The Mystery of the Vanished Victim (17 page)

The waterlogged cabin cruiser was stuck on the beach a hundred yards away, but it was deserted. The only sound came from a few circling gulls, swooping low over the tall tufts of beach grass on the dunes. Gully raced forward, his long legs speeding him along the edge of the wet sand toward the boat.

“They headed for the dunes!” he shouted back as he gestured toward the fresh footprints in the sand.

Gully hurried on, mounting the nearby dunes, following the deep depressions in the sand that marked the fleeing assassins’ escape route.

“Wait!” shouted Velie, waving his .38. “Johnson’s out for blood, Gulliver, and I don’t want it to be yours!”

Gully halted and peered cautiously over the top of the grass-covered dune as Velie and the others plowed through the soft sand to join him. They looked over the undulating expanse of sand, colored by occasional patches of long waving grass.

“There! In line with that beach house,” exclaimed the pilot, pointing to three small figures darting over the sand. They were a hundred yards away, heading for a blue and yellow beach house, the only house visible along this lonely stretch of the quiet island. Sergeant Velie took careful aim at the three retreating figures, and fired. The boat captain grabbed his arm.

“Stay here, Prema,” Gully commanded, trying to force the Jalpuri girl down behind the protection of the dune.

“No. Please, Gully!” she insisted, although she had paled when the unknown sailor was wounded. “I’ve got to see these horrible people captured.”

Gully turned from her. Velie was on one knee, steadying himself. His .38 barked again. Still the three figures fled for the nearby beach house. Velie slipped some cartridges from his holster strap and quickly reloaded the empty revolver.

“If they get to that deserted house, they can stand us off till it’s dark and then slip away,” Gully noted.

“You just keep
your
head down, Gully,” Sergeant Velie said grimly, “and leave this part of the case to me. They’re not getting to that house if I can help it. You, too, young lady— Keep down—and you, Balbir!”

But the three men were only fifty feet from the protection of the house now. Johnson spun about, firing the rifle.

“Down!” shouted Velie. With one sweep of his long arm he knocked all three of them to the sand. A bullet sang by close over Gully’s blond head. Then another dug into the dune near Velie, spraying him with sand. As Velie started to raise his head to fire, another bullet cut his sleeve.

“They’ll get into the house now,” said the police pilot.

“Listen!” called Gully. “They’re shooting—but not at us!”

Lying flat on the rear slope, they all listened tensely. They could hear the sharp, distinctive crack of the rifle, but it was not followed by the telltale whine of a bullet.

Gully cautiously peered over the dune top.

“The house wasn’t deserted!” he cried. “Someone’s there! That’s who they’re shooting at!”

Velie crawled forward, joining Gully. On the stretch of sand ahead, they could make out a man in swimming trunks crawling along the dunes as Johnson’s bullets clipped close.

“The fool!” muttered Velie. “He’s going for the pistol the wounded skipper dropped. But he’ll never make it!”

Velie rose, storming forward, firing as he advanced. His shot struck close to Johnson, the wounded man, and the pilot. Johnson whirled around to fire back. But as he did, the man in the swimming trunks reached the fallen pistol. He snatched it up and blazed away.

Caught in a cross-fire, the mustached man for the first time seemed discouraged. Suddenly the pilot dropped, grabbing his leg. Johnson threw down his rifle.

“Don’t shoot! Don’t fire!” his accented cry echoed above the rolling dunes.

“Then don’t try any tricks!” Velie roared back. The towering police sergeant advanced, his gun alert, on the huddled figures of the assassins. Gully, Balbir, and Prema, plentifully sprinkled with sand, followed Sergeant Velie gleefully.

“We sure owe that beach-house owner a vote of thanks,” Gully cried.

“I’ll cover them,” a voice behind the three captives called. “You frisk them, Velie!”

Surprised at hearing his name called, Velie stared at the man who had providentially come to their aid. He had just appeared above the rise behind the three fugitives.

“It’s the maestro!” the sergeant gasped.

“Uncle Ellery!” Gulliver Queen exclaimed with joyful surprise. It was the familiar figure of his uncle, wearing the swimming trunks Gully had helped pack!

Ellery Queen came toward them smiling, but the pistol glinting in his hand kept covering the criminals, and he did not once take his eyes off them. He kept them covered until Sergeant Velie made sure they had no other weapons concealed in their clothes. Only then did the famous detective lower his pistol and turn to the three teenagers.

“Well, Gully,” he said to his nephew, “is this the way you keep your promise not to disturb me?”

“Honest, Uncle Ellery, I didn’t know you were here,” Gully said quickly.

“I was only joking,” his uncle grinned.

“Better not bawl Mr. Gulliver Queen out, Ellery,” the sergeant said. “Wait till you hear what this nephew of yours has pulled off! By the way, one of these characters is grazed, and the pilot’s got a nasty-looking flesh wound in his leg.”

“There’s a phone in the house, Velie. The island police will take care of them.”

Velie headed for the beach house, as Gully introduced Prema, Balbir, and the police pilot to Ellery Queen.

“I’ll take over, Mr. Queen,” the police pilot said, nodding toward the prisoners, “though they don’t look as if they have much fight left in them.”

“Thank you.”

“So you are the uncle for whom Gully has been taking all those notes,” Prema said admiringly as they walked toward the beach house. “Mr. Queen, Gully shouldn’t just be taking notes. He’s a real detective himself.”

“He certainly is, Mr. Queen,” Balbir put in. “Wait till you hear—”

“Is this where you hide out to write, Uncle Ellery?” Gully asked hastily.

“Let’s not change the subject, Gully,” his uncle said.

But just then Sergeant Velie came hurrying back across the sand from the beach house. “Island police will be here in a few minutes. I’ve also phoned in to Headquarters.”

“Did Dhavata and Srigar get away?” Balbir asked tensely.

“Not a chance,” the sergeant said, putting his huge hand on Balbir’s shoulder. “From what your dad told them at Headquarters, they’ve picked up the building super that Johnson, or whatever his name is, bribed to cover up for him. And then, as soon as Dhavata and Srigar dropped Dr. Jind and the Prince off at the UN, they were arrested, too.”

“I’m very glad of
that
,” Prema said, her dark eyes flashing. “But I thought the United Nations is international territory, Sergeant Velie.”

“It is,” Velie explained, “but the New York police can operate there if we’re called in by the UN security people.”

“What is this all about?” Ellery Queen demanded. “It must have been something very special to make the UN ask for help.”

“It was, Mr. Queen,” Prema said before the sergeant could reply. “My father and perhaps Prince Behar were almost assassinated. They would have been, too, if not for Gully. It was really Gully who solved the case in time to prevent it.”

“Uncle Ellery, don’t listen to them …” Gully felt himself blushing.

“Don’t listen to
him
, Mr. Queen!” Balbir said quickly. “He also found my father and perhaps saved him from being killed, too.”

“What on earth—?” Ellery Queen said, looking at his nephew.

“The notebook,” Prema cried. “Gully, you show your uncle the notebook right
now
. And then Mr. Queen will see what a wonderful detective you are!”

“Don’t you think it would be safer if that man Johnson were tied up, Uncle Ellery?” Gully asked desperately. “After all, he isn’t wounded like the other two—”

Prema’s little hand darted into Gully’s jacket.

“Prema, no!” Gully yelled.

But her hand flew out of Gully’s inside pocket, waving his red leather notebook.

“Here, Mr. Queen,” Prema said triumphantly, giving the notebook to Gully’s uncle. “This will show you what a marvelous detective Gully is. You’ll see that I’m right.”

“I’m sure you are,” Ellery Queen said. He was staring at the first page of Gully’s notebook with a slight frown. “See here. While I’m looking at this, why don’t you young people inspect the contents of my kitchen? You’ll find some cold soda there, the makings of some hero-sized sandwiches—”

“And ice cream, Mr. Queen?” Prema asked eagerly. “I
love
ice cream!”

“I shouldn’t be surprised,” Ellery Queen said, smiling. “In the freezer compartment.”

“Gully, Balbir—come on!”

Prema raced toward the beach house, her
sari
flapping about her like wings. The two boys raced after her.

“Well, Ellery?” Sergeant Velie said with a sly grin as the famous detective went back to studying the first page of Gully’s notes on the case. “Let’s hear what you make of it.”

“‘Katal! Katal!’”
Ellery Queen read in perplexity from the top of Gulliver Queen’s first page. He looked around at the beach house, then turned back to Sergeant Velie and said in a confidential voice, “Velie, I can’t get past Gully’s first note! Quick, before the kids come back, save my reputation. What does
katal
mean?”

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