The Rising Magma
The Spindrift group held a council of war in their office-conference
room. Inspection of the hotel had shown that damage was not as serious
as first expected. The cornices, held only by mortar, had fallen, and
the rear exterior wall had lost its brick veneer. The structural part of
the wall, while cracked, was strong enough to hold up. The veneer was
unsafe, however, and it was agreed that all should stay well away from
the area where Connel had been imprisoned.
"We must begin another series of shots at once," Hartson Brant said.
"It's apparent that the magma has moved, and rapidly. But until we get
more tracings, we won't know in what direction. Meanwhile, we _must_
find the governor!"
"How?" Rick asked. "How can we find him?"
Hartson Brant smiled at his son. "It seems to me that you and Scotty
have acquired considerable reputations as detectives, Rick. I suggest
you earn them. Find the governor for us. We will give you Honorario as
an interpreter, but it will be up to you. The rest of us must operate as
best we can short-handed."
"How about Connel?" Scotty demanded.
The scientist shrugged. "He's the least of my worries. Let him develop
his diamond mine. My concern is with this island and the people on it.
If our guess is right, Connel will be lucky to have a few days in which
to work--scarcely enough to do much mining."
"Any ideas?" Rick asked.
"Yes. Talk to the governor's family, and to his personal staff. Stay
away from Guevara. Once Connel tells him we know about the diamonds, he
may become dangerous. Do what you can, boys. After all, this isn't a big
island and the governor must be somewhere on it."
"If he's alive," Scotty added.
Hartson Brant looked at the boy and his face grew grim. "Yes," he
agreed. "If he's alive."
Rick and Scotty had always relished the adventure and excitement of
trying to solve a mystery. Sometimes the success or failure of a project
had hung in the balance, but this one was different. The fate of an
island and nearly 32,000 people depended on solving the riddle of the
missing governor. Rick felt the weight of the responsibility.
The plan he and Scotty developed was simple and logical. They would
start with the governor's movements on the morning of his disappearance
and continue from there.
At the governor's residence they learned from his butler that Montoya
had left the house promptly at eight o'clock, as he did every morning.
He drove himself, in a small English car that he used for personal
transportation. But, as they knew from the visit to the executive
offices, he had never arrived.
The next stop was to determine his route. It wasn't difficult; there was
only one main road from the outskirts of Calor into town, although there
were many side streets.
With Honorario as interpreter, they began the time-consuming job of
questioning householders along the route.
Honorario was personally interested in the job. He had learned from them
of Connel's perfidy, and he said quietly, "Ruiz is my friend. We do not
yet know if he will live, or, if he lives, if he will be a whole man
again. I owe it to him to do my best in this matter. You may depend on
me."
Not until they had reached the outskirts of Calor did they find what had
happened. Through Honorario, an old lady who had seen it all through her
window told them the story.
"A big military truck was across the road," Honorario reported. "It was
keeping cars from passing. The little car of the governor came, and it
had to stop. An officer got in with the governor. The truck moved away
and the governor drove off. The old woman thinks the officer was
pointing a gun at the governor. She did not know it was the governor,
but her words to describe him were enough."
Rick whistled. "Military? Does that mean the governor got caught by some
kind of revolutionary group?"
Honorario shrugged. "Who knows? But I have heard of no revolution. The
governor is popular, and the people are satisfied. But you should know,
my friends, that on this island the _comandante_ of our small military
is the lieutenant governor. I think we are not dealing here with
revolution, but with Senor Jaime Guevara!"
"We're stuck," Scotty said. "I suppose we could keep on asking and try
to get a line on where the governor's car went, but that's pretty
hopeless. Honorario, can we possibly find someone who is loyal to the
governor and who knows the island?"
Honorario thought it over. "In such a case," he replied, "there is only
one way to be sure. It is, you understand, a matter of family. Among San
Luzians, the family is first and all else is after. So, I think we
should see the nephew of the governor. He is _el capitan_ Ricardo
Montoya, who is deputy of police for the western part of the island."
Captain Ricardo Montoya was young, capable, and alert. Honorario found
him in the police headquarters in central Calor and invited him to join
the boys for coffee at a nearby cafe.
Rick looked the officer over as he entered the restaurant, and he liked
what he saw. Montoya was built like a middleweight fighter, and his
white uniform was spotless. He was lighter in complexion than most San
Luzians, but even the wisp of mustache on his upper lip couldn't
conceal the firmness of his face.
He greeted them courteously, in good English. "_A sus ordenes, senores._
This Honorario says you wish to speak with me?"
"We place ourselves in your hands, Senor _Capitan_," Rick said quietly.
"Because you are the governor's nephew and a police official, we must
assume that you are completely loyal to him."
The officer's brilliant dark eyes flashed. "It would be a grave insult
to assume otherwise, senor. He is the brother of my father."
"Good," Rick said. "No insult was intended. I think we had better tell
you the entire story, then we can discuss what must be done." He started
at the beginning, with the arrival of Balgos at Spindrift, and ended
with the day's events.
"You have cast much light on what has happened," the captain stated. "I
am grateful. Now, senores, you must not believe I have been idle. I had
already discovered how my uncle was kidnaped. It was clear that some
military element was involved, but I rejected the idea of revolution.
The motive puzzled me. It is puzzling no longer, thanks to you. Also,
while I suspected Guevara, there was no proof. My suspicion, you
understand, was based on his character."
"Have you any idea where the governor was taken?" Scotty asked.
"I have now," Montoya said grimly. "The best possibility--and about the
only place we have not looked--is Casa Guevara."
The boys exchanged glances. "Then we ought to make up a party of loyal
people and invade the place," Rick stated.
"No. If I know this man Guevara, any such move would mean the death of
my uncle, if he still lives. We must find some other way."
"Can you find loyal people?" Rick asked.
"A few. You must understand most people do not feel as I do about
Guevara. He is popular. Who knows where the loyalty of the people lies,
between individuals? One cannot be certain. So, I must use only men
loyal to me. There are such."
Montoya rose. "We will be allies, since we fight for the same thing,
which is San Luz. Let me see what kind of plan can be made. Go back to
your hotel, and I will come for you there. We will work this thing out
together." He shook hands with both boys, turned, and strode from the
restaurant.
Rick paid for their coffee and the boys joined Honorario, who was
waiting outside in the jeep. "He's a good, tough _hombre_," Rick told
the San Luzian. "You made a good choice."
"I am glad," Honorario said. "Someday he will be governor, like his
uncle."
While the boys were in Calor, the scientists had conducted another
series of shots. The tracings were spread out on the table when they
returned, and the group was engrossed in checking them over.
Rick and Scotty waited, watching. They knew from the quiet voices and
tense attitudes that something serious had been found. Then Williams
began to mark in the data on his sketch.
"This is where the explosion took place," he said. "Probably the magma
hit a quantity of water as it entered the new channel. Notice that the
channel is one we marked on here earlier as a probable path. So far,
we're guessing right. Now, my estimate is that the magma will move fast,
stopping only when it reaches this dike of solid basalt."
Hartson Brant wiped his face with his handkerchief. "It looks bad, Jeff.
The magma will reach the solid layer before we could possibly get to it
with a tunnel."
"What does that mean?" Rick asked.
Hobart Zircon answered him. "It means, Rick, that we no longer have time
to dig a vent. It means the people of this island will be lucky if they
can get away in time!"