An Ear for Danger - Brandel Marc - Страница 9

“Have you known many young Americans?” he inquired in a casual, friendly way as he worked.

“No.” The Mexican was watching him with grave interest. “Are they all as good at fixing things as you are?”

“Some of them.” Jupe tried again. “Have there been any other young American guys staying at the ranch?”

“When?”

“In the past three or four months. Since Blondie came here.”

Ascencion shrugged. “Sometimes people stop by,” he said.

“Did any of them sound like me? You know, my voice.”

The Mexican’s craggy face had its usual impassive look, but his dark eyes were smiling.

“All North Americans sound alike to me,” he said.

“They don’t all sound alike to Blondie.”

“Burros have better ears than I do.”

It was a no-go situation, Jupe realized. Ascencion knew he was being pumped for information and he wasn’t going to spill.

Jupe finished reassembling the device and switched it on. He couldn’t get any response to his call signals, no matter how he adjusted the antenna, but he was satisfied the walkie-talkie was working again. If there was anyone with another walkie-talkie within range, Ascencion would be able to communicate with them.

“There. It’s okay now,” he said.

“Very clever, you Americans.”

“Thank you.”

Maybe Americans were clever at some things. But Jupe knew he would have to get up very early in the morning to outsmart this Mexican.

Ascencion picked up the walkie-talkie and thanked Jupe. Then he reached out and shook Jupe’s hand.

“One day we’ll have a long talk,” he said. “One day when — ” He broke off. The phone was ringing. He went to the office to answer it. He was back almost at once.

“It’s for you.”

It must be Hector Sebastian, Jupe thought. He couldn’t think of anyone else who could be calling him here.

But the mystery writer didn’t answer when Jupe picked up the phone. A woman did. An American woman.

“Is this Jupiter Jones?” she asked.

“Yes. Who’s this?”

“Never mind my name. It wouldn’t mean anything to you anyway. I have something to show you. Something that’s very important to you.”

Jupe felt a quickening of interest, the excitement he always felt when a case took an unexpected turn.

“Why don’t you come here to the ranch?” he suggested.

“No.” A sudden note of fear crept into her voice. “I can’t come to Dustin Rice’s ranch. It would be much too dangerous for me.”

“Dustin Rice isn’t here,” Jupe reassured her. “He’s gone into Lareto.”

“No.” She still sounded scared. “Someone might see me and tell him. I want you to meet me on the other side of the lake.”

She gave him detailed instructions. He would find a boat pulled up on the shore below the ranch. If he rowed across the lake and walked through the woods toward the church tower he would come to a small village. She would be waiting for him in the main square.

“Come alone,” she finished. “If I see anyone with you, I’ll leave. And you’ll never find out what I have.”

“What do you have?”

But there was only a humming sound on the line.

She had hung up.

7

Jupe Takes the Bait

Jupe walked back onto the porch. Bob had finished cleaning his contact lenses and was now reading his paperback history of Mexico. Jupe told him about the phone call.

“Something she wants to show you,” Bob said. “Maybe she’s got a picture of that American guy who was so tight with Blondie.”

Jupe shrugged. He had thought the same thing himself. But he knew he was only guessing.

“Want me to come with you?” Bob asked.

Jupe told him the woman had insisted he row across alone.

“Hmmm,” said Bob. “Well, you’ll be right out in the open. I guess you can’t get into any trouble. And all that exercise will do you good.”

“Give me a break,” Jupe groaned, heading for the lake.

Jupe couldn’t see any sign of Pete when he reached the lakeshore. He soon found the solitary boat, a small wooden dinghy. Two oars were stowed under the seat.

He pushed the dinghy out onto the water, stepped in, and fitted the oars into the oarlocks.

He began to row.

He found it much more difficult than he’d expected. No matter how hard he pulled, the boat kept drifting sideways. He soon realized why. The lake was not a body of still water. A mountain river flowed into it at one end and out at the other. Even quite close to shore the current was stronger than the tide at Rocky Beach.

Jupe analyzed the problem for a moment, then turned the boat so that it was angled across the lake, into the current. By pulling harder on the right oar, the downstream oar, than on the left, he kept the boat moving toward the far shore without too much drift. But he had to put all his strength into it. Then —

CRACK.

The blade of his right oar broke off.

Jupe saw it float quickly away from him. He was left pulling a useless pole. He couldn’t catch the water with it. He hurriedly jerked it into the boat and fitted the other oar into its place.

Now it was impossible to row the dinghy in a straight line. It kept spinning around like a dog chasing its own tail. Jupe tried switching the oar from side to side, but that was too slow and cumbersome. Finally he took the oar out of the oarlock and used it like a canoe paddle. Pulling desperately, first on one side and then on the other, he managed to force the boat unsteadily across the lake.

He was still less than halfway across when the second blade broke off.

Jupe was at the mercy of the current now. He tried poling the boat with one of the broken oars. The water was too deep. He couldn’t reach the bottom.

He thought about shouting for help. But even if Bob or Ascencion heard him, what could they do without another boat?

He was powerless, drifting rapidly toward the river that surged out of the lake.

Jupe was a good swimmer. He could dive in and try to swim ashore against the current. But he remembered what Ascencion had told them. Dipping his hand in, he found the Mexican had been right. The water was ice cold. He wouldn’t last more than a few minutes in it.

At least he was still in the boat. If he stayed in the dinghy he would float on down the river. But for how long? The road up to the ranch had been a steep climb. The river back down would drop quickly. There would probably be rapids.

He thought of the village hidden on the other side of the lake. Maybe someone there had a boat.

“Help! Help me!” he yelled in Spanish. But the lakeside was deserted in the midday heat. A dog barked but no one responded.

Jupe tried to keep cool. To form a plan. Maybe he would find shallow places in the river. He might be able to pole himself to the bank.

He would soon find out. He wasn’t far from the mouth of the lake now. He could see where the water disappeared.

Disappeared!

Jupe knew what that meant — the top of a waterfall! He crouched in the boat, bracing himself for the shock, the sudden plunge over the edge.

“Jupe!”

He raised his head. Pete was standing on the bank of the lake, waving his fishing rod.

Pete didn’t know about the broken oars. But he realized at once how much danger his friend was in. Unlike Jupe, he could see the thirty-foot drop where the lake narrowed and spilled into the river below. He had been fishing around the bottom of those falls. He had seen how powerful the rush of icy water was there. It would pound the wooden dinghy to pieces against the rocks below. And Jupiter.

Pete ran at full speed along the bank away from the falls. He stopped at the point where the land reached out farthest into the lake. He judged Jupe would have to pass within sixty feet of him before he was swept over the falls.

Pete released the catch on his reel and brought the rod back over his head. He had one chance. One only. There wouldn’t be time for a second try. He braced himself, waiting until the dinghy was almost directly in front of him.