Flight to the Lonesome Place (5 page)

“On the boat deck. If she says anything, you can tell her you're going out to watch the flying fish with me. But first, I've got to go up and settle things with the captain. Wish me luck.”

“Oh, but don't worry about him. He's a friend.”

The Señora, seated across from Ronnie, looked at her sharply and said in Spanish, “What are you and that boy talking about?”

“
Voladores
,” the tiny girl replied coolly, with a slight lift of one shoulder. “Flying fish. He wants me to go up and watch them with him—as if I had never seen them before.”

Ronnie was glad the Señora understood no English, and he was careful to keep his knowledge of Spanish hidden from her. Josip worried him enough, but the cold eyes of the Señora Bretón were strangely chilling. He wasn't afraid that she might recognize him. It was something else he couldn't quite put into words, for it was entirely beyond his experience. No wonder Ana María Rosalita had insisted upon a separate stateroom.

He was relieved when the meal was over, even though he was now faced with the uncertainty of dealing with the captain.

In his stateroom, his uneasiness began to mount as he took Gus Woolman's envelope from his bag. He did not take time to count the thick packet of bills. They were all of large denominations, and a quick thumbing told him enough. It was a small fortune. When he considered the reasons for being given so much in cash, he felt a return of his earlier fright. Gus, though afraid of what might happen, hadn't seen any solution. Except for the Blue Boy to run and hide—and stay hidden.

He stood biting his lip a moment, then transferred some of the money to his billfold. Finally he started for the captain's office with the envelope in his hand.

The captain, absorbed in papers at a desk, glanced up at his knock and motioned him inside.

“Have a seat, son. I was just checking over things here.” The big man scowled at his papers, and grumbled, “A boy traveling alone—somebody should have left a note or something—”

“Oh, I doubt if there is anything, sir,” Ronnie said quickly. “As I told you before lunch, my going to San Juan this way was sort of a last-minute thing. There wasn't time to—to make proper arrangements. So I was given enough cash so I could pay the fare to you. Er, how much is it, sir?”

“A hundred and forty dollars.”

Ronnie took two hundred-dollar bills from his billfold and handed them over.

Gravely the captain made change and wrote out a receipt. Then he thrust an empty pipe between his teeth and leaned back in his chair. “Keep your seat,” he ordered, as Ronnie started to rise. “There's a little more to this than merely paying your fare. Remember, this isn't a city bus you're riding on. It happens to be a vessel under American registry on the high seas. As master of it, I'm not only responsible for you, but I'm in charge of you.”

“Y-yes, sir.” Ronnie swallowed. Those brilliant blue eyes boring into him were entirely too penetrating.

“In the first place,” the captain went on, “this is doggoned irregular. Boys your age just don't come aboard unannounced, all alone, and pay their fare in cash. I've got grandchildren older than you, and they're all in school. Why aren't you in school?”

Ronnie put forth his best smile, which he had often used to cover a moment of uncertainty. “It's because I'm moving. I'm going down to the West Indies to live. Just where, I won't know until after I get to San Juan.”

“I see. And you say your name is Ron McHenry?”

“Yes, sir.”

“Well, I'll have to make a record of this and report it. First, you'd better show me some identification. Then I'll need your father's name and address, his line of business, the name of the person who'll meet you in San Juan—”

“But I don't have any proper identification, sir. I don't even have parents. All I had was a guardian, but he died suddenly, and that's why I'm on my way to San Juan. Why can't you just put down my name, and list me as a student? What's the difference? If I were a few years older, you wouldn't bother with all this.”

“True,” said the captain. “But you're not a few years older. If you're thirteen, I'll be surprised. You're traveling alone, and if there are any questions about you in the future, I'll have to come up with the answers. Now, you must have something with your name on it in your billfold. Let's have a look at it.”

Ronnie had seen this coming from the first. He had tried his best to aviod it without resorting to pure fiction, which would have collapsed in a minute under the captain's probing. Suddenly making one of his quick decisions, he got up and closed the door, then pulled off his glasses and wig.

“I'm Ronnie Cleveland,” he said. “You saw me last night at the Regency. I—I'm in real trouble, and I sure need your help.”

Captain Anders blinked twice, and very slowly set his pipe down on the desk. He said softly, “I
thought
there was something familiar about you! Of all things, I'd just finished listening to a news report about the Blue Boy, when in you came.” He indicated a radio on the desk.

“What are they saying?” Ronnie asked.

“Well, you've put the world on its ear by disappearing. There's a reward out for you.”

“Oh, no!”

“There certainly is. A big reward. Why did you run away?”

Ronnie drew a deep breath, then began to tell him.

4

GIRL WITHOUT A COUNTRY

THE CAPTAIN SHOOK HIS WHITE HEAD when Ronnie had finished. “It's a terrible situation, son. Personally, I think you made a mistake in not going to the police immediately—though of course I can see why you didn't. And you could be right. Being who you are …”

“If I'd been an adult,” said Ronnie, “I would have gone to the police. An adult has rights. He—he can come and go as he pleases. But I can't. If I'd gone to them, they'd protect me for a while, sure. Then what?”

“Well?”

“Can't you see? I'm a minor. They'd be forced to turn me over to the first person with any sort of a legal claim to me. Someone connected with the Corporation, like Wally or one of the others, or even Peter Pushkin. I—I don't trust any of them.”

“H'mm. The news report said Pushkin is your tutor. Who's this Wally?”

“His name's Wally Gramm. He's Gus Woolman's partner. The Corporation was his idea, so he'll probably run it from now on. And I'm sure he'll be appointed as my next guardian.”

“You don't think much of him, eh?”

Ronnie swallowed. “It isn't easy to explain. He and Gus were a pair of sharpies. I knew that from the first. But Gus, well, I felt I could trust him. I mean, I knew where I stood with him, and he always kept his word. But Wally—”

The captain shook his head again. “I'm afraid I don't quite follow you, son. With all due respect for your thinking, it seems more logical that this fellow Wally would be the one person most interested in protecting you. After all, if anything happened to the Blue Boy, he'd lose a gold mine.”

“Wally wouldn't lose much. I'm insured. What I'm trying to explain is that I wouldn't be safe with
anyone
in the Corporation. It would be too easy for those people to find me.”

“
What
people, son?”

“The ones who want me dead. They think I know more than I really do.” Ronnie stopped a moment, then added, “You see, all I know are some records that Gus and Wally had me memorize.”

“But surely, if there are names in the records—”

“There are lots of names and numbers, but they don't prove anything. I don't even know what they mean. I can guess, but it's sort of like trying to figure out how many gallons a tank will hold when you know but one of its measurements.”

“H'mm.” The captain scowled, picked up his pipe, and set it down again. “So now you're in a spot. What do you plan to do?”

“Well, I've got to hide. If I can find a safe place, and be left alone a while, I believe I can figure everything out. It's just a matter of remembering, really. But it won't be easy, because I'll have to dig up a lot of little things I wasn't paying any attention to when I heard them.” He paused, and said, “If—if you'll just keep it a secret about me—”

“Of course I'll keep it a secret!” the captain exclaimed. “And I'll help you any way I can. I'll start by listing you as Ron McHenry, student. Next—” The big man grunted, and scowled at his empty pipe. “There's a matter of money. You are probably a very rich young man, but that's of no help at the moment. Have you any cash?”

“Plenty.” Ronnie thrust the heavy envelope across the desk. “Gus saw what was coming and gave this to me. I wish you'd put it in your safe till we reach San Juan.”

Gravely the captain taped and sealed the envelope, made a notation on it, locked it away, then wrote out a receipt to Ron McHenry. “Now,” he said, “let's look ahead. The best place I can think of for a person your age to hide is in a private school.”

Ronnie nodded. “I've thought of that, sir. But it would be hard to get in without being, er, sponsored by someone.”

“I'll take care of that. Before we dock, I'll write a number of letters for you, introducing you as Ron McHenry. If we have no trouble, I'll go with you and make the arrangements. There's a good boarding school just west of the city in Bayamón. The only thing that worries me is those men who were after you. If they are smart enough to trace you to my vessel, they could fly to San Juan ahead of us.”

“I've thought of that too,” Ronnie told him. “But if they are anywhere on the dock waiting for me, I'll recognize them.”

“Then what?”

“Then I'd better watch my chance, and take off alone.”

“But where will you go?”

“I—I don't know. I'll have to sort of play it by ear. But I'll think of something when the time comes.”

The captain shook his head. “That's dangerous. You've
got
to have a destination. Don't overlook the fact that a reward is being offered for you. Do you see what that does? Everybody in this hemisphere will be on the watch for you.”

“Oh, golly.” Ronnie felt a slow chill going through him. “Who—who's offering the reward? How much is it?”

“Son, it was just a short radio report. It said the Blue Boy was missing, and that his manager had been murdered. Everybody is talking about it, and the general belief is that you've been kidnapped. Your company is offering fifty thousand dollars to anyone who can help them locate you.” The captain frowned, and shook his head. “Somehow I don't like that reward business. You said you talked to your tutor on the phone after you ran away. So he knows you're in danger. Surely, if he told your company, they wouldn't be so foolish as to publicly offer a reward that large, when it could cost you your life.”

Ronnie sat chewing his lip in silence, wondering about Peter Pushkin. The idea of the reward was all wrong. But was Peter to blame for it, or was somebody just being stupid?

Thoughtfully he began replacing his wig and glasses. As he considered Peter, another possibility rose in his mind. It was a shocking possibility, and his hand trembled as he realized how much it would add to his danger. But maybe he was wrong. There wasn't any proof.…

The captain said, “You've got to get rid of that blue hair somehow. You can't wear a wig all the time.”

“I'll dye it. As soon as I've found a place to stay.”

“Which brings us back to that destination I was talking about.” The captain found a tobacco pouch and absently began to fill his pipe. “Son, have you ever been to San Juan?”

“Yes, sir. I was there last January.”

“Good! How well do you know the island?”

“Ronnie shook his head. “All I saw was the city.”

“Well, I've a map you can have. But first, my hotel. It's the Excelsior, on Ponce de Leon Avenue.”

“I know where that is.”

“All right, here's my idea. If I can get you ashore safely, we'll put up at my hotel for the night, and do something about your hair. The next morning I'll take you over to that school. If we are separated, and you are forced to go it alone, meet me at the hotel as soon as you can—but you'll have to make it before noon the next day. In the afternoon I'll be heading around the island for Mayagüez.”

The captain touched a match to his pipe, then fished through some papers and produced a road map of the island. He spread it upon the desk.

“Here's Mayagüez,” he said, pointing with a pencil to a town on the west coast. “And here, about twelve miles above it, is the Beach of the Three Brothers. If you go beyond the beach a couple miles, to where the road cuts into the mountains, you'll see a little grove of breadfruit trees on the left. Do you know what a breadfruit tree looks like?

“Oh, sure.”

“Well, you can't miss them because there are no others in the area. On the other side of the grove you'll see a yellow beach cottage in the shade of a big mango tree. That's where I spend my vacations. You'll find the key buried in a coconut shell in the left corner of the steps.”

The big man chuckled at Ronnie's surprise, then went on seriously,” You're in a bad situation, son. Anything can happen after we dock. So you've absolutely got to have an emergency destination. What if the schools are all filled? What if we can't meet at the hotel? Then head for the cottage. There's plenty to eat, and you'll be able to hide there indefinitely. However, it's a long way from San Juan, and if you're forced to go there—” The captain scowled at his pipe, and added, “I'd suggest you travel from town to town, using different cabs. And make the last stop the beach—as if you were meeting friends for a picnic. You can walk it from there.”

Then the captain dropped his little bombshell. “You won't have to worry about neighbors, except for Ana María Rosalita's half brother. He lives in the old Montoya villa way up on the mountainside. The family owns all the land around there.”