Part 4 (1/2)
”But-”
PURSUIT 45.
Phillips interrupted almost before Ken had begun to speak. ”There are no buts in this case. Anyway, isn't that what you wanted? 'A minute ago,' to use your own phrase, you wanted to drop us both-to leave us back there on the mountainside.”
”Ken didn't want to,” Sandy told him. ”He wanted to find out what was going on. I was the one who said we shouldn't get mixed up in whatever it was.”
”And you were right,” Phillips a.s.sured him.
”But I've changed my mind,” Sandy said. ”If you know so much about us, you must know that-well, it sounds like bragging-but we have worked with the police a couple of times before.”
”I know that. That's why I ran the risk of asking you for a ride. But at the time I didn't expect to run into any action quite so soon. I didn't think I'd be exposing you to real danger.” Phillips shook his head. ”And these boys play rough.”
”But you're not one of them,” Sandy said insistently.
”Right again,” Phillips agreed. ”But Ramon and I get paid to risk our necks, and-”
Ken interrupted him. ”You get paid to keep law and order. And I distinctly remember that my civics teacher taught us that law and order are the business of every citizen-not just of the police.”
There was soft laughter from the rear seat. ”Mort, I think these boys would make good lawyers, no?”
”For a corpse,” Phillips told him, ”you make too much noise.” He twisted around in the seat briefly. ”You agree with me, don't you, Ramon? These boys have got to step out of the picture fast?”
”Absolutamente. Which means,” the Mexican translated helpfully, ”absolutely.”
”But why?” Ken demanded. ”We know you're inter- 46 .
ested in that other red convertible, and the man who has the lighter that lights with a green flame. We know you're interested in the gray coupe that was following Senor Gonzalez' sedan. I suppose that was the car that pushed him off the road, wasn't it?”
”Hmm.” Phillips sounded thoughtful. ”You figured all that out?”
Ken didn't answer. He pressed his advantage. ”I suppose the reason you weren't able to warn Senor Gonzalez about the gray coupe, after you got its license when we stopped for a drink, was because you haven't had a chance to talk to him since you saw him outside the restaurant when we were having breakfast.”
”You don't miss much, do you?” Phillips grunted.
Ken grinned. ”We've been well trained. Sandy's father is a good newspaperman and so is mine. So, naturally, when we smell a story, we get curious. And we stay curious.”
”Now look here,” Phillips said, ”I know we have no right to demand that you forget about what you've seen this morning, but-”
Sandy spoke in a musing voice, as if unaware that he was interrupting Phillips. ”You know,” he said, ”if I were the men in the other red convertible, or the man in the gray coupe, and I saw you”-he looked at Phillips -”in this car, riding down the highway, I'd a.s.sume you were a hitchhiker, heading for Mexico City. But if later in the day I saw you in another car, heading down the same road, I'd wonder why you switched, especially if I noticed this red convertible still traveling along the same road.”
”Sandy's right, you know, Mr. Phillips,” Ken said quickly. ”They've probably already seen you with us, PURSUIT 47.
when we stopped at that refreshment stand. Wouldn't you be less conspicuous if you stayed with us?”
”Police often commandeer cars,” Sandy pointed out. ”You don't even have to do that. We're volunteering ours.”
Phillips groaned. ”Don't call me 'Mr. Phillips.' My name is Mort. And his is Ramon.”
Ken grinned. He knew Mort Phillips had been won over, even before he heard the detective's next words.
”All right,” Phillips said. ”I'll admit it's a temptation to stick with you for a while, for the very reason you just suggested. And I do know you're a little more experienced than most boys of your age-to put it mildly. What's more important, I know you're trustworthy. I know you won't make copy out of this situation until you've got a go-ahead signal from us. So I'm going to tell you what this is all about. And then, if you still want to let me ride along in your car for a while . . .” He sighed.
”May I suggest,” Ramon said from the back seat, ”that you make the story as brief as possible. We will be at the second customs post in a few minutes.”
Phillips took a deep breath and began to speak in quick, concise sentences. ”We believe-both the Mexican and the United States police, that is-that someone has established a criminal hide-out down here. We believe the culprit to be a United States citizen. We suspect this hide-out to be the center of a lucrative and efficient business. But we have no idea where it is. Our reason for believing it to be south of the border is this: the trail of two wanted United States criminals has been picked up down in South America, and it's pretty clear they went through Mexico. Furthermore, by the time 48 .
we caught up with them, they had new faces, new names, and faked pa.s.sports. That's why we think the hide-out is more than a convenient stopover point. Presumably it is run by an organization that can also supply plastic surgery and pa.s.sport forgery.”
”Fortunately,” Ramon cut in, ”to change a man's fingerprints is even more difficult than to change his face. It is, in fact, impossible. That is how the two men in South America were finally located. If they would talk, of course-” His pause was as eloquent as a shrug. ”But they obviously are more afraid of somebody else than of the police.”
”What I've told you so far is just background,” Phillips went on. ”But right now we have our first concrete lead for locating this hide-out. This is the lead that Ramon and I-and a dozen other secret service men on both sides of the border-are working on. The history of it began in Miami, Florida, about six months ago, when a certain bank teller came to the attention of the bonding company that bonds that bank's employees. The teller was known to be frequenting the race tracks, gambling heavily, and a.s.sociating with notoriously shady characters. He had signed IO U's that he couldn't possibly pay out of his teller's salary.”
When he stopped for breath, Sandy said, ”But the man hadn't done anything illegal, had he?”
”No,” Phillips agreed. ”But a teller who is deeply in debt can spell trouble for a bank. He may easily reach a point where the thousands of dollars that go through his hands become a temptation he can't resist. Normally the bonding company-who would have to make good in the case of theft by a bank employee-would suggest that a teller with a background like that be fired. But this particular bonding company had already paid PUBSUTT 49.
two big claims because of absconding bank clerks who had successfully disappeared. And through contacts with every police agency in the country, the company knew about the suspected hide-out down here in Mexico. So a plan was worked out. The police kept an eye on the teller, but the bank itself gave him no reason to think he was being watched.”
”The customs post is just ahead,” Ramon said quietly.
They could all see it-a small white building suddenly visible far below, at the foot of the mountain they were descending.
”O.K. I'm nearly finished,” Phillips said quickly. ”The hope was, of course, that if the teller did steal money, and attempt a getaway, he might possibly lead the police to the place we've all been looking for. My own agency was alerted, and so was the Mexican Federal Police. And last week things began to happen. The bank teller-his name is Frank Baron-bought a new car, under an a.s.sumed name, at a town fifty miles north of Miami. The car was a red convertible.”
”Oh!” Sandy said. ”I get it. That's why you knew so much about us.”
Phillips nodded. ”Any red convertible heading toward the Mexican border was under suspicion until cleared. Then, last Friday, when Baron's bank closed for the week end, he walked out with eighty thousand dollars of the bank's money. Ordinarily a theft at that hour of the day might not be discovered until Monday morning, but in this case, of course, it was discovered immediately. An hour later we knew Baron was heading toward Mexico in a red convertible.
”I was waiting for him at the border,” Phillips hurried on, ”on the Mexican side. Another member of my agency was in Laredo, ready to pick me up this morn- 50 .
ing. And that's when something went wrong. My confederate was at the United States customs station when Baron went through-both of them, of course, looking like innocent tourists. But by a fantastic stroke of bad luck, one of the customs officials knew my confederate and spoke to him by name. Worse than that, he said something like, 'I hear you're with Federal Intelligence now.' It's possible that Baron didn't overhear the remark, of course, but we couldn't take a chance. My confederate got word to me that he was stepping out of the case. And I got that word just about two minutes before I asked you for a ride. I hated to do it, but there wasn't time to make other plans right away. Ramon saw to it that Baron was held up at the Mexican customs until we were safely on the road, ahead of them. Ramon's part in the scheme was to follow along after me. And that's the story-so far.”
Ken and Sandy were both silent for a moment. Ken spoke first.
”Have you any reason to believe that he really did make arrangements with the hide-out organization?”
”Our chief hope along those lines is what you told me over breakfast,” Phillips admitted. ”We'd suspected he had, because he seemed so confident. But your story of the lighter with the green flame, which was obviously a recognition signal, seems almost conclusive. I'd missed that, because I couldn't risk getting close to Baron there.”
”So you sent back word about it at the first customs inspection post along the road-when you pa.s.sed that sheet of paper from your notebook to the man leaning against the wall,” Ken said.
Phillips nodded. ”I said you didn't miss much, and I guess I was right. Anyway, that green-flame scheme PURSUIT 51.
seems to be one of the careful details this organization apparently worked out. The gray coupe, following along to check up, is another detail-one we missed until I saw the car on Ramon's tail, back there at that refreshment stand, and caught its license number. But by then it was too late to get through to Ramon about it.”