The Case of the Carrier Pigeon, by Charles
"Trip" Morgan. Remember the very end of the last book,
where Brains and Jimmy find an injured carrier pigeon?
A Brains Benton Mystery
By Charles E. Morgan, III
Copyright 1971 & 2000
Based
on characters created by Charles Spain Verral. (1904-1990)
Based
on stories by George Wyatt
Note
from Charles: I started
this story in June of 1971 at the age of fourteen.
I was on medication for walking pneumonia and had to take it easy.
So instead of running around, I let my mind run free as I joined in
an adventure with my friends. So
please be kind. As noted by
Italics, page 2 and the top two lines of page 3 are taken verbatim from The
Case of the Painted Dragon copyright 1961 by George Wyatt.
It was the last page of his book, and something that I wanted to
use as the starting point for my story.
I ended the story in August of 2000 at the age of 43.
Chapter
One
It was a nice day and just a week before my friend Brains and I had
just cracked one of the most difficult cases in the history of the firm of
the Benton & Carson International Detective Agency.
Okay, let me explain. My
name is Jimmy Carson and I live at 43 Maple Street in the town of
Crestwood. My friend and
partner is Barclay Benton, a kid genius.
He got the nickname Brains from the guys at school because he’s
so doggone smart. He came by
his smarts honestly though, both of his parents are professors at
Crestwood College. We met a
couple of years ago and found out that we were both interested in
sleuthing, so we formed the agency. We
even have secret names. I’m
Operative Three, and Brains is Operative X.
I’m just sort of an ordinary looking kid.
I’m average height and weight for my age with brown hair and
eyes. Perfect for blending in
with a crowd and doing shadowing and other legwork that an investigator
must do. On the other hand,
Brains’ looks are something all together different.
He is tall and thin with sharp features.
He has bright firery red hair that makes a three alarmed fire look
dull. He also has crystal
clear blue eyes that are framed by glasses.
Like his name suggests, he is the brains behind the operation.
We were bicycling down Chestnut Drive.
Everything was peaceful and quite now that our last case was over.
I was just thinking how my nerves were enjoying the rest when
suddenly we spotted a bird fluttering in the high grass near the base of a
tree. The poor thing kept
trying to take off, but couldn’t make it.
“Creeps!” I said. “It’s
probably a nestling that fell out of the tree.”
“You ‘re way off, Jimmy,” said Brains as we braked to stop
beside the tree. “That
bird’s much too large for a nestling.”
He went over and picked it up.
It was a pigeon! One
of its wings was broken and bleeding.
“Holy smoke,” I said. “I’ll
bet it was hurt by a hawk!”
Brains frowned. “Wrong
again Jimmy.” He showed me
the wound at the base of the wing. “This
bird was shot!”
“Good grief!” I interjected.
“Who’d want to shoot a pigeon anyway?
What reason could they have for a mean trick like that?”
“It may have been a more important reason than we imagine,”
Brains said. He turned the
injured bird over and showed me a tiny tube tied to the bird’s leg.
“It’s a carrier pigeon,” he said.
“We can only surmise that this poor creature was carrying a
message of vital importance when some dastardly criminal shot it down in
cold blood.”
I knew just what he was driving at.
“Oh, no! Not another
case! Not now!
I was just beginning to enjoy life.”
Brains scowled. “Operative
Three, this is an emergency. In
times of crisis Benton and Carson expect every man to show complete
loyalty.”
Well, he had me pinned down. There
was only one thing to say, so I said it.
“Operative Three reporting!
Ready for duty!”
“Report to the lab right after lunch,” Brains ordered.
With that, he wrapped the bird in his jacket and peddled off.
When I got home, I whipped through a couple of roast beef
sandwiches that my mom had prepared in no time.
I chased them and some chips down with an ice-cold glass of milk.
I thought I was going to make a clean quick getaway, but my dad had
a different idea. You see, he
works as an accountant at the gas company in town.
That allows him to eat lunch at home frequently.
Anyway, he commented on how tall the grass was getting.
He didn’t have to say anything else; I knew what I had to do.
It was about 2:30 before I found myself going down the ally behind
the Benton household. At one
side of the ally way was the Benton’s garage.
It had been a coach house in the old horse-and-buggy days.
It was a two-story job. The
Bentons had given Brains the upstairs to do with whatever he wanted.
He never allowed grownups in it.
I was the only person allowed in.
I got off my bike and hid it in some thick bushes.
I went and faced the north side of the building.
Making sure nobody had seen me; I pushed the third nail in the
fourth board from the bottom.
A sharp voice said in a low whisper, “State name and business.”
I said, “Operative Three, official business.”
Suddenly a section of the side silently slid open.
I walked in and the panel instantly shut behind me.
I was standing I blackness. Then,
my eyes started to adjust to the darkness.
I could see a faint blue light.
It revealed a staircase right in front of me.
I mounted it; I could hear clicks as each step folded behind me.
At the top of the steps another panel slid open.
A second later I found myself in the lab.
What a place! It had
all types of electronic gismos and contraptions in it.
And Brains had made everything in the lab.
It appeared that I was alone in the room, but I knew better.
Just then a door swung open and Brains walked out.
He had been watching me from behind a two-way mirror.
“I’m sorry I’m late,” I started.
“I had to ---.“
“Cut the grass,“ Brains interrupted.
“How in the world did you know that?” I exclaimed.
“Elementary,” Brains said in his best Sherlock Holmes manner.
“When you came in I noticed you had bits of grass on your shoes.”
I wasn’t letting him off so easily.
“I could have walked through someone’s grass,” I argued.
“Yes, but as you know cut grass has a faint smell, which is
something that I detected as soon as I came out.
You don’t get that smell unless you have been near it for a
certain amount of time.”
Well he had me there.
For the first time since I had entered, I noticed the glass booth
Brains had made back in The Case of
the Missing Message. At
the time Brains had made it to house a parrot.
Now the pigeon occupied it. I
walked over to it.
“What are you going to do with it?” I asked.
“I’m going to nurse it back to health.
Then I will send it on its way and follow it to its home.”
“Are you out of your mind?” I questioned.
“How in the world are you going to do that?”
“I can’t tell you now,” he said coolly.
That was just like him. “I
bet you have no idea how you are going to follow that bird,” I
challenged. “Because it
can’t be done.”
Brains looked at me over the top of his glasses. “I will make a
bet with you Operative Three. It’s
about time for you to do your paper route and deliver the Crestwood
Daily Ledger. I’ll bet
you that I can follow you and tell you exactly the way you went, and not
have you catch me shadowing you. Mix
up your route anyway you want to, and if at anytime you catch me following
you, you win the bet.”
“Okay, but what happens if you lose the bet?” I inquired.
“I’ll carry your baseball glove and cleats to practice and back
for one week, or vice versa.”
“You’ve got yourself a deal.” I said.
With that, we shook hands and Brains gave me a good-natured pat on
the back. Then I left.
Well, I mixed my paper route up so much that I had to think back
and figure out who I had missed because I had extra papers.
The whole time I was out I was looking for Brains.
I didn’t see hide or hair of him.
I reported back to the crime lab as soon as I could.
When I got there Brains was busy at his desk.
“Okay Brains, tell me what happened,” I demanded.
“Operative Three, I’ll be right with you in a minute,” he
replied.
I noticed that Brains was relaxed and working on something.
I on the other hand was slightly sweaty and out of breath from my
excursion. I looked over
Brains’ shoulder to see what he was up to.
On the desk was a map on Crestwood.
The map was on a wooden box about two inches high.
Coming out of its side was an electrical cord.
The map itself was made of plastic.
The streets of the town were lined with small lights about half an
inch apart.
“Did you make that?” I asked.
Brains ignored my question as if it didn’t deserve a response.
Of course he made the map,
I thought.
Brains paused for a moment to check some hand written notes, and
then he spoke. “As you can
see Operative Three, this section of town has the lights lit.”
Brains then proceeded to tell me exactly the way I had done my
paper route. As he did, he
would refer to his notes, then use the map to illustrate me the way I had
gone. It was my path that was
lit up by the trail of lights.
I stood there with my mouth opened in amazement wondering how he
had done it without me seeing him.
Then Brains said, “Now it is time for business.
You asked me earlier how are we going to follow the pigeon.
Well, we are going to follow it the same way I followed you.”
“Wait a minute,” I interrupted, “how are you going to do
that?”
“Relax Operative Three. I
did not shadow you the way you think.”
“Oh, did you hire Superman to follow me?” I asked
sarcastically.
He never heard me. He
just continued.
“On this map the lights represent fifteen yards.
I placed a small transmitter on you and it emits a small beep every
five seconds. This box
underneath the map is a receiver that is on the same frequency as the
transmitter. The beep is
picked up and measured. If
you have gone more than fifteen yards since the last beep, a light will
show that by lighting up.”
“That’s cool!” I said in admiration.
“But when did you put the transmitter on me and where in the
world did you put it?” I asked as I checked myself for the devise.
“If you will recall Operative Three, after we made the bet we
shook hands. I also gave you
a pat on the back. That is
when I put the transmitter on your back.”
I turned around and Brains took the bug off.
It was just a small circular metallic object.
It had some gummy substance on one side of it that had made it
cling to my jacket.
“The casing is also magnetized,” Brains said as he tossed the
device up into the air and snared it with his hand.
With a smile he shoved it into his pocket and said, “I will enjoy
you carrying my baseball equipment for me.”
“How are you going to follow the pigeon if he goes out of the
Crestwood area?” I asked, ignoring his gloating.
“Besides, you know he isn’t going to follow any streets.”
“Yes,” Brains said as he got back to business.
“The transmitter has a range of over one hundred miles.
I plan to make a map that includes areas in a fifty-mile radius
from here. The scale will
have to be modified and calibrated to have a light representing every
square acre. I will also map
up to the area of Lake Carmine, because I believe that would make a good
homing pigeon base. Especially
since many of the there cabins don’t have telephones.”
“Well, I’d better get home to dinner,” I said.
“You know how my dad hates it if I’m late.”
“Report to headquarters as soon as possible,” Operative X
ordered.
It was almost seven-thirty by the time I got back.
Brains was sitting at his desk working on the map when I came in.
As I walked over to him, he stood up and grabbed his jacket.
As he put it on he said, “We’re going to the place where we
found the pigeon.”
“What for?” I asked.
“To see if we can find any clues as to who shot the bird,”
Brains said over his shoulder as we went out the door.
We made good time getting to the field where we had found the
pigeon. The sun was just
setting, casting a soft glow on the landscape that was contrasted by heavy
shadows. It was just light
enough for a quick reconnaissance
of the area as the spring days were starting to get longer as we headed
towards summer.
Brains got of his bike first and said, “Operative Three, you take
the open area. I will search
the wooden area.”
“Right chief,” I replied as I headed out.
I looked around for about five minutes in the growing darkness.
All I found were old beer cans and broken bottles, along with all
other kinds of junk you would expect to find in a deserted lot.
I heard a car pull up and stop. It was a red convertible.
I crouched down trying not to get noticed.
A young man got out and started studying the sky.
He was young with long brown hair.
He was tall and thin, and had a long mark on the side of his face.
It looked like it was a scar.
Mr. Scar Face found something in the sky. He quickly looked around. Then he reached into his car and pulled out a rifle!
Chapter
Two
A cold shiver went down my spine.
I had to get out of there and quick!
The protection of the shadows of the woods was too far away, so I
made a wild dive to get behind a clump of high grass and out of sight.
Fortunately a soft wind was blowing causing the leaves of the trees
to rustle and camouflage the noise of my graceless landing.
I stared out and held my breath.
The man hadn’t seen me. He
was too busy concentrating. He
carefully aimed his gun at something in the sky.
Then he fired. A few
seconds later I almost jumped out of my skin as something landed about
three feet from me. It was
another pigeon! I looked up
and saw the man was that headed right towards me!
He was coming for the bird!
I knew only one thing at that moment.
I had to keep the bird away from Mr. Scare Face.
So I jumped for the pigeon. I
grabbed it, spotted Brains in the woods and threw it to him.
Mr. Scare Face was shocked and surprised into inaction for a
second. Then he turned to
Brains and aimed the riffle at him!
My reflexes sprang into action. I hit the sniper hard and low with
a tackle that would have made my football coach proud.
I heard Mr. Scare Face grunt as I knocked the breath out of him.
We both crashed to the ground jarring the gun from his hands.
I scrambled up and grabbed the riffle.
Then I ran after Brains, my legs light with fright.
I ran around for a couple of minutes looking for him, but I
couldn’t find him. I
figured he had taken a back way to the lab so that Mr. Scare Face would
not spot him on the way there. It
was getting dark so I decided I should go home.
I would then call Brains to find out what the pigeon was carrying.
On my way home, I decided to take a longer more discreet way back.
Who knew, I might even run into Brains.
I started with a long trek through the woods that I knew pretty
well. Like all the kids in
the area it was a place we had all played at one time or another when we
were younger. I cautiously
listened for any sounds that would alert me to anyone being around.
There weren’t any. I
continued on. I was pleased
with the fact that I was traveling in relative silence, the result of a
lot of hours of practice. I
was nearing the end of the woods and coming to the intersection of the
first street I had to cross. I
noticed that the streetlights were now on illuminating the sidewalks in a
soft whitish glow. Cautiously
I made my way out of the dark woods and into the light of the subdivision.
I started to make my way across the street.
Suddenly I became aware of a car starting up down the street and to
my right. At first I didn’t
know why the idling car was so familiar.
Then it hit me. It was
the sound of Mr. Scare Face’s red convertible.
I quickly back tracked across the street.
Jogging between the sidewalk and the woods, I made my way toward
the car. The car was about a
hundred or so yards from me, but I could clearly see Mr. Scare Face.
He was dropping a limp body into the back of his car.
That limp body was Brains!
Chapter
Three
At first I didn’t know what to do.
I just stood there feeling helpless.
I then dropped the riffle and started to make a mad dash for the
car. I was hoping to get the
license plate number. But as
I approached, Mr. Scare Face didn’t drive off.
So I decided that I would try and rescue Brains.
I ran right towards the back of the car.
Then I leaped onto the trunk.
Mr. Scare Face must have seen me coming though, because before the
sound of my thud met my ears, the car’s engine roared to life.
The sudden start caught me off guard, but I managed to hang on.
Then the car made a quick sharp U-turn and I just couldn’t ride
the beast any longer. I fell
sprawling onto the concrete street. I
staggered up as quickly as possible ignoring the pain from my body
shouting at me from my landing. Watching
the car speed off, I thought I saw something come out from the back of the
car. I made my way down the
street, and found a small tube. It
was the type a carrier pigeon would carry.
I figured Brains must have regained consciousness and thrown the
message the bird had been carrying to me.
I quickly opened the tube and unrolled the paper.
It read:
ITSH
O QD WTOFU ITSR
HKOLGFTK
QZ ZIT EQWOF
WGW
It didn’t make any sense at all to me.
It was obviously some type of code.
So I rolled up the paper and put it in my pocket.
I then walked back to the corner and picked up the rifle.
It was a valuable clue that might help crack the case.
Then it hit me. This
was no small potatoes. I
would have to report Brain’s kidnapping to the police.
I might not even be involved in the case anymore.
Truth be told, that might not be such a bad thing.
I don’t think we had ever taken part in a more dangerous case
than this one. But deep down
inside I knew I had to try to stay involved, somehow, someway.
Brains was my best friend. The
case had now become personal.
I raced home as quickly as I could.
I must have looked liked wrapping paper on Christmas morning the
way my clothes were ripped and torn apart.
I didn’t really think of it until I entered the house and heard
my mother let out a shriek. Then
my father demanded in a stern voice, “James McDonald Carson, what have
you been doing?”
“I’ll tell you in a minute,” I said rushing to the phone, my
parents right behind me. I
dialed the number of the police.
“Crestwood Police Department, Officer McKeon speaking.”
I was relieved to get Officer Mckeon.
I liked him a lot. He
had always been nice to Brains and me.
Some adults didn’t think that a couple of kids could be real life
detectives, but Officer McKeon knew we could, and had always treated us
fairly. He had even helped us
out on an investigation from time to time.
“Officer McKeon, this is Jimmy Carson,” I said.
“Oh hi Jimmy, how’s the crime busting business?” he asked
jokingly.
“Terrible,” I replied. “Brains
has been kidnapped!”
There was a laugh on the other end of the phone.
“I’m serious,” I pleaded.
“I see, you aren’t joking,” was the reply as Officer McKeon
tried to grasp the seriousness of the situation.
“Okay now, give me the details.”
I told him everything. Then
I hung up. Before my parents
could say anything I told them that I had promised Officer Mckeon that I
would call the Bentons and tell them what had happened to Brains.
After the call my folks warned me not to get involved and to let
the police handle things. Half-heartedly
I said I would. What else
could I say?
I excused myself and ran up to my bedroom.
I quickly copied the coded note so that I would have a copy of it.
No sooner had I finished, then the doorbell rang.
It was Crestwood’s finest. They
had come to take the riffle, the note, and for me to make an official
statement.
After the police had gone, I took a shower and went to bed.
That night I spent tossing and turning as over and over in my
dreams I tried to rescue Brains. Each
time I ended up falling onto the street watching the car zoom away.
I would get up and try to follow, but my legs wouldn’t move
because they were so heavy. It
was like I was wearing cement shoes.
The next morning I was up at 6 AM trying to figure out the code.
It was fruitless and frustrating.
By 8 o’clock I had eaten my breakfast and was on my way to the
crime lab. Brains had a
library there. I hoped that
he might have some books on breaking codes.
There were a couple of books on the subject, and I spent the whole
morning studying them. I
tried several codes. One of
them was to have the letters of the alphabet represent their opposites.
I took the guide from the book.
It was:
A
B C D E F G H I
J K
L M N O P Q R S T U V
W X Y Z
Z
Y X W V U T S R Q P O
N M L K J
I H G F E D C B A
The top line was the alphabet; the second line was the alphabet
only backwards. When I tried
to use the code to decipher the message it started out to read:
RGHS
L JW DGLUF
It obviously made no sense so I quit.
Exasperated I pushed my chair back from the desk I was seated at.
I ran my fingers through my hair and looked around the lab feeling
helpless.
What would Brains do? I
thought to myself. I had no
answer.
My eyes fell upon the typewriter that was on the desk to the side
of me. Years earlier Brains
had found it discarded in a junkyard. He
had brought it back to the lab and had fixed it so it worked perfectly.
I looked at the keys. I
hadn’t taken typing yet in school.
So I had no idea why the keyboard was set up the way it was.
It made no sense to me. Why
weren’t the keys in alphabetical order?
I froze as an inspiration hit me.
I scooted back up to the desk, grabbed a pencil and paper and
quickly wrote the following guide:
A
B C
D E
F G
H I
J K
L M
N O
P Q
R S
T U
V W
X Y
Z
Q
W E
R T
Y U
I O
P A
S D
F G
H J
K L
Z X
C V
B N
M
The top line was the alphabet; the second line was the order in
which the letters appear on a keyboard.
I started to decipher the message:
HELP
I AM BEING HELD
PRISONER
AT OUR CABIN
BOB
My fingers tingled with excitement as I finished writing, making it
hard for me to read my own handwriting.
I read the message and couldn’t believe it.
I had cracked the code!
Then I thought about the cabin.
The message must mean Lake Carmine.
That was the only place that I knew of that had any cabins.
“Lake Carmine,” I muttered to myself.
There was something about Lake Carmine.
I thought on the subject, then it hit me.
Brains had said it would make a good homing pigeon base because of
the lack of telephones at the cabins.
I thought a little more and came up with a theory.
This Bob fellow has a cabin at the lake.
He also has at least two homing pigeons.
He was captured for some reason but still managed to send a
message. Mr. Scare
Face had found out and had cut the bird off.
Bob had then tried another message by carrier pigeon, and again Mr.
Scare Face had found out. He
went to stop the bird, only this time Brains and I had gotten in the way.
When we had gotten the bird away from him, he had cruised the
streets looking for us. Then,
on Vine Street, he had spotted Brains along with the bird.
Mr. Scare Face had then kidnapped Brains and grabbed the bird.
My guess was that he had taken Brains because he was afraid Brains
might have read the message. Then
of course Brains could relay the message to the police.
I decided that wherever Bob was being held, Brains was there too.
At least I certainly hoped so.
If my theory was right, it left a lot of unanswered questions.
Like, who was holding Brains and Bob?
Was it a gang or just Mr. Scar Face?
Where were they being held, and why was Bob being held captive to
begin with?
It was Sunday morning and time to go to church, so I headed back
home. On the way I decided
the first thing I had to do was to tell the police about cracking the
code. Maybe they had
deciphered it too. But if
they hadn’t, I was sure that Chief Hadley wouldn’t be too happy that a
kid had figured out something that his department had not.
He had never been too keen on Brains and me playing detective to
begin with, and this could just add to his resentment.
I bolted into the house and went directly to the phone.
All of a sudden it rang. I
picked it up and said, “Carson’s residence, Jimmy speaking.”
“Hello Jimmy,” said a sinister voice, “I’ll get right to
the point. If you want to see
your friend again, drop the case.”
Before I could say anything, there was a loud click as the other
person hung up.
“Jimmy, who was it?” my mom asked as I stared at the phone.
“It, it was a wrong number,” I managed to stammer out.
I didn’t know what to do. I
was scared and at a dead end. Lake
Carmine was far too big for me to investigate by myself.
Dejectedly I went upstairs and got dressed for church.
After church we had our usual big Sunday supper.
I scarfed down my meal as fast as I could and then went back to the
lab. When I got there I sat
down closed my eyes and thought some more on what I should do.
I went to the beginning of the case and ran through every detail.
I remembered how we had found the bird.
We had decided to nurse it back to health, then we were going to
trace it back to its base with the homing device.
Brains had tested it out on me already by applying the device to my
jacket without my knowledge. After
the successful experiment he had taken the bug off of me and put it into
his pants pocket.
Excitement ran through me. If
Brains was still carrying the homing device in his pocket, I might be able
to trace him! Then I froze.
If Brains was being held at the Lake Carmine like I believed, he
hadn’t made a map of the area. Or
had he? I ran over to the map
and turned it on. There on
the map was a clear path of lights leading to Lake Carmine.
He had finished it! I
studied it for a moment. The
lights stopped in an area near where Brains and I had spent a couple of
weeks at last summer.
I had located Brains!
Chapter
Four
My first thought was to call the police.
Then I remembered the phone call.
I couldn’t risk it. I
then reminded myself that I was Operative Three, of the Benton and Carson
International Detective Agency. Since
I had started this case alone, I would finish it alone.
Besides, I knew that if I failed on my attempt, I could always risk
going to the police as my back up plan.
The next day we had school, so I had to make my move that night.
Then I remembered that Lake Carmine was twenty miles away.
Big deal, I thought.
Operative Three can handle
any situation.
I got up and went over to the filing cabinet.
I took out a blank folder and labeled it “The Case of the Carrier
Pigeon.” Then I sat down
and wrote all the details of the case.
I did it because Operative X always liked to keep a folder on each
case.
After that, I went out and to deliver the Sunday edition of the
Ledger. On the front the page
was an article on Brain’s kidnapping.
I went ahead and read it before delivering my papers.
I was aware of everything except for the last couple of sentences.
They read:
The riffle that the police confiscated from Jimmy Carson was
registered to a Mr. Harold Jackson of Bleeker City.
When questioned by police, Mr. Jackson claimed that the riffle was
missing from his home. He had
not realized that it was missing so he had never reported it to the
police. The police would like
to question Mr. Jackson’s only son George.
He goes by the nickname “Flint”.
He is in his early twenties, tall and thin with long brown hair.
He has a long scar on his left cheek.
He got the scar in a knife fight in which he killed an ex-con in an
alleged drug altercation. “Flint”
was released when at the trial it was proven that the killing was in
self-defense
Wow! Mr. Scar Face was
this Flint Jackson guy. After
reading the article I was getting second thoughts about my trek to the
lake that night. To me, Flint
Jackson sounded like a pretty dangerous type of character.
But by the time I was done doing my route, I had calmed my nerves
and was preparing myself for “operation escape.”
Since every Sunday we had our big meal right after church, that
meant we only had a snack at dinnertime.
Right after that I asked my folks if I could go out and ride my
bike for a while. With what
had happened the previous day they weren’t to keen on letting me out
that evening, but they said okay.
I then grabbed some rope, a flashlight, and my pocketknife, and
hopped on my bike. I then
headed for the lake. It was
not yet 6 o’clock. I gave
myself an ETA of 7:30.
I
pedaled like crazy for awhile. I
traveled along streets, the highway, and back roads.
It was dusk when I hit the entrance to the lake.
It took another twenty minutes to get to the cabin.
By then it was almost totally dark.
I got off my bike, hid it in some bushes, and then went around to
the front of the cabin. From
the trees I peered out and there parked along the boat launch was Flint
Jackson’s car!
With my heart pumping in my throat, I went down to the skiff that
was tied to the dock. With a
glance over my shoulder I checked out the cabin and saw no one.
I quickly knelt down and untied the boat. Then I retied it in such
a way so that one good tug on the line and the knot would come undone.
You never knew if we might need the skiff for a quick escape from
Jackson.
I checked my watch; it was 7:42.
I felt confident about the way things were going so far.
From the dock I started to make my way around to the back of the
two-story cabin. On one side
of the cabin I saw two empty pigeons cages up against a window.
Parked nearby them was a black sedan.
Creeps, I thought, there’s
more than one person in there!
As
I made my way around the cabin, I used the setting darkness and the tree
foliage as my protection from being spotted.
I checked out the first story windows.
They were all shut. With
no visible way in through the lower level, I checked the top level.
Almost all of the lights were on in the back except for one on the
right side of the cabin. The window was cracked open in that room.
My spine tingled. It
was my way into the cabin! I
spotted a tree that overhung the roof.
As luck would have it, on the roof on the right side was a chimney.
I started to climb up the tree.
About half way up I stopped and looked around.
I saw and heard nothing, so I continued on up.
I got to the limb that over hung the roof.
I hung from it and slid my hands along it until I was over the
roof. I had originally
thought that I would have to drop down onto the roof and I was worried
that the noise might rise suspicion inside.
But my weight bent the limb so much that the further out I went,
the closer I got to the rooftop. I
was able to put my feet down gently on the roof.
Other than a slight crackle from the shingles, my arrival was
silent.
I took my rope and tied it around the chimney.
Then after pulling on it to make sure it was secure, I walked
backwards to the edge of the roof. I
let the rope fall over the ledge, and then from my knees, I lowered myself
over it too. The rope burned
into my hands as I momentarily hung spinning around in the air.
I held my breath hoping the rope would not break.
It was the only thing that was keeping me from the plunging into
darkness and the hard ground twenty feet below.
I silently swung back and forth kicking, trying to get to the open
window. My hands couldn’t
hold on much longer as they started to slip.
Finally I managed to hook a foot in through the open window.
I worked my leg in up to my knee.
I had just stuck my other foot in when all of a sudden the rope
snapped and I slammed into the side of the cabin.
I momentarily froze horrified.
I found myself hanging upside-down from the window.
I let the rope drop from my hands.
The only things that were holding me up were my legs.
And that was just barely!
Chapter
Five
I strained with all I had to get my hands onto the windowsill.
When I finally grabbed hold I froze in terror.
Had I been heard? I
held myself in position upside-down, my ears straining for any sounds
coming from within. I was
ready to pull my legs out of the window and risk the long drop to the
ground. Things were quiet
however, so I continued. I
tried to push open the window with one of my hands, but like most old
windows, it was stuck. So I
used my legs as crowbars and with leverage pried the window up.
The crushing of my skin into my shins just added to the serenade of
the pain burning my hands. Finally
though, I managed to pull myself up, over, and in.
I sat on the windowsill shaking and catching my breath.
Creeps, I thought as I
looked over my shoulder to the darkness below.
If I had fallen headfirst to the ground, it would have been the end
of me.
I turned my attention back to the inside of the cabin.
I thought I heard music coming from somewhere, but nothing else.
So I started for the door of the room.
The butterflies in my stomach were doing loopty loops.
As I opened the door I could hear the music more clearly.
It seemed to be coming from downstairs.
Mixed in with the sound I could hear voices.
I strained listening for a moment.
Even though I couldn’t make out what they were saying, I realized
that there were three men talking and laughing.
I peered out the doorway. The
coast was clear so I proceeded out into the hallway.
I went to the first door on the left and turned the knob.
It was locked. I
figured that if they were keeping Brains and Bob anywhere, it would be
behind a locked door.
I had grown up coming to cabins like these at the lake.
I had learned a few tricks. I
quickly scanned the floor of the hallway.
Almost instantly I found what I was looking for.
Up against the sideboard of the wall was a nail sticking out of the
floor about an eighth of an inch. Over
time these nails were always trying to work themselves out.
I grabbed the head of the nail with my thumb and index finger and
pulled. It was in there
tight. So I took my plastic
comb from my pocked and used it to try and grip and pull at the nail.
After tugging on it for a minute I was able to finally get it free.
I now turned my attention to the lock.
It was an old fashion job. I
stuck the nail in it, moved it around a bit.
The lock clicked opened in a snap.
I took out the small flashlight that was in my back pocket and
turned it on. I slowly turned
the knob and opened the door. I
shinned the light into the room. It
was empty.
I didn’t let my disappointment deter me.
I closed the door and tried the door across the hallway.
It too was locked. Using
the nail I changed that too with a click.
I again shined my light in as I opened the door.
This time the soft illumination revealed two huddled figures on the
floor and in a corner. I had
found them!
I quickly fished out my pocketknife and instantly started cutting
the gag and bonds from Operative X’s body.
“Are you alright X?” I asked Brains in a low whisper as I began
to free Bob.
“Just a little numb,” came his meek reply.
“How did you get here?”
I quickly recapped what had happened since Brains’ kidnapping.
When I was through, Brains said, “Way to go Operative Three.
I am very impressed.”
I felt my chest swell a good six inches.
“But X,” I said, “since the rope broke, we don’t really
have a way out of here.”
“Yes we do Operative Three,” Brains stated with deadly
seriousness. “We will go
out the front door.”
“What? Are you
crazy?” I whispered.
Bob, who had been quiet up until now joined in.
“I’ve got to agree with him,” he started as he jerked his
thumb toward me. “I think
we should risk dropping from the window rather than risk facing those guys
again.”
All of a sudden the door sprang open and there stood Jackson!
That’s when I sprang into action.
Jackson stood in the doorway stunned to see Brains and Bob free,
and to see a third person in the room.
As he stood there taking everything in, I used his moment’s
hesitation to hit him hard with a flying body block.
Air exploded from his lungs as he crashed into the wall across from
the doorway. Dazed, he
crumpled to the floor.
“To the front door,” Brains ordered.
Bob took off first. I
scrambled up off the floor and quickly followed.
Brains was right at my heels.
The three of us shot down the stairs taking the steeps four at a
time. When we hit the bottom
of the staircase we ran toward the door.
Bob got there first and turned the knob.
It didn’t open!
“It’s locked!” he yelled to Brains and me.
Chapter Six
I felt helpless, but I should have known better.
Brains had seen that the door was locked and had already backed up
to the bottom of the stairway. Then
he yelled, “Move!”
Bob and I cleared away from the front door.
Then we looked over at Brains to see what he was going to do.
Brains went into action. He
ran straight towards the door with all of his might.
Then, with a mighty lunge, he let his body crash into and thru the
door.
The resounding thud and crash reverberated throughout the cabin
like thunder in a lightning storm. The
splintering and tearing of wood added to sound.
When the dust had settled, the door had been torn from its hinges,
and Brain’s body lay limp on the ground outside.
“Grab an arm and head for the boat!” I ordered.
At once Bob and I grabbed Brains and half ran and half dragged him
to the waiting skiff. I
unceremoniously dropped my end when we reached the boat and let Bob finish
placing Brains’ limp form into the bottom of the boat.
I gave the rope one good tug and we were free.
I pushed us off from the dock and started up the motor.
With a resounding roar that obliterated the lakes’ tranquil
silence, we were off!
The two men had been momentarily stunned by Brains’ desperate
move, but they were after us in a flash.
As the boat’s motor screamed, the two men ran up to the dock.
As we started to pull away, one of the men took out a pistol and
fired it at us.
Instinctively, we got down low to escape the murderess fire.
We kept low. I stayed
hunched over half paralyzed, half praying as the boat speed toward the
middle of the lake. The moist
air rushed past my face leaving my hair as wildly tossed as a salad.
Finally, we were well out of range, and I cut the motor to see
check on Brains’ condition.
He had come to as we were dodging bullets, but I still wasn’t
sure if he hadn’t injured himself while going through the door.
When I asked him, he said he was okay.
“Now Operative Three, let me fill you in on what has happened to
me here,” Brains said slowly and deliberately as he tried to think
through the thudding ache in his head that I knew he had.
“After I was kidnapped, I was put into a room with Bob
Walters.”
We paused for a second of brief introductions, then Brains
continued. “Bob is eighteen
and was at the lake training to be a camp counselor.
He told me that one night he was sitting on the front porch when he
saw a helicopter land in the woods not too far from where he was.
Curiosity as to why a helicopter would be flying around the lake
overcame him and he went into the woods in search of the chopper.
It didn’t take him long to pinpoint its landing.
He peered out from the bushes and watched three men unloading
crates from the helicopter. He
listened to their conversation and realized that there were illegal drugs
in the crates. When he
realized what was transpiring he started to get out of there and to go to
the police.”
As Brains finished talking, I checked behind us for signs of
pursuit. I didn’t think we
were being followed, and I was right.
Bob then took over the account.
“One of the gang saw me and alerted the others.
They all started to chase me through the woods.
I thought I might make it, but just like a bad movie I tripped over
something and they captured me. One
of them held me at gunpoint while they questioned me about my snooping
around. They found out where
I was living, and that I was living alone.
They decided to use the cabin as a temporary hideout instead of
their car while they waited for the rest of the huge shipment to make it
in one delivery at a time.”
Bob stopped for a moment as he collected his thoughts.
I could see that the whole ordeal had taken a great deal out of
him.
“That night, in my room, I wrote two messages to my folks.
The next day, late in the morning, I managed to get down stairs to
the window that opens into the pigeon’s cages.
I sent out Mantle, one of my family’s pigeons with a message for
help. I had been afraid that
one of the gang might catch me. So
I took another pigeon, his name was Maris, and hid him up in my room.
As soon as I did, the guy named Flint came barging in.
He roughed me up a bit to find out where Mantle was going.
He said that they had been nice to me, but now I was going to get
tied up. Despite that, later
that afternoon, I still managed to get Maris out.”
“It was here that Bob teared up a little.
“But Flint went out and shot both of my birds.
When he brought Brains into the room, he also brought back Maris,
shot dead. Flint threw him at
me and screamed in my face, ‘See what you did?’
He said I should just go with the flow and everything would be over
soon. Later, Brains told me
that you guys found Mantle and took care of him.
I really appreciate that…thanks a lot.”
“No problem,” I tried to comfort.
“It was our pleasure.”
We had been sitting in the boat in the middle of the lake.
I was still on the look out for pursuit by sea or land.
I didn’t see or hear any in the growing darkness.
“Bob, why do you guys have carrier pigeons anyway, and why the
crazy code?” I asked.
“It’s simple really. Since
the cabins here have no telephones, it was just a way for my parents and
me to keep in contact. It’s
my first time away from home and this way my parents can know that I’m
alright.”