Part 2 (1/2)
The five jeeps were lined up outside. Rick carried out a transit, the tripod slung over his shoulder, and found the two local helpers waiting.
Ruiz was a short, swarthy man with gleaming white teeth and a Mexican-style sombrero. Honorario was only slightly taller, and so thin a strong breeze would blow him away. The two San Luzians greeted him courteously. ”_Buenos dias, senor._”
Rick knew enough Spanish to be equally polite. ”_Buenos dias, senores.
Como estan ustedes?_”
The two switched to English. Rick hoped it wasn't a reflection on his Spanish accent, acquired at Whiteside High School the year before. ”We are well, senor,” Ruiz answered, and Honorario added, ”We hope you will enjoy San Luz, senor.”
Rick said that he expected to enjoy it very much indeed. He wondered if the two knew that their mountain was getting ready to blow its top. He asked, ”Do you have the dynamite, _amigos_?”
”In the shed, senor. Also the caps and the detonators. If you will come, I will show you.” Ruiz gestured toward a concrete shed that stood some distance away.
”What was the shed used for?” Rick asked as they walked toward it.
”It is a shed for a pump, senor. The pump is for the hotel's water, which must be brought up the hill from Calor.”
In a moment Rick saw for himself. The pump was operating noisily. Along one wall were shelves, one of which contained two cases of dynamite and boxes of caps. On another shelf were three detonators. He selected one, then picked out six sticks of dynamite. He handled the stuff gingerly, even though he knew it was safe as so much soap. Dynamite, for all its explosive power, is stable stuff, and difficult to set off by accident.
The dynamite caps were much less safe, however. Each was packed carefully in its own protective wrapping, but Rick took no chances. He put each one in a different pocket. Then, feeling like a keg of gunpowder with a sputtering fuse, he walked back to the jeep.
Hobart Zircon and Scotty came out of the hotel as he approached.
”Stand back,” Rick said grimly. ”I may go off like the Black Tom explosion if you touch me.”
Big Hobart Zircon chuckled. ”Don't worry, Rick. If you do, we'll go off with you. Would it make you happier if I carried the explosives?”
Rick considered. ”It doesn't matter,” he said. ”If the stuff goes off, we'll all go into orbit at the same time and the jeep will go with us.
Let's go.”
Scotty looked at him curiously. ”Where are the caps?”
Rick patted his pockets one at a time. ”One in each breast pocket and one in my watch pocket. Don't push me around, buddy. I'm loaded.”
Scotty grinned. ”I'll keep my distance.”
The rest of the party was loading jeeps now, too. Scotty hoisted the equipment and lunches into the back of the jeep and got in with them.
Rick climbed gingerly into the front pa.s.senger seat and Zircon got ready to drive. He handed Rick a map. ”You navigate. Our first destination is marked with a cross. We start out on the road leading west from the hotel. That will take us to the pumice works.”
”Okay,” Rick began, but he never finished. The jeep began to rock under him. For an insane instant he thought it must have a perfectly silent motor, then he realized Zircon had not yet turned on the ignition switch. Sudden dizziness made him clutch at the seat, and instinctively he clapped an arm across his chest to protect the dynamite caps.
He was vaguely conscious of yells from around him, and he struggled to sit up straight. His stomach was churning and he felt nauseated. Zircon let out a bellow like a wounded steer.
From inside the hotel Rick heard the sudden crash of shattering gla.s.s and gripped the jeep seat tighter with his free hand.
Then, as suddenly as it had come, it was over. He straightened up, dizzy. ”Wh-what happened?” he asked shakily.
He heard Dr. Balgos. ”A warning, my friends. The most serious one yet.”