Seawitch Part 6

Her room showed all signs of a hasty and unpremeditated departure. Cupboard doors were open, drawers the same, and some spilled clothing lay on the floor, Mitch.e.l.l was interested in 100.none of this. He quickly riffled through drawers in the room until he found what he had hoped to find-her States pa.s.sport. He opened it and it was valid. He made a mental note that she had lied about her age-she was two years older than she claimed to be-returned the pa.s.sport and hurried down to the radio room with Robertson, who unlocked the door to let them in. Robertson looked questioningly at Mitch.e.l.l.

"The county police chief. His name is McGar-rity. I don't want anyone else. Tell him you're speaking for Lord Worth, That should work wonders. Then let me take over."

Roomer entered while Robertson was trying to make contact. "Seven more of the staff, all suitably immobilized. Makes nine in all. I've left Jenkins to cut them loose. His hands are shaking so bad he'll probably slice an artery or two, but for me freeing elderly cooks and young housemaids is above and beyond the call of duty."

"They must have been carrying a mile of rope," Mitch.e.l.l said absently. He was figuring out how much not to tell the police chief.

Roomer nodded to the operator. "Who's he trying to contact?"

"McGarrity."

"That hypocritical old brown-noser!"

"Most people would regard that as a charitable description. But he has his uses."

Robertson looked up. "On the line, Mr. Mitch.e.l.l. That phone." He made discreetly to re- 1O7.

Alistair MaeLeu place his own, but Roomer took it from him and listened in.

"Chief McGarrity?"

"Speaking."

"Please listen very carefully. This is extremely important and urgent, and the biggest thing that's ever come your way. Are you alone?"

"Yes. I'm all alone." McGarrity's tone held an odd mixture of suspicion and aroused interest.

"n.o.body listening in, no recorder?"

"G.o.ddam it, no. Get to the point."

"We're speaking from Lord Worth's house. You know of him?"

"Don't be a d.a.m.ned fool. Who's 'we'?"

"My name is Michael Mitch.e.l.l. My partner is John Roomer. We're licensed private investigators."

'Tve heard of you. You're the guys who give the local law so much trouble."

*Td put it the other way around, but that's beside the point. What is to the point is that Lord Worth's two daughters have been kidnaped."

"Merciful G.o.d in heaven!" There ensued what could fairly have been described as a stunned silence at the other end of the line.

Roomer smiled sardonically and covered the mouthpiece. "Can't you see the old phony grabbing his seat, with his eyes popping and big signs saying 'Promotion' flashing in front of him?"

100.Sea wit eh "Kidnaped, you said?" McGarrity's voice had suddenly developed a certain hoa.r.s.eness.

"Kidnaped. Abducted. s.n.a.t.c.hed."

"Sure of this?"

"Sure as can be. The girls' rooms have all the signs of hurried and unplanned departure. Nine of the staff were bound and gagged. What would you conclude from that?"

"Kidnap." McGarrity made it sound as if he'd made the discovery all by himself.

"Can you put a block on all escape routes? They haven't taken the girls' pa.s.sports, so that rules out international flights. I hardly think the kidnapers would have taken any commercial domestic flight. Can you see Lord Worth's daughters going through any airline terminal without being recognized? I'd put a stop order and guard at every private airfield and helicopter pad in the southern part of the state. And likewise at every port, big and small, in the same area."

McGarrity sounded bemused, befuddled. "That'd call for hundreds of policemen."

The tone of anguished protest was unmistakable. Mitch.e.l.l sighed, cupped the mouthpiece, looked at Roomer and said: "Man's out of his depth. Can I call him lunkhead?" He removed his hand. "Look, Chief McGarrity, I don't think you realize what you're sitting on. We're talking about the daughters of Lord Worth. You could pick up your phone and get a thousand cops for 199.

Alistali* MaeLeani the asking. You could call out the National Guard if you wanted to-I'm sure Lord Worth would pick up the tab for every cent of expenses. Good G.o.d, man, there's been nothing like this since the Lindbergh kidnaping!"

"That's so, that's so." It wasn't difficult to visualize McGarrity licking his lips. "Descriptions?"

"Not much help there, I'm afraid. They all wore stocking masks. The leader wore gloves, which may or may not indicate a criminal record. All were big, well-built men and all wore dark business suits. I don't have to give you a description of the girls, I guess."

"Marina and Melinda?" McGarrity was a cla.s.sic sn.o.b of awesome proportions, who followed with avid interest the comings and goings of alleged society, of the internationally famous and infamous. "h.e.l.l, no. Of course not. They're probably the most photographed pair in the state."

"You'll keep this under wraps, tight as possible, for the moment?"

"I will, I will." McGarrity had his baby clutched close to his heart, and n.o.body, but n.o.body was going to take it away from him.

"Lord Worth will have to be informed first of all. Til refer him to you."

"You mean you haven't told him yet?" McGarrity could hardly believe his good fortune.

"No."

"Tell him to take it easy-well, as easy as he Scan itch can, that is. Tell him Tm taking complete and personal charge of the investigation."

"I'll do that, Chief."

Roomer winced and screwed his eyes shut.

McGarrity sounded positively brisk. "Now, about the local law."

"I suppose I've got to call them in. I'm not too happy about it: they don't exactly like us. What if they refuse to keep this under wraps . . . ?"

"In which case," McGarrity said ominously, "just put the person concerned directly on the line to me. Anyone else know about this yet?"

"Of course not. You're the only man with the power to authorize the closing of the "escape routes. Naturally we contacted you first."

"And you were perfectly right, Mr. Mitch.e.l.l.** McGarrity was warm and appreciative, as well he might have been, for he had a very shaky re-election coming up and the ma.s.sive publicity the kidnaping was bound to generate would guarantee him a virtual shoo-in. "FU get the wheels turning at this end. Keep me posted."

"Of course, Chief." Mitch.e.l.l hung up. , Roomer looked at him admiringly. "You are an even bigger and stickier hypocrite than McGarrity."

"Practice. Anyway, we got what we wanted.'* Mitch.e.l.l's face was somber. "Has it occurred to you that the birds may have flown?"

Roomer looked equally unhappy. "Yeah. But first things first. Lord Worth next?" Mitch.e.l.l ill Alistair Mael^ean nodded. 'Til pa.s.s this one up. They say that, under provocation, he has a rich command of the English language, not at all aristocratic. Td be better employed interviewing the staff. Til ply them with strong drink to help them overcome the rigors of their ordeal and to loosen their tongues-Lord Worth's reserve Dom Perignon for choice-and see what I can get out of them, I don't expect much. AH I can do is ask them about descriptions and voices and whether or not they touched anything that might give us fingerprints. Not that that will help if their prints aren't on file."

"The brandy bit sounds the best part of your program. Ask Jenkins to bring a large one"- he looked at Robertson-"two large ones."

Roomer was at the door when he turned. "Do you know what happened in ancient times to the bearers of bad news?"

"I know. They got their heads cut off."

"He'll probably blame us for carelessness and lack of foresight-and he'll be right, too, even though he's just as guilty as we are." Roomer left.

"Get me Lord Worth, Jim."

"I would if I knew where he was. He was here last night when I left."

"He's on the Seawitch."

Robertson raised an eyebrow, lowered it, said nothing and turned his attention to the switch- board. He raised the Seawitch in fifteen seconds. Mitch.e.l.l took the phone.

"Lord Worth, please."

"Hold on."

Another voice came on, a rasping gravelly voice, not as friendly.

"Whatd'you want?"

"Lord Worth, please."

"How do you know he's here?"

"How do I-what does that matter? May I speak to him?"

"Look, mister, Tm here to protect Lord Worth's privacy. We get far too many oddball calls from oddball characters. How did you know he was here?"

"Because he told me."

"When?"

"Last night. About midnight."

"What's your name?"

"Mitch.e.l.l. Michael Mitch.e.l.l."

"Mitch.e.l.l." La.r.s.en's tone changed. "Why didn't you say so in the first place?"

"Because I didn't expect a Gestapo third degree, that's why. You must be Commander Lar-sen."

"That's me."

"Not very civil, are you?"

"I've got a job to do."

"Lord Worth."

"He's not here."

113.

Allstair MacLean "He wouldn't lie to me." Mitch.e.l.l thought it impolitic to add that he'd actually seen Lord Worth take off.

"He didn't lie to you. He was here. He left hours ago for Washington."

Mitch.e.l.l was silent for a few moments while he considered. "Any number where he can be reached?"

"Yes. Why?"

"I didn't ask you why he'd gone to Washington. It's an urgent, private and personal matter. From what I've heard of you from Lord Worth, and that's quite a bit, you'd react in exactly the same way. Give me the number and Til call back and fill you in just as soon as Lord Worth gives me clearance."

"Your word on that?"

Mitch.e.l.l gave his promise and La.r.s.en gave him the number.

Mitch.e.l.l replaced the receiver. He said to Robertson: "Lord Worth has left the Seawitch and gone to Washington."

"He does get around. In his Boeing, I presume?"

"I didn't ask. I took that for granted. Do you think you can reach him on the plane?"

Robertson didn't look encouraging. "When did he leave the Seawitch?"

"I don't know. Should have asked, I suppose. Hours ago, La.r.s.en said."

114.

Robertson looked even more discouraged. "I wouldn't hold out any hope, Mr. Mitch.e.l.l. With this set I can reach out a couple of thousand miles. Lord Worth's Boeing can reach any airport not quite as far away, just as the airport can reach him. But the receiving equipment aboard the Boeing hasn't been modified to receive long-range transmissions from this set, which is very specialized. Short-range only. Five hundred miles, if that. The Boeing is bound to be well out of range by now."

"Freak weather conditions?"

"Mighty rare, Mr. Mitch.e.l.l."

"Try anyway, Jim."

He tried and kept on trying for five minutes, during which it became steadily more apparent that Lord Worth would have at least a bit more time before being set up for his coronary. At the end of five minutes Robertson shrugged his shoulders and looked up at Mitch.e.l.l.

"Thanks for the try, Jim." He gave Robertson a piece of paper with a number on it. "Washington. Think you can reach that?"

"That I can guarantee."