The Megabuck Mob Acts
Barby Brant flew up the stairs and ran down the hall, skidding to a
stop in front of Rick's door. Then, conscious that her burst of speed
was less than dignified, she drew herself up and tapped on the door
gently.
Rick had just finished dressing. He opened the door, and his eyebrows
went up at Barby's poorly concealed excitement.
"What's up?" he demanded. "Atom bomb ticking in the library or
something?"
Barby made a heroic effort to be casual. "I just thought you might be
interested. The houseboat is anchored in North Cove."
Rick was very much interested! North Cove was between Spindrift and
Whiteside pier. He felt a tingle of excitement. Was the enemy closing
in?
"Did you see it?" he asked.
"No, but Dad did. He went over to pick up the morning papers, and
there it was. It must have gone by during the night."
"Thanks, Barby," Rick said absently. His mind was already exploring
the possibilities. The houseboat had taken up the ideal position for
watching comings and goings from Spindrift. The cove was even close
enough so the sound of the Sky Wagon's engine could be heard clearly.
Yet, according to Steve, the people on it were ordinary enough. There
was nothing suspicious about them, except that they had the only pram
in the area. He wondered if perhaps the pram had nothing to do with
the attack on Duke and Jerry. After all, people on houseboats had to
land once in a while, for shopping.
In the same moment, he realized that Whiteside was closed tight on
Sunday evenings. There was nothing to be bought. That was when the
attack had taken place.
He ate breakfast with minimum conversation, only vaguely conscious
that the others were watching him with interest, aware that he was
chewing over the problem in his own fashion.
After breakfast, Scotty broke in. "Well, what's all the high-brain
activity leading up to?"
Rick was just about ready. "Couple of things," he said. "First, we
have only two possibilities for enemy contacts in the area. The
houseboaters, and the barber. There may be others, but we don't know
about them."
"All right. What do we do about it?"
"Well, suppose both are involved. Is that a reasonable assumption?"
Scotty nodded thoughtfully. "I think so. The barber ties in because he
came from Washington, and he has the machine. The houseboaters tie in
because of the pram."
"Okay. Then if both are involved, they have to contact each other
sometime. They have to exchange information, at the very least."
Scotty was with him. "And it would be easier for the houseboaters to
contact the barber than vice versa. Because everyone has to get a
haircut sooner or later. Right?"
"One hundred percent. So we keep a watch on both. I'll work it out
with Joe Blake. We could keep watch by day, when possibility of
contact is greatest because the barbershop is open. The JANIG team on
the mainland can keep watch by night, because if the houseboaters and
the barber meet at night it will have to be in the woods. Anywhere in
town would be too obvious--except for the barbershop."
Barby and Jan had listened in silence, but Barby could contain herself
no longer. "And we're going to help!"
To Barby's astonishment, Rick nodded. She had expected opposition.
"You and Jan can keep watch of the houseboat. Scotty and I will take
the mainland. If the houseboaters start for Whiteside pier, you'll
tell us. We'll pick them up as they land and trail 'em."
Barby nodded, pleased. "The Megabuck Mob goes into action! We'll use
the radio network. Right?"
"Yes. First thing is, where do you take up a position? If I remember
correctly, you can see North Cove from the attic. It will be kind of
hot up there, but maybe we can rig a fan."
"We won't mind," Jan said swiftly. "When do we start?"
"Right now."
Scotty spoke up. "You said you had a couple of things. What's the
other one?"
"We have to get a look at the barber's machine. I don't know how we'll
do it. But we can figure out something."
In the back of Rick's mind was the thought that the houseboaters might
have moved nearer Whiteside for the purpose of contacting the barber,
as well as to get a better look at traffic between Spindrift and the
mainland. If that were true, they had better hurry.
He had another thought, too. "What time is it?"
Barby consulted her watch. "Five before eight. Why?"
"The barbershop doesn't open until nine. I think it might be useful to
have someone call on the houseboaters and try to pump them a little.
It might be interesting to hear why they chose to anchor in North
Cove."
Barby's eyes got round. "Would you do it?"
Rick shook his head. "It can't be anyone from Spindrift, or from the
police. It has to be someone plausible. I'm thinking of Cap'n Mike."
"Hey, that's just the ticket!" Scotty shook Rick's hand solemnly.
"Cap'n Mike can pretend to be fishing, the way he used to when he was
keeping an eye on Creek House. He could drift over to the houseboat
and ask for a drink of water, or something, and strike up a
conversation. They'd think he was just a typical salty character."
"Then that's how we'll do it. Scotty, suppose you get the binoculars
for Barby, then rig up a fan. I'll go get Cap'n Mike. It won't take
long, and we can have something set before the barbershop opens."
Scotty helped Rick push the plane out from the beach, then collected
the binoculars. Rick warmed the plane and checked the gas. He could
use a few minutes to gas up, too. There was a pier in Seaford where he
could land and get the proper grade of fuel.
He taxied out, headed into the wind, and took off. Then, to confuse
watchers, he headed straight for Whiteside. As he passed over the cove
he saw the houseboat, anchored in the best position for watching the
Spindrift-Whiteside boat course. His mouth was set in a straight line.
Maybe there was no proof, but how much circumstantial evidence was
needed to paint a picture? He was sure the houseboat was a part of
the plot against the project.
Far inland, out of sight of the coast, he swung south, picked up Salt
Creek and followed it to Smugglers' Reef. He turned down the coast
past the town, buzzed Cap'n Mike's shack, and landed.
Captain Michael Aloysius Kevin O'Shannon was at the pier when he
docked. Rick cut the engine and climbed out on the pontoon. He heaved
a line to the old seaman, who hauled him to the pier.
Cap'n Mike was nearly seventy years old, but as Rick well knew, he had
the vigor and keen mind of a man twenty years his junior. Under the
battered master's cap was a thatch of white hair and a strong,
weather-beaten face.
"About time you paid a friendly call," Cap'n Mike greeted him. "Sorry
I found no strangers for you. Was goin' to call today. Where's
Scotty?"
Rick felt a twinge of conscience. He had intended to pay a visit to
his friend so many times, but something always seemed to get in the
way. It had been many weeks since his last call.
"It isn't exactly a social call," he said apologetically. "We need
your help, Cap'n Mike."
The old man looked at him quizzically. "What for? Fishin' or
detectin'?"
"Detectin'," Rick answered.
"Accepted! Now I see why you were lookin' for strangers. When and
where do I start?"
"Right now, at Spindrift. Can you come?"
"Wait'll I turn off my coffeepot. Anything I'll need?"
"We'll want you to do a little fishing, too."
Cap'n Mike nodded and hurried up the pier to his shack. In a few
minutes he was back, rod case and tackle box in hand. He cast off and
climbed into the plane. "Let's go, boy! Time's awastin'. Who we after
this time?"
Rick started the engine and was air-borne before he answered. Then,
almost immediately, he had to land again to take on gas. By the time
he was in the air en route to Spindrift, Cap'n Mike was squirming so
impatiently that the whole plane seemed to vibrate.
"Well, get on with it," he said irritably.
Rick smiled. "All right. We don't know who we're after."
Cap'n Mike grunted.
"Seriously, we don't. Some folks in a houseboat are anchored in North
Cove. We want to find out why."
Cap'n Mike nodded sagely. "For no reason. They just might be dangerous
criminals, so you want to investigate. All right, go ask 'em."
"We can't. We want you to go fishing, and work your way to the
houseboat. Ask for a drink of water or something, then find out if you
can what they're doing."
[Illustration: _Cap'n Mike quickly hauled the Sky Wagon to the pier_]
"Got it all worked out, have ye?" The old captain snorted. "Where's
the fun in that? Like to do things my own way."
Rick hurriedly backtracked. "All right, do it anyway you like. We just
want the information."
"What for?"
Rick sighed. "Can't tell you, Cap'n."
"Must be I got untrustworthy since I saw you last."
"It isn't that. It's a--well, it's a government matter."
Cap'n Mike smacked his thigh with a calloused hand. "I should 'a'
known! All right, Rick. I'll do it. Then maybe I can get my
congressman to tell me what I've done."
Rick made a great swing around Whiteside, pointing out the houseboat
to Cap'n Mike as he passed North Cove, and landed off Pirate's Field.
Scotty was waiting.
After greeting the old seaman, Scotty said, "The girls are watching
from the attic. When do we get started?"
"As soon as Cap'n Mike is fixed up."
Cap'n Mike was pretty self-sufficient and required little attention. A
cup of hot coffee, a jug of fresh water, a little bait and a rowboat,
and he was on his way. Fortunately, the Spindrift boat landing was not
in sight of North Cove. Cap'n Mike sculled slowly along the shore. He
would emerge at the cove, surprising the houseboaters.
Rick checked on the girls. They were engaged in making themselves
comfortable on an old bed they had dragged in front of the window from
which North Cove could be seen. He borrowed the glasses and looked at
the houseboat, then handed them back, satisfied. They could see
everything that went on.
Barby had her plastic set in place. Rick checked, and found that she
had forgotten to turn it on. He grinned at her embarrassment.
"I'll call you from downstairs, and again when we get set on the
mainland. Good luck."
The girls echoed the wish.
Cap'n Mike was fishing, allowing the rowboat to drift slowly in the
direction of the cove. Rick watched awhile, and was satisfied. If
anyone could put it over, Cap'n Mike could.
"Now," he asked Scotty, "how do we get to Whiteside without attracting
attention?"
Scotty scratched his head. "I don't know. Unless you want to walk. We
could cross the tidal flats and hike to town."
Rick vetoed that. "Too far and too slow. The barber would have time to
cut twenty heads of hair before we got there."
"How about asking Jerry to come for us?"
"You've got it! He could come down the wood road and pick us up right
behind the island. He knows the way." Rick went into the library and
called the _Morning Record_ number. Duke Barrows answered. Rick
explained that they had to get to Whiteside by the back way, without
volunteering why. Duke hesitated, then agreed to send Jerry.
Rick smiled as he hung up. "Duke will get a story out of this
somehow," he said. "He's so curious he could burst a seam. Come on.
Jerry will get started right away."
Just before nine o'clock the boys and Jerry arrived at the newspaper
office. Jerry was about to burst with curiosity, but he wasn't going
to let it get the better of him. He hadn't asked a single question all
the way from the wood road back of Whiteside into town.
Duke Barrows was apparently taking the same tack. He looked up as the
boys entered, grunted, then continued working on the following day's
editorial.
"Something just occurred to me," Rick said, after greeting the editor.
"Isn't this pretty early for you and Jerry to be at work? I thought a
morning paper didn't open for business until afternoon."
"We never sleep," Duke said, without interrupting his work. "What do
you think this is, _The New York Times_?"
"Never occurred to me," Rick said politely. "Although the quality of
the paper is about the same."
The editor looked at Jerry. "When he talks like that, he wants
something. What is it?"
"Search me. I don't know what these two want, and I don't know when
they got deaf. Notice they're both wearing hearing aids?"
Duke hadn't. The boys grinned at his look of astonishment.
"What we'd like," Scotty said, "if you care to co-operate, is to have
someone take a look at the barbershop. We want to know if the new
barber is on the job."
Duke sharpened his pencil with loving care, using a penknife. "I won't
ask why you can't take a look yourselves," he said finally. "It's
pretty obvious."
"Not to me," Jerry objected.
"It should be. They don't want the barber to get a look at them,
because he saw them in Washington. They don't want him to know they're
interested, or that they know he's in town."
Rick started to ask how Duke had known that much, then realized that
the editor had simply drawn the correct conclusion from the few words
that had been said before. Again Rick gained a clear insight into how
a little information can be built up into a lot. No wonder Steve and
his people had so much trouble protecting official secrets.
Duke put his pencil down and rose. "It happens that I need a haircut.
Stand by." At the door he paused. "Anything else you want to know?"
"We want to know about his massage machine," Rick said urgently. "Find
out all you can, Duke. Please? Particularly if it has any electrical
connections besides the wall plug."
Duke studied them thoughtfully for a long moment, then turned and
left.
Jerry watched his boss leave. "He's kinder to you two than I would
be," he stated. "He didn't ask a single question, even about the
hearing aids."
Rick considered. There was nothing secret about the Megabuck network,
except that he and Barby would use it for a mind-reading act. Jerry
was trustworthy; he wouldn't give the act away.
"Promise you'll keep it to yourself," Rick asked, and at ferry's
excited nod he took the tiny receiver from his ear and handed it to
Jerry.
The reporter held it to his own ear, moving closer to Rick because the
cord was just long enough to reach from ear to inner pocket.
Rick said, "Barby, say hello to Jerry."
Apparently Barby did, because Jerry gave a surprised start.
"Can I talk to her?" Jerry asked.
Barby answered the question herself. The microphone, built right into
the little unit, was very sensitive and Rick's thin jacket did not
muffle it very much.
"I'm fine," Jerry said.
Rick grinned.
Scotty could hear both sides of the conversation through his own set.
Now he broke in. "Any sign of activity yet?"
"Cap'n Mike is fishing right near the houseboat. I can see the people
on the houseboat, but they're just having breakfast on the rear deck.
Where are you?"
"In the newspaper office. Duke has gone to check on the barber."
Rick held out his hand and Jerry gave him the earpiece, grinning.
"What a rig!" the reporter marveled. "Where did you get it?"
"Built it."
During the next half hour, while they waited for Duke to return, Rick
told Jerry the story of the Megabuck Mob, omitting only what followed
when Steve Ames arrived.
Then Duke returned, freshly barbered, trying to scratch his back. "One
thing about this new barber," he greeted them. "He's no better at
keeping hair out of your shirt than Vince is. Why is it that barbers
can't cut hair without getting it into places where it itches?"
Rick smiled sympathetically. He knew how it was. No matter how careful
a barber tried to be, it seemed impossible to get a haircut without a
shower of hair clippings down the back. Usually they lodged where it
was impossible to scratch.
Duke rubbed against the doorframe. "It's Vince Lardner's day off," he
began.
Rick tensed. If the houseboaters were going to contact the barber,
they would naturally try to choose a time when they could see him
alone. Maybe there had been an earlier contact, and the barber had
told them he would be alone today. That might account for the
houseboat's moving closer to Whiteside.
"Vince had gone fishing." The editor grinned. "I suspect that's the
only reason he got a helper, anyway, so he could go fishing more
often. There isn't really enough work in town for more than one
barber."
"Did you look at the massage machine?" Rick asked anxiously.
The editor nodded. "It's nothing but a hood, with three ordinary
massage gadgets inside. Vibrator heads, I think they're called."
That tallied with the description Steve's agent had given. "Did you
examine it closely?" Rick pursued.
"Yes. There's only one cord attached--the power cord. But I did notice
an interesting thing. Set around the edges are little disks, like
round covers. I started to lift one up, but the barber asked me to
stop. He said the machine is adjusted very carefully and I might upset
the adjustment."
"Tough luck," Scotty said, disappointed.
"Oh, I don't know." Duke's eyes twinkled. "I got enough of a look to
see two tiny holes in the piece of stuff the disk covered. The stuff
was black, probably plastic. Like telephones are made of."
"In other words," Rick said slowly, "you saw holes for electrical
plugs?"
"I think so. I don't know what else they could be."
Rick and Scotty exchanged glances.
"What does it mean?" Jerry asked.
Rick answered. "We don't know. And I'm not kidding. We really don't
know."
"I believe you," Duke said briefly. "Okay. I've done my bit, including
getting my hair cut. Anything else?"
"We'd like to stick around," Rick replied. "Jerry already knows about
this, but Barby is watching a houseboat anchored in North Cove. If
anyone leaves the houseboat for the Whiteside pier, she'll call us.
We'll take over at the pier. It just might happen that the houseboater
will pay a call on the barber."
Duke didn't comment, but Rick knew the editor's mind was at work.
"Make yourself at home," Duke said, and went back to his editorial
writing.
Now and then Barby called, wanting to chat, but Rick discouraged her.
He was reasonably sure the enemy wouldn't be listening in on the
extremely short wave length on which the Megabuck network operated,
but there was no use taking any chances. After each conversation he
identified the sets with his own amateur call letters, even though it
was unlikely anyone could hear the conversation. The little sets
operated essentially on a line of sight because of the short wave
length used. They couldn't be heard beyond the horizon, if they were
heard that far.
After an hour of waiting, Barby called in high excitement. Cap'n Mike
was aboard the houseboat! The boys waited anxiously for some further
report, but Barby was only able to say that the old seaman had
departed after a ten-minute visit and was now fishing again.
At noon Jerry and Scotty slipped out for a sandwich. When they
returned, Rick and Duke went to eat. According to Barby, all was
quiet.
Around one o'clock Cap'n Mike returned to Spindrift and reported a
friendly conversation with the houseboaters. They had anchored in
North Cove because someone down the coast had told them fishing was
good around there, which was a true statement.
The retired skipper had only one additional comment, which Barby
relayed. The folks had been friendly, but he thought they were a
little nervous, and anxious to get rid of him. He had no other
information of value.
At midafternoon Jerry went on a brief sortie, came back, and reported
business was slow in the barbershop, which was not unusual for a
Tuesday. The barber was reading a magazine.
Rick and Scotty were restless. The chairs in the newspaper office were
hard, and they had exhausted the reference materials on the bookshelf.
Duke Barrows looked up from a story he was editing and grinned.
"Espionage isn't as adventurous as some folks would like you to
believe. It's generally nothing but sitting. And waiting. Just as
you're doing now."
Rick grinned back. Duke was telling him nothing he didn't know. He had
waited like this before.
Barby called urgently, "Rick! The pram is leaving. One man in it, and
he's just starting the outboard motor!"
"All right," he said swiftly. "Let us know which way he goes."
In a moment Barby answered. "He's going to the pier!"
"Roger. We're moving!"