Goodwin Harold Leland
The Scarlet Lake Mystery: A Rick Brant Science-Adventure Story

Horrified, Rick saw a fireman, clumsy in his protective suit, trip and fall before the oncoming flood of flaming boron hydride.

Scotty moved, instinctively, his finely trained body responding with perfect co-ordination. Straight toward the oncoming flood he ran, into the edge of the flames, leaping the rapidly widening trench. Rick ran, too, but Scotty's fast reaction had carried his pal beyond reach. He saw the husky ex-marine stoop into the flames, pick up the fallen fireman, and literally throw him across the trench to safety.

Then Rick was at his friend's side, slapping at the burning places on his clothes, rushing him away from the spreading propellant. But Scotty wasn't through. He helped the fireman to his feet and pulled at the protective suit. Rick saw instantly what had happened. The suit had been torn in the fall, and some propellant had gotten in through the rents. The fireman was burning under the protective cover!

Other hands came to help and they got the man out of his cover, out of his burning clothes. Then the first-aid squad moved in.

Not until the fireman had been cared for did Scotty say, almost apologetically, "Any of that stuff left? I've got a couple of burns."

Then Rick noticed for the first time that his own hands were scorched and in need of the soothing unguent. By the time he and Scotty were smeared with the ointment, the fire was out.

The boys watched as water was sprayed over the white-hot wreckage until at last the safety officer pronounced the torn remnants cool enough for inspection. Then John Gordon and the senior staff moved in.

It was past noon before they emerged from their inch-by-inch examination of the rocket, but no one left to eat, to change clothes, or even to sit down. No one thought of it.

John Gordon motioned to Dr. Albert Hiller, the Orion project officer. Hiller nodded. He spoke quietly, but not one of the hundreds watching missed a single word.

"Apparently a fuel-pump bearing froze at the critical moment. With an unstable fuel like boron hydride, that made the difference. Internal pressure was too much for the shell to take."

The engineer paused, and the tense, waiting silence became almost too much to bear. Hiller knew what the men were waiting for.

"We found no pictures," he said. "We'll continue the examination in the laboratory, of course. But as of this moment we cannot say whether it was the kind of accident that rocketeers always have to expect, or whether someone tampered with the pump. By someone, I mean – the Earthman."

CHAPTER IX
Ghost Town Clue

Rick refused point-blank to go to bed. He wasn't tired, he insisted, and he meant it.

Scotty yielded. "Okay. I see your point. It's hard enough to sleep in the daytime anyway, but when you're all keyed up, it's impossible. Didn't lunch make you sleepy at all?"

"A little, but that shower and change of clothes woke me up again. Scotty, I'll never forget that horrible instant when I realized that Orion wasn't going to take off. Honest, it was like watching something beautiful die. It…"

Hank Leeming, their security officer roommate, came into the bunkroom in time to hear Rick's last comment. Hank was young, usually smiling. He wasn't smiling now. "I was in the blockhouse when the first one blew. I know how you feel, Rick. It makes you want to lay violent hands on the man responsible."

The security officer changed the subject abruptly. "Luis Hermosa wants to see the boy who saved his life, and the one who helped."

"You mean the fireman who fell in the propellant?" Scotty asked.

"That's the one. He's in the infirmary. Can you both go?"

Scotty shrugged. "Sure. If he wants us to. But he doesn't owe us anything. Someone else would have dragged him out if we hadn't."

"If you hadn't," Rick corrected. "I didn't move fast enough."

"Neither did anyone else," Hank pointed out. "Don't be overmodest about it, Scotty. Go and see him."

The infirmary, operated by Lomac, was only a block away. Rick and Scotty walked over and checked in at the reception desk.

The infirmary clerk directed them to one of the four rooms in the little base hospital. "Go right in."

Luis Hermosa was awake. Rick knew he must be in pain from his burns, which were extensive, but his smile gave no evidence of it. It was a warm smile that demanded a smile in return.

"This morning there was no chance to give you my thanks," he greeted them. "I asked for you to come so that you may know how I feel."

Scotty put a hand gently on one of the bandaged ones. "No thanks are necessary."

Luis shook his head. "It was a brave thing. You might also have been caught by the fuel, and you did not even have a suit such as I wore. When I and my family light candles to thank God and to ask His blessing for you, we will want to give Him your names."

They told him their names, and his lips moved as he repeated them. Then he waved them to chairs. "Please sit down and talk with me for a few minutes. This is not a place where one can extend the hospitality of his house, but I can at least offer you chairs."

Keen brown eyes surveyed them. "You are both very young, eh? What are you doing here?"

"Working," Scotty answered. "I'm in vehicle maintenance and Rick is in Pegasus electronics."

"So? It is an exciting place in which to work. Even I, a fireman, feel this excitement. Tell me, do you think this hombre de terra, this Earthman, was the cause of the tragedy this morning? I call it a tragedy, because it was so. So much work, so much love went into that rocket! Sangre de Cristo! It was a terrible thing."

"No one seems to know for sure," Rick replied. "The project officer couldn't say. But there was no Earthman picture."

The bandaged hands spread expressively. "A picture could have been burned. Now perhaps we will never know. You understand, I have thought much about this thing. Once I believed this Earthman made the rockets go bad because he must think such things are against the will of God. But when I heard of the thefts, I no longer thought so. I thought about how a thief could take his stolen wealth from this guarded place."

"We've wondered about that, too," Scotty said.

"You decided something?"

Rick leaned forward on his chair. Luis Hermosa had started him thinking again.

"The thief couldn't get his stolen goods from the base if he went through a gate in his own car, could he?"

"He would not dare," Luis replied, "because he knows the guards check the trunks of cars, and sometimes even look under seats. He might be unlucky. He would know this."

"Spot check," Scotty nodded.

Rick hadn't known about the spot check, but it made sense. He continued, "So there's only one way. The thief has to take the stolen supplies from the base in an official vehicle."

"Such vehicles are not checked," Luis agreed excitedly. "But also, such vehicles are not taken far from this camp. If a truck, say, were gone too long, would it not be noticed?"

"It certainly would," Scotty stated.

"There must be only a few places where the thief could go," Rick said thoughtfully. "When he reaches one, he must hide his stolen goods and leave them. Later, by traveling a long way to reach the spot from the main road, he could get the stolen stuff with his own car. Or, maybe someone from outside who doesn't work on the base at all could go to the hiding place and pick them up. Can you think of any other way?"

Luis and Scotty couldn't, and said so.

Rick asked, "What are the possible places?"

"What would such a place need to be like?" Luis asked, then answered his own question, "It would need to be on a road, not only leading from the base, but to the outside. Also, it would need to be a lonely place, would it not? And it would need to be a place where the things could be hidden and not be seen, but where a helper from outside could find them easily. You see, I follow your reasoning. Where is such a place?"

The boys waited. Luis knew the area. He might have a good idea.

"There is one which is perfect. It is called Steamboat."

"But that's a town," Rick objected. "People would notice a truck from the base."

Luis chuckled. "People, yes. Ghosts, no. An evil man like this Earthman would not care what a ghost saw, would he? Ah, but you are new here, and you do not know. Steamboat is a town without people. No one has lived there for forty years."

"A ghost town," Scotty said in surprise. "But don't tourists go to ghost towns?"

"They do," Luis agreed. "They go to Searchlight, and to Rhyolite, and to Calico, and other ghost towns near here. But they do not go to Steamboat. It is on bad roads, many miles from the nearest good highway. Besides, who has heard of Steamboat? No newspaper writes about it, and no one advertises it. You cannot even buy a souvenir at Steamboat. There is no one to sell them. Ghosts do not peddle souvenirs."

Luis chuckled at his own joke. "You have a good head, Mr. Brant. I will think about this. Perhaps you will think some more, too, and we will compare notes later. Will you come to visit me again?"

"We'll come," they promised.

Outside in the brilliant sunlight, Rick said to Scotty, "You bet we'll go to see him again! How did you like his idea about the ghost town?"

"It can be reached from Careless Mesa," Scotty pointed out. "I wish we'd known it was a ghost town. We could have explored it some afternoon."

Rick said what had been on his mind since Luis made his suggestion. "I think we'd better pay it a visit."

"When?"

"What's the matter with right now?"

"Nothing, I guess. But why the rush?"

Rick wasn't sure himself. "Maybe there isn't any rush. But on the other hand, maybe there is. Look, we've kind of assumed Mac and Pancho are in on this, haven't we? Well, their movements must be pretty well known, at least while they're at work."

"They have to check their truck in and out. Why?"

"Let's talk about it over a coke. It's hot."

They hiked to the recreation hall and got cokes from the automatic dispenser. Rick set his thoughts in order.

"I'm not so sure about Mac and Pancho. They were at Careless Mesa this morning. At least I'm certain Mac was, because I heard his voice when he checked in by radio. And probably Pancho was, too, because it takes two men to handle a radar unit. One of them might have been able to sabotage a rocket, although I doubt it, but how could they take advantage of the confusion to steal the transistors when they're not even on the base?"

Scotty finished his coke and banged the bottle on the table for emphasis. "Okay. They couldn't. But why are you so sure they couldn't sabotage a rocket?"

"I'm not sure," Rick replied. "But now that I've seen how the base works, it seems to me that only someone who works on the rockets could sabotage one."

"Careful," Scotty said with a groan. "You're dumping the only suspects we have."

Rick grinned ruefully. "I know it. Anyway, we have to keep moving, even if it means starting all over again. So let's start at Steamboat."

"Okay. And just for the fun of it, I'll check the vehicle board. It won't hurt to know how much time Mac and Pancho have spent off the base in their truck. Suppose I gas up the jeep and meet you at the barracks?"

"I'll check out with Pegasus. Will you have any trouble?"

"No. Everything just about closes down the day of a shoot. I'll be there in ten minutes."

The boys parted at the door of the recreation hall and Rick started back to the barracks. As he passed the main administrative building, John Gordon fell in step.

"If I knew you two, I'd be mighty proud of both of you," the scientist said whimsically. "You for the job you did with Gee-Gee last night, and Scotty for pulling that fireman out this morning."

Rick smiled his thanks. "Anything new?"

"Not so far. Tom Preston is having the warehouses checked, just in case. But it's a terrific job going through an inventory item by item."

"Can you find out if the clerks leave the warehouses during a shoot?" Rick asked.

"Tom has already gone to work on that. I'll find a way to let you know. Keep in touch, Rick."

Rick continued on to the barracks, mind churning with confused thoughts. If only they had a few hard facts to work on! There wasn't a single definite clue to anyone. And, after last night, how could he suspect any of the dedicated, hard-working rocketeers? Impossible to imagine that anyone who had worked so hard on one of the projects could deliberately sabotage it. Yet, there was no other answer. No one outside the technical and scientific staff would have the opportunity or knowledge.

"At least," he concluded ruefully, "if we assume it's someone with ready access to the projects, we've cut down the size of the haystack. We're looking for one man out of only about five hundred!"

CHAPTER X
Stranded in Steamboat

The road to Steamboat led by Careless Mesa, then through a series of twists and turns down to comparatively level country again. According to the map, the ghost town was in a valley next to a dry lake bed.

Rick glanced at his watch. "It's going to be late when we get there."

"Maybe that's good," Scotty returned. "If anyone is in the town we'll see lights. This country is so wide open it would be hard to sneak up on the town in daylight."

"It would, if there was anything to sneak up for. Haven't you got the feeling this is a wild-goose chase?"

Scotty dodged a deep hole in the road. "It could be. But we can't just sit around waiting for the Earthman to hand us a calling card. Besides, Mac and Pancho were gone long enough to reach Steamboat and return to base this morning." That was what the vehicle-control board had shown.

"They might have been just waiting at Careless Mesa," Rick pointed out. "We have no evidence they went to Steamboat. Besides, if anything was stolen during the shoot this morning, they couldn't have been in on it."

"That's true. But we can't lose by looking the town over. Besides, I've never seen a real ghost town."

Rick watched the desert go by, his mind busy with the problems. As Scotty had said, if Mac and Pancho weren't in on the thefts, someone was. That someone had to get the stolen goods off the base and to a location from which it could be carried to civilization. He toyed with the idea that the stolen transistors might simply have been destroyed or hidden by the Earthman in order to hold up work at the base. That didn't seem likely.

The facts of time and distance certainly eliminated Mac and Pancho. During the shoots they were miles away. They had little or no opportunity to get close to the rockets. It was only reasonable to cross them – and all other radar-tracking teams – off the suspect list. Yet, Rick couldn't forget his initial feeling about the pair.

Scotty pointed. "Isn't that a town?"

The jeep had topped a gentle rise. Below lay a small, dry lake bed. At one edge of the dry lake, nestled in low foothills, were gray, weathered buildings. It was almost certainly Steamboat.

Scotty stopped the jeep and they surveyed the countryside with care. There was no sign of movement, no sign of a dust cloud from any other vehicle.

The sun was low in the west. In a short time it would be out of sight beyond the mountains, then darkness would close in. Rick reached into the jeep's glove compartment and found the flashlight he had stowed there. He checked it, then asked, "What are we waiting for?"

"Ideas," Scotty replied. "What say we roll right on through the town without stopping, then turn and come back through that wash at the base of the hills?"

Rick looked to where the dark-haired boy pointed. He saw the shadow of a gully that followed the foothills closely.

"Think it's necessary?" he asked.

Scotty shrugged. "Probably not. But it's better to be careful than sorry later."

"Okay with me. Let's go."

Scotty put the jeep in gear and they rolled swiftly down to the level of the dry lake bed and toward Steamboat. A few minutes later they entered the town.

Rick inspected the buildings with care. It looked like the setting for a Western motion picture, except for the lack of people and horses, and the lack of paint. He identified a pair of stores, a two-story building that could only have been a hotel, a livery stable, and several buildings without identification of any kind. There was only one street, and they were on it. Nowhere was there a sign of life. Then they were through the town, and the road climbed gently toward the foothills.

Scotty held the jeep at a steady speed for over a mile. As the road gradually curved around a rock outcropping, he said, "Look behind and tell me when the town is out of sight."

Rick turned in his seat in time to see Steamboat vanish behind the outcropping. "Now."

Scotty brought the jeep to a halt. "The road should fork pretty soon, shouldn't it?"

"That's right. Left fork to Pahrump Valley, right fork to Death Valley."

"Let's hit the ditch." Scotty reached down and put the jeep into four-wheel drive, then turned left off the road.

The bottom of the dry wash was alternately sandy and studded with boulders. Scotty picked his way with care, but it was a rough ride. Once or twice he stopped while Rick climbed the slope of the wash for a survey of the situation. Finally they pulled to a halt and both boys reconnoitered ahead, to find a good way out of the wash and onto the road. Satisfied that getting from the wash onto level ground would pose no problems, they turned off the jeep engine and settled down to wait.

Again, Rick felt the futility of what they were doing. They might wait for weeks without ever seeing another human being.

"There's going to be a moon," Scotty remarked.

Rick looked up at the slim crescent. "Yes, but not much of a moon. I'd rather depend on a flashlight."

Scotty stirred restlessly. "Maybe we should have explored the town."

"Maybe. It's too late now, except to explore by flashlight. We can always come back during daylight."

They fell silent while darkness settled in. Rick began to feel drowsy now that the excitement was at an end. He let his head droop. Presently he slept.

Suddenly he realized Scotty was shaking him. "I'm awake," he whispered. "What's up? What time is it?"

"Nearly nine. I was going to let you sleep for a while before starting back." Scotty's voice was low. "A car came along the road. Not from the base. The other way. It was traveling without lights. It stopped in town."

"Let's go," Rick whispered. He got out of the jeep, Scotty on his heels. They moved carefully up the slope of the wash and emerged on the open desert behind the town.

Scotty took his arm. "Follow me." The dark-haired boy moved into the lead.

They moved in a bent-over position, making their way from bush to bush, careful to move silently. Rick's pulse began to hammer. Why should anyone come to the ghost town, especially in a darkened vehicle? For the first time he felt hope. They might find out something of importance after all!

Scotty led the way, taking advantage of every bit of cover, and in a short time they emerged from the desert behind the row of ghostly, abandoned buildings. Rick recognized the hotel, the only two-story structure in the town. It was directly in front of them.

"Wait here a minute," Scotty whispered. He moved quickly and silently into the shadow of the livery stable. Scotty was skillful at this kind of work, and Rick knew it was best to let him reconnoiter alone.

Presently Scotty materialized from the shadows and moved to Rick's side. He whispered, "They came in a sedan. I couldn't see any lights, but I heard voices. They're in the hotel."

"Let's get closer," Rick replied softly.

Scotty plucked at his sleeve and Rick followed, moving swiftly into the shadow of the livery stable. Scotty moved slowly along the wall, then crossed the narrow alley between the stable and hotel with one long step, hesitating at the hotel corner. Rick followed silently. There was a window. Scotty crouched, so he would be below the window, and scuttled past it. Rick was right behind him.

The rear door of the hotel was next. Scotty's gesture told Rick they would stop there and try to listen. Scotty moved a few steps and stopped once more. He was in position. Rick crowded close behind him, then moved out from the wall a little so that he, too, could hear directly through the door.

From almost under his foot came a strident, warning buzz, and an icy ripple moved down his back. A snake! And he couldn't even see it! He froze where he was, muscles tense for the shock of needle-sharp fangs. He waited an eternity, not even daring to breathe. There were voices from within the hotel, but he didn't hear what they were saying. At that moment he couldn't possibly have cared less.

Then, his probing eyes saw the faint outline of the creature, half coiled, flattened head weaving. It was barely beyond striking distance. He watched it, not daring to look away, not daring to move.

Had Scotty heard the snake? But of course he must have. Rick reached with infinite caution and tugged at his pal's sleeve. Scotty would have to move first. Then Rick could move slowly to a position tight against the wall, where Scotty was now. Only by moving into the wall could he get away from the snake.

But in that moment the rattler apparently decided it had waited long enough. The evil head moved slowly toward Rick's foot.

Rick couldn't help it. He let out an involuntary yelp and jumped sideways, into Scotty. Scotty had no place to go but through the hotel door. He crashed into the rickety, partly hanging door, Rick on top of him.

Rick tried to get to his feet, sensing sudden noise and movement within the hotel, but he wasn't fast enough. A hand grabbed him by the arm and hauled him upright, and a fist glanced off his cheek-bone, snapping his head back.

Scotty, underneath, gathered his feet under him and charged like a plunging fullback, directly into the hotel. There was a grunt as the boy's head met yielding flesh, then a powerful arm circled his neck and he was lifted off his feet, fighting for breath.

A hand yanked Rick forward. His arms were twisted behind him. A pencil flashlight flicked on briefly and a voice muttered, "It's a couple of kids!"

Rick struggled, but subsided when it became clear that he could do nothing but wrench his arms out of joint.

A man muttered, "Rope in the car trunk."

Feet sounded on the boards of the hotel. Rick tried to pierce the gloom, to see his captors, but there wasn't enough light to see more than vague shapes. He had never heard the voices before. The feet came back. The voice said, "Lash 'em tight."

Rick was dumped face down on the dusty floor. Expert hands tied his wrists and ankles tight and lashed them together, with his knees bent at an acute angle and his shoulders pulled back. Next to him he sensed that Scotty was getting the same treatment.

A voice whispered, "Wonder who they are?"

"Doesn't matter," the first voice said. "We'll be out of here in fifteen minutes, if the others keep to schedule, and we won't be back. We can't use this place again."

A third voice broke in. "I didn't see a car. They must have cached it somewhere."

"You're right," the first voice agreed. "Find it, and fix it. Where'll we put these kids?"

The second voice had a suggestion. "The old jail across the street. We can lash 'em to the bunks."

Rick felt himself lifted like a sack of grain. He swayed as the man lugged him through the front of the hotel, across the porch, and into the street. His captor rounded the car that was waiting there and Rick strained to turn his head, to try to see the license plate, but couldn't catch a glimpse of it.

A creaky door was swung open and he was carried into an inner room and dropped face down. It knocked the breath out of him for a moment. When he recovered, he was tightly lashed to a rusty iron frame. His groping fingers felt the frame and the rope, but the knots were beyond his reach.

A voice asked, "Will we turn 'em loose later? We don't want 'em to die in here."

"They won't. They can get loose, but it will take a while and we'll be long gone. Come on."

The door creaked again. Rick listened to the sound of footsteps across loose boards, then there was silence.

Scotty whispered, "What do we do now? Wait for the Lone Ranger and Tonto?"

Rick had to grin, in spite of their plight. "Looks like it," he agreed. There was something ridiculous about being bundled into an antique Western jail. "Anyway, we didn't get bitten by that blasted snake."

"That worried me plenty," Scotty agreed. "Can you move at all?"

Rick's fingers hadn't stopped exploring. "Not much. How about you?"

"There's a sharp end of wire under my hands. I'm going to see if I can loosen the knots. Keep working."

"Don't worry," Rick whispered fervently. "I will."

Silence fell, except for an occasional scrape as they struggled. Rick's arms began to hurt, and his neck felt as though it would never straighten again. Gradually he worked the rope end into reach and began to move it, hoping to loosen the knot. Then there was a soft exclamation of triumph from Scotty.

"Are you free?" Rick whispered quickly.

"No. But I pulled the rope between my wrists and ankles loose enough so I can move. Just a minute."

Scotty got to his knees, balancing precariously. "I'm going to try to slide my hands down the frame to yours."

Rick strained his neck trying to see if there were any obstacles in the way, but he could see nothing. Scotty grunted. "I think I'm hung up on a bolt that's sticking through the frame." There was silence for a few moments while the boy struggled. "Made it," he muttered. "The ropes loosened a little."

Presently Rick felt Scotty's fingers and moved his own, seeking the ropes around his pal's wrists. He probed, trying to find the key to the knots. Finally, his right forefinger touched a free end, and he followed it into a twist of rope. His first two fingers could just reach the twist, and he set to work on it, moving the rope back and forth, trying to pull on it. Suddenly it gave.

"One," he said softly. There was another knot immediately under the loop he had just untied. It was tougher than the first one, but eventually he made it.

"I think you loosened it a little," Scotty said. "Maybe I can slide a knot over that bolt and pull loose."

Scotty moved away from him, sliding his hands along the rusty frame. The boys worked in silence, Rick tackling his own knots again while Scotty tried to use the rusty bolt as a lever.

Rick had to give up for a while. His hands hurt too much, and he knew that Scotty's must be hurting, too.

"Listen!" Scotty said suddenly.

A car, or a truck, was approaching the town, from the direction of Careless Mesa!

The boys tackled the knots with desperation and suddenly Scotty fell forward as his hands loosened.

Outside, the car braked to a stop. Rick wondered if Mac and Pancho had come to keep a rendezvous? He couldn't get rid of the feeling that those two were involved somehow.

"A few minutes more," Scotty gritted. "The knots are loose." Then, "I got it."

Moving swiftly, Scotty untied his ankles and knelt at Rick's side. Long minutes later Rick felt the ropes fall from his wrists. It didn't take long to get his ankles free, and he stood up, rubbing circulation back into his hands.

Scotty went to the doorway of the old jail and Rick joined him. "See anything?"

"No," Scotty whispered. "We'll have to go outside."

"We can't go out the front," Rick murmured. "They'd see us. That car stopped right in front. Let's see if there's a back entrance of some kind."

He led the way to the rear of the jail building, walking carefully in the darkness. There were windows but they were barred. He carefully felt his way past the jail's only cell, and along the back wall.

Outside, a motor spun into life.

Rick whirled. "They're going!"

Another motor started.

The boys turned and hurried to the front of the building. They were in time to see a sedan shift and speed away from the hotel, following the road toward civilization.

They hurried into the street and Scotty pointed in the opposite direction. The road back to the base was a dim, pale ribbon in the faint moonlight. Along it a dark shape was speeding.

"That does it," Rick said aloud.

Scotty turned to watch the departing sedan. "It didn't take them long to complete their business, whatever it was. I didn't hear any talk, did you?"

"Not a word. Do you suppose that was Mac and Pancho that came from the base?"

"No way of knowing, but it could have been. Come on. Let's find our jeep."

The jeep was where they had left it, but the hood was up. Scotty hurried to look, while Rick went to the glove compartment. The flashlight hadn't been touched. He got it and joined Scotty, throwing the beam under the hood.

For a moment everything looked normal, then Rick saw that the distributor cap and rotor were missing. The question was, had the men simply hidden them? Or had they taken the parts along?

Scotty put his thoughts into words. "If the parts are here, we'll find them in the morning. If they aren't …"

Rick finished, "We'll be here until someone finds us!"