The Blinkbonnie turned out to be a sprawling two-story log building, with a colorful awning over the entrance. The plonk of balls sounded from the tennis courts, and the buzz of outboard motors drifted up from the river.
A bellhop came smartly up to the car, and Twitch got out and opened the trunk. “Mr. Dale’s party checking in,” he said, remembering Vandam’s instructions.
The moment Twitch got out, Adam seized the chance he’d been waiting for. Pulling his novel out of his back pocket, he tore out several pages and crumpled them up. As Vandam headed inside to register, followed by Twitch, he unobtrusively dropped one out the window.
He watched it bounce off the running board and fall onto the road. Maybe, just maybe, Lindsay or Scott will notice it and realize who must have dropped it. It’s worth a try!
ELEVEN
Lindsay was on the desk when the elegantly dressed man and his chauffeur came in. She looked at the registration card he filled out. It took a minute to decipher his scrawl. G. Phillip Dale, it read.
“Yes, Mr. Dale. Welcome to the Blinkbonnie. We’ve reserved rooms for you and your guests, as you requested, and the farmhouse for your staff.” She tapped the bell on the counter. “The bellhop will show you to your room.”
“Have the others arrived yet?” he asked.
“Not yet, Mr. Dale.”
“Then advise me as soon as they do,” he said brusquely.
The bellhop reached for his briefcase. “Not that one,” Vandam said sharply. “I’ll take it. You bring the suitcase.” He picked up the briefcase and strode to the elevator as Twitch stepped up to ask about the route to the farmhouse.
“You continue on the same road for a quarter mile,” Lindsay explained, “then turn away from the river at the first crossroad. You’ll see it on the right-hand side, about half a mile back from the river. It’s the only house on the road.”
As he left, the chauffeur’s head swiveled nervously from the moth-eaten stuffed bear on a stand to the toothy muskellunge and the record-breaking large-mouth bass mounted on the wall, as if they might take a bite out of him.
Lindsay watched him go, puzzled. He looked familiar, but she couldn’t figure out where she’d seen him before.
After the Packard left, the bellhop went back outside to greet the next arrivals. Wrinkled from years in the sun, he was one of the few original staff members remaining among the host of summer students working at the inn. His father had always insisted on keeping a clean yard at home, and the practice was ingrained in his son. When he noticed the page Adam had dropped, he automatically picked up the crumpled paper and disposed of it in the refuse bin.
“Litterbugs,” he said, shaking his head.
In the Packard, Adam had no way of knowing that his signal for Lindsay had been disposed of by the bellhop. He did, however, manage to drop one more crumpled page on the road before the Packard pulled up in front of the isolated two-story farmhouse.
Ordering Adam to stay where he was, Twitch opened the car door for Colette and Heinrik; then he tugged on the German shepherd’s leash and coaxed it out. The dog stretched and yawned, as much as it could with its muzzle on, revealing long sharp teeth, then it dragged Twitch over to the nearest tree and relieved itself.
The farmhouse was badly in need of paint, but it had shutters and a covered veranda. Inside the farmhouse, they found linoleum floors, a living room, a big kitchen, and three bedrooms upstairs with one down.
Twitch pointed to the smallest of the three bedrooms upstairs. “Yours,” he said to Adam.
Well, at least it has a bed, Adam thought, and a window.
“But don’t get any ideas,” Twitch said. “I’ll nail your shutters closed, and your door will be securely locked.”
Heinrik let Colette choose from the other two bedrooms, then took his kit bag into the remaining one and closed the door.
“I’m hungry,” Adam said. “Anyone for lunch?”
Twitch snorted, shoved him into the small bedroom, and locked the door.
TWELVE
That same evening, Scott and Lindsay strolled hand in hand on the road to the cabins, where Lindsay lived with the other staff working at the Blinkbonnie.
“I’m so glad you’re back,” she said. “I was worried about you. It must have been a difficult trip from Montreal, with everyone asking you where Adam was.”
“It was hard, all right,” Scott said, “especially when I had to phone Adam’s parents and make all those excuses.”
“If only there was some way I could help,” Lindsay said.
“Trouble is, it’s only going to get worse if Adam isn’t freed in the next few days,” Scott went on. “Captain Plum keeps after me about him. I don’t know how long I can hold off a full-scale search, and you know what that could mean.”
He shuddered as he recalled Vandam’s warning. Would he really carry out his threat? He hoped he never had to find out.
The day after the fatal Sunday excursion, the Rapids Prince had made its usual return trip from Montreal through the canal and was now docked at Prescott, preparing for the next trip down the rapids. Scott had hardly been able to wait for work to finish so he could make his way to the inn to see Lindsay. On Tuesday, he’d hitched a ride west along the highway to the turnoff and walked down the road to the Blinkbonnie.
Now, as they made their way to her cabin, Lindsay stooped to pick up a crumpled piece of paper from the road. “I try to keep this place looking neat,” she said, “but it’s a losing battle.”
Scott stared at the paper. It looked like a page from a book.
“What, Scott?”
“Let me see that. But how could … no, I can’t believe it.… ”
“What? Tell me!”
“That paper. It’s a page from the same book Adam carries everywhere with him on the ship. See, the title’s at the top – Two Years before the Mast. But Adam is in Montreal; it can’t be from his book.”
“If only he was here,” Lindsay said. She stopped suddenly and put her hand to her mouth. “Oh, that’s who that man is! Of course!”
“What man?”
“The chauffeur who wanted directions to the farmhouse. I thought he looked familiar. He’s the same one I saw at Victoria Pier. You were talking to me, and he came over to ask if you wanted to look at the Packard now. Remember?”
Scott stared at her in astonishment. “The chauffeur from the Packard? He’s here? Are you sure?”
“It’s him, I know it. He’s staying at the farmhouse. And the man he works for is at the inn. He registered as G. Phillip Dale.”
Scott was so excited, he couldn’t contain himself. He grabbed Lindsay’s arm. “It’s Vandam! Does that mean Adam’s here too? Is this crumpled page a signal from him? It must be! He knew you worked here. This is just the sort of thing Adam would do.”
“And now he’s being held in the farmhouse, I’ll bet,” Lindsay said, “where the chauffeur is staying … but what can we do about it? We don’t dare tell anyone.”
Scott’s excitement was slowly ebbing away. “You’re right. Even if he is here, we’re in the same old bind.”
Anything they thought of doing carried the same risk to Adam’s life. A rescue attempt? Going to the police? Surrounding the farmhouse? “There’s nothing we can do,” Scott finally said.
“I know. It’s so frustrating.” They walked on in a gloomy silence.
“But maybe there is something we can do!” Lindsay said suddenly.
Scott stopped in his tracks. “Like what?”
“You could turn the tables on this Vandam,” Lindsay replied.
“How do you mean?”
“Well, he’s a spy, isn’t he?”
Scott nodded.
“So you spy on him. Uncover his secrets. You might find out if Adam is in the farmhouse too. You might even discover which room he’s in.”
“I’d like nothing better,” Scott said, “but I can’t go wandering around the inn without someone stopping me, wanting to know what I’m doi
ng there.”
“You could if you were a bellhop,” Lindsay said.
“Yes, but I’m not. I’m a deckhand who’s due for work in the morning.”
“Which means you’ve most of the night,” Lindsay said. “And there’s a spare bellhop’s uniform in the clean laundry that came back this morning.”
“Hey, great idea!” Scott said. “But, Lindsay, if your boss finds out, you could lose your job.”
“So? Adam could lose his life. That’s a lot more important. I’ll take the chance.”
Scott tried to act like he belonged at the inn, but felt uncomfortable in the tight-fitting uniform – he’d had to yank hard on the smart blue jacket to close it enough for the buttons to reach, and the collar was so tight it was choking him. But it would have to do.
He adjusted his pillbox cap, like the bellhop in the commercial who intoned Call for Philip Morris, and continued along the upstairs hall, looking for room number 226. Vandam had already gone in to dinner, Lindsay had told him, so this was his chance.
Room 222, 224, ah, there it is. Scott glanced around to make sure the hallway was empty, then took out the passkey she’d given him.
Once inside the room, he looked for Vandam’s briefcase, but all he could see was a suitcase on the luggage stand. It took him precious minutes to find the briefcase, which was concealed behind some clothes and a folding card table in the closet. He hauled it out, but its gold clasp was securely locked.
The rattle of the doorknob startled him. He hurriedly shoved the briefcase back in the closet as the door was flung open.
Vandam strode in. He stopped short when he saw Scott. “Hey, what are you doing in my room?”
Scott froze. Keeping his back to Vandam, he tried desperately to think of an excuse for being there.
“Ah, there he is,” a voice called from the doorway.
“Who?” Vandam said. Glancing around, Scott saw him jerk his thumb in Scott’s direction. “You mean him?”
The red-haired man at the door nodded. “I’ve been waiting for a bellhop. He was supposed to come and pick up my suit for pressing.”
“Dumb kid,” Vandam said. “I wondered what he was up to in my closet.”
Totally bewildered by this unexpected turn of events, Scott took advantage of the opportunity to head for the door, keeping his face averted as he passed Vandam. He didn’t dare look at him, remembering that Vandam had seen him up close as he was trying to escape from the back of the Packard on Sunday. He prayed he wouldn’t recognize him in the bellhop’s uniform.
“I’m awfully sorry, sir,” he mumbled. “I thought the desk clerk said room 226. I was looking for the suit in your closet. My mistake.”
“Oh, just get out of here,” Vandam growled, and slammed the door behind him.
Relieved, but still very much at sea, Scott turned to ask his savior’s room number. What a lucky coincidence, he thought. The man has a suit to be pressed at just the right time!
But the hallway was empty. The red-haired man had mysteriously disappeared. Is it really a coincidence that he claimed to have a suit for pressing, or is something else going on?
“Who do you suppose he was?” Scott asked Lindsay when he was back at the front desk. “He said he asked for a suit to be picked up, but then he vanished.”
“It’s so puzzling,” Lindsay said. “What did he look like?”
“Tall, red-haired …”
“There was a red-haired man who checked in this morning – one of Vandam’s associates,” Lindsay said. “But no one called for a suit to be picked up.”
“It’s an enigma. But he sure saved my bacon,” Scott said, still shaky from his close call. “So what do we do now? I don’t dare risk trying Vandam’s room again.”
“He’s reserved a conference room for tonight,” Lindsay said. “You could eavesdrop on their meeting, if you’re up to it. You still look pale; maybe you’ve done enough for tonight.”
But Scott knew there was no stopping now. “I’ll be all right in a minute. Where is this place they’re meeting?”
“Just down the hall. We could have a look at it when my shift is over. Better stay in here for now.” She opened the door to a storage room behind the desk.
Scott went in, unbuttoned his vest, and settled down on a pile of laundry to wait. So far he’d been lucky. Saved by the timely appearance of the red-haired man, he hadn’t run into the bellhop on duty, who Lindsay had gotten out of the way by sending him to sort out the luggage room. He’d also managed to avoid the other staff members – except for one of the maids, who had given him a funny look on his way to Vandam’s room.
But would his luck hold? It looked like it was going to be a long night.…
The next thing Scott knew, someone was shaking him by the shoulder. He opened his eyes.
Lindsay was leaning over him. “Time to go,” she whispered. “Better change into your street clothes – the bellhop on duty is back. I’ll rap on the door when the coast is clear.”
Scott put on his clothes, glad to get out of the tight-fitting uniform. When he heard a rap on the door, he opened it cautiously. There was no one around, except an elderly couple in the lobby studying a map.
“Go down the hall to conference room 111,” Lindsay whispered. “It’s open. I’ll meet you there in ten minutes.”
When Scott found room 111, he slipped inside and felt for the light switch, then changed his mind. Someone from the staff might look in and see him.
He explored the room for possibilities, as much as he could in the dark. It was small, as conference rooms go, with a dozen chairs around a circular table. A raised platform at the far end was framed by curtains.
The door opened and a figure was silhouetted in the doorway. Scott tensed as a hand reached in and clicked the light switch. Phew, it’s Lindsay.
“Glad you’re here,” he said. “I’m wondering where to hide. Any suggestions?”
“They won’t be using the stage,” Lindsay said. “Let’s have a look.”
At the back of the stage, they found a storage cupboard containing a screen and projector. “Perfect,” Scott said. “I can listen from behind the curtain, but I can duck into the cupboard if I have to.”
Lindsay looked doubtful. “Risky. If they find you, you’re trapped. Maybe this isn’t such a good idea.”
“But we’ve got to do something before it’s too late,” Scott insisted.
“I suppose,” Lindsay said reluctantly. “Their meeting’s scheduled for seven. How late can you stay?”
He shrugged. “All night if I have to. As long as I’m back in time for work in the morning.”
“I’ll leave you then.” She gave him a hug. “Come to my cabin when the meeting’s over. Good luck!”
He held on to her until she slipped out of his arms and walked away.
Then he arranged the curtains so there was a small gap, just enough to peer through without being seen, and he sat down to wait.
As soon as Scott heard the door open, he risked a peek through the crack in the curtains and saw it was Vandam. Beside him was the blond man called Heinrik, who Scott had glimpsed in the Packard the night of his wild ride through the streets of Montreal.
A moment later another man arrived, then several more. Vandam introduced Heinrik, and, greeting him warmly, they congratulated him on his successful landing from the U-boat.
When the last person arrived, Vandam said, “Now that we’re all here, let’s get started.”
Scott heard the click of a lock. He saw Vandam opening his briefcase and taking out a map.
“Our target is shown in detail here,” Vandam said, spreading out the map on the table. “Heinrik will, of course, be the one planting the device, but each of us has a part to play in backing him up. The code name for the mission is Operation Blockade.” The others gathered around the map, murmuring their approval.
Scott groaned inwardly. If only he could have gotten into that briefcase, he would have seen what their target was.
&
nbsp; “Our subs are already playing havoc with the enemy’s Atlantic lifeline,” Vandam said. “Operation Blockade will add to their valiant work and help shorten the war. Herr Hitler will reward us.” There was applause.
“In the meantime,” he said, “Walther, here, has arranged for a boat. This is supposed to be a fishing trip. But, in reality, he’ll be using the boat to explore the American side of the river. We’ll be ready to cross the border, under cover of darkness, when this operation is over. Then we will continue our work in the United States.”
The men sat around the table for some time, discussing each person’s role. Vandam stressed the importance of absolute secrecy. “Anyone we suspect of being a risk to our operation will be eliminated,” he said.
To Scott, it was one more reminder of the ruthlessness of these people. What did he think he was playing at? This was no game! And yet, there was no other way. Either that, or leave Adam to his fate.
“One more caution,” Vandam warned. “If, at any time, this operation is compromised, it will be abandoned immediately. Other projects are equally important, and we must, at all costs, avoid detection. That is all for tonight. We’ll meet again tomorrow.”
He raised his right arm, and Scott thought for a moment he was going to say Heil Hitler, but Vandam was too cautious for that. The others raised their right arms in response and then began to file out.
Well, that’s that, Scott thought. He hadn’t learned anything to help him rescue Adam, but he had learned that they were planning something called Operation Blockade to disrupt Allied shipping.
It was time to go. As he crossed the stage, a board creaked under him.
“What was that?” a voice said.
Scott froze.
THIRTEEN
With pounding heart, Scott waited. Then he heard Vandam say, “I’d better check. We can’t be too careful.” He dove into the cupboard.
“No, you stay here,” someone else said. “I’ll go.”
Footsteps crossed the stage. Scott closed his eyes as the cupboard door was yanked open.
Man Overboard! Page 5
