Flight to the Lonesome Place (17 page)

A small, sharp voice called plaintively from one of the windows in the den, “Will somebody
please
bring me another shrimp before I expire? Don't you know it's time to eat?”

They decided to have lunch in the den so they could talk to Marlowe while he kept watch from the tree. The moment they entered, Ronnie found himself staring at two monstrous golden-red mangoes on the coffee table. Ana María Rosalita squealed with delight, and Black Luis speedily began slicing one of them into a bowl for dessert.

Ronnie forgot about food and stood frowning almost in disbelief at the remaining mango. Suddenly he went to the captain's desk and began jotting down the unforgettable numbers and symbols of Dr. Prynne's last—and doubtful—equation. He had not been able to put the dream out of his mind, but being occupied with Prynne's theory helped to keep it in the background.

Ana María Rosalita watched him as long as she could stand it. “Boy Blue,” she burst out abruptly, “what in the world are you doing?”

“I'm trying to figure out the truth,” he muttered.

“About what?” Marlowe called from the window.

“Those mangoes you bring, for one thing.”

“They are magic mangoes,” said Ana María Rosalita, with a touch of her duchess manner. “And naturally they come from a magic place.”

“They're not magic,” he persisted. “They're real. I've eaten one, and I know.”

“That doesn't keep them from being magic, silly! Anyway, how can you possibly figure out magic things with mathematics?”

“Because you can always prove a truth of this kind with the right equations. Only, Prynne's theory is a hard thing to prove. And I—I never was too sure about it.”

“H'mm,” Marlowe grunted. “On something like this you'd better be sure. Don't you know that doubt is a closed door?”

“But—but blind belief is stupidity!”

“Oh, fiddle-dee-pooh! You can't see through a closed door. Now, let's hear about this Prynne's theory,” Marlowe went on. “If it bugs you, maybe I can straighten you out. I'm a very logical little fellow.”

“Dr. Prynne,” said Ronnie slowly, “was a great mathematician whom few people could understand. He wrote a book called
Time and Duality, or the Mathematics of Coexistent Planes
. In it he set out to prove that every planet has a twin very much like it, and that the twin planet exists in the same space with it, but in another dimension.”

“Well?” said Marlowe. “What about it?”

“What about it!” Ronnie cried. “Why—why, if you look at it logically, the whole idea is absolutely crazy—”

“But that's not a logical approach,” Marlowe interrupted. “Didn't I tell you that doubt is a closed door?”

“Yes, but I'm trying to prove by mathematics—”

“Are you trying to prove he's right, or wrong?”

“I—I—”

“Oh, my goodness,” said Ana María Rosalita. “All this is so silly. Can't you see that Dr. Prynne is right? Why, even my grandmother knew there was a magic world, and she didn't need a lot of stupid arithmetic to prove it. It's something every daughter of the Shee knows, practically from the time she's born. That's why it's so easy for anyone with the power to disappear.” She snapped her fingers. “Just like that.”

Ronnie gaped at her. He had tried to approach the mango mystery in an intelligent and scientific manner. But here it was bogged down again in a morass of magic.

Suddenly he demanded, “Did you ever disappear?”

“I haven't got around to it yet. But I'll try it soon.”

“Ha!” said Marlowe teasingly. “Why haven't you tried it? It's not as easy as you think. And of course, if you happen to be chicken—”

“I'm not chicken!” the tiny girl retorted. “You know very well that no one, not even you, smarty pants, can slip under the magic line unless you're close enough to see it. After all, it isn't found everywhere. And I've been nowhere near it for ages.”

“But—but what is this magic line?” Ronnie persisted.

Black Luis said, “I'm told it's just a sort of shimmering. Now you see it, now you don't—and it moves.”

“A—a sort of shimmering?” Ronnie repeated, dazed. “But where?”

“It's along the beach in places, real low. You'd never see it unless you have the eyes for it. Our little sister, she has the eyes. I have not, so I must follow Marlowe. When he says jump, I jump.
Hombre
, but fast. Only I scramble—for one must go under, not over.” Black Luis shook his head. “It would be a good world, a very good world, except for one thing. It is a magic place, surely, but it is lonesome. It is the most lonesome place I ever saw.”

Ronnie stared from one to the other. Something very fixed and orderly within his mind seemed to have been given a rude shaking.

“Magic,” he muttered. “I—I just can't—”

“It's only a word,” Marlowe reminded him from the window. “Don't take it so seriously. Actually, there isn't any magic. Does that make you feel better?”

Ana María Rosalita looked shocked. “Oh, Marlowe! How can you say such a thing?”

“Oh, fiddle-dee-pooh! A word is a word. What's magic? Nothing but the ability to do something everybody knows is impossible. See?”

“Oh!” said the tiny girl. “But of course!”

“Only, my dear little witch, just remember that
nothing
is impossible. So, when you do things that others cannot, it merely means—”

Marlowe broke off abruptly. “
¡Quieto!
” he hissed. “People are coming!”

Their first five visitors turned out to be a group of children who used the captain's property as a shortcut to the beach. When the children were past the cottage, Ronnie crept to the corner window. Ana María Rosalita followed. They peered out between the curtains, enviously watching those outside racing along the sand, and splashing in the lazy surf.

“Oh, if we could just be out there with them!” the tiny girl whispered. “Did you ever hunt shells on a beach?”

“No. I never had the chance.”

“I did it only once, when Papa came back here on a visit. I was awfully little. Later in Santo Domingo I wasn't allowed out. Papa had too many enemies.” She gave a wistful sigh. “Oh, it must be wonderful to be safe—and free to go out and play like that.”

Suddenly she stared at him. “Something's wrong, Boy Blue. What is it? Did you have another of those real,
real
dreams?”

“Yes.”

“Tell me about it.”

“I—I can't. Not now.” He swallowed. This dream concerned her too closely. And at the very worst of it, before he learned what happened to her, Black Luis had wakened him.

Ronnie was almost relieved when they heard Marlowe's quick call of warning.

In the next breath they both glimpsed the man approaching from the right side of the palm grove. The man was tall and swarthy, and there was a curious grimness about him. He wore a green sport shirt, and carried an attaché case.

Ronnie studied him, and said quickly, “That has to be Pardo Green.”

12

STRATEGY

WHEN THE MAN IN THE GREEN SHIRT identified himself, Black Luis hurried down the stairway and let him in through the grilled door to the patio. Ronnie met him in the living room, gave their names, and briefly explained their predicament.

While he listened, Pardo Green slowly paced the room, his narrow eyes going searchingly from one to the other. Once he paused before Ana María Rosalita and gently touched her bruised face with the tips of his long, hard fingers. Something like an angry growl came from his throat.

“You see how it is,” Ronnie said finally. “There's not only Black Luis' trouble, and the way Ana María Rosalita's been treated, but there's the fact that both of them will be taken to Santo Domingo if they are caught. And—and that will practically amount to murder.”

“Murder?” questioned the lawyer. “Why?”

“Because they'll kill us,” Black Luis told him. “They don't like us over there.”

Pardo Green suddenly snapped his fingers. “Of course! I remember now.” His voice was deep, and he spoke English without a trace of an accent. “You're the young fellow who helped Ana María Rosalita get away from there when a mob took after her. Crazy fanatics! There was quite a bit of talk about it here at the time. H'mm. No wonder Don Carlos gave you the land.”

He paused, scowled, and said, “And now Bernardo wants it back. Why?”

When Ronnie explained, the lawyer exploded. “A chemical factory! God preserve us!” He wrinkled his nose.

Black Luis said quickly, “But Ana María Rosalita has put the fix to it. That's why we came here this morning. So she could talk to that
bribón
on the telephone.”

Pardo Green looked sharply at the tiny girl. “What in the world did you tell your brother?”

“Bernardo is
not
my brother,” she said emphatically. “He was only my half brother in the beginning, but now I am through with him. I've made Black Luis my brother. And I've also made Ron—Ron McHenry—my brother. We have no one but each other, so we've decided to be a family. And Captain Anders has promised to be our guardian.”

“But we'll have to get rid of Bernardo first, and that won't be easy. H'mm. What was it you told him on the phone this morning? I'll have to know.”

“I warned him,” she said, with a touch of her duchess manner, “that if he didn't leave Black Luis alone, I would give him warts.”

“And did you?”

“I did,” she replied in her icicle tone. “Big, ugly ones. On his face.”

Pardo Green stared at her. He sat down. “Warts,” he said softly. “If you said you gave them to him, I'm sure he's got them. Anyone with a mind as positive as yours …” Suddenly his grim, swarthy face cracked into a smile. All at once he slapped his knee and laughed. “That rascally peacock—with warts! How I'd like to see him now! But he won't show himself to a soul. He'll sign papers, though, to get rid of the things. And he'll hate you more than ever.”

The lawyer frowned. “Unfortunately, this won't save Black Luis from being deported. If he's an alien—”

“But he's not an alien!” Ronnie interrupted. “He was born right here on the island, and that automatically makes him an American citizen. He's never changed it.”

“Can you prove that, Ron?”

“I'm certain it can be proved, sir. His birth must be recorded somewhere, and surely there are people living who remember it. He was born on his own property, in the house that Bernardo burned down. Bernardo's been trying to frighten him away and take advantage of him because he's an orphan and has no one to stand up for him. And—and I think it's awfully fishy that Ana María Rosalita has no citizenship. Don't you?”

“Frankly, yes.”

“I'll bet,” said Ronnie, “that's just a rumor Bernardo started to cover up something. Why, I'll bet she was born before her father became a Dominican subject—if he ever did. If we checked into it—”

“Hold it,” said Pardo Green. “I've a tape recorder here, and I want to take all this down.” He placed his attaché case flat upon the coffee table, opened it, and pressed something inside. “Gather close. I don't want it to miss a word. But first, Ron, where do you fit in the picture?”

“I don't quite fit, sir. I'm an outsider. It just happened that each of us was in trouble, so we sort of joined forces. We all want the captain for our guardian.”

“What's your trouble?”

“I—I know too much. Someone wants to kill me. But please, let's not go into that now. Did you bring a camera?”

“I brought a camera,” said the lawyer, studying him curiously. “I borrowed one. When my office told me Ana María Rosalita had been badly beaten, locked up, and starved—”

“But it wasn't quite as bad as you make it sound,” the tiny girl interrupted.

“It's bad enough, and in court it's got to sound bad. That devil really swatted you. I'd like to put you in a hospital and have a doctor, but no—”

“It could be dangerous,” Ronnie said instantly.

Pardo Green nodded. “It could be very dangerous. We've got a tiger by the tail. Until we can take it to court, the law's entirely on Bernardo's side. If he finds her before we're ready to fight him—and that could take weeks—”

“He'll have her in Santo Domingo before we know it.”

“Then we're licked.” Pardo Green was up and pacing the floor again. “I'd better tell you now that this is going to be rough. We've got to dig up facts that will take time and money. Until we have those facts, I must keep you hidden where Bernardo and the police can't find you. You can't stay here. The police are bound to come back and make an official entry.”

The lawyer shook his head. “Trouble is, I can't think of a place on the island where you'd be safe. With Bernardo's means—”

Black Luis said, “We have a place. It's my cave.”

“A
cave?
Good grief, son, you're not a bunch of rats!”

“But it's a wonderful spot!” said Ronnie. “It has everything—furnished rooms, a kitchen, running water.… Black Luis' grandfather hid in it for years, so it ought to be safe enough for a while.”

“I know about the cave,” said Ana María Rosalita, “and that is where we will hide.”

Her positive tone brought a twinkle to Pardo Green's hard eyes. “I guess that settles it.”

Ronnie reached for his billfold. “Now about expense money—”

“We'd better pray on that,” said the lawyer. “We'll win this in time, and it will come out of Bernardo's pocket. But until then, Captain Anders has guaranteed the expenses.”

“No, please, I promised to pay for everything.”

“But, son, have you any conception how much money it may take to dig up the evidence we need?”