The Peripatetic Barber
"We're trapped here," Barby said stormily, "and I want you to do
something about it, Rick Brant! If you don't call Steve Ames and get
permission for us to go to the mainland, I'll do it myself!"
Rick sighed. He had tried to point out that Barby was being illogical.
Neither the Morrisons nor the Brants were trapped anywhere. It was
just that common sense required the Morrisons to be careful.
Barby drove home another point. "Steve gave us a cover story, and what
good is a cover story if you don't use it?"
Scotty grinned at Rick's expression of resignation. "Better give up,"
he advised.
Jan hadn't said anything. She just looked at Rick in a beseeching way
that said as much as all Barby's arguments.
Rick shook his head unhappily. He knew when he was licked. Come right
down to it, he didn't have the say-so on Jan leaving the island,
anyway. He had taken a stand against her going to Whiteside, based
half on intuition and half on the knowledge that a secret soon ceases
to be one when it's flaunted in public. And Jan's presence was a part
of the big secret of Spindrift.
He stood up and shrugged. "Chances are it will be all right. But if
Jan is recognized by any of the enemy..."
"Steve isn't even sure there is an enemy," Barby pointed out swiftly.
"How can you be so sure?"
Rick didn't answer. He turned and went into the house, the others at
his heels. In the library, he consulted the schedule Steve had given
them, so they would know where to reach him at any time. The agent was
at JANIG headquarters in Washington today.
Rick got the number, and asked for Steve's extension. In a moment he
had the agent on the wire.
"Let's scramble," he said, and threw the switch. Then, "Steve, Barby
wants to take Jan to Whiteside. What do you think?"
Steve hesitated before he answered, "It's a little hard to give
reasons why she shouldn't go, Rick. Have you checked her on the cover
story?"
"Not yet. I will, though, if you say the word."
Again Steve hesitated, and Rick knew the agent was very much in his
own position. There were no reasons to believe it would do any harm.
Yet...
"Let her go," Steve said finally. "Only ask her and Barby not to get
into any public parades. You know."
"I know," Rick affirmed. "All right, Steve. When is Marks coming?"
"We're not certain yet. Ask your father. Marks is having some trouble
with the computations."
"Okay, Steve. See you soon." He hung up and turned to the others. "He
says all right, but please don't get into any public parades. In other
words, Barby, don't cover too much territory."
Scotty spoke up. "We'd better tell Duke and Jerry to leave it out of
the paper."
Duke Barrows was editor and Jerry Webster the reporter for the
Whiteside paper. Both were good friends. "They'll play ball," Rick
agreed. "Well, young ladies, when is the big safari?"
Barby consulted her watch. "Right now. We'll dress and you can fly us
over."
"Then right now means in an hour. Okay. We'll be ready."
Upstairs, Rick and Scotty washed up and changed into what Scotty
called "shore-going clothes" that were only slightly less informal
than their dungarees and T shirts. As they finished and sat down to
wait for the girls, Rick picked up one of the radio units on the
workbench. All were finished, although untested. A few final
decorative touches remained for Barby's plastic headset, including
setting in some rhinestones for her. It would look like any other
plastic bauble when he finished.
"Let's get some fresh batteries while we're in town," Rick suggested.
"Then we can check these out tonight."
"Okay. And remind me to pick up a new mouthpiece for the lung Jan
uses. She says the one that's on it now is too big and uncomfortable.
It hurts her mouth."
Jan had become proficient under water with only a few hours practice.
Rick had led the girls through the entire series of underwater
maneuvers with the lungs, including practice in sharing one lung
between them. He was satisfied that they both had a thorough
understanding of team swimming and enough sense to stay out of at
least the more obvious troubles novices can get into. He was content
now to let them go off on their own, which they did fairly often.
After Rick's estimated hour the girls were ready--except that Barby
had to make a phone call. She spent another fifteen minutes arranging
a small get-together at a friend's home to introduce Jan to her chums.
"Now," she said brightly. "We're ready. Are you?"
Rick wisely refrained from comment.
Ten minutes later the four were in the Brants' car, en route to
Barby's destination. Rick dropped the girls off and arranged to pick
them up in two hours, then he turned the car toward town.
"Let's visit Duke and Jerry," he suggested.
Scotty looked at him. "Still bothered, aren't you?"
Rick shrugged. It was hard to pinpoint the way he felt. He tried to
put it into words. "I've talked to the scientists, including Parnell
Winston. None of them has ever heard of an ailment like the thing that
struck the team scientists. Winston especially knows a lot, because
he's studied the human brain extensively. He doesn't even know of
anything similar."
Scotty knew all this because he had been present. But talking aloud
helped to make things clearer, so he only commented, "And where does
that leave us?"
"At the starting line. We haven't moved an inch forward. But at least,
if medical history seems to have no record of any such cases, we can
assume that something new and different caused the scientists to go
off the beam."
"Yes, but if some enemy caused it, how was it done?"
"Glad you asked that," Rick answered gloomily. "Wish someone could
answer. Anyway, we know why it was done--if it was done. It was to
cause trouble with the project. That would be important enough for an
enemy to go to a lot of trouble."
Scotty shook his head. "The thing that sticks in my craw is, how come
only two of the scientists got hit? Why wasn't the same thing used on
the others? If anything was used, that is."
Rick was bothered by the same point, and he had no answer--nor did
Steve Ames, with whom they had discussed the problem.
To both boys, the puzzle was more than just an interesting problem to
be solved. If some enemy really had penetrated the project and somehow
caused disruption of the scientists' brains, then the people nearest
and dearest to both of them were also in jeopardy. Spindrift now
provided three out of five for the new project team.
Rick swung into the main street and into the public parking lot. The
Whiteside _Morning Record_ was in the heart of town, only a block
away. Next to the parking lot was a hardware store where Rick planned
to buy batteries, and diagonally across the street was the Sports
Center. Nothing in Whiteside was far from anything else; it was a
typical small town.
It took only a moment to buy a box of batteries; they were the type
used in hearing aids. Then the boys crossed the street to the Sports
Center. Extra mouthpieces for the lungs were in stock. They chose one
that seemed softer and smaller than the regulation models, then
started for the newspaper.
Two doors away from the Sports Center was the town's only barbershop.
As they passed, Scotty suddenly grabbed Rick's arm and said hurriedly,
"Come back!" Quickly he led the way out of sight of the barbershop
windows.
Rick looked at him curiously. "See something?"
Scotty's forehead wrinkled. "I think so. But it's so unlikely that I'm
not sure. Rick, I thought I saw the barber from Washington--the one
with the massage machine!"
[Illustration: _Rick focused the monocular on the barbershop_]
Rick's mouth opened in astonishment. "You're kidding!"
Scotty shook his head. "I'm not. I said I wasn't sure. But I don't
want to stand in front and look, because if it is the barber, he'd
recognize us."
Rick thought quickly. "Come on."
Back inside the Sports Center, he went to the manager and borrowed a
powerful monocular--a pocket telescope that was really one half of a
pair of binoculars. Then he and Scotty went across the street, taking
care to keep out of sight of the barbershop by using parked cars as
cover.
Rick found a vantage point behind a sedan that had all its windows
open. He focused the monocular on the barbershop window.
Vince Lardner, the shop owner and--until now--the sole barber, was
cutting the hair of a man Rick recognized as a local resident. A
second barber was cutting the hair of another local man, but the
barber had his back to the street for the moment.
Rick waited patiently. Scotty asked, "See anything?"
"Only his back. Wait a minute."
Presently the barber spun the chair around and walked to the sink. In
a moment he turned and his face came into view in the tight close-up
the powerful glass provided.
Rick sank his teeth into his lip and handed the glass to Scotty
wordlessly.
The pieces were beginning to fall in place now, and the assumption
that the project had been penetrated was a long step closer to proved
fact.
The Washington barber had come to Whiteside!
"Wonder what he's after?" Scotty asked.
"One thing is for sure," Rick stated grimly. "He isn't here just to
cut hair!"