The Mystery of the Nervous Lion - West Nick - Страница 14

“Okay. That ought to hold him, Bo. Thanks.” He turned to the jeep. “Better give us a hand here with Kong.”

“Sure thing,” the man said, tossing down his hammer.

“Hold it a second!” Doc Dawson said. “I want to check out that cage myself. I’ve got enough to do without running around day and night looking for lost animals.”

The helper shrugged and grinned. “Sure, Doc. You want us to lock you up inside and then see if you can get out?”

“Very funny, Jenkins,” Dawson snapped.

He came forward and picked up the heavy hammer. He slowly tapped each bar on the empty cage. He bent forward attentively as if he were listening for a flaw in the metal. Then he grabbed the bars in his strong, weatherbeaten hands, tugging and twisting, applying pressure from all sides.

“Satisfied?” Bo Jenkins asked.

“Seems okay,” Doc Dawson growled. “Those bars stand up to me all right, but then I don’t have the strength of a gorilla.” He looked at Bo Jenkins coldly. “Reckon you don’t either, Bo. But if you’re taking Hank Morton’s place here, you can’t afford to make any mistakes!”

Jim Hall turned to Doc Dawson. “Bo is working out fine, Doc. You’re the one who told me he could take Hank Morton’s place and do a good job, and I’m satisfied so far. Why needle him?”

“Just want him to be on his toes, that’s all,” Dawson said gruffly. “We don’t want any more accidents around here.” He stepped back to look at the empty gorilla cage again, and shook his head. “Darned if I can figure out how that bar got removed. I’d better check the panther’s cage too.”

Carrying the hammer, he walked abruptly to the cage opposite. The black cat leaped to its feet, hissing and snarling. The vet walked around the cage striking each of the bars in turn.

“He appears to be checking for a metal fault,” Jupe said to his friends. “I’ve heard of something called metal fatigue. Airplane parts are checked for that periodically.”

“With a hammer?” Bob asked.

Jupe shrugged. “Maybe Doc Dawson has his own method of detection. After all, he spends a lot of time with caged animals.”

After several ringing blows, Doc Dawson stepped back and nodded as if satisfied. “Okay, Jim,” he said. “Far as I can tell, the bars check out with equal resistance. No cracks or fissures, and they’re all securely in place. I guess you can put the gorilla back in now.”

Jim Hall signalled the work crew, who lifted the still-slumbering gorilla into its cage. Hall slipped the ropes off, swung the cage door shut, and padlocked it.

Doc Dawson stepped into his jeep. “Looks like you’re all set now, Jim. I’ve got a sick horse to look after at the corral. If you need me again, just holler.”

“Let’s hope I don’t, for a while, Doc. Thanks again for your help.”

“Put it on the bill!” Dawson yelled. He waved and drove off.

Bob nudged Jupiter. “More fun coming,” he whispered. “Here comes Jay Eastland.”

The long station wagon roared up and the fat, bald-headed producer jumped out. Hall’s lips tightened.

Eastland strode up quickly and peered into the gorilla cage. “So you got him finally, eh? Sure took you long enough, Hall. You had my crew scared out of their wits!”

“Yes, we got him,” Jim Hall said slowly. “We might have caught up with him sooner, but somebody gave us a wrong tip. It turned out he wasn’t in the canyon area at all but right around here, down by the fence.”

The producer shrugged. “So what? I heard he was seen near the canyon and passed the word on to you.” His voice rose. “How do you expect me to shoot a movie if you can’t keep your wild animals under lock and key? My actors are worried sick that any moment they’re going to be attacked by another one you let get away!”

“I’m sorry, Eastland,” Hall said quietly. “We’ve had a few accidents, but nothing serious has happened. Everything’s fine now and under control. You can tell your actors not to worry. Go on back and shoot your movie and leave us alone. You’re only getting my animals stirred up and excited.”

Eastland’s face turned a mottled red. He backed up a few steps and shook his fist. “Don’t tell me what to do, Hall. I’ve rented this place and — ”

Suddenly there was an ear-splitting snarl from behind him. Eastland turned in alarm. The black panther leaped forward, and Eastland screamed in terror as the big cat crashed against its cage bars and fell back snarling.

The producer looked ill. His face was white and his eyes rolled. Then he noticed Jupiter and his friends watching.

“What are these kids doing here?” he barked. “What are you running — a sideshow?”

“They’re here at my invitation, Eastland,” said Jim Hall. “They’ve a job to do for me here. Now, is anything else bothering you?”

Eastland glowered. His chest rose and fell quickly. “Just make sure your animals don’t get loose again, or you’ll be sorry!”

Head down, he stamped away.

As the station wagon roared off, Jupe looked after it, puzzled. “That man certainly doesn’t act like a movie producer, Pete. He acts — well — very unstable!”

Pete smiled. “He’s what they call a ‘quickie’ producer in the trade, Jupe. They’re hustlers, only interested in grinding out something fast and getting their money back even faster. If you ask me, Mr. Eastland has money problems. So what he does is holler and bully and bluster.”

“Speaking of noise,” said Jupe, “we haven’t heard the metal shredder for a while. Let’s go back to the fence. I want to have another look round down there before we leave.”

“I’d go with you, Jupe, but I’ve a lot of chores to do around here yet,” Mike said. “I’ll have to say good night.”

Jupe glanced at his watch. “We’ll have a quick look. And we’ll try to come back tomorrow to continue our investigation.”

With that, the stocky boy headed away from the house into the darkness. Pete and Bob shrugged and slowly followed.

“Here goes,” Bob said. “We’re off to test the sound barrier again. Remind me next time to bring along earmuffs.”

“Remind me next time to stay home,” Pete said. “I’ve had enough excitement tonight with that gorilla chasing us.”

They walked down the slope and soon caught up with Jupiter. He was crouching behind a tree near the bottom.

“What — ” began Pete, stopping when Jupe held up his hand.

Putting his finger to his lips, Jupe motioned them towards him. Quietly they stooped and scuttled over.

The metal shredder was quiet, but something else wasn’t. They heard a dull thud, then a clanking noise. Then a crackling sound.

“In the salvage yard,” Jupe whispered. “There’s a man there. Tell me if he looks familiar.”

Pete and Bob peered intently through the fence into the moonlit yard. Suddenly there was a flare as a man struck a match and held it to a cigarette. His sharp features were clearly seen.

“Hatchet-Face!” Pete whispered. “The man who came to the junkyard!”

“That’s him, all right,” Bob whispered. “He said his name was Olsen, didn’t he? What’s he doing here?”

“Listen,” Jupe said.

They heard a crackling, sputtering sound.

The hatchet-faced man hunched over. Something dark glittered in his hand. His lips moved.

Again there was the sputtering sound.

“Walkie-talkie,” Jupe said. “Hatchet-face is transmitting!”