Flight to the Lonesome Place (16 page)

11

THE MAGIC LINE

RONNIE SWALLOWED, and raised the receiver to his ear. “
¿Hola?
” he managed to say, pretending to be a house servant. He asked in Spanish, “To whom do you wish to speak?”

“Ron?” spoke a familiar voice. “Ron McHenry?”

In his overwhelming relief, Ronnie almost dropped the receiver. “Captain Anders!” he cried. “Oh, golly, I'm glad it's you! I didn't know whether to answer or not. So I just took a chance—”

“I took a chance myself, son. Tried a dozen times to reach you. Thought I'd give the cottage one more ring before I left. Heard you had a squeak getting ashore, but couldn't get the straight of it from anyone. Anyway, I've been doggoned worried about you. I'm in the Mayagüez office now, and if I had an hour to spare, I'd take a run out there. But my vessel's nearly loaded and I'll have to be under way shortly. Are you all right? Did you find Black Luis? Have you had any more trouble?”

“We—we've all had trouble, sir. We—”

“
All
of you? Who the dickens is with you?”

“Black Luis and Ana María Rosalita. We spent the night getting her away from Las Alturas. They had her locked up there. Those devils hadn't given her a bite to eat since she left the ship. She—”

“What?”

“We ducked in here to hide about an hour ago. Everybody's looking for us—the police, the immigration people, Bernardo's men.…” He gave the captain a brief account of what was happening.

From the other end of the line came an explosion of salty wrath that rattled the receiver. Then the captain said tersely, “Ron, you're going to need help in this. I can be out there in fifteen minutes.”

“Don't come out, sir. It isn't necessary. I'm sure I can handle things—”

“But, son, you're all in a spot! It's a dangerous situation. There must be something I can do.”

“There certainly is, sir.” Ronnie's mind was already leaping far ahead. “In fact, there are two things. But first, I wonder if this phone is safe?”

“Safe enough. Just keep speaking in English. Very few people at this end of the island understand it.”

“Well, the immediate thing is a lawyer. I want the best there is, and the cost doesn't matter.”

The captain said without hesitation, “Pardo Green is your man. His office is in Mayagüez, and I've known him since he was your age. My only worry is that he may be busy. Maybe I'd better call him, tell him this is an emergency, and see if he'll meet you at the cottage.”

That was exactly what Ronnie wanted. “But just one thing before you do. The three of us are minors, and we have no rights without a legal guardian to act for us. Ana María Rosalita has a guardian, but we've got to get rid of him, fast. Neither Black Luis nor I have anyone. So we've all decided we'll stick together and be a family. But of course we'll have to have a guardian. Will—will you let us name you for the job?”

“Guardian? For all three of you?” The captain sounded astounded.

“It—it's just a legal thing,” Ronnie hastened to say. “I mean, we certainly wouldn't let it be of any expense to you—and as for interfering with your privacy here when you retire—”

“Doggone it, son, don't get me wrong. Of course I'll take on the job! I'm honored. It'll be up to the court to appoint me—and I can see a whale of a court battle shaping up before this thing's over—but I'm sure Pardo Green can handle it. Let me call his office, then I'll call you right back.”

Ronnie hung up and turned to see Ana María Rosalita and Black Luis watching him breathlessly. “Did—did he say he would?” the tiny girl asked.

“He sure did. I hope you two don't mind my jumping in and picking him without talking it over with you first. But I had to grab him when the chance came. You see, if we want to stick together, we've got to have a guardian. So it ought to be someone we all know and like. We wouldn't want the court to appoint a stranger.”

“
De veras
, no!” said Black Luis. “But the captain—ah, there is a man. They come no better.”

“He's wonderful,” whispered Ana María Rosalita. “Please, everybody keep his fingers crossed, and pray we get him.” She crossed her fingers on both hands, drifted back to the sofa, and curled up upon it like an exhausted kitten. She was almost instantly sound asleep.

When Captain Anders called again a few minutes later she did not awaken. “I got Pardo Green's office,” he told Ronnie. “Juan Pardo himself wasn't there, but I talked to both his partner and his secretary, and explained as much as I dared. They're hooked. I'm sure Juan Pardo will go along with them. He's in Aguadilla for the morning. They are trying to phone him in Aguadilla now and have him stop by the cottage on the way back to Mayagüez. His partner, Jaime García, said he'd come out and see you himself this evening if they can't locate Juan Pardo in time. So we'll just have to wait.”

“I see,” said Ronnie. “It sounds very hopeful.”

“And I've decided,” the captain hastened on, “that if I can locate a substitute master in the next hour or two—and I'm sure I can—I'll stay over and see this thing through with you. Since I'll be retiring in a couple weeks anyway—”

“No, please—you mustn't do that! Can't you see what will happen? If Bernardo's lawyer is any good, he'll wreck you in court!”

“Wreck me? How?”

“If you appear too soon, he'll say you're behind all the trouble. You'll be accused of abduction, and contributing to our delinquency, and the court will be told that you are just trying to get your hands on us because of our money. We'll lose you—and we simply can't let that happen.”

“Whew! I hadn't thought of that side of it. Doggone it, son, you sound like a lawyer.”

“I—I've been forced to study it a little,” Ronnie admitted. “Just for my protection.” He drew a long breath of relief. Though he hadn't wanted to mention it, the captain's presence at a time like this, with so many people on the watch for them, could be a great danger.

“But, Ron,” the captain added, “don't forget the spot you're in. You can't appear in public and help others without exposing yourself.”

“I know that, sir, and I think I have a solution. I'm going to work on it as soon as I've talked with Pardo Green. What does he look like? Things are getting sort of rough, and I want to be able to recognize him before I let him in the door.”

The captain described both lawyers, then discussed how they could keep in touch with each other during the coming weeks. Ronnie had a lump in his throat when he finally hung up. The possibility that he might actually have Captain Anders as a sort of substitute father was a little overwhelming.

As he turned away from the telephone he saw Black Luis hauling a pair of beach mattresses from the hall closet. “Let's get some sleep,” the black boy mumbled.

They spread the mattresses upon the living room floor. Ronnie sank down on one and wearily removed his shoes. He tore off his wig, which miraculously had remained in place during their blind plunge down the mountainside, then sat a moment peering about the room. He was very uneasy.

“We ought to take turns standing guard,” he said.

“Forget it, brother Blue. Marlowe's keeping watch. He can sniff trouble long before it gets here.”

Ronnie was asleep the moment his head touched the mattress.

He awakened in the middle of his third dream of terrible reality to find Black Luis anxiously shaking him.

“Someone's coming!” the black boy whispered. “Two men, Marlowe said. Strangers. They left their car out by the gate.”

Ronnie sat up, but for a moment it was impossible for him to think. The dream was too real, too vividly before him. After his first two experiences, he knew it was going to happen exactly as he saw it. Seldom had he felt so frightened and helpless.

With an effort he thrust the dream to the back of his mind, and glanced at his watch. It was hardly one o'clock. For a hopeful moment he wondered if the visitors could be Pardo Green and a friend. Then he realized that the lawyer would surely come alone.

He was studying the room carefully when he saw Ana María Rosalita watching him wide-eyed from the doorway of the den.

“Come in here,
camarada”
he whispered. “Keep down on the floor.”

The living room, with bedrooms and den on either side, a broad veranda facing the sea, and kitchen and smaller veranda at the other end, was entirely windowless. Even if the place hadn't been built high off the ground, as a protection against floods and prowlers—apparently a common practice around the island—they ought to be safe here from prying eyes. But, somehow, in spite of the heavy grillwork that enclosed every opening, even the downstairs patio, he didn't feel safe.

He put a finger to his lips and crawled to the kitchen, where a corner window looked beyond the side of the grilled entry area. Hardly had he raised up to peer out cautiously between the curtains, when he glimpsed the men approaching through the breadfruit trees.

They were moving slowly, warily. Something about them seemed familiar, but the crowding foliage hid their faces until they were only a few yards from the steps. Then he stiffened with shock.

He was not surprised to recognize the shorter man as Josip, the cabin steward. Seeing Josip first, he instantly expected the other to be Peter Pushkin. But it wasn't Peter. The thin, quiet, gray man was Gus Woolman's old partner, Wally Gramm.

Wally Gramm!
Seeing the man at this moment was a double shock, for Wally had been in his dream. Now he knew that it must have been Wally who drove Josip from the docks the other day, instead of Peter. But which of them had sent the gunmen—and where was Peter now?

As he stared at the man, something in his mind did an almost computerlike reassessment of what had happened in New Orleans. And, like a computer, it furnished him with an instant answer. It put Wally and Peter in entirely different roles, and though he couldn't prove it yet, he was sure the answer was right.

Wally moved to the steps, halted, and peered carefully around. Then silently he climbed the steps and tested the grill door to the porch. On the ground below him Josip stood quiet and watchful.

Suddenly Wally Gramm called softly, “Ronnie? Ronnie boy? Let me in! Hurry, I've come to help you.”

Ronnie clutched his hands to keep them from trembling, and glanced back toward the living room. In the dimness beyond the hall he could just make out the pale little triangle that was Ana María Rosalita's face. Again he put his finger to his lips, saw her nod, and almost jumped out of his skin as Wally Gramm pressed a button by the door, and the kitchen buzzer went off loudly.

“Ronnie!” the thin man called. “I know you're here. This is Wally. I've come to help you, boy! Let me in!” He waited, pounded on the grill door, and pressed the buzzer several more times. “Ronnie, for heaven's sake, use your head, boy! I've come all this way to help you. Let me in!”

Wally Gramm stood there more than a minute, listening, then silently went down the steps. On the ground, Josip said in a low voice, “He
has
to be here, sir. This is the captain's place, and there was no question but that he was headed for here.”

“Let's look around,” the thin man said. “If I could get inside …”

Ronnie waited, breathless, while the men circled the cottage. As nearly as he could guess, there was only one area below where they might possibly force an entry. This was in the front where, he reasoned, part of the grillwork must be hinged. Obviously there had to be a way of folding it aside so the place could be used as a patio, and so bathers could reach the beach without going through the kitchen and around outside. That meant an inside stairway.

He chewed on his lip a moment, trying to visualize where the stairway entrance could be hidden. At last he realized it must be in the rear wall of the living room, behind one of the doors he had thought opened to a closet.

Suddenly worried, he started to crawl over to investigate it. There he heard low voices coming from the far corner of the kitchen veranda. Peering out again, he glimpsed Josip and Wally Gramm moving away in the direction of the road. He watched until they were out of sight, then hurried back to the living room.

“They're gone,” he muttered, sinking into the nearest chair. He was limp with relief. “One was that snoop of a Josip,” he told Ana María Rosalita. He explained about the steward to Black Luis and added, “He found out about this place, and brought a man here named Wally Gramm. I—I've got a feeling they've gone to find tools so they can try to break in. They believe I'm hiding here.”

The black boy held up a huge knobby walking stick he had found somewhere in the house. “Let them break in,” he said grimly. “May the good Mother forgive me, but it will be the last time they break in anywhere.”

“Pardo Green ought to be able to do something about them,” Ronnie said. Seeing their puzzled faces, he remembered that they had all fallen asleep before he could tell them about the lawyer.

He explained and added, “All we can do now is wait.”

“Oh, dear!” Ana María Rosalita exclaimed, rising. “Oh, dear! I must be a fright. I've got to get cleaned up before—”

“No you don't!” Ronnie ordered quickly. “You stay just as you are.”

“But why?” she wailed. “I look ghastly! But utterly!”

“I don't care. I want the lawyer to see you, so he can tell the judge. When you fight law with law, you've got to use both barrels and all the ammunition you can find.”

“Then maybe you ought to brighten up my bruises with some of your paint.” Suddenly she giggled. “That is, if you can spare what's left. You ought to
see
yourself!”

“Oh, golly gee!” He gaped in the wall mirror. Dashing to the bathroom, he scrubbed at the blotched face, hardly recognizable as his own, but some of the paint refused to come off. Finally he compromised by rubbing his skin with a towel until it was an even tone, a somewhat dubious tan, and replaced his wig. He hated to wear the wig again, but it seemed wiser to keep the blue hair hidden.