by John Blaine
CHAPTER VIII
The Mind Reader Strikes
Jerry Webster often spoke of himself as “White-side’s best reporter,” which Rick considered a fair description, since he was the only reporter in town. Of course Duke Barrows, the editor, did some reporting himself, but that didn’t count since he carried the title of managing editor.
“I’m a good reporter because I can sense a story,” Jerry told Rick and Scotty. “You two have that certain look that spells trouble. What gives?”
“No trouble,” Rick answered swiftly. “We just need a little help.”
Duke Barrows glanced up from the proof sheets he was editing. “When Spindrift needs a little help, there’s always a story in it. We’ll make a deal, won’t we, Jerry? You give us the story and we’ll supply the help.”
Rick knew Duke and Jerry well, so it wasn’t necessary to beat around the bush. “No story. At least not yet, and I can’t even give you a hint. Only we do need help.”
“Two kinds,” Scotty added.
“That’s right. First of all, we have guests at Spindrift.Name of Morrison. You’ll pick that up sooner or later, because Barby is running around town with Janice Morrison.
What we need is a promise that you won’t mention it in the paper.”
Duke’s eyebrows went up.“Ahah! Trying to suppress legitimate news, are you? What do you think, Jerry?”
Jerry Webster stared up at the ceiling. “I can see the headline now. ‘Mysterious Visitors at Spindrift!’Lead paragraph: ‘The mystery of strange visitors atSpindriftIsland deepened today as members of the scientific foundation threatened the
Whiteside Morning Record with drastic action unless the story was withheld.’ How’s that, Duke?”
“Needs editing,” Duke replied, “but you’re on the right track. What’s the drastic action you’re threatening us with?”
Scotty grinned. “Item,” he intoned. “Editor and reporter drowned in own ink supply.
Bodies found among leftover newspaper copies, apparently discarded with other waste.”
“Too good for ‘em,” Rick disagreed.“How about ‘Editor and reporter assume new dimensions. Rolled to paper thinness in own press.’”
“That’s drastic,” Duke admitted. “Seriously, Rick, you must have some good reason for asking us to leave out what could only be a small social item.”
“It’s a good reason, all right,” Scotty answered him. “Only we can’t tell you what it is, Duke.”
The editor looked at Jerry. “What say, can we take it on faith?”
‘Too simple,” Jerry objected. “We ought to get something in trade.”
Scotty made eating motions.“Apple pie, with homemade ice cream? Sunday night. Said apple pie would be used to pack down a nice, thick steak.”
Jerry sighed. “I’m tempted.”
“It’s a deal,” Duke agreed.“Make mine rare. And I add one thing: If there’s a story, we get it first.”
Rick looked pained. “Don’t you always? But chances are,there never will be a story out of this.”
“Government deal,” Duke said. “It has to be. Okay, Rick. We’ll go along. What’s the second kind of help?”
Rick breathed a sigh of relief. He hadn’t doubted that Duke and Jerry would hold the story, but it was always hard to ask a favor without being able to give the reason.
“There’s a new barber in Vince Lardner’s shop.”
“Think we’re chumps who don’t keep up with the news?” Jerryasked, his expression disdainful. “Of course there’s a new barber. What of it?”
“We need some information about him. If you’ll just let me see yournotes, that should do it.”
Jerry hesitated and Scotty grinned. “Bet he doesn’t have any notes.”
Duke glared at Jerry. “See? You’ve embarrassed the Record. I told you to get the story on that barber this morning.”
“Time enough later,” Jerry retorted, unruffled. “We don’t need the dope until tonight, and I’ll have it. What kind of information do you want?”
Rick listed the points on his fingers. “Where he came from, his full name, how he happened to get the job-I mean whether he applied directly to Vince or whether he got the job some other way-and how long he expects to stay.”
Scotty had a few points, too. “If Vince had a vacancy, find out how long he looked for a barber, and how he got this one. Timing is important, Jerry. Get all you can on it. And ask him a few questions about his massage machine, if it’s in sight. It looks like the hair gadgets they have in beauty shops.”
Editor and reporter stared at the boys curiously. “Why so much interest in the barber?”
Jerry demanded.
Rick tried to look casual. “Why, one of our special guests might want a haircut, and we couldn’t take a chance that the barber might not be government approved. Simple.”
Duke Barrows tilted back in his chair and pushed the green eyeshade to the top of his head. “I get the picture.” He ticked off the points on his fingers, mocking
Rick.“Strangers at Spindrift. Not to be mentioned. Government work of some kind, for sure, and pretty hot, too. So hot, in fact, that a stranger in
Whiteside might possibly be a menace to the strangers at Spindrift. Rick Brant asks help of local reporter. Gets name of stranger. Turns name and details in to some government security officer for a check.How’s that?”
“Too good,” Rick admitted. He had known it would be impossible to put anything over on Duke. The editor was a sharp cookie. “But keep it quiet, will you, please?”
“You know anything we discuss never goes farther than this office. All right, Rick. Jerry will get the dope. Hop to it,hawkeye . Duty calls.”
Jerry waved his arms dramatically. “Hold the presses! New barber in town! Here I go, after the story of the year!” He swept through the door,then made a sheepish
reappearance. “Forgot my pencil and copy paper,” he explained, grabbed them, and vanished.
Duke waved the boys to chairs. “It will take a little while. Get comfortable. I have to finish this copy.”
Rick and Scotty waited as patiently as possible. Scotty, themore relaxed of the pair, borrowed a copy of a style manual and studied it with apparent interest. Rick watched him, envious as always of his pal’s ability to let time pass without floor pacing, nail chewing, or other impatient actions.
Duke’s analysis of the situation was pretty good, Rick thought, and it was based on very little real information. He supposed that an editor had more experience to draw on than most people. But so did intelligence agents. It wasn’t hard to see how a few information leaks could add up to a pretty clear picture in an agent’s head.
Jerry was back in a short time. Apparently the interview hadn’t taken long. He produced his sheaf of copy paper with a flourish and pounded on a desk for attention. The gesture wasn’t necessary. Rick, Scotty, and Duke were waiting eagerly.
“Louis Collins, Journeyman Barber,” Jerry read.“Age 43. Originally fromSt. Louis , most recently fromWashington,D.C. Twenty-five years experience. Inventor of the Collins treatment for dry hair, which is the machine he has.Claims to have invented it five years ago, while working at a hotel inWashington. Came to Whiteside because he
prefers being near the shore. He’s an ardent fisherman. Saw Vince Lardner’s ad in The New fork Times a few days ago and applied at once by phone.”
“What day and what time?” Rick asked quickly.
“Monday.He called aboutnoon .”
Scotty asked curiously, “How did you get that information out of him?”
“Nothing to it.I told Vince I’d like to look up his ad in the times, because he claimed the ad plugged Whiteside as an excellent climate. Then I told this new guy he must have moved fast to get in his application ahead of all the other applicants, and he said he hadn’t even seen the Times until he went to lunch. He called right away. Vince nodded, so I guess the time worked out as Collins said it had. Vince said the ad had been running for a
week, and no one else had applied.”
Rick had been calculating. “Scotty, that means Collins phoned after we leftWashington .
. .” He stopped quickly.
Duke Barrows rubbed his hands in fiendish glee.“Ahah!Giving away information. So you’ve seen this Collins before, inWashington . No wonder you’re worried about him.
Jerry, I’ll bet we can sell this information to some enemy for millions!”
Scotty grinned. “Not unless you have the plans for the death ray. Only death rays bring millions these days. Why, it’s getting so a spy can’t even sell atom bomb secrets for more than a buck apiece any more.”
“Guess you’re right,” Duke admitted, crestfallen. “Well, Rick, anything else you need?”
“Middle initial or name?”Rick asked.
“M for Mayhew.Anything else?”Jerry asked with a superior air.
“That does it.” Rick consulted his watch. “Let’s go, Scotty.Time to pick up Barby. I won’t thank you two, because you’re going to get paid in steak and pie. See you later.”
At the home of Barby’s friend there was another wait while Rick chafed. He was anxious to get home and phone Steve Ames. However, as it developed, Steve couldn’t be reached. It was after dinner before Rick made connections.
He gave Steve the information Jerry had collected,then asked, “Isn’t this proof of something?”
Steve chuckled. “It’s proof that Whiteside has a new barber. That’s all. But it’s certainly strongly presumptive, Rick. We knew about Collins moving before you called, and we’re continuing the check on him. Meanwhile, I’ll alert my boys at Spindrift and tell them to keep on their toes.”
“I’ll pass the word,” Rick offered.
“No need. I’m in touch by radio. Now, I want you to do something for me. Dr. Marks is arriving atNewark by train at six tomorrow morning. Tom Dodd is with him. Can you pick them up?”
“Sure.How?”
“Suppose you fly toNewark and have Scotty drive over. Then you can pick them up at the station by car and take them to the plane. If you fly them to Spindrift no one will know that Marks has even arrived. Tom will try to make sure no one is tailing him, and he’ll help you to lose any cars that might try to follow.”
“We can do it,” Rick assured him. “I can land close to the city. I’ve done it before with pontoons.”
“Good. Ordinarily, I’d have an agent meet them, but myNewark man is in the woods with the Boy Scout group. Call me when Marks is safely with the team.”
“Will do,” Rick promised.
Rick reported the conversation to his father when the scientist came in from late work in the laboratory. Hartson Brant nodded wearily. “Good. If Marks is on the way, that means he has answers we need badly to some of our mathematical problems.”
“What I don’t get is why he’s coming on an overnight train,” Scotty interjected. “That’s doing it the hard way, because it’s only a few hours fromWashington toNewark . Why didn’t he get a train at a decent hour? This way, he’ll spend most of the night sitting on a siding somewhere.”
The scientist smiled. “I gather that Marks has definite ideas of his own. I wouldn’t care to be Tom Dodd. I’m sure Marks is giving him considerable trouble. He’s convinced this security business is a plot to inconvenience him and the other people on the project.”
“He didn’t seem to have a very sweet disposition,” Rick agreed. “Good night, Dad.
Scotty and I are going to bed early, because we’ll have to be up at dawn.”
It was really the first sound night’s sleep Rick had since the invasion of Spindrift by Steve and the Morrisons. Later, he had to smile at himself, because it seemed to be proof of what Scotty had said-that the real reason for his uneasiness was inactivity. He admitted that the problem of the stricken team members intrigued him. He made no claim to being any great shakes as a detective, but trying to solve mysteries, whether scientific or real, was a part of him.
Scotty departed first by boat a few minutes after dawn. Rick warmed the Sky
Wagon,then went in for a dish of cereal before taking off. He had plenty of time.Newark was only a few minutes away in the fast little plane.
He timed it perfectly. Scotty was just rolling up to the pier nearNewark as Rick taxied in after landing. He got into a rowboat brought by an attendant, and tied the plane to an anchor buoy. In a moment he was in the car with Scotty.
“We’ll get some excitement now,” Rick predicted.
“Because Marks is arriving?”
“Yes, and because the barber has come to town.If he isn’t up to his neck in this business, I’ll eat his hair oil on pancakes.”
Scotty shuddered. “You might at least wait until I’ve had more breakfast.”
Rick ignored him. “Also, the team is now assembled in one place. That means the enemy has a single target to shoot at.”
Scotty laughed out loud. “You should see yourself,” he said, chuckling. “Since we found the barber yesterday, you’ve been a new man.Beaming and happy as can be. Now the enemy has a single target and you’re pleased. Didn’t it occur to you that the target is us, you simple meathead?”
“It did.” Rick had to grin, too. “But who can locate the sharpshooter best? Why, the guy sitting on the bull’s-eye.”
Scotty parked and they walked into the station.
A quick check of the bulletin board told them the train was on time. They walked to the gate just as the train announcer called the arrival.
Tom Dodd was one of the last off. He had two suitcases under one arm, and he was
supporting Marks with the other. Rick and Scotty ran to help. Was the scientist ill?
Scotty took the suitcases while Rick grabbed Marks’ other arm. The scientist shook him off. “I’m perfectly all right,” he said irritably. “Confound it! Rouse a man at the crack of dawn and expect him to respond like a ballet dancer to a cue.Nonsense!”
Marks’ appearance belied his words. His face was drawn and pale, and it was obvious that his coordination wasn’t very good. Tom Dodd was plainly worried.
“Let go of me,” Marks demanded. He drew himself up and glared at the boys. “Which way is the car, please?”
“Straight ahead.”Rick glanced at Dodd.
Marks stalked off, but his step was too careful to be convincing. He just wasn’t normal.
“He wasn’t like this when we got on the train,” Dodd said in a low voice. “Let’s get going. I’m anxious to get him to Spindrift.”
In the parking lot, Rick ran to open the trunk so Scotty could stow the bags. Then he beckoned to Marks, who was staring straight ahead, his eyes glassy. “This is the car, sir.”
Marks started for the open door. But instead of bending down to get in, he walked straight ahead, rigid as a robot, and his face slammed into the edge of the low turret top.
Dodd caught him as he fell.
Rick jumped to the scientist’s side, afraid he had been knocked out, and afraid, too, that something even more serious was wrong.
Marks wasnot unconscious, but his stare was fixed. “Are you all right, sir?” the boy asked anxiously.
The reply was unintelligible.
Scotty bent over the scientist, too. “Are you all right, sir?” he repeated urgently.
Marks’ fixed stare never wavered. A spate of words poured from him, but they made no sense. Now and then a single word emerged clearly. Once it was “July,” then “soup kettle” and “Planck’s constant.”
“Just like the others,” Tom Dodd said helplessly.
Rick listened with horror. He had no doubt, no doubt at all. Steve had described it accurately, and here it was.Marks was a victim of the identical ailment that had stricken the other team members.
CHAPTER IX
Dagger of the Mind
Tom Dodd took command and gave orders crisply. “Help get him into the car. Here, into the back seat.”
The agent got in after the scientist while the boys got into the front. “Scot
ty, start driving. We have to shake off any tail that picks us up. Try to find a stretch where there isn’t much traffic.”
Scotty swung the sedan into the traffic stream while Rick joined Tom Dodd in watching behind them. A few minutes later Scotty slipped into an alley and stepped on the gas. At the end of the alley he turned the wrong way down a one-way street, found another alley, and slipped into it. He emerged under a railroad trestle and moved into the stream of traffic once more. Watching carefully, he moved with the traffic until he saw an opportunity to cross a main thoroughfare as the light changed from yellow to red.
Theirs was the last car through the intersection,
Rick saw, before traffic started through the cross street. Scotty took another turn, doubled back, and went through another alley. As he emerged onto a street where traffic was sparse, he slowed.
“That should do it,” Tom Dodd said. “Nice work.”
“How is he?” Rick asked anxiously.
“Just like the others,” Tom said flatly. “Listen, boys. OurNewark agent is in Whiteside. I don’t think it’s wise to take Marks to Spindrift in this condition, but I don’t want to take him far, either. Have you any contacts here?”
Rick tried to remember. His father had associates inNewark, he was sure, including a doctor or two. But he couldn’t remember their names. “I could call home,” he suggested.
“Dad will have some ideas.”
Dodd considered. “You couldn’t use the scrambler from here. Could you tip your father off without giving information to anyone who happened to be listening on the wire?”
Rick thought he could.
“Okay.” Dodd motioned to a restaurant. “There’s a phone in there. I can see the booth through the window. Hop to it.”
Rick hurried into the restaurant. The full horror of what had happened to Dr. Marks was just having its effect. He found himself shivering as though with a severe chill.Marks was the victim of something ghastly. He seemed to be trying to make sense, as though there was still a glimmer of intelligence behind the blank stare. But his words were disconnected, completely unintelligible.
