Ken Holt - Mystery Of Green Flame Part 4

"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."

"You have traced Baron to the border," Ramon said, "and that is the first important step. Now we here must do our part. Our plan is good, I think. But of course no plan is good unless it works. Even with our check points established at approximately every twenty-five miles, so that we will certainly know the general area where they leave the highway, they may still slip through our fingers."

Sandy, who had spent much of the previous day studying maps of Mexico, said diffidently, "But there aren't many side roads leading off this highway that they could take, are there?"

"Not many main roads," Ramon agreed. "But there are countless small lanes that are pa.s.sable in dry weather-and this is still the dry season. It is helpful to know that there are two cars to look for," he added more cheerfully. "If we pinpoint the general area, and send up our scouting planes, two cars should be easier to see than one."

"Then you're not going to arrest the driver of the gray coupe for having forced you off the road?" Sandy asked. "Isn't there a chance he'd talk?"

"Too risky," Mort said decisively. "If he's picked up now, they're likely to suspect we're on their trail. Surprise is our best weapon. If Ramon is the only police officer they've spotted so far, they may think they're in the clear now-and this may inspire just the degree of overconfidence that leads to carelessness."

52 .

A moment later Ken was pulling to a halt before the customs-house inspection post.

Ramon got out of the car and identified himself. The inspector saluted smartly, listened to Ramon's rapid instructions in Spanish, and then disappeared inside the customs house.

"You are free to proceed without the formality of an inspection," Ramon said dryly. "The car I use will have a radio," he went on, "and any of our highway posts can flash a message to me. I will maintain a position a few miles to the rear of you-far enough behind to spot any attempts they may make to conceal themselves temporarily and then double back on their tracks."

"Right." Mort nodded. "We ought to reach the agricultural inspection post at Cienega de Flores in about fifteen minutes. So you might telephone ahead there and tell them to release the two cars a quarter of an hour from now. Then we'll be right behind them."

"I will do that." Ramon shook hands briefly with all three of them, in the traditional Mexican gesture of farewell. "Good luck, amigos. I will expect to pick you up, Mort, at the station nearest the point where the cars leave the highway. At that point we dismiss our young friends with grat.i.tude-no?" Once more his white teeth flashed.

But his final words were sober. "Be careful. They have much at stake, these bandidos."

CHAPTER V.

DELAYING TACTIC.

THE DISTANCE from the customs inspection post to Cienega de Floras was seventeen miles. Phillips had told Ramon Gonzalez that they would reach the agricultural station in fifteen minutes. Ken concentrated on his driving.

Once he had to brake to a sudden halt to avoid running over a burro that unexpectedly trotted to the middle of the road. And once, near a narrow bridge, he had to wait while a whole family loaded themselves and half a dozen wicker baskets aboard an already crowded bus. But most of the time he kept the speedometer needle hovering over the seventy mark.

Exactly fifteen minutes after they left Ramon, Phillips pointed far ahead to a small white structure at the side of the road. There appeared to be a car drawn up in front of it, but the distance was too great to identify its shape or color.

"The binoculars are in the glove compartment," Ken reminded Sandy.

Sandy had them out in an instant.

"Thanks." Phillips grinned briefly as he accepted

53.

54 .

them. "If you're trying to convince me I made a wise decision in coming along with you, you're doing a good job." For a moment he peered intently through the gla.s.ses. "That's the gray coupe, all right. And it's just pulling out."

Ken had reduced his speed while Phillips explored the situation ahead. Now, at a gesture from Mort, he stepped down on the accelerator for the last few hundred yards that brought them up to the inspection post.

A uniformed inspector stepped forward immediately, looked at the convertible's license plate, checked it with the number written on a slip of paper in his hand, and then saluted.

"They have just left," he reported. "The red car is two minutes ahead of the gray." His handsome young face lighted briefly with a smile. "I believe I am to be reported to my superiors for delaying them unnecessarily. I explained that because insects are quite small it is necessary to search for them with great care, but they found this thoroughness most irritating."

"I'll report your thoroughness myself," Phillips told him, "with grat.i.tude."

"Gracias, sefior. In the red car," the inspector added, "one of the men carried a brief case which he a.s.sured me contained nothing but papers. In accordance with my instructions, I did not insist upon examining that particular piece of luggage."

"Excellent," Phillips said. "And now if you'll send a message back to Gonzalez, we'll be on our way. Tell him we reached here in good time, and are right behind them."

"Si, sefior. Immediately."

"Gracias."

The inspector saluted once more as the car moved off.

DELAYING TACTIC 55.

Sandy unfolded a map of Mexico so that the area around Monterrey was visible.

"Twenty-three miles to Monterrey," he muttered, and glanced at the speedometer. "That's about twenty-five minutes, at this rate." He sighed. "Don't you suppose there's a chance your friends might stop there for lunch, Mort? I'm getting hungry."

"I suppose there's a chance," Phillips said. "If they haven't turned off the road by then-which," he added, "we don't really expect them to do. The country beyond Monterrey is much hillier than this, and we a.s.sume the hide-out is somewhere in the hills. It stands to reason they'd choose a spot in country that is little traveled and little known. Anything on the plains around here could be too easily spotted."

He, too, studied the map for a moment. "This highway goes straight through Monterrey, of course. But three other good roads leave the city. So our checkup in Monterrey must be very careful."

Ten minutes had gone by and as many miles. Already there were signs of the approaching city. Roadside billboards advertised hotels and restaurants, tires and beverages. People on bicycles and others on foot had joined the thickening traffic stream.

"Close up a bit," Mort said, "if you can."

Ken struck an open stretch and picked up even more speed. But in another few miles he was forced to drop down below fifty.

"I never saw so many buses in my life," he muttered, swinging around one only to find himself behind another.

"Easy!" Sandy cautioned suddenly. "I think I caught a glimpse of the gray coupeY'

Ken ducked ahead of a big truck loaded with cattle 56 THE MYSTEKY OF THE GREEN FLAME.

and stuck his head briefly out of the window. "Right," he reported. "He's about five cars ahead, pocketed behind a tank truck."

At the end of another five miles they were forced to slow down to thirty. They had reached the outskirts of the city proper. Dairies, factories, and housing developments edged the highway now, and buses stopped at brief intervals to pick up or discharge pa.s.sengers. Cross streets became more numerous.

And then suddenly they were in the heart of bustling, highly industrialized Monterrey. Ken found himself crawling forward between one of the inevitable buses and a gleaming new limousine.