tiresome way to learn.” His mind wasn’t on the dry runs, though. He was thinking about the information leak again.
He continued to think about it as the helicopter started back. The blackjack dealer was the key. If the intelligence boys were sure the dealer had had no visitors or phonecalls, that could mean only one thing: the man had the dope when he left work and went home.
But he couldn’t have the dope, because no one knew until the morning conference, except . . . Winston.
Winston and Gordon had talked it all out when they returned from the test site! Had anyone been listening in? Rick tried to recall.
He and Scotty had been swimming when the two arrived and went into the Winston cabin. They had gone to join them, not bothering to change from their trunks. Scotty had remarked that one Jones Boy was busy in the truck.
Rick pushed the intercom button. “Scotty! Last night you saw one Jones Boy in his truck. Did you see the other one?”
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Scotty thought about it. “I think so. I think I saw him going into his cabin when we walked down to meet Gordon and Winston. Why?”
“Trying to account for their movements.I have an idea, but I’m not sure it’s any good. I need more dope. Where were the girls?”
“They stayed at the pool for a while. I think they returned to their cabin when we broke up and went to get dressed.”
“Thanks. I’ll tell you about it when we can talk quietly.”
“This is quiet,” Scotty said. “After all, we’re on a communications circuit.”
“Circuits sometimes leak. I’d hate to think what we’re saying was being broadcast on the chopper’s air-to-ground circuit.”
“Okay. Later.”
Rick continued his line of thought. The girls could see the cabins from the pool. They would have said something if one of the Jones Boys had been near any of the Spindrifters cabins. He could assume that the Jones Boys hadn’t been listening at door or window, then.
By the time he carried his analysis to its logical conclusion, Jimmy was landing. The boys unloaded the cases into their jeep, showed their badges to the guard at the runway fence, and drove to the storeroom as Jimmy took off again.
Rick didn’t wait to unload the cases. He said, “Come on,” and ran for Aster’s office, Scotty close behind him. Aster wasn’t in.
“See if he’s around,” Rick said. “I’m going to call the girls and put them to work. If he’s here, I’ll tell you both what I think at the same time.”
Each of the cabins had a phone, connected to the main building. Rick called, then had to wait while Jan and Barby were summoned from the pool.Barby came on the line. “Rick? . . . What is it?”
“Listen, Barb. Get some change, go to the main building, and call me back on the public phone. Here’s the number.” He read Aster’s number from the phone. “Hurry up, now.”
“All right.”
Rick hung up and glanced at his watch. It was nearly three-thirty. He waited as patiently as he could, and lifted the phone as it rang five minu
tes later.“Captain Aster’s office.”
“It’s Jan, Rick. Barby and I are in the booth at the lodge. I guess you didn’t want to talk on one of the switchboard lines.”
“Right.”Jan was quick, Rick thought appreciatively. “Listen, Jan. I want you two to check the Winstons’
cabin for bugs. I have a hunch Gordon and Winston were overheard last night. Check carefully, without any conversation except normal chatter. You know what to look for. The phone is ruled out, because the line doesn’t go anywhere but the lodge switchboard. A transmitter about the size of a Megabuck unit is most probable. Call me back if you find anything.”
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“All right, Rick. We’ll get to work.”
Rick hung up. Now he needed Aster, or an electronics expert. He started out and met Scotty in the doorway.
“Aster, Murphy, and Gordon have gone to a meeting at Mercury,” Scotty reported. “Guess what on?”
“Couldn’t imagine,” Rick said grimly. “That leaves Ray Harmon. Let’s go see him.”
Ray Harmon was Aster’s boss for the tracking operation, but not for intelligence operations. They hadn’t seen him since the first day, except at a distance.
Harmon looked up as they walked into his office. “Hello. You’re on Aster’s crew. What can I do for you?”
“We need to talk to an electronics expert,” Rick said.“Preferably a specialist in communications. Can you tell us where to go?”
Harmon motioned them to chairs. “I’ve been called a communications engineer when not being called other things by my enemies. What’s your trouble?”
“This isn’t connected with tracking,” Rick began. “But it may be connected with the project. Can you tell me what kinds of microphones can pick up sounds at a distance? I mean directional mikes.”
“Sure. There are two kinds, broadly speaking. One that commercial TV stations use is tubular, pretty small, usually made of a specially cut piezoelectric crystal. The way the crystal is cut and shaped gives it high directional quality. Then, there’s the parabolic collector with a mike at the focus.”
“How small would a crystal mike be?” Rick asked.
“I’ve seen them about an eighth of an inch in diameter, although most are somewhat larger.”
“That’s it,” Rick said softly.
“What’s what?” Harmon asked, and Scotty added, “Give, buddy!”
“The Jones Boys carry fishing rods,” Rick explained. “They’re mounted in clips over the counter. They spend hours working on them. What I’m betting is that those fishing rods are just camouflage for directional mikes. The Jones Boys have been picking up project information by listening to conversations when people thought they were far enough away from outsiders to be safe!”
CHAPTER XII
Fire on the Mountain
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Ray Harmon reacted by picking up the phone. He dialed swiftly, waited for an answer, then said, “I have to speak to Captain Aster. He’s at a security meeting there.”
Rick and Scotty waited while Harmon drummed his fingers on the desk. He looked up at them. “If the Jones Boys are really the leak, it doesn’t solve the problem of how the information on the nuclear test run got out unless the security officer at Jackass Flats can show that someone talked about it within range of a directional pickup.”
Rick was about to reply that he was waiting for information on that point, but was saved from commenting when Harmon spoke into the phone again. “What? . . . When did they leave? . . . Okay, I’ll try him there.”
Harmon cradled the phone. “The whole group left Mercury and went toScarletLake . They should reach there in about ten minutes.”
“We’d better stow our equipment,” Scotty said.
Rick added, “We’ll be at Captain Aster’s office if you need us.”
As they left, he thought to himself that announcing his idea that the Winstons’ cabin was bugged might not be a good one. It could get the scientists in trouble. Better wait to see what developed.
Scotty checked his watch. “Jan and Barby should be calling back.”
“Not if the Jones Boys were clever. They wouldn’t hide a bug in the obvious places. The girls might have to search a while.”
“True,” Scotty agreed. “Meanwhile, let’s lug this equipment back into the shed.”
They completed storing the gear in a few minutes, and settled down in Aster’s office to wait. Fifteen minutes passed, then a half hour. Rick began to wonder. The girls had had enough time to go over every inch of the cabin. He debated calling them, but before he could ask Scotty’s opinion, a man from one of the other teams ran into the office.
“Don’t you two live at Aspen Lodge?”
“Yes,” Scotty said quickly. “Why?”
“Forestfire.The base fire department is taking off right now. A jet from Nellis just landed, and the pilot said the fire was in the pines right above the lodge.”
Rick and Scotty were gone on the echo, leaping into their jeep and roaring toward the gate, with Scotty driving. As the guard checked them out, they heard the scream of sirens as the Air Force fire department vehicles, a specially equipped jeep and a tank truck with high-pressure pump, reached the highway and started south.
They checked out at the main gate and Scotty swung the jeep onto the highway and pressed the accelerator to the floor.
“Easy,” Rick cautioned. “The pilot said the fire was above the lodge.”
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“It could reach the lodge,” Scotty said.
“Not likely. The heat rising from the desert creates a thermal column that carries the wind up the mountain. The forest fire will add to the effect. Don’t worry, the lodge is safe enough.”
“I hope you’re right.” Scotty let up slightly on the gas pedal.
“Fine,” Rick approved. “Now you’re only driving like a wild man instead of a madman. Keep in mind that this vehicle has a high center of gravity.”
They rode in silence for a few minutes, then Rick said aloud what had been on his mind. “Do you suppose the fire is the reason the girls didn’t call?”
“Possible,” Scotty said.
As they turned into the road leading to the lodge they saw other cars ahead. Rick thought they were probably volunteer fireman. A fire in this part of the country in summer was serious business, because the woods were dry. Pine forests were especially bad because of dry needles underfoot and a heavy content of flammable resin in the wood.
Crews were already assembling to fight the fire when they reached the lodge. Mrs. Winston was standing near the main building, apparently arguing with a big man who held a shovel in his hand.
Rick could see the fire, perhaps a thousand yards up the mountainside. It was a solid wall of flame that extended in both directions, and it was spreading rapidly. When Scotty shut off the motor they could hear its roar, and an occasional explosion as the moisture in a tree turned to steam under the intense heat.
Fortunately, the wind wasn’t strong, but Rick knew it would increase as the hot air from the fire rose, creating low pressure into which the cooler ground wind would rush, to be heated in its turn and continue the feeding process.
The boys hurried to Mrs. Winston’s side in time to hear her say, “But you’ve got to do something!”
An icy chill ran down Rick’s back. “Something about what?” he demanded urgently.
Mrs. Winston turned, and her face was streaked with tears of fright. “Oh, boys, the girls are in there!”
Rick’s throat dried up with sudden fear. He pointed to the distant wall of flame. “There?”
Scotty asked, “How do you know?”
“The . . . the people next door to you.The old couple.They were coming back from photographing something, and they saw the girls running through the woods. By the time they ... I can’t remember their names ... by the time they got back here the woods were already going up in flames.”
“Maybe the girls ran around the end of the fire,” Scotty
said hopefully.
The big man shook his head. “I’m afraid not. We sent men out to both ends to fight the fire, and told them to report back at once if they saw the girls.”
“We’ll have to go in after them,” Rick said desperately.
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“You can’t.” The big man left no room for doubt. “And you can’t get around, either. The fire is moving faster than a man on foot could outflank it, and the terrain is too rough even for jeeps.”
Rick stared at the wall of flame that soared to the very tops of the tall pines.Barby and Jan, in that? They had to be gotten out. He refused even to think that they might already be victims of the fire.
“Scotty,” Rick said desperately, “we’ve got to do something!” He started for the main building at a dead run.
CHAPTER XIII
Hunt by Chopper
A man was talking on the phone in the main building when Rick and Scotty dashed in.
“Get more men out here,” he said emphatically. “Unless we manage to get a firebreak built at the north end, it will burn right intoCharlestonMountain . It will burn itself out on the south and east. But it’s big, and you’d better move fast.”
Rick said urgently, “We’ve got to use the phone. It’s a matter of two girls’ lives.”
The man looked up, “The two who were lost? I’m afraid it’s too late.”
“It will be unless we move!” Scotty snapped. “Let us use the phone. It will only take a minute.”
“Okay. Make it brief.”
Rick took the phone and dialed the operator. When she answered, he said, “Operator, this is an emergency. Two girls’ lives hang on speed. I have to talk with Nellis Air Force Base, a lieutenant by the name of James Taylor. He’s a helicopter pilot, and he may be with his mechanic or at the parachute loft.”
“I’ll try. Hold, please.”
Rick heard the operator dial, then say, “Nellis, I have an emergency call for Lieutenant James Taylor, a helicopter pilot. He may be with his mechanic or at the parachute loft. Hurry, please.”
The Nellis operator answered, “Right away. I’m connecting you with Operations.”
