The Trade--which does not exist--has its obligations and its code, but
also it has its redeeming features. When a man has finished his job,
he has finished it. And as far as the Trade was concerned, Bell had
but little more to do. But after that--and his eyes burned smokily in
their depths--there was much that he intended to do. He sat in one of
the _bondes_ of the Botanical Garden half of the street railway system
of Rio, and absent mindedly regarded the scenery. This particular
_bonde_ was headed out toward the Lagoa Rodrigo de Freitas, by which
salty mass of water Bell would meet Paula Canalejas. He would receive
a package from her, which he would deliver to Jamison. And then he
would be free, and it was his private intention to engage in an
enterprise which was very probably a form of suicide. But there are
some things one cannot dismiss with a sage reflection that they are
not one's business. This matter of Ribiera was definitely one of them.
* * * * *
The escape from Ribiera's _fazenda_ had been relatively easy, because
so thoroughly unexpected. The little plane had climbed to five
thousand feet and found a stratum of cloud that stretched for very
many miles. Bell had emerged from it only twice in the first hour of
flight, and the second time the sky was clear all about him. That he
was pursued, he had no doubt. That Ribiera had wireless communications
with Rio, he knew. And he knew that instant, and imperative orders
would have gone out for his capture.
Rio would not be a healthy place for him. If Ribiera had power over
high government officials, he had surely indirect power over the
police, and a search for Bell would be in order at once. Yet Canalejas
assuredly expected to return to Rio.
A shouted question with the motor cut out, and a nodded answer. Bell
headed for Petropolis, which is Rio's only real summer resort and is
high in the hills and only an hour and a half from it by train. It was
surprisingly satisfactory to be handling a swift plane again, and Bell
allowed himself what he knew was about the only pleasure he was likely
to have for some time to come.
Something of his hatred of Ribiera, however, came back as he prepared
to land. He managed to crack the plane up very neatly, so that it
would be of no use to Ribiera any more. And at the same time, of
course, the cracking-up provided an excellent excuse for Canalejas to
continue on by train.
* * * * *
They talked very briefly by the puffing engine.
"It is best," said Canalejas, "for you, Senhor, to remain here
overnight. I believe Senhor Ribiera has given orders for us both to be
looked for, yet as a Cabinet Minister I am still immune from arrest by
the ordinary police. If I reach my home I shall be able to do all that
is necessary."
"And you will prepare a message for me to carry," said Bell.
"It is ready," said Canalejas. He smiled faintly. "No, Senhor. I have
instructions to give my daughter. She will deliver the information to
you to-morrow. Let me see. At the edge of the Lagao Rodrigo de
Feitas, at nine o'clock. She is the only messenger I can trust. I
think that is all."
Bell hesitated uncomfortably.
"But you, sir," he said awkwardly. "You have been poisoned, as Senor
Ortiz was."
"But certainly," said Canalejas. His smile was ironic as before. "But,
unlike Senor Ortiz, I have no hope. I have arranged for my daughter to
conceal herself and escape from Brazil. I have prepared for
everything, Senhor. As you know, I had intended to kill Senhor
Ribiera. In returning with you I have merely delayed my own death by a
few hours."
Still smiling, and with the air of one entering a train for the most
casual of journeys, Canalejas entered the coach.
* * * * *
And Bell, sitting in the _bonde_ next morning, saw with an uncanny
clarity the one weak point in Ribiera's hold upon his subjects. When
they had courage to fear nothing more than death, they could defy him.
And not many could attain to that courage. But a few....
"I'll have some help, anyway," muttered Bell savagely to himself.
It is a long ride to the Botanical Gardens, from which one half the
surface lines of Rio take their name. On the way out to the Lagao
Rodrigo de Feitas, which, is close by the Garden itself, Bell had time
to work over for the thousandth time the information he possessed, and
realize its uselessness. Two things, only, might be of service. One
was that Ribiera was the nephew of the person referred to as The
Master, and yet was evidently as much subjected to him as his own
victims to himself. The other was that the ultimate end of all the
ghastly scheme was in some fashion political. If wealth alone had been
Ribiera's aim, the gathering of his slaves would have had a different
aspect. The majority of them would have been rich men, men of
business, men who could pay out hundreds of thousands a month in the
desperate hope of being permitted to remain sane. There would not have
been politicians and officials and officers of the army.
"The key men of the country," growled Bell inaudibly, "enslaved to
Ribiera. They give him the power he's after more than cash. And it's
those key men who have more to lose than money. There's such a thing
as honor...."
Three times the conductor stopped beside him and suggestively rattled
the coins in his box. Three times Bell absent mindedly paid the fare
for the zone. But the ride is a long one, and he had had time to
realize the hopelessness of any single-handed attack upon the thing he
faced long before the end.
Then he absently moved through the amazing collection of tropic and
near tropic growths that is the Botanical Garden until he came at once
to Paula and the Lagoa Rodrico de Freitas.
* * * * *
It was alive with birds, and they hopped and pecked and squabbled
without acrimony within feet of her seated figure. Bell knew that she
had been waiting for a long time. He looked quickly at her face. It
was quite pale, but entirely tearless.
"Here is the message, Senhor Bell," she said quietly, "but I think I
have been followed."
Bell growled in his throat.
"I did not discover it until I reached this spot," she said evenly.
"And I did not know what to do. If I left, I would be seized and the
message taken--and I think that someone would have waited here for
you. So, in part to gain time, and in part because I hoped you might
have some resource, I remained."
"How many of them?" asked Bell shortly.
"Two," she said quietly. She looked at him, her large eyes entirely
calm and grave.
"Give me the package," said Bell briefly. "They'll be more anxious to
get it back than to bother you. And I'll either knock them cold or
hold them in a scrap until you get away."
She reached in her pocket and handed him a small thick envelope. He
stuffed it in the side pocket of his coat.
"I will walk away," he observed, "and they'll follow me. Can you
arrange to give me some sign that you're safe?"
"By the gateway," she told him. "My handkerchief. I shall start as
soon as you have vanished. If I am followed, I will drop this
handkerchief, as it is. If I am not followed, I will tie a knot. But
what can you do?"
"I'll do something," said Bell coldly. "Something!"
* * * * *
She smiled, with the same odd bitterness her father had shown.
"My father--shot himself," she said briefly. "I have no particular
hope of doing better. But I shall not be Ribiera's slave."
She remained quite still. Bell moved away. He hurried. There was thick
jungle ahead, a section of the Gardens that is painstakingly preserved
untouched and undisturbed, that visitors to the capital of Brazil may
observe a typical sample of the virgin interior. He dived into that
jungle as if in flight.
And very shortly after, two men dived in after him. They hesitated,
these men, because your policeman of Rio does not like to injure his
uniform, and there are many thorns in jungle growths. But they entered
it, having first drawn small glittering weapons. And then from the
jungle came silence.
* * * * *
It seemed to be silence. But there may have been some small unusual
noises. It would not be easy to tell if they were unusual or not,
because there are peculiar flashes of charm in certain Brazilian
institutions. The preservation of the spot of jungle itself is one.
Another is the fact that in the Gardens all manner of wild things
live at large and provide unexpected and delightful surprises to the
usually foreign visitors.
So there were noises, after a bit. Such noises as some grunting wild
thing might have made, perhaps. But they might also have been the
gasping of a man as breath was choked out of him.... And there was a
cracking sound a little later, which might--of course--have been any
one of any number of accidental and perfectly natural causes. And it
might have been a man upon whom another man had hurled himself, when
the second man landed on his jaw. And thrashing noises a little later
might have been anything.
But after what seemed a long time, Bell emerged. Alone. He was
breathing quickly, and there were scratches on his face and hands
which--well, which might have been made by thorns. He went swiftly
back toward the spot where Paula had waited. He looked cautiously. She
was gone.
And then Bell went leisurely, in the studious fashion of a person
going through the Botanical Gardens because it was the thing to do,
toward the gateway and the surface cars. As he neared the gate his
eyes roved with apparent casualness all about. He saw a tiny speck of
white on the edge of the roadway. It looked as if it had been flung
from a car. Bell picked it up. It was Paula's handkerchief, and there
was no knot whatever in it. In fact, its lacy edge was torn.
"They've got her," said Bell, apparently unmoved.
* * * * *
He waited for a car. A bulky figure wearing thick spectacles came
placidly from the Gardens. It waited, also, for the car. The car
arrived, in its two sections of first and second class; the first
reserved for _cavalhieros_, which is to say persons wearing coat,
shirt, collar, necktie, hat, shoes and socks, and carrying no parcel
larger than a brief case. Lesser folk who lacked any of the sartorial
requirements for admission to the first class section, or wore
_tomancos_ instead of shoes, heaped themselves into the second section
and paid one-third of the fare in the first.
Bell took his seat in the first section. It was comfortably filled.
The bulky person with the thick spectacles wedged himself carefully
into the space beside Bell. He unfolded a copy of the _Jornal do
Commercio_ and began to regard the advertisements. Presently he found
what he was looking for. "_O Bicho_," said medium-sized type. Beside
it was a picture of a kangaroo. The gentleman with the thick
spectacles resignedly fished into his pockets and found a lottery
ticket. He tore it into scraps and threw them away. Then he began to
gaze disinterestedly at the scenery and the other passengers in the
car.
* * * * *
Bell drummed on his knee. With one's forefinger representing a dot,
and one's second finger serving as a dash, it is surprising how
naturally and absentmindedly one may convey a perfectly intelligible
message to a man sitting within a reasonable distance. When the man is
alongside, the matter is absurdly simple.
Presently the man with the thick lenses got out his paper again, as if
bored by vistas such as no other city in the world can offer. His
paper was in the pocket which pressed against Bell. If in getting out
his newspaper he also abstracted a thick fat envelope from Bell's
pocket and placed it in his own, and if all this took place under a
sign--even in the section reserved for _cavalhieros_ of approved
raiment--solemnly warning passengers against "_batadores de
carteiras_," or pickpockets--well, it was an ironical coincidence
whose humor Bell did not see.
He was busily tapping out on his knee the briefest possible account of
what he had learned at Ribiera's _fazenda_ up country.
"_One chance for me_," he tapped off at the end. "_If I can kidnap
Ribiera I can make him talk. Somehow. He has big amphibian plane kept
fueled and ready for long trip. I think he is back in Rio to direct
hunt for me. Paula kidnapped. My job finished. On my own now._"
The man with thick spectacles did not nod. He seemed to be looking
idly at his paper, but it was folded at an article very discreetly
phrased, beneath a photograph of Senhor Teixeira Canalejas, Minister
of War, who had very unfortunately been found dead that morning. He
had been depressed, of late, but there were certain circumstances
which made it as yet impossible to determine whether he had killed
himself or was the victim of an assassin.
"_Getting set for me_," tapped Bell grimly on his knee. "_Ribiera told
me too much._"
* * * * *
The man with thick spectacles yawned and turned the paper over. Under
a smaller headline--which would only find a place on a Brazilian
sheet--"A Regrettable Incident"--an item of more direct importance was
printed. It told of an unnamed Senhor from the United States of the
North America, who as the guest of a widely known Brazilian gentleman
had behaved most boorishly, had stolen an airplane from his host and
broken it to bits on landing unskilfully, and had vanished with
priceless heirlooms belonging to his host. It read, virtuously:
No names are mentioned because the American Senhor has been
widely introduced in Rio society as a person with an
official status in Washington. It is understood that an
inquiry is to be made of the Ambassador as to the status of
the young man, before any action is taken by the police. It
is to be expected, however, that he will at least be
requested to leave the country.
Bell managed the barest flicker of a smile. Arrest, of course.
Detention, most courteously arranged, while the Ambassador was
communicated with. And Ribiera.
"_Give me dismiss_," he tapped on his knee.
The gentleman in the thick spectacles ran his finger thoughtfully
about the edge of his collar. In the Trade that is a signal of many
varied meanings. A hand across the throat in any fashion means, "Clear
out, your job is finished," "Save your skin as best you can," and "Get
away without trying to help me," according to circumstances. In this
case it relieved Bell of all future responsibility.
He yawned, tapping his lips with the back of his hand, signaled for a
stop of the car, and got out. Five minutes later he had signaled a
taxicab and given Ribiera's address. In six minutes he was being
whirled toward the one house in all Rio de Janeiro from which his
chance of a safe departure was slightest. In little more than half an
hour he had dismissed the cab and was gazing placidly into the
startled eyes of the doorman. The doorman, like all of Rio where
Ribiera was known and feared, knew that Bell was being hunted.
Bell handed over his card with an inscrutable air.
"The Senhor Ribiera," he said drily, "returned to the city last night.
Present my card and say that I would like to speak to him."
* * * * *
The doorman ushered him inside and summoned the major-domo, still
blinking his amazement. And the major-domo blinked again. But Bell
followed with the air of an habitué, as he was again ushered into the
luxurious salon in which he had once been offered a drugged drink.
Again he sank down in a softly padded chair and surveyed the pictures
and the minor objects of decadent art about him. Again he lighted a
cigarette with every appearance of ease, and again had the impression
of eyes upon him. The major-domo appeared, somewhat agitated.
"The Senhor Ribiera," he said harshly, "will see you only if you are
not armed. He requires your word of honor."
Bell smiled lazily.
"I'll do better than that," he said languidly. "I haven't had time to
buy a revolver. But the automatic he had put out of commission is in
my pocket. Present it to him with my compliments."
He handed over the weapon, butt first. The major-domo blinked, and
took it. Bell sat down and smiled widely. He had been expected to be
uproarious, to attempt to force the major-domo to lead him to Ribiera.
And, of course, he would have been led past a perfectly planned ambush
for his capture--but he might have killed the major-domo. Which would
not disturb Ribiera, but had disturbed the servant.
* * * * *
Bell smoked comfortably. And suddenly hangings parted, and Ribiera
came into the room. He smiled nervously, and then, as Bell blew a puff
of smoke at him and nodded casually, he scowled.
"I came," said Bell deliberately, "to make a bargain. Frankly, I do
not like to break my word. I was under obligations to deliver a
package from Senhor Canalejas to a certain messenger who will take it
to my government. I have done it. But I am not, Senhor Ribiera, a
member of the Secret Service. I am entirely a free agent now, and I am
prepared to consider your proposals, which I could not in honor do
before."
He smiled pleasantly. Effrontery, properly managed, is one of the most
valuable of all qualities. Especially in dealing with people who
themselves are arrogant when they dare.
* * * * *
Ribiera purpled with rage, and then controlled it.
"Ah!" he rumbled. "You are prepared to consider my proposals. There
are no proposals. The Master may be amused at your cleverness in
escaping. I do not know. I do know that I am ordered to make you my
slave and send you to The Master. That, I shall do."
"Perhaps," said Bell blandly: "but I can go without food and drink for
several days, which will delay the process. And while I cannot
honorably tell you how to stop the man bearing Senhor Canalejas'
package to my government, still ... If I willingly accepted a dose of
_yagué_ in token of my loyalty to The Master...."
Ribiera's good humor returned. He chuckled.
"You actually mean," he said jovially, "that you think you were given
some of The Master's little compound, and that you wish to make terms
before your hands begin to writhe at the ends of your wrists. Is not
that your reason?"
Bell's eyes flickered. He had been horribly afraid of just that. But
Ribiera's amusement was reassuring.
"Perhaps," said Bell. "Perhaps I am."
* * * * *
Ribiera sat down and stretched his fat legs in front of him. He
surveyed Bell with an obscene, horrible amusement.
"Ah, Senhor," he chuckled, "some day we will laugh together over this!
You yet hope, and do not yet know how much better it will be for you
if you cease to hope, and cultivate desires! The Master is pleased
with you. You have just those qualities he knows are necessary in
dealing with your nation. He is not angry with you. It is his
intention to use you to extend his--ah--influence among the officials
of your nation. You know, of course, that in but a little more time I
will hold all Brazil--as I now hold this city--in the hollow of my
hand. Four of the republics of this continent are already completely
under the control of The Master's deputies, and of the rest, Brazil is
not the most nearly subdued. A year or two, and The Master will
become Emperor, and his deputies viceroys. And it is his whim to give
you the opportunity of becoming the first deputy and the first viceroy
of North America. And you come to me and offer--you, Senhor!--to make
terms! I believe even The Master will laugh when he hears of it."
"But," said Bell practically, "do you accept my terms?"
Ribiera chuckled again.
"What are they, Senhor?"
"That you release the daughter of the Senhor Canalejas and pledge your
word of honor that she will not be enslaved."
* * * * *
Ribiera's word of honor, of course, would be worth rather less than
the breath that was used to give it. But his reception of the proposal
would be informative.
He chuckled again.
"No, Senhor. I do not accept. But I will promise you as a favor,
because my uncle The Master admires you, that within a few weeks you
shall enjoy her charms. I do not," he added with amused candor, "find
that any one woman diverts me for a very long time."
"Oh," said Bell, very quietly.
He sat still for an instant, and then shrugged, and looked about as if
for an ash tray in which to knock the ashes from his cigarette. He
stood up, carrying the tube of tobacco gingerly, and moved toward one
by Ribiera's elbow. He knocked off the ash, and crushed out the tiny
coal. He fumbled in his pockets.
The next instant Ribiera choked with terror.
"Let me explain," said Bell softly. "I did not give your major-domo my
word that I was unarmed. I merely gave him a weapon. I got these from
two policemen who tried to arrest me an hour or so ago. And I also
remind you, Senhor, that if the armed men you have posted to prevent
my escape try to shoot me, that the inevitable contraction of my
muscles will send two bullets into your heart--even if I am dead. I
am a dead man, Senhor, if you give the word, but so are you if you
give it."
Ribiera gasped. His eyes rolled in his head.
"Send for her," said Bell very gently. "Send for her, Senhor. I
estimate that she has been in this house for less than half an hour.
Have her brought here at once, and if she has been harmed the three of
us will perish very promptly, and half of Rio will go mad after our
death."
And the muzzles of two revolvers bored into the fat flesh of Ribiera's
body, and a gasp that was almost a wail of terror came from the
watchers--armed watchers--who dared not kill the man they had been
posted to guard Ribiera against.
Ribiera lifted his hand and croaked an order.
(_To be continued._)
[Advertisement:]
Brigands of the Moon
(The Book of Gregg Haljan)
PART THREE OF A FOUR-PART NOVEL
_By Ray Cummings_
[Illustration: Light-rays and silent flashes seemed to envelop us.]
[Sidenote: Gregg and Anita risk quick, sure death in a desperate bluff
on the ruthless Martian brigands.]
_WHAT HAS GONE BEFORE_
One day in 2075 the Interplanetary Space-Ship _Planetara_ left the
Earth for Mars. I, Gregg Haljan, was third officer.
It was destined to be a tragic voyage. For in our midst were
unscrupulous brigands, masquerading as harmless passengers, intent on
seizing the secret treasure of radium ore Johnny Grantline of the
Grantline Expedition had dug from the Moon. The _Planetara_ was to
stop on the Moon and pick the treasure up on her return trip from
Mars.
Miko, a giant Martian, and his sister, Moa, were the ringleaders. With
them were, as passengers, Sir Arthur Coniston and Ob Hahn, a Venus
mystic. The whole crew was in their pay.
Miko struck. The captain was killed, as were the officers. Only Snap
Dean, the radio-helio operator, Venza, a girl of Venus, and I were
left. And, of course, Anita Prince, who had captivated my heart upon
my first glimpse of her.
The brigands abandoned the other passengers on a small asteroid, and
Miko signaled his space-ship far off on Mars to meet him on the Moon.
I was forced to guide the _Planetara_ to the Moon. We sighted the huts
of the Grantline Expedition, and suddenly, just as we started to
descend, the controls, snapped, and the _Planetara_ tumbled like a
spent rocket! Desperately I tried to check her, but only partially
succeeded. We crashed horribly against the barren gray rock of the
Moon. Anita, Venza, Snap and I lived through it, but we could not find
the bodies of Miko and Moa in the wreckage. Evidently they were still
alive, somewhere.
We reached Johnny Grantline. The _Planetara_ was a complete wreck.
And, speeding to us from Mars, was Miko's brigand ship.
We were powerless--without means of leaving the Moon--and completely
at the mercy of Miko's fast approaching brigands!