
THE ROCKET'S SHADOW
A RICK BRANT SCIENCE-ADVENTURE STORY, No. 1
"Wait and see," he said mysteriously. "I'll go get Dad and Barby."
"What is it, son?" Hartson Brant asked finally.
"I have something to show you if you're not too busy, Dad."
"Is it tough?" Rick asked sympathetically.
He went to the foot of the stairs and yelled, "Hey, brat! Come on down."
"She never is," Rick said. "A fine telephone operator she is."
"Did someone call me?" she asked languidly.
"The Brant Identification Panel," he replied. "Wait till you see it."
"Lead us to it, Rick," Hartson Brant said dryly.
Rick led the way to the front porch, closing the door behind him.
Mrs. Brant looked closely at the door. "Rick, what on earth-"
"Watch," he said. "Barby, ring the doorbell."
Rick pointed to the new location, high on the doorframe. "There it is."
Mr. and Mrs. Brant exchanged glances.
"See?" Rick said, grinning. "Even Diz is impressed."
"It's wonderful," Mrs. Brant said doubtfully. "What is it?
His mother was puzzled, his father amused, and Barby looked pleased.
"Aw, Dad, that isn't the idea at all."
"What's for supper, Mom?" Barby called after her.
"I guess it isn't very practical, Dad, but I had fun figuring it out," Rick said.
"Like the rocket, Dad?"
The telephone jangled sharply and Hartson Brant picked it up.
"Yes?"
"What is it, Dad?"
"What did they say, Dad?"
The two men were of about the same height, but there the similarity ended.
"Possibly a power surge on the line from the mainland," Weiss said.
He passed the bit of metal around and the scientists nodded in agreement.
"But why didn't it burn out before?" Rick put in hesitantly.
"We have everything," he announced, "except that triode rectifier tube."
"I can send Rick in by plane for that," Hartson Brant said.
"Would you look and see, John?"
"Okay, Dad. I should be back by suppertime."
"What's up, Rick?"
"The oil-pressure gauge again. I'm afraid to trust it."
Mac went into the hangar and came out in a moment with a cardboard box.
"This the one?"
Rick hesitated. "I have to go to Newark on an errand. Can I borrow your car?"
Mac, the new attendant, laughed.
"Better give me three of them," he said.
Rick greeted the clerk cordially. "How's business, Dick?"
"Okay. What's new on Spindrift Island?"
"What sudden interest?" Rick asked quickly.
"What man?" Rick asked sharply.
"Tall guy with a beard. You must have passed him on the way in."
The gray sedan was just vanishing around the corner.
The question put Rick on the defensive. He stammered, "Why, I-that is, I-"
If he could get away, into the woods . . .
"Mine's Rick Brant. What did you do? I never saw anything happen so fast."
"Is your home in New York?"
"We'd better call the police first, hadn't we?"
"Not now," Rick evaded. "I want to talk to Dad."
"Your car?" Scotty asked.
"I borrowed it."
"Do you live far from here?" Scotty asked.
"On an island. It's about fifteen minutes away."
"By boat?"
"By air."
Scotty looked at him with new respect. "You fly it?"
"Oh, then your dad got you a plane?"
Scotty was puzzled. "What scientists?"
"You'll see," Rick answered.
"Not on your life," replied Gus. "I did that with my own lily-white hands."
"Do you fly a lot?" Scotty asked.
"What do you do the rest of the time?"
"What are these labs?"
"That's right," Rick said. "Shall I land right side up for a change?"
Scotty climbed out, laughing at the pup's ungainly way of running.
"He's deciding," Rick said.
"Did you get the tube, Rick?" His eyes on Scotty were curious.
"No, Dad." Before the scientist could ask questions, Scotty was introduced.
"That's right, sir."
"Do you have your discharge?"
"Enough so that I don't want to see any more," Scotty said.
"That's what it says, sir," Scotty nodded. He seemed suddenly ill at ease.
Rick cast a sharp look at his father.
Rick held his breath.
"Thank you, sir. I accept with pleasure."
A voice asked, "Did I hear something about doing without the triode?"
"Hmm. That's odd," Stringfellow commented. "Did you try Royal Electronics?"
"No," Rick admitted.
The boy turned red under his tan and said, "I'll show Scotty to his room now."
Upstairs, Scotty looked around. "You mean this room is all mine?"
"Sure. Is it all right?"
"Come on in," Rick said. "I'll explain the place to you."
"You'll have to. What is it? An electrical museum?"
Scotty looked impressed.
"That's nothing," Rick said. "Sit down in that chair."
"Push the fifth one," Rick invited with a grin.
Rick picked it up. "This is something I'm working on now."
Scotty examined it. "Looks like the spark coil off an old model T Ford."
"Well," he began, "I guess the best place to start is at the beginning."
"Radar?" Scotty gave a low whistle. "I've seen it work, Is that something!"
"The millionaire?"
Scotty was sitting upright. "What kind of strings?"
"Then the year is almost up."
Rick nodded. "A little less than a week to go."
"But what's the thing they're working on?"
"A rocket to the moon."
Scotty sank back in the armchair and stared.
"But how will you know where it is once it takes off?" Scotty objected.
"How about the fuel?" Scotty still looked disbelieving.
"You said about a dozen scientists. I've only met three."
"Yes."
"But how did they know you were going to Newark to get a tube?"
"I'd like to know," Rick replied soberly.
"That's right."
"There's a light on in there."
"And how! I want to see this moon rocket."
"Down this path is the shortest way."
"A ghost," Scotty breathed.
"A bat!" Scotty exclaimed. "Look at it!"
Rick bent low over the luminous body and the chill turned his blood to ice.
He let out a hoarse cry.
"Dad! Come quickly! Dad!"
"What is it?" Scotty asked. "What's the matter?"
"Rick, where are you?" Hartson Brant called.
"Here, Dad, in front of the radiation-room door."
The scientist hurried to their side, followed by other pajama-clad figures.
"The shields are down," Rick told them, pointing to the bat.
Rick and Hartson Brant grabbed him together.
"You wouldn't last ten seconds in there," Rick said urgently. "See that bat?"
"Get the antiradiation suits," Hartson Brant directed.
"What's it all about?" Scotty asked, bewildered.
"But how could they fall?"
There was no answer.
"If the shields were dropped by accident, don't be afraid to speak up."
Rick took a deep breath and said, "I don't think it was an accident, Dad."
The boys nodded.
"Then whoever dropped those shields would have been guilty of murder!"
"Oh, no!" John Stringfellow gasped.
Stringfellow shuddered. "Who would plan such a horrible thing?"
"And why?" Hobart Zircon's gruff voice added.
No one had an answer.
"That's just it," Zircon boomed. "Did you actually see a man?"
"Scotty did." Rick looked at his friend.
"Scotty saw him," Rick said flatly. "And I heard him slam the door."
The two men looked at each other and nodded.
"I was reading in my quarters," Stringfellow said.
"And I was in my room asleep," said Hartson Brant.
"And we don't know this new boy very well," Julius Weiss cut in.
"If there was such a person," Weiss said stubbornly.
Zircon nodded agreement.
Scotty took the service pistol, a .45 automatic. He nodded silently.
"Dad," Rick pleaded, "what do you really think?"
The boys left the room and Hartson Brant closed the door behind them.
"Barby, where are you? Connect me with an outside line, please."
"Lieutenant Slocum? This is Hartson Brant. Yes, on Spindrift Island."
Rick listened as his father outlined the events of the night before.
"Is he coming?" he asked when his father hung up.
"Yes, hell be here in an hour."
"Not at all," Scotty assured her. "Just hungry. I'm used to standing watches."
"Good," Rick said. "Then maybe you'd like to take a little excursion."
"You," Rick teased.
Rick tried to look blank. "Where do you get that detective stuff?"
"On the telephone. I listened when Dad was telephoning."
"I guess you're old enough," he agreed. "Come on."
"But what makes you think so?"
"Zircon?"
"And Weiss."
"She wants to show you the rocket launcher," Rick said.
Barby lifted a corner of the canvas and peeked under it.
"Nuhnuh," Rick cautioned. "Mustn't touch."
"All right, little sister," Rick invited, "tell us how it works."
"She means a cradle." Rick grinned.
"She means a detonating chamber," Rick explained.
Barby turned pink. "Well, you're so smart! You tell it."
Barby looked embarrassed but she laughed.
"What are these instruments supposed to do?"
"A policeman," Barby said. "I listened in when Daddy called."
Rick nodded. "We'll see you later, Barby."
"What shields?" the detective asked, glancing at the strange mechanism.
"What's this?" he inquired.
"Yes, I'm afraid they could have," Stringfellow answered.
"But what about the man we saw?" Rick asked suddenly.
"Man? What man?" the detective questioned.
"Well, that was short and sweet," Scotty said. "It was an accident!"
"Are you kidding?" Rick asked sharply.
Scotty grinned. "Why, the detective couldn't be wrong, could he?"
"Not only could. He was," Rick said. "And do you know why?"
"What are you going to do about Zircon?" Scotty asked.
"That's reason enough, right there," Scotty declared.
"Could be," Scotty said thoughtfully. "But we couldn't prove it."
Scotty snapped his fingers. "By golly, you're right. Let's go look!"
"Here! Look, Scotty!"
There in the still damp ground was a muddy footprint.
"Here's another one," Scotty called from a few feet beyond.
"This leads to the tidal flats," Rick said. "And look!"
There, plainly engraved in the soft earth of the path, were clear footprints.
"Where does this one go?" Scotty asked.
"It circles around back to the house and lab," Rick answered.
"Oh, fine!" Scotty said disgustedly. "Where does that leave us?"
"What a view!" he exclaimed. "You can see half of New Jersey."
Scotty stared at the rocky ledge. "It would be impossible to tell now."
"Well, what do we do now?"
"I can read it all right," Scotty said. "It says . . . 'Drink . . . White . . . Cream.'"
Scotty squinted again. "Nope. It says 'Drink.' Not 'Smoke.' I'm positive, Rick."
Scotty pointed. "Watch the edge of the cliff-at the tidal flats," he said.
Reaching over the edge of the cliff was a hand!
"It'd take one kick to knock him back down," Scotty whispered.
Rick took his arm. "No, let him get up first."
Scotty's fist held in midair.
The prostrate figure rolled over with a weak grin. "Hello, Rick," he said.
"Jerry Webster," Rick said sternly. "What are you doing here?"
"You might have been hurt, you idiot," Rick said. "What's the big idea?"
Rick and Scotty looked at each other.
Rick's heart sank.
"Is the work going on?" Rick asked.
"Let's hope we have a little peace for a while," Scotty said wearily. "I'm dead."
Scotty came out of his doze. "It makes sense," he agreed.
"It beats me," Scotty said.
"I must see you," he said.
Weiss looked frightened.
"What is it, sir?" Rick asked.
"About what?" Rick asked.
"About there being something peculiar going on. Now I find myself the victim!"
Instantly the boys were alert.
"I'm afraid not, sir."
"Maybe," Scotty said. "What are you getting at?"
Rick recognized them as expensive binoculars of a German make.
"I can run over to Newark and get another," Rick offered quickly.
"I'll get my jacket and see what Mother wants," Rick said. "Come on, Scotty."
Scotty grinned. "I'm getting to be as suspicious as you are."
After getting the grocery list from his mother, Rick went to the air strip.
"There's Stringfellow," Scotty said.
"It's their sign; they can change it if they like," Scotty said grinning.
Mac trotted up. "Gas?" he asked.
"Right. Where's Gus?"
"Well, if it isn't one of the Wright Brothers!" was Rick's greeting.
"A little errand, soon as your hired hand fills the Cub."
"Like it, Mac?" Rick asked.
"Let's go, Scotty." Rick started to climb into the cabin, but Scotty stopped him.
"Your tail door is open again," he said.
It was a sensible suggestion. "See you at home, then," Rick said.
"He must feel good," Rick said admiringly. "He wants to play."
The black plane was diving right at his Cub!
As he reached the gravel path, he saw Scotty.
"What's up?" Rick called.
"Everything's quiet," Scotty answered, reaching his side. "How did you do?"
"How about the police?"
"But what? Not that coil. They could get one anywhere."
"I should think you'd have had your fill of that thing for today," Scotty said.
"I want to look at that tail-assembly inspection port," Rick remarked.
"Nothing loose about that thing," Scotty commented.
Scotty examined the door. "What's it for?"
"I thought that's where you carried your lunch," Scotty joked.
"I've got something!" he shouted.
In the next second he drew out a folded slip of paper.
"What is it?" Scotty exclaimed, leaping to his side.
"But how did they do it? Who picked up the messages on the mainland?"
"Mac! That new attendant!"
"He must be the one."
"Gus here, who's there?" he finally heard the mechanic say.
"Gus? This is Rick. Listen, where's your new mechanic?"
"And Mac stole the plane," Rick said grimly. "Is that it?"
"How did you know?"
"He chased me and tried to force me down."
"Did he bring the plane back?"
"Well ask him when we find him," Rick said, and rang off.
He turned to Scotty. "Well, that solves that mystery."
"Your father has a large library. Would he have a book on cryptography?"
"On what?" Rick asked.
"No soap," he said finally. "There isn't a code anything like this in here."
"Come on, come on!" Rick said. "Like this one, you mean?"
Scotty nodded thoughtfully. "Let me see. It was based on a book."
"I don't get it," Rick said.
In the little scientist's room the prospects were even less encouraging.
"And all in sets, too," Scotty remarked, reaching for a book.
"What is it?"
"Psychiatry Simplified. It's the only book that's not part of a set. I wonder . . ."
"That's right."
Scotty nodded. "And look what the word is."
"It's 'dear,'" Rick said excitedly. "The first word in a letter!"
"Go on-go on," Scotty urged, his voice shaking.
"It---it's a love letter," he gasped.
"You mean the code book led into another code?"
"Sure," Scotty answered. "This love letter is coded too."
"Nope," Scotty said finally. "This code isn't in the book either."
"Boy, this gang is really taking no chances," Rick remarked.
"But don't forget where the code led us," Scotty reminded him.
"To Weiss's office---yes. I'd say we had the goods on him."
"Don't forget, Zircon looked like the traitor, too," Scotty cautioned.
It was gone!
"Have you seen Professor Weiss, sir?" Rick asked.
"Look!" Scotty whispered hoarsely. "That book he's reading."
"The code volume," Rick gasped. "But I just saw it in Weiss's office."
"No, it can't be," Rick said uncertainly. "We couldn't run into this kind of luck."
"But how does this gang get in touch with the traitor?" Rick asked.
"Couldn't they phone?"
Both boys froze at the word "sign."
"Weiss's binoculars!" Rick exclaimed, rising. "Let's go."
"Not here," Scotty said.
"And look what he has there beside him," Scotty whispered.
"Did he see us?" Rick whispered.
"Yes," Rick replied. "What are you doing to amuse yourself, sir?"
"May I take a look?" Rick asked, extending his hand for the binoculars.
"Oh, one look wouldn't hurt," Rick insisted.
"Thank you," he said. "Well, shall we walk awhile longer, Scotty?"
"No message," Rick said flatly.
"Make a suggestion," Rick said wryly. "I've run out of ideas."
"You hope!" Scotty said.
"Okay," Scotty answered. "Let's go."
Dismal barked excitedly, his sad eyes pleading. "Not today, boy," Rick said.
The pup barked again, then rolled over and played dead.
Rick couldn't resist. "Oh, all right. Come on," he said.
"What do you expect to find?" Scotty asked.
"Nothing there," Scotty said. "Not even a cow."
"Nothing here," Scotty commented.
"Hey! Did you hear that?" Rick exclaimed.
"What does that mean?"
"Well, the sign has been changed, hasn't it? Whoever did it used this paint."
"And what does that tell us?"
He winced as Scotty's fingers dug into his arm. "Hey, what-?"
"Scotty, I see it," he said hoarsely. "It's the same gray sedan!"
"We've got to get out of here, Rick."
"But how can we? If we start across the field, they'll see us."
"Scotty," Rick whispered.
Scotty had found a crack of his own. "I see them," he whispered hoarsely.
"Kogan," an authoritative voice commanded, "get the paint."
"Are you certain?"
That was the bearded man. Rick froze.
"Looks like it, Carlos. The board was partly open. I shut it tight when we left."
Rick wiped sweat from his face. Close!
Dismal was suffering again. "Quiet, pup!" Rick whispered desperately.
Scotty slid across the floor. "What's up?" he asked almost inaudibly.
Rick fought down a hysterical desire to laugh. "He has to sneeze."
Dismal sniffed a couple of times.
It was the code! Kogan was painting it on the sign, right over their heads!
Dismal sniffed.
Kogan's foot scraped as he worked on the sign.
Rick and Scotty sat frozen.
Dismal sniffed again.
"Hey, did you scrape that ladder?" Kogan demanded.
"Paint the numbers," Scarface said. "Don't worry about the ladder."
"I heard something," Kogan insisted.
" 'Forty-five,'" Scarface droned.
"That's the last one," Scarface told him. "Come down."
Rick stiffened again.
"Okay," Kogan growled.
Dismal put back his head and sneezed.
Dismal lay down and rolled over.
SMOKE WHITE CREAM, it proclaimed.
"Well, I'll be doggoned." Rick looked at the sign and then at Scotty.
"Where are they?" Scotty asked.
"But they're not," Scotty protested.
Rick turned back into the barn. "I want a look at that paint," he said.
"Diz, you dope!" Rick moaned.
"Take him away! Please, someone take him away!" she cried.
Rick lifted her down bodily. "Barby, what is it? Were you dreaming?"
Scotty was speechless.
Neither did Rick. "Look at him, Barby," he pleaded. "He's all right."
"Diz," she said. "You're all right, Diz?"
"Sure he is," Scotty assured her.
Rick led her to a chair. "Sit down, sis. Now tell us what happened."
"I should think you would," Scotty said.
The rest of the household was crowding into the room now.
"You must have been dreaming, dear," Mrs. Brant said.
"No," Barby insisted. "I hadn't gone to sleep yet."
"No," Rick said. "I don't, Mom."
Barby hesitated and then said, "I was getting a tan."
"A tan?" Scotty looked incredulous.
"What about Diz, though?" Rick interrupted.
"He took a sun bath with me." She giggled a little at the thought.
Rick was thoughtfully silent for a moment.
"Yes. And I'm sorry about the screams."
"That white paint was the thing then, huh?"
Rick nodded.
"Either that, or those glasses weren't equipped with special lenses at all."
"Which would make him innocent," Scotty offered.
"He sounds guilty all right."
"I'm sure he's guilty," Rick said.
Dismal wandered in, sidling up to the boys sheepishly.
"Here's the ghost." Scotty grinned.
Rick awoke from deep, exhausted sleep with Scotty shaking him.
"Hit the deck," Scotty teased. "You going to sleep all day?"
Rick sat up and rubbed sleep from his eyes. "All right," he answered grumpily.
"I'll be downstairs, sleep fiend," Scotty said.
"Fine," Scotty said. "Where is Mr. Zircon now?"
"At the lab," Stringfellow answered.
"It's all right. It's safe. Go on and eat it, dopey."
Dismal downed it in one gulp and waited expectantly for more.
He said, "I'm sorry, Mom."
"Which one of you took the microtron tube?"
There was an instant of stunned silence; then they all were talking at once.
Rick jumped to his feet. "Are you sure it's gone, Professor?"
"Sure? Of course I'm sure! The socket is empty!"
"Didn't I say so? I looked everywhere!"
"What is this tube, anyway?" Scotty asked.
Rick could have said something at this point, but he kept silent.
"Why on earth would Dad take it?"
"For safekeeping. Or maybe to have a duplicate one made-just in case."
"Possible, but not probable," Rick said. "I'm going to call Dad."
Scotty paced the floor, while Rick waited impatiently.
"Don't you ever get nervous?"
"Sure, but what's the sense in wearing a groove in the floor?"
"This is getting me down. I'm going out to the lab."
"Could be." Scotty admitted, grinning too.
"It's finished," he said.
Scotty inspected it. "Good. Now what are you going to do with it?"
Scotty leaped a foot in the air and let out a yelp. "Hey!"
"Now I'm sure it works," Rick said, chuckling.
The two boys leaped to their feet. t
"We've got to find that plant," Rick said.
"But where?"
"Not toward their lab. They'd be too smart for that," Rick said.
"Yes?"
"On your call to New York, we are ready," the operator intoned.
"Dad," Rick said, "the microtron tube is gone. Do you have it?"
"Yes, sir."
Rick hung up and turned to Scotty. "Did you hear?"
Scotty nodded.
"What's that?" Scotty asked suddenly.
Scotty shook his head. "Not very clearly. It's round, I think, and pretty high."
"What do you make of it?" Scotty asked.
Scotty and Rick looked at each other and suddenly they were laughing.
"Rocket launcher," Scotty said. "Oh, great!"
"Neither did I. Wait! What's that on the opposite side?"
Scotty was looking through the field glasses.
"I don't see anything," Rick said.
"Are you sure? Take another look, Scotty."
"But why should it be at the clearing? I don't see any buildings."
"Search me."
"I don't know," Rick answered. "I wish we were sure."
"Get out of here, quick! They're shooting at us!"
"That's the best thing to do," Scotty agreed.
"What white stuff?"
"Hey!" cried Scotty. "What did you do that for?"
"Like trying to land on a handkerchief," Scotty said dryly.
Rick's voice sounded strained. "Well make it. Relax."
"Who are you trying to convince?"
Rick looked around. The field was the size of a postage stamp.
"It's small," he said, 'Taut I could make it if the wheat were cut."
"Not now, you couldn't," Scotty pointed out. "Not without gas in this thing."
"Well, you made a fine mess of my wheat," he said tartly.
"Well, first off, we'll need a phone. Do you have one?" Rick asked.
"Yup. Right in the livin' room."
"How long will it be before you can get home?" she asked.
"Well, do the best you can," his mother said. "And be careful."
Rick smiled at the slightly tardy advice, reassured her, and said good-by.
Rick called the Whiteside Airport number.
"Gus on this end. Who's on that end?"
"Sure, what's the matter?"
"Well, it looks like well have to stay here all night," Rick said finally.
"We? Do you think it's wise?" Scotty asked.
"What do you mean?"
"Personally, I think one of us should be back on that island," Scotty said.
"You're right," Rick answered. "But I have to stay and fly the Cub out."
He turned to Scotty. "How are you going to get to Whiteside?" Rick asked.
Then he saw the prowler.
"Dad!" he called.
"It's not your fault."
"Then Scotty told you about what happened?"
"Where is Scotty?" Rick asked.
"He may be in his room," Mr. Brant suggested.
"Scotty has disappeared/' he told his father tensely.
"Are you sure?"
"He isn't around," Rick said. "There's no trace of him."
"Dad," Rick interrupted, "here comes that detective again."
"Well, what is it this time?" was his greeting to Hartson Brant.
"Scotty!" he yelled, and ran toward the spot of blue.
It was the microtron tube!
Mr. Brant saw the tube in Rick's hands. "Rick! Where did you find it?"
Stringfellow's jaw dropped.
"I found it at the flats in Scotty's sweater," Rick puffed.
"But how---" Stringfellow stopped. "How on earth did it get there?"
To his surprise, his worries hadn't impaired his appetite and he ate heartily.
Rick dived for the phone.
"Scotty, where the heck are you?"
"But what's it all about? Talk, Scotty!"
"Hold your hat," Scotty answered. "I've found the secret laboratory!"
The car swung in a slow circle and stopped.
"I ought to beat his head in," the first voice growled.
"That would be foolish," Scarface said. "Don't forget, we must have his help."
"We will eat," Scarface said, "after I have made a telephone call to . . ."
"The laboratory!" he exulted. "This is it!"
"We'd better work fast," Scotty advised. "I don't think they'll be gone long."
"It's fantastic," Rick said. "But here it is."
"A car just drove in!" he gasped.
"The gang!" Rick whispered. "Now we're in for it!"
Scotty nudged him. "Well, get ready," he said softly.
This was it.
Rick and Scotty said nothing.
"Felsen, get up and search them!"
"They're clean," the thug said.
The next order was cold-unemotional. "Get some rope."
"A pleasure," said the man named Kogan. "Let me beat their heads in with it!"
"The rope. Quickly," snapped the bearded man.
The wall was thin. The boys could hear Carlos giving further orders.
Scotty spoke first. "I can't move my hands. Can you, Rick?"
"It was my fault," he said finally.
"Well, what do we do now?"
"Got some checkers on you?" Rick asked wryly.
The guard, Kogan, hammered at the door. "Pipe down in there!"
"Shut up, or I'll come in and shut you up," Kogan called.
"I'm shut!" Scotty retorted.
"That's enough," Scotty whispered.
"What are you doing in there?" Kogan demanded.
"Thinking!" Scotty yelled. "Do you want us to start talking again?"
"Let's take a look," Scotty said.
"That's that," Rick whispered.
Scotty nodded.
"There must be some way out."
"He must have a gun," Scotty said.
"He might not fire," Rick whispered. "They aren't out to kill us."
Scotty grinned mirthlessly. "I don't want to be the one to find out."
"Quiet in there!" Kogan bellowed.
"Quiet yourself, knucklehead!" Rick retorted.
Scotty stared his amazement.
Rick joined in. "Keep us quiet if you can, Kogan." He let out a wild yell.
The boys' eyes met.
"Now we know," Scotty said.
It came again, and he grabbed Scotty's arm.
Scotty sat up. "What is it?"
"Dismal!"
"Are you sure?"
"I'd know his bark anywhere."
"Not unless he's grown wings since this morning."
The barking was closer now.
"That's Dismal, all right," Scotty said. "He's close, too."
"What kind of questions?" Kogan asked suspiciously.
"She's stalling for time," Scotty whispered. "She knows we're here."
Dismal barked in the outer room.
"Oh, here's Diz," the boys heard Barby say. "Isn't he cute?"
"You ain't goin' anywhere." Kogan sounded sure of himself.
"Please let me go!" Barby sounded terrified now.
Rick took the socket end of the wire and wound it around his waist twice.
"Those kids are getting away," Kogan shouted. "Don't move, you!"
"Rick!" Barby screamed.
"Don't try it," Kogan said harshly.
Rick stopped, breathing hard.
Scotty turned to Barby. "Are you all right?" he asked anxiously.
The girl nodded, eyes wide. "Where did you come from?"
"Let's get out of here," Rick said urgently.
"Let them repair that," he said grimly. "Come onr kids. Let's get out of here."
"Were you angry?" Rick said grinning weakly. "I wouldn't have known."
"Stop it, Rick," Barby commanded. "I think Scotty was wonderful!"
"Why couldn't the traitor be the top man?" Rick was puzzled.
"That's right, Dad," Rick agreed. "I can't think of any other answer."
Scotty spoke up. "Couldn't Scarface be the leader, sir?"
"I guess you didn't," Rick said.
Scotty suddenly snapped his fingers. "The love letter. We forgot about that."
"I didn't," Rick said. "Anyway, Jerry has it. I doubt that it will tell us much."
"That was where they slipped," Scotty agreed.
"Well, why don't we try?"
Hartson Brant came in at that moment. "Try what?"
"Concentrate on finding the lenses," Mr. Brant said. "I'll go along to the lab."
"Scotty, Weiss wasn't lying," he said, indicating the tape.
"Then he did try to trap the traitor."
"And neither are the lenses," Rick said.
They moved to the next room.
"Zircon's," he said.
"We saw him reading the key book to the code, remember?"
"But everyone else has a copy, too, so that's nothing against him."
"Lenses would be, if we could find them," Scotty commented.
"Nothing," Rick said as they finished. "That leaves only one more place."
They went down the corridor and into the last scientist's quarters.
"Look!" Scotty exclaimed as they closed the door.
There, on top of a bookcase, were Weiss's binoculars.
"Now," Rick said excitedly, "if only the lenses are here, too!"
Rick sat bolt upright. "Let me see those."
"No, but the lens mounts look newer than the rest."
Scotty shook his head. "I don't know."
Scotty took the glasses and held them on the sign.
There, in blue letters against the white of the sign, was the message:
"Then why did he have the glasses trained on it," Scotty objected.
"Then it's Stringfellow!" Scotty declared.
Hartson Brant came to them as they entered.
Rick hesitated. "How are things going, Dad?"
Stringfellow came to his feet, startled. "Who is it?" he asked huskily.
"I haven't the faintest idea of what you're talking about," Stringfellow said icily.
"Rick!" Hartson Brant said. "What is all this?"
"Of course not," Rick said. "Besides, that shields thing was an accident."
All faces turned to Rick.
Stringfellow turned white. "Do you realize what you are accusing me of?"
A gray look crept over Stringfellow's features. His eyes went to the door.
"Do any of you know this guy?" Rick heard the detective's voice say.
"Jerry Webster!" Rick shouted. "Am I glad to see you!"
"It's a great day for you and your dad," Scotty said.
"I'll bet old Scarface is still running," Scotty remarked.
"I certainly hope so," Rick said seriously.
"Why, yes," the professor answered.
"Well, he's here then," Zircon said.
Rick thanked the scientist and rejoined Scotty at the edge of the crowd.
"Why the crinkles in the brow?" Scotty asked as Rick walked toward him.
Rick grinned. "I won't. I wish I could find Jerry though."
They edged their way through the crowd and wandered toward Pirate's Field.
The doctor's eyes twinkled. "Oh, perhaps two miles a second."
"Now what?" Scotty asked.
"Rick!" Jerry shouted as he saw the boys. "Tell this guy who I am!"
For a moment Scotty and Rick looked at each other.
"Why?"
The scientist excused himself and moved to his son's side.
Hartson Brant's eyes grew serious. "What is it, Rick?"
Rick nodded. "And you'd better get those bumps fixed up, Jerry/ he advised.
"I've got it at last!" he exclaimed. "The thing I was trying to think of!"
"Yeah, that'd be silly, wouldn't it," the young reporter answered. "Forget it."
"What's up?" Scotty exclaimed.
The little scientist was beside himself as he ran to Hartson Brant.
"Scarface!"
Rick stared at the feet of the worker.
The man's shoes were two-toned brown and equipped with hard toes!
"It's him!" Jerry Webster yelled. "It's the guy that slugged me!"
"Scarface," he said simply.
Hartson Brant looked into the scarred face and let out a shocked gasp.
"Manfred Wessel!"
Wessel stood with slumped shoulders, the picture of despair.
"The plane," Scotty gasped. "He'll try to get away in the Cub!"
"No," Rick said breathlessly. "He couldn't start it in time."
Manfred Wessel reached the cliff and leaped far out into space!
Hartson Brant came up with the others and looked silently down at the surf.
"I wonder if Wessel knew-" Scotty mused.
"Knew what?"
"Okay," Scotty said. "Only---Well, never mind."
"This one, Daddy?" she asked.
"That one, Barby," Hartson Brant said.
Barby threw the switch.
The moon rocket was on its way!
Without taking his eye away, he said, "I have it. I see the trail perfectly."
"Professor Weiss," he asked, "may we have a look?"
They merged!
"What's the Mare Imbrium?" Jerry Webster asked dazedly.
"Did you hear that, Scotty?"
"I heard it, Rick. It's great!"
"I want to take a look," Rick whispered. "Come on."
"Right in the center," he said. "Take a look, Scotty."
As they solemnly shook hands, a burly figure joined them.
Rick saw the twinkle in the huge scientist's eyes. "Start packing, sir?"
"No, sir," they said.
of The Rocket's Shadow
by John Blaine
no.1 in the Rick Brant series

