Earthquake!
"Everything adds up," Rick Brant said grimly. "And it isn't a pretty
picture."
Hartson Brant agreed. "It certainly seems to add up, Rick. I suggest you
put those crystals in a safe place until we can find out for certain
whether or not there is real value there."
"Is there any doubt?" Scotty asked.
David Riddle answered, "Yes, Scotty. There are many grades of diamonds.
Until an expert takes a look at those Rick collected, we won't be sure
that they're of gem quality. He may have industrial grade diamonds, of
the type called bort."
"Connel may already have had an expert take a look," Weiss pointed out.
Rick examined the handful of crystals. It was hard to believe he had
simply picked up diamonds like so many pebbles. What's more, he couldn't
be sure whether he held a king's ransom in his hand or a few dollars'
worth of industrial abrasives.
"Why didn't Connel clean out all diamonds in the area?" he demanded.
"How could he?" Hartson Brant retorted. "When has he had time for a real
effort? I suspect he has picked up quite a few, but you found those just
by kicking around, which would indicate he hasn't sifted that loose
ground very thoroughly."
David Riddle frowned. "It's odd that Rick found so many. Perhaps he was
lucky enough to kick open a pocket that Connel missed. Diamonds just
don't occur with such frequency, even in Kimberley."
"They were pretty close together," Rick remembered. "It may have been a
pocket, all right."
"There is one other possibility," Riddle added, "and it's staggering to
think of it. These crystals may have come from a single large crystal.
Perhaps the dynamite explosions shattered the big one into a number of
smaller ones."
Scotty gulped. "But the original crystal would have had to be nearly the
size of a grapefruit!"
"True, Scotty. There have been crystals that big, or close to it.
Usually the diamond that is cut from such a crystal is much smaller.
There is considerable loss. But it's a possibility."
Rick said abruptly, "I think we ought to sort of review the situation.
To see where we stand."
"A good idea," his father agreed. "Suppose you start?"
Rick considered. "Well, Connel must have discovered the yellow ground
the very first thing, probably while he was kicking a hole to lay the
charge in. The reason I think so is because of Ruiz. That accident has
always bothered me. Ruiz just wouldn't walk back to the charge while
Connel was ready to set it off. He just wouldn't."
Julius Weiss asked, "Are you implying that Connel deliberately blew Ruiz
up?"
"What else can we make of it?" Rick replied. "That kind of accident just
doesn't happen. Not to an expert. But if Connel found the yellow ground
while setting the charge, and took time to dig a little and be sure
there was blue ground under it, he would certainly have known that he
was standing on top of a volcanic pipe. He might even have picked up a
crystal."
"If word got out, he couldn't exploit the pipe," Scotty added. "So, Ruiz
had to be eliminated. It would have been pretty easy. Connel had the
watch. He could have kept track of the time, then asked Ruiz to make a
final check and set the charge off while the poor guy was taking a look
at the connections."
"It could have happened that way," Hartson Brant agreed. "But I hate to
think any human being could be so ruthless."
"Connel had to keep others away, too," Rick went on. "Also, he had to
slow things down so he could have time to set something up to exploit
his find. So, he stole the tracings and the dynamite. That bought him a
little time, didn't it? Then he tried to get Scotty and me, because we
were following him and he was afraid we might find out what was going
on."
"It seems reasonable," Hartson Brant agreed.
"Connel couldn't develop a diamond field in a foreign place without
help, could he? He had to let someone in on it, locally. He sized up
Guevara and figured the lieutenant governor could certainly help him
out, so he brought Guevara in on it."
"Pure speculation," Weiss said.
"Yes, sir. But it fits. Guevara certainly wouldn't want people running
around over there, so it's to his advantage to keep us from operating.
If he thinks there's a fortune in the pipe, it's even to his advantage
to kidnap the governor to make sure we can't follow our plans!"
David Riddle shook his head. "A man would have to be insane to hold up
an effort to save the island just to make himself rich."
"He would if he believed the island was in danger," Scotty agreed. "But
suppose he doesn't? I don't think Connel has the true picture. His time
estimate was much longer than yours, and he hasn't been in on many of
the discussions."
The three scientists looked at each other. "You know," Riddle said,
"Scotty is right. Connel has shown little interest in the magma flux. He
may not have a true understanding of the situation at all!"
"It's possible." Hartson Brant nodded. "Quite possible. After all, we
borrowed him only to have another experienced man to handle the shots.
His training certainly doesn't qualify him to understand the physics
involved. He has concentrated on locating oil deposits, using standard
data. This kind of thing is new to him."
"We didn't get him to handle data analysis," Weiss remarked. "There are
enough of us who can do that."
Rick picked up his argument again. "If Connel doesn't believe there are
only a couple of weeks, he would give the lieutenant governor his views,
and he'd be believed, just because Guevara is so greedy he would believe
anything that will make him rich. Of course I don't know for sure that
Guevara is like that, but he certainly brushed us off, didn't he? And he
didn't seem surprised when you told him about the danger."
"The thing that bothers me," Scotty stated, "is why Connel and Guevara
haven't started to mine the diamonds."
"It takes organization," Rick pointed out. "Also, it couldn't be done
while the governor was around, could it? He'd be sure to get wind of it.
Connel and Guevara have to keep this quiet, or there will be a rush that
will make the Klondike look like a picnic."
Scotty nodded. "That must be why they put a guard up there, too.
Probably just one trusted man, who has to make the rounds alone. We were
lucky he was on his rounds when we got there, or we'd never have had a
chance for a close look."
"Well," Julius Weiss demanded, "what do we do now?"
A sudden earth tremor made the group pause. It lasted only a few
seconds.
"Whatever we do, we'd better do it fast," Hartson Brant stated.
"Find the governor," Rick said. "That's the first thing. We can't move
unless we have official backing, and we certainly won't get it from
Guevara!"
Esteben Balgos walked in, closely followed by Brad Connel. "We placed
the instruments without difficulty," Balgos began--and Connel's eye
caught sight of the kimberlite samples on the table. The geologist
realized instantly that his secret was known, and he knew, too, the
conclusions that would be drawn. Among other things, he was guilty of
the attempted murder of Ruiz.
Connel bolted for the door.
The geologist was fast, but Scotty was faster. The dark-haired boy
charged across the room, then dove headlong. His extended arms caught
the fleeting geologist around the thighs, then Scotty's shoulder smashed
into him. Connel went down like a tackled ball carrier. Before he could
recover, Scotty had shifted his grip and the geologist was helpless in a
punishing hold.
The scientists and Rick arrived a split second later.
"Let him up," Riddle ordered. "But keep a grip on him."
Scotty did so, and the geologist glared at the group with angry eyes. He
didn't try to bluff; he knew it was useless.
Rick hurried to find the hotel manager, who directed them to a tool
closet on the outside of the hotel near the parking lot. It had no
windows, a single, small ventilating duct, and only one door. Connel was
pushed inside, and the door locked. Hartson Brant pocketed the key.
"He'll have to stay there until we find the governor and arrange for
trustworthy policemen," the scientist said. "I'm certain those who have
been guarding the dynamite are all right, but we'd better have the
governor's word for it."
Rick agreed with the precaution.
While Esteben Balgos was being briefed on the day's happenings, Zircon
and Williams arrived and had to be briefed, too. Twice, small earth
temblors interrupted the conference.
"Something is happening below us," Balgos said. "I wish we knew exactly
what!"
The magma was pushing up relentlessly, melting its way into the channels
Williams had marked on his sketch. In one of the channels was a large
pocket in which water had collected over the centuries. Perhaps there
was enough water to fill a substantial pond, perhaps even a small lake.
There was also room in the porous rock for expansion, because the pocket
was not entirely full. The magma neared the pocket, meeting small
quantities of water on its way. Each meeting resulted in a small
explosion, and a temblor that was felt far above.
Then--the magma's heat turned the pocket itself to steam. The steam
expanded in a mighty explosion that sent great shock waves smashing
through the earth.
Rick Brant's chair went over backward and he fell to a floor that was
shaking like soft mud under him. He heard the crashing of glassware and
the sounds of furniture falling. And he heard the ominous rumble of the
building itself, splitting, cracking, falling.
"Out!" Hartson Brant yelled. "Get outside!"
Rick scrambled to hands and knees and saw that Scotty was bending to
pick him up. He waved his pal away and got to his feet, fighting to keep
his balance on the shaking floor. He was scared stiff, but far from
paralyzed. Nor did he lose his head. He made sure the scientists were on
their way before he followed them through the nearest door.
"Back!" Scotty yelled.
The group paused as a section of building cornice crashed to the ground
just outside. Dust billowed. Scotty sprang through the opening and
looked up.
"Okay," he called. "Come on!"
The Spindrifters poured through the doorway out onto the parking lot.
They were in time to see another section of cornice break loose and fall
to the ground. Hotel employees were pouring out, too, gathering in the
parking lot beyond the reach of the crumbling hotel.
Rick saw a great gap appear in one wall and waited breathlessly for the
wall to fall, but it held. The ground still shook under his feet, and
his insides were producing the queasy symptoms of motion sickness. Then
the earth steadied again, leaving only a mild temblor that soon
vanished.
The group looked at each other, white-faced. The earthquake had been by
far the worst yet. There was even some doubt that the hotel was still
safe. Rick, seeing the manager busy counting noses to make sure all his
employees were out, gasped, "Connel!"
Hartson Brant ran for the tool closet, the others behind him. The
scientist reached for the key, ready to let Connel out.
The wall was tilted crazily. The door had sprung wide open.
Connel was gone!