Agent Nine and the Jewel Mystery: A Story of Thrilling Exploits of the G Men

by Graham M. Dean

  "Well, it follows that there must be some good reason for this interestin federal operations, and all I can figure out is that the gang isgetting ready to smuggle in a large amount of gems."

  "Go to the head of the class; you've had a perfect score. The questionnow follows, what shall we do?"

  "Are you going to try to demote me now?" grinned Bob.

  "No, I'm just trying to find out how far along the way you'll get bysound deduction and logic."

  "Then I'd say that we ought to go through with our original plans andthat Tully and I proceed on to our assignments at once with additionalagents held ready to back us up if we get in a jam or things break wideopen and we need help."

  "You're not worrying about Hamsa having escaped from the river andgetting word to the others in the gang?"

  "Of course I'm thinking about that angle, but that's a chance we'll haveto take," replied Bob.

  "We'll make the decision tomorrow. There may be some further advices fromWashington by that time."

  Bob finished dressing and his uncle picked up his bag and together theywalked out into the train shed.

  "Breakfast is going to taste good to me," said Bob. "Don't waste any timein getting there."

  "Then we'll eat at the restaurant in the station," decided his uncle.

  Breakfast was served quickly after they placed their orders and Bob atethe meal with real relish. Corn cakes with a thick coating of maple syrupespecially pleased him and he had a second order.

  After the meal was finished, they walked through the main waiting room ofthe station and to the taxi stand just beyond where Merritt Hughessignalled for a vehicle, and they were soon speeding toward the hotel.

  Bob, still stiff and sore from his encounter the night before with JoeHamsa, leaned back against the cushions and enjoyed the trip, for thiswas his first visit to Florida. The streets were broad, the homeshospitable and life seemed to move at a more leisurely pace than it didin the northern cities with which he was familiar.

  The hotel, a modest sized structure, was done in Spanish architecture andhis uncle had two rooms on the fourth floor looking down on an innercourt where there was a spacious swimming pool flanked by stubby palmtrees.

  "Now for a shower bath and I'll feel like I really wanted to live again,"said Bob.

  "I've got several reports to make out and mail to the bureau inWashington," said his uncle, "and I'll get them out of the way whileyou're taking your shower."

  Bob undressed and adjusted the spray in the shower to his liking. For tenminutes he relaxed under the soothing flow of the water and when hefinally emerged his muscles were not as sore and tight and his head feltclearer. As he rubbed his body briskly with a heavy towel, one thoughttroubled him. What had caused the sudden illness which had befallen Tullyand later had nearly struck him down on the train? While he dressed, Bobtold his uncle about these incidents.

  "You say you felt something like a sharp blow on the face before youbecame ill?" asked the older federal agent.

  "That's right."

  "Then you were gassed."

  Chapter XIX THE WARNING *

  "Gassed!" exclaimed Bob incredulously.

  "Certainly. Tully got a full-sized dose and you probably got only half aone, which accounts for the varying degrees of your illness and nausea."

  "But we couldn't have been gassed," replied Bob.

  "Oh yes you could. Modern crooks sometimes turn to science to help themand I know as a fact that small amounts of gas, which make the victimdesperately ill, can be obtained in thin glass capsules. These capsulesare so small they can be flipped off the end of a finger or thrown insome other manner with great accuracy. If they strike near the nose, theimpact shatters them and the gas is released, causing a violent illnesswhich usually makes the victim unconscious."

  "That's what happened," cried Bob. "Why your explanation fits perfectly,only I didn't get a full dose. Perhaps there was too much fresh air inthe car I was in."

  "The pellet of glass might have struck you a glancing blow," suggestedhis uncle.

  "How can you defend yourself against this?" asked Bob.

  "The only safe way would be by a gas mask, but now that you know suchthings can happen you can be on the lookout. If you ever feel a similarimpact that arouses your suspicion, don't breathe, but rush to some otherspot before you take another gulp of air. That should enable you toescape the gas."

  "I'm going to remember that," promised Bob.

  "Better take a nap now. After you wake up you can type out your detailedreport for Washington," advised Merritt Hughes.

  Bob didn't especially relish the idea of sleeping when he felt he shouldbe on his way to Atalissa, but he was thoroughly relaxed and a greatfatigue had crept over him. So it was with real gratitude that he creptin between crisp sheets. He was asleep in less than a minute. Some timelater his uncle looked in and pulled down the shades at the windows.Later he went out for a time, and when he returned Bob was still in adeep sleep. It was late afternoon before Bob finally roused from hisslumber, but he felt much like his former self. Of course there were afew bruises and several strained muscles, but he could walk withoutcreaking in every joint.

  Bob dressed and went into the adjoining room which his uncle occupied.The federal agent had gone out several hours before, but his portabletypewriter was on a low table and Bob sat down and started to work on hisreport which was to be air mailed to Washington.

  The report was lengthy for Bob went into great detail and the afternoonfaded into early night. He snapped on a desk light and continued with hiswork. When he was through he straightened up and stretched his arms forhe had been hunched over the typewriter for more than an hour and a half.

  Bob leaned back in his chair and read the report with care, correcting anoccasional error which he had made in the manuscript. That done, headdressed a large envelope, and went down to the desk in the lobby wherehe secured air mail stamps and learned that by prompt mailing the letterwould be delivered in Washington the next morning.

  Bob was hungry, but he waited for a time for his uncle. Now that he wasthoroughly rested, he was anxious to make plans for the trip to Atalissa.After waiting in the lobby for half an hour, Bob went into the diningroom which opened to the right, leaving word where he could be found.

  A supper with a fresh fish steak as the main course appeased his hungerand he ate leisurely. A newsboy, walking through the restaurant,attracted his attention and he purchased an evening paper, scanning theheadlines while he completed his meal with a chocolate sundae.

  Bob wondered if the reporters had been tipped off by the trainmen as towhat had taken place the night before on the Southern Limited. Hesearched every page of the paper, but there was no mention of thedisappearance of Joe Hamsa.

  It was nearly mid-evening by the time Bob was through with his meal andhe returned to the lobby, inquiring for any possible information abouthis uncle.

  "He left about four o'clock," said the clerk on duty. "I happened to seehim step into the street and he turned to the right. I'm positive hehasn't been back since then."

  Bob thanked the clerk for the information, meager though it was. It woulddo no harm to go for a stroll and he stepped out into the street. Likehis uncle had done, he turned right on a street which led down to thewater front.

  He soon found himself in a poorer part of the city. Street lights werefar apart and their globes dirty. Houses and shops seemed to be hidingand the men who went along the street did not look up.

  Two policemen strolled by and Bob whistled for he knew what it meant whenofficers made their beat in pairs. He doubted whether his uncle hadvisited this district and he turned and walked back to the hotel.

  A clock was striking ten when Bob re-entered the lobby. He was almost atthe elevators when the clerk called to him.

  "Telephone call just coming in for you," he said. "You can answer here ifyou wish."

  Bob hastened ov
er to the desk. It must be his uncle, phoning to tell himthat he had been detained.

  Bob picked up the instrument which the clerk handed him and placed thereceiver to his ear. A gruff voice spoke, "Is this Bob Houston?"

  It was a strange voice and Bob tried to catalog its timbre, for it waspitched unusually low.

  "This is Bob Houston speaking," he replied quietly.

  "Then listen to what I've got to say. We've got your uncle and we'll getyou and any other federal men who attempt to trail us. Get off this caseand stay off if you ever want to see him alive again and you can tellthat to Washington."

  Chapter XX MEAGER HOPES *

  Before Bob could reply he heard the receiver on the other end of the lineclick. He whirled to the hotel clerk.

  "Any idea where that call came from?" he asked.

  "No."

  "Get the chief operator for me at once," said Bob, pulling out his badgeto speed the clerk's efforts. To the chief operator Bob explained who hewas and what he wanted.

  "Hold the line," said the telephone official.

  Bob leaned his elbows hard against the desk. He needed the extra supportfor he had suddenly gone weak all over. There had been grave menace inthe throaty voice which had come over the wire and he did not doubt thetruth of the threat.

  It was entirely possible that his uncle had been captured by thesmugglers they were trailing and Bob knew, after his encounter withHamsa, that they were perfectly capable of using the most drastic meansto put out of the way any obstacle to the success of their plans.

  The chief operator spoke again.

  "Your call came from a pay station in a drug store near the water front."

  Bob obtained the name of the drug store and he whirled away from the deskand ran outside to the taxi stand. He jumped into the first cab and gavethe address of the drug store.

  "Step on it driver. I'll clear you with any traffic officer that stopsus."

  "I've heard that story before," grunted the driver as he shifted thegears.

  "This talks," said Bob, shoving his badge into view of the driver.

  "You said it, mister," said the taxi man, and the cab leaped ahead as hetrod heavily on the accelerator.

  The cab wove in and out of a web of traffic, then shot away down a darkstreet, took several corners on two wheels, and after threading throughseveral narrower streets, drew up beside a well lighted corner drugstore.

  "Wait here," ordered Bob, jumping from the cab and hurrying into thestore.

  Two clerks were on duty and Bob addressed himself to the older man.

  Motioning toward the telephone booth at the rear of the store, he firedhis first question.

  "Give me a description of the man who put in a call from here not morethan fifteen minutes ago."

  The man to whom Bob addressed the question appeared to resent hisintrusion, and his reply was far from courteous.

  "You've got the wrong place and besides I don't like you."

  That touched off Bob's temper and his anger blazed.

  "Give me the information I want and give it to me at once or you're goingon a quick ride to jail. Who phoned from that booth?"

  At the same time Bob revealed the metal shield in his hand whichidentified him, and the entire attitude of the clerk changed.

  "Why didn't you tell me you were a federal man in the first place?" hegrumbled.

  "I want to know who made that call," insisted Bob.

  "Well, I didn't pay a whole lot of attention. There were a couple ofother customers in the store. He was kind of tall, and about thirty-fiveI'd say."

  "What kind of clothes was he wearing?"

  "He had on a coverall suit and a dark hat."

  "How about his hair and eyes. Was there anything on his face that wouldmake it easy to identify him?"

  The younger clerk spoke up.

  "I noticed his low, deep voice," he said, "and there was a little scarjust in front of one ear."

  "Which one?"

  The clerk turned half away from Bob as though assuming the position inwhich the stranger had appeared to him.

  "It was the left ear," he replied. "I'm sure about that now."

  "Notice anything else about him? Did he appear nervous or in a hurry toget away?"

  "He wasn't exactly nervous, but after he came out of the booth he didn'tlinger around."

  "Did he have a car?"

  "No, he walked in here, but just after he left I heard a motorboatgetting under way. You know it's less than a block to the water front."

  There was no more information to be gained from the clerks in the storeand Bob returned to the street where the cab was waiting.

  "Roll on down to the water front," he told the driver.

  Chapter XXI SPECIAL AGENT NINE *

  Along the river the docks appeared deserted and there was not even awatchman in sight. Bob returned to the cab.

  "Wheel for the central police station and don't lose any time," hecommanded.

  The cab shot away and Bob sank back into the seat, his head in a whirl.Somehow, he felt sure, the tangled threads would weave into a patternthat he could solve, but he had to admit that right now he was up againsta seeming impasse.

  The cab driver broke almost every speed record in Jacksonville that nightand more than once they averted smashed fenders by the narrowest ofmargins.

  A police siren shrilled behind them and the driver looked over hisshoulder.

  "Motorcycle cop coming," he cried.

  "How far is it to the station?" asked Bob.

  "Two blocks."

  "Then keep on going."

  The driver pressed the accelerator to the floor boards and the cab leapedahead, ran through a red light in spite of the waving arms of anothertraffic officer, and then shrieked to a stop before the central policestation.

  Behind them the siren rose and then fell as the motorcycle officerwheeled to the curb.

  "Smart guys, smart guys," he yelled. "Look where you stopped?"

  Grinning, he pointed to the sign which designated the building as thepolice station.

  "Just go right on in and make yourselves at home. You'll be there longenough. I'm going to slap half a dozen traffic charges against you."

  Bob had no time to waste words with a traffic officer.

  "Come on in and place all of the charges you want to," he snapped,motioning to the taxi driver to accompany him.

  Once inside the station, Bob hastened to the main desk where a nightcaptain was on duty.

  "I'm Bob Houston, special agent nine of the Department of Justice," heexplained, displaying the badge which he held in his hand. "It wasnecessary for me to reach here without loss of time and the driver of mycab ran through some red lights. Please see that any charges against himare dismissed."

  The night captain nodded and waved the motorcycle officer aside.

  "Why all the hurry?" he asked.

  "My uncle, a federal agent, walked out of the hotel this afternoon andfailed to return. A few minutes ago I was warned that unless the federalmen were taken off a certain case, he would never be seen alive again."

  "Think it was a fake threat?"

  "No. It was serious enough. I traced the call to a public booth in a drugstore down near the water front. The clerks were able to give me only afair description of the man who made the call, but one of them told me amotorboat had started down river shortly after the man left."

  "Any description of the boat?" pressed the night captain.

  "There was no one along the water front."

  "Then I'm afraid it's going to be tough to pick up that boat. It's asblack as pitch tonight, but we'll see what we can do."

  "I'd like to use a private room where I can phone Washington," said Boband the officer pointed to a doorway to the left and rear of his owndesk. Before he entered, Bob paid his taxi bill and handed the dr
iver agenerous tip.

  Once in the private room, Bob dropped into a leather upholstered chair.Calling long distance, he asked for a certain number in Washington thatwas called only when something of the utmost importance happened.

  "Lines north are busy at present," said the operator.

  But the information Bob had could not wait and he asked for the chiefoperator. In quick, terse sentences he explained who he was and theimportance of his message.

  Faint clicking sounds could be heard in the receiver, then Washingtonanswered and Bob knew that his call was being given the right-of-way overeverything else.

  A quiet voice asked, "Who's speaking?" and Bob knew that he was incontact with Waldo Edgar, the grim, efficient head of the government'sgreatest man-hunting division.

  "This is Bob Houston. I'm at the central police station at Jacksonville.Merritt Hughes, my uncle, has been kidnaped within the last few hours."

  "What's that?" There was explosive energy in the question which washurled back over the wires.

  Bob repeated his message, elaborating a little this time.

  "But Bob, that's impossible."

  "I thought so too, at first," confessed Bob, "but after that warningphone call I changed my mind."

  "Call your hotel again. I'll hold the line."

  Bob stepped outside and from another phone got in touch with his hotel.There had been no word about his uncle, the clerk assured him, and Bobreturned to the private room, where he relayed the news northward.