Death Points A Finger Part 20

I called up the police, every department, from the cops up. I can't get a word out of 'em. I know something big broke the way they act. They've had orders to shut down tight; that's why I can't get a word. There isn't a man in the office beside myself.

There's somebody down in the business office who's taking care of the switchboard. I can't go out because I may miss a call.

"Step on it! Scurry around and see what it is. And keep in touch.

Call up every few minutes."

Jimmy hung up the receiver and stood at the instrument in thought, holding the receiver in its hook as though he would get inspiration from the lifeless instrument. He had learned to have a profound respect for Hite's tips. Hunch or flash, whatever it was, it was undoubtedly something. He started swiftly for the hotel in Lentone, where many of the newspaper representatives congregated.

If anyone among them knew of something to justify Hite's excitement, he would show it in some way. There would be a tension, a restlessness that would give the secret away.

The first look at the large group of men and women lolling on the wide verandah of the hotel convinced Jimmy that none of these knew of anything big breaking. News sleuths, do not act the way these did with something big. They are up and moving.

He went back to the police station. There was nothing new there.

He called up Justice Higginbotham's camp and spoke to McGuire.

There was nothing there. He called up Professor Brierly.

Jack, who answered the phone, a.s.sured him that everything was peaceful there also.

He called up the office again. This time he was connected directly with the city room. When he identified himself his eardrums were almost shattered by the howl that came over the wire:

"Flynn was murdered an hour ago!" Hite yelled.

Jimmy's body stiffened as if a live galvanic battery had been applied to it. Flynn, murdered? With guards near by, men who had been warned and ordered--Jimmy, trained as he was to disaster and tragedy in all its forms, somehow could not accept this. He said inanely:

"Flynn, murdered? Did you say Flynn, chief? Why he--"

"What the h.e.l.l is the matter with you, are you drunk? Yes," the word came in a hiss. "I said Flynn, William Flynn, the member of your Tontine group we were warned to guard."

"But wasn't he guarded?"

"Yes, he was guarded. Two of his guards were in his house with him. Three were outside." Jimmy had been leaning weakly against the instrument as if for support. Now he came out of it. He was the alert newspaper man.

"How about the guards, chief? How did it happen?"

"The guards were blown to h.e.l.l with him. He was picked up in each state as soon, as he crossed the border. The Federal man was with him all the time. He had to transact some important business with a nephew in Orange, New Jersey. He went there first, under guard.

Then he went home, to Pleasantville. There was no one there; the house had been closed up. About three or four minutes after he got there there was an explosion that blew the entire dwelling to kindling wood. The two guards, one of them a state trooper, and one of them a Federal man, were killed with him. There wasn't enough left of him or them to put in a bushel basket.

"The police have a drag net out. All the roads, all the railroads, all the airports are guarded. The river and the water front, every wharf in New York and New Jersey is taken care of. You would think a flea couldn't get through. They've picked up hundreds of men."

"What do you want me to do, Chief?"

"I don't know, but _get around_, see the members of the Tontine group. Persuade Professor Brierly to come down here if he can; the plane is still up there and is at his disposal. And by the way, Jimmy, if he consents to come, unless there is something up there that needs your personal attention, come with him. You seem to be the only person who can get along with him or get anything out of him. Step on it. I'll stay here until I hear from you, at any rate."

Professor Brierly listened carefully to Jimmy's swift explosive sentences in which he transmitted the high lights of the tragedy four hundred miles away. As he had done on a former occasion, Professor Brierly acceded at once to the request that he go down by plane to view the scene of the explosion.

While Jimmy made the telephone call for the plane, the Professor was getting himself in readiness for the flight. He looked up in surprise as he saw Matthews also in the act of preparing for a journey.

"Where are _you_ going, John?"

"Going with you, Professor. Jimmy tells me it's a cabin plane that will accommodate six or seven pa.s.sengers."

Professor Brierly looked at him suspiciously. Matthews' features were etched in grave lines. The big, blond young giant looked rather grim. Jimmy looked on in surprise at this scene, which he could not understand. Professor Brierly dissented impatiently.

"Nonsense, John. What need is there for you to go?"

Matthews answered quietly: "Sorry to disagree with you, Professor, but I'm going along."

Professor Brierly, after glaring speechlessly at his adopted son, shrugged his shoulders and continued getting himself in readiness.

Jimmy followed Matthews out to the porch. He asked quietly:

"What is this, Jack? I don't get it at all."

Matthews looked at him without trying to conceal his contempt.

"A h.e.l.l of a bright newspaper man you are! It was Professor Brierly who pointed to the fact that Miller's and Schurman's deaths were murders. If not for that, Flynn's death might have been put down to some accident.

"I wouldn't feel at all comfortable having the old gentleman go down there alone. It's true he'll have you there, Jimmy. You're a good little man and you've got plenty of guts, but I'll feel better, lots better, if I am with him personally."

"Well, what was he sore about?"

"He's sore because he knows why I'm going and he hates to be taken care of. We had some words about his going day before yesterday.

He's a c.o.c.ky old guy, as you know, isn't afraid of any single thing on earth and it galls him to have me go along to play nursemaid. Well, he can just be sore. I'm not going to leave his side." He paused and then said slowly:

"Jimmy, I don't like this. I don't like it a d.a.m.n bit. Birds who will play this kind of a game, with several million dollars at stake, who will plan murders like these, won't stop at anything.

And there's no question about it that the Professor has interfered with their plans somewhat. I repeat, Jimmy, I don't like it a d.a.m.n bit. In all those things you got him into I never had quite the same feeling I have now. I'm really afraid for him.

"Well, I'm going to be with him and I'm likely to take drastic action first and talk afterward if someone makes a suspicious move."

Jimmy soberly nodded. His absorption in the story had made him overlook this ramification of it. He could see that it was highly probable that Professor Brierly might be in as great danger as was any member of the Tontine group.

The pilot of the amphibian, when he taxied up to the wharf, told Jimmy that arrangements had been made that he land the plane on a field belonging to John Mallory, amateur sportsman and airman, whose estate was close to the home of William Flynn, at Pleasantville.

Chapter XIII

The plane dropped down out of the sky at four o'clock Monday morning, Eastern Standard time. Professor Brierly, as was his wont when traveling in a conveyance that he could not drive himself, was fast asleep. He had slept throughout the journey in spite of the roar of the whirling blades that had swept them through the skies.

A light touch on his arm woke him as they taxied to the end of the field. At its further end a man was seen pottering about the small hangar.

As the three men stepped out of the plane, two uniformed policemen approached. One of them, after looking at the ill a.s.sorted trio, addressed Professor Brierly.

"Herman Brierly?"

Professor Brierly looked up at the huge bulk of the man. He nodded, staring in puzzled silence from one to the other policeman. The spokesman for the pair said: "Will you come with us, Mr. Brierly. We--"

Jimmy's swift, keen glance took in the two men, their uniforms, their badges, their features, their shoes. He paid special attention to their shoes.

He murmured softly to Matthews:

"Good hunch of yours, Jack. Get set, they're not policemen."