by John Blaine
Zaretsky’s hand had made a neat hole that had to be enlarged before the hand could be removed. Scotty battered at the safety glass with the tire iron. Tiny shards of glass fell like rain, and little by little the window gave. Rick moved in and broke off pieces with the pliers until Zaretsky’s hand could be withdrawn.
Keller already had the door open. “Help me get him out,” he said. “I’ve got to tie off
that artery.”
The three of them pulled and tugged until Zaretsky came loose, then stretched him out on the road. “No broken bones,” Keller said. “I checked while you were freeing him.
Rick, get me the bag in the car. I have an undershirt we can use for a temporary bandage while we get him to the chalet.”
Keller worked swiftly and efficiently. When the wound was tightly tied, he loosened the tourniquet, then asked, “Can you get up?”
The big man looked up with glazed eyes. “Why do you treat me? If you left me to die, no one would know.”
“We don’t work that way,” Keller said crisply. “We’ll take care of you, even though you did try to kill us. Why, for heaven’s sake? Why did you want us dead?”
Zaretsky closed his eyes. “When I saw the helicopter, I knew the big fish, the Soviet scientist, had got away. So I decided it was better to get Communist small fry than to have a complete failure.”
“We’re not Communists,” Keller said. “We’re not even sympathizers.”
Zaretsky opened his eyes. “But you met with the Soviet scientist. You gave him the death ray.”
“We used the laser-what you call the death ray-to operate on him. He was a very sick man. It is not a death ray. That was a fake to keep you from attacking. The explosion was dynamite.”
“If you are not a Communist, why did you operate on one?”
“For the same reason I’m helping you,” Keller said impatiently.“Because it is the duty of a physician to heal the sick, without regard to their politics. Now get up and get in our car.”
The Mercedes was battered, but still in working condition. Some body repairs would put it in shape again. Rick sat on the trunk, his feet braced on the spare tire. Zaretsky and Keller squeezed in with Scotty.
It was necessary to go all the way down before Scotty could turn the roadster around.
They reached the top of the cliff just as Kratov emerged in the sedan. The Soviet agent waved them down.
“What is going on? Is that Zaretsky?”
“He tried to force us off the road and got hurt,” Scotty said. “We’re taking him to the chalet.”
Kratov was out of the sedan like a flash. He ran around to stand beside Scotty, and a Walther pistol appeared in his hand. “You will not,” he said flatly. “Zaretsky, get out.
Your accident is going to become fatal. I’ve had enough of you and your mob of murderers.”
Rick swung sideways, bringing his legs over the side of the Mercedes. Kratov was intent on the big man. Rick made sure he had plenty of leverage, and kicked. His foot caught the underside of Kratov’s arm. The pistol flew into the air. Then, using both hands to propel himself, Rick sprang. His flying body hit the Soviet agent. Kratov went down as though tackled.
By the time Rick recovered his balance, Scotty was out of the car and diving for the pistol. Within a few heartbeats, the situation was under control.
“Get in your car and keep on going,” Scotty said coldly. “We’ve had enough of Zaretsky, and of you too.”
Kratov had no choice. He got back into the sedan and drove off. Rick guessed he had no other gun.
Scotty stood guard at the gate while Keller patched up Zaretsky. “We’ve got to get him to a hospital,” the surgeon told Rick. “He’s weaker than he looks. He needs plasma, and possibly a transfusion.”
“And I must stop my men,” Zaretsky said feebly. “If you can get me to a phone, I can make a call that will send someone to stop them.” He grinned weakly. “They are on the way to bomb you from the ridge.”
“They must be stopped!” Rick exclaimed. He and Keller exchanged glances.
“There isn’t room for four in the roadster,” Keller said. “Take this man to the hospital inZurich , then come back for me. I will wait. There is no hurry.”
“Yes, sir,” Rick said. “We’ll get going right away. Sure you’ll be all right here?”
Keller smiled.“Of course. I don’t think ACTION wants me any more.”
“No,” Zaretsky said. “Not any more. I shudder when I think of the mistake we nearly made.”
“Remember it next time you start out on an assassination,” Keller said coldly. “Now get started. Pick Scotty up at the gate on the way, Rick. In case you meet Kratov on the road.”
“Yes, sir,” Rick said. “We’re on our way.”
CHAPTER XX
The SecondMidnight Call
“Urgent,” a telegram from Major Benson read, “Wait for me hotel. Have important info.”
The telegram had arrived at nine in the morning, according to the porter. Major Benson arrived at three in the afternoon. “I’ve been trying to get you on the phone since yesterday afternoon,” Benson explained, “but the operator kept saying there was no answer. I decided to drive over and find you.”
“Sorry we weren’t in,” Rick said. “What is the important information?”
“It ties in with Keller. Listen to this. Our entire intelligence setup aroundEurope has been tracking down a rumor that a senior Soviet scientist was defecting to the West. It was finally tracked down yesterday. The scientist is Leonid Blanovich!”
The boys exchanged glances.
“But he’s not defecting,” Benson continued. “He left theSoviet Union secretly because he’s ill, in desperate need of surgery. He’s inSwitzerland , and I think it’s a good bet he’s with Keller. Keller’s a topflight surgeon, isn’t he?”
“He is,” Scotty said, “and you’re right. The operation was performed this morning, successfully.”
Benson stared. “Then none of this is new to you?”
“The part about the rumor he was defecting is new,” Rick told the young major. “But
we found out the rest last night.” He outlined briefly the events of the past twenty-four hours.
Benson sat back in his chair and shook his head in amazement. “While the entire allied intelligence service is hunting Blanovich, you not only find him but get the story from his own lips!”
Rick had to grin. “You make it sound better than it was. We were only determined to follow Keller. The rest was incidental. Believe me, our intelligence must be pretty good.
You said you’ve been trying to call us since yesterday afternoon. We didn’t know a thing until last night after we climbed the cliff, and by then intelligence had the whole story, except Dr. Keller’s involvement.”
“No wonder Steve Ames said his whole gang inEurope was tied up,” Scotty recalled.
“They were tied up on the same deal he got us into, but no one knew it.”
The telephone rang. Benson picked it up. “Major Benson. . . . Oh, it’s you, Owen.
Listen, I have some important news. Can you come to my room? I’m in 409. There are two others with me, but they’re part of the story. . . . Okay.”
Benson hung up. “That was Owen Stack. He just got intoZurich fromFrankfurt . I want you to tell him your story.”
Owen Stack was the JANIG contact at the embassy, the man Rick had tried to reach on their arrival inZurich . A few moments later the door opened and Mr. Stack came in. He was a small, plump man, rosy-cheeked, and twinkling of eye.
Benson introduced the boys. “You’re the twoWashington wired us about,” Stack acknowledged. “Have you kept track of Dr. Keller?”
“Sort of,” Rick said, smiling. He was enjoying this.
Stack turned to Benson. “Before you tell me your news, let me tell you something.
Leonid Blanovich is right here. He’s at a chalet owned by a Dr. Gustav Schell, a well-known Swiss physician. Kratov is guarding him.
There is also a nurse named Stein, another doctor named Veronde, and some American we haven’t identified. Zaretsky knows Blanovich is here, and ACTION has moved in. The presence of all the medical personnel verifies the report that Blanovich is sick. The Soviet leaders wouldn’t want that known, for obvious reasons. That’s why Blanovich is to be treated here instead of at home. Now, what’s your news?”
Benson said mildly, “The American is Dr. Harold Keller.”
Owen Stack slumped down in a chair.“For Pete’s sake! So you two were tied into the Blanovich case?”
“Tell him the rest,” Benson said, grinning.
Rick summed it up. “The operation was a success. Zaretsky is out of action, and all is quiet. Blanovich goes home via ambulance helicopter and a Soviet ambulance jet day after tomorrow. Dr. Keller goes back toCopenhagen tomorrow night. Dr. Veronde has already gone back toBerne . Nurse Stein and Dr. Schell are standing by with Dr. Keller.”
Stack reached for the phone. “You’re sure the operation was a success?”
“That’s what Dr. Keller said,” Scotty replied.
“Good. Will you excuse me while I make a phone call to the Swiss chief of police?”
Stack spoke in English. “Hello, Chief.Owen Stack here. How are you? . . .Fine.Very good. Listen, Chief, I want to give you a tip. It doesn’t concern theUnited States , but I thought you’d be interested. A very famous Soviet scientist, Dr. Leonid Blanovich, is at Dr. Gustav Schells chalet. He entered the country incognito about three days ago and underwent a very serious operation. He will be at Schell’s until day after tomorrow. . . .
Yes . . . yes, indeed. I thought you would be interested. The problem, as I’m sure you realize, is that the Chinese Communist party would like to have Dr. Blanovich out of the way. They may make an attempt. Naturally, you wouldn’t wish that to happen
inSwitzerland .Not at all, my dear Chief.A pleasure to cooperate.”
Stack hung up and smiled at Benson and the boys. “Now we can be sure Blanovich will be safe. The Swiss police will see to that. They can’t afford to have a prominent Soviet scientist murdered on Swiss territory.”
Back nodded appreciatively. Stack had realized, as Kratov had said, that secrecy was no longer important once the operation was over. Kratov was guarding the scientist, but the Swiss police would be extra insurance in case the Chinese Communist agents tried something. Stack also knew thatBlanovich’s continued existence was, at present, in the best interests of theUnited States .
“We have a problem,” Scotty spoke up. “Zaretsky made a mess of our car. It was one we rented atBerne . What can we do?”
“Have it repaired,” Stack said promptly. “Leave it to me. I’ll have it fixed like new and turn it in for you.Anything else?”
“I suppose Steve Ames knows all about this?” Rick asked.
Stack chuckled. “He will.As soon as an urgent cable can travel from here toWashington.
Now give me all the details.Start atCopenhagen. If the story is interesting enough, I’ll buy you a steak for dinner.”
Owen Stack not only bought steaks, but all the trimmings and one of the most luscious desserts the boys had ever eaten: fresh alpine strawberries soaked in grenadine, and covered with clotted cream. It was worth it, the intelligence officer said.Particularly Rick’s comment about the boys being only amateurs, and the skill of American professionals.
In the midst of dinner, a familiar face appeared. It was the ACTION tail the boys had shaken twice. He bowed. “Excuse me, please. Mr. Zaretsky wishes you to know the climbing party is back inZurich . It took some time to catch them. They were already far up the ridge. Also, Mr. Zaretsky sends you his good wishes.”
The four Americans watched as the man made his way from the restaurant. Rick grinned. “I wonder what message Zaretsky would have sent had he known Blanovich was still at the chalet?”
“A time bomb buried in Swiss pastry, probably,” Scotty observed.
It was late when they got to bed, and Rick had no sooner fallen asleep when the phone rang. He groped for it sleepily and muttered a not-too-cordial “Hello?”
It was Steve Ames calling. Rick sat upright and switched on the light. “It’s Steve, Scotty.”
“Rick? ... I just got a cable from Stack. You’ve been busy.”
“Sort of,” Rick said with a grin.
“The woman moved out of Keller’s house without a word. One phone call and she was gone. Since we had taken the precaution of bugging the house, we know who the call was from. So now the FBI has a new lead. Mrs. Keller talked with her husband, and all is right with the family again.”
“We’re glad of that,” Rick said. “Dr. Keller is a very fine man. We like him.”
“I was sure you would-if you ever met him. I won’t bawl you out for climbing
mountains, or getting mixed up with strange people, because you landed on your feet.
When am I going to hear the whole story?”
“Come to Spindrift in a week,” Rick invited. “Well feed you a steak.”
“It’s a date. When are you going back toCopenhagen ?”
“Tomorrow night. We phoned Dad earlier this evening. We’ll fly with Dr. Keller.”
“Okay. Thanks, Rick. And thanks to Scotty. I’ll do as much for you someday.”
“I hope you don’t have to,” Rick said feelingly, and bade good night to the JANIG
agent.
He reported the conversation to Scotty, then switched out his light again. For a few moments he lay awake, reviewing the adventure. It was all a matter of timing, he realized. The rendezvous at Dr. Schell’s had been arranged to give Keller just enough time to examine his patient, and to work a bit with his surgical team. The schedule had been arranged so neither Keller nor Blanovich would arrive a moment too soon, or too late. That was the reason for some of the strange actions. The Soviet agent, Kratov, had wanted only a head start, not bothering to cover his trail securely. Once the operation was over, it didn’t matter whether he had succeeded or failed in covering the trail. The boys had been lucky as well as resourceful. The two of them, plus the Megabuck units, had spelled the difference between carrying out the assignment and losing the trail.
Rick grinned to himself in the darkness. He and Scotty had done well, and he knew it.
He felt the pleasure of a job neatly wrapped up, with no loose ends.Now, back to Spindrift, and peace and quiet.
But, although Rick did not know it, a man had had his face slapped not far from Spindrift on that very day. At the moment that Rick was turning over to go back to sleep, the man was pacing the floor in his hotel room, brooding over the incident. He would not forget the slap as long as he lived, and his bitter memory of it would plunge Rick and Scotty into a pit of darkness in their next adventure, THE VEILED RAIDERS.
THE END
THE RUBY RAY MYSTERY
A RICK BRANT SCIENCE-ADVENTURE STORY, No. 19
BY JOHN BLAINE
