Goodwin Harold Leland
The Wailing Octopus: A Rick Brant Science-Adventure Story

Scotty thrust the pistol into the shadow's stomach. "Face the wall," he ordered. "Put your hands against it. Now support your weight on your hands."

The shadow did as ordered. Rick took the man's legs and pulled them backward so that the shadow's whole weight was against his hands, his outstretched body forming the hypotenuse of a right triangle. The only way he could move to regain his balance was to lower himself to the ground and then get up.

Rick picked up the stranger's fallen pistol and hefted it. "Better see about the one upstairs," he advised. "I'll watch this one."

"I fired at his hand, but I was high," Scotty told him. "He got it in the shoulder. He won't get far."

Zircon and Briotti charged around the corner of the hotel in pajamas and slippers, followed by other guests and members of the hotel staff.

"We had a little trouble," Rick explained briefly.

The scientists took in the situation at a glance.

"As I said," Tony Briotti muttered. "Adventure-prone. And lucky! How do you beat a combination like that?"

CHAPTER V
The Warning

Steve Ames walked into the hotel dining room accompanied by a young Navy lieutenant. He spotted the boys immediately and waved.

Rick breathed a sigh of relief. "There he is."

"We can turn this whole business over to him and then get out of here," Scotty returned.

The events of the night before had culminated in two phone calls, one by the hotel manager to the police, the other by Rick to Steve Ames. However, the duty officer at the UDT base had replied that Ames was not available. Rick had then asked for intelligence, and his query had gotten fast results. Steve Ames didn't show up, but Navy Shore Patrol officers did. The SP's had conferred with the local police, and the affair had ended with the shadow and the stranger, whom Scotty had potted in the shoulder, being carried off by both groups. First, however, the senior Shore Patrol officer had listened to their story, then instructed the boys, "Wait for Steve Ames. Talk to no one else. The police won't ask any questions."

After conferring, the Spindrift group decided to go ahead with their plans. The scientists were anxious to transfer their activities to Clipper Cay, not only to get on with their vacation, but to get the boys away from the mysterious danger that dogged their footsteps in Charlotte Amalie.

The scientists had departed at dawn in the Water Witch, after extracting a promise from Rick and Scotty that they would not stir from the hotel until Steve Ames contacted them, and that they would then fly at once to Clipper Cay.

The wait had been a long one. It was now nearly noon, and the boys, hungry because their breakfast had been at daybreak, were ordering lunch.

Steve Ames sat down and motioned the lieutenant to a seat. "Jimmy, this is Rick Brant and Don Scott. Boys, Lieutenant Kelly. Have you ordered lunch?"

"We were just looking over the menu," Rick replied.

"Fine. We'll join you."

The four consulted menus, then ordered. Steve turned to Kelly. "Jimmy, being the athletic type, you've probably never heard of the Spindrift Scientific Foundation."

The lieutenant, a heavily tanned young man with crisp black hair, shook his head. "Sorry. I never have."

"Well, it's a reputable, highly competent and conservative group of some of the best scientific brains in the country. But somehow, these two got attached to it. They're not very conservative, although they're competent – especially at getting into trouble."

Kelly gave the boys a comradely grin. "If he talks that way, he must like you."

The boys grinned back. The lieutenant was likable.

"All right. Last I saw of you two, Rick was lying across the legs of the guy who had been tailing me. The next thing I heard, two men we've been keeping an eye on were in the hoosegow, one with a slug in his shoulder. And I also heard some wild tales of jumping out of windows. Now fill in the details."

Rick started from the moment they first noticed that a shadow had picked them up. He told the story in careful and accurate detail, knowing that Steve's trained mind might find significance in things that meant nothing to him. Now and then Scotty elaborated on a point.

When Rick concluded the recital, Steve cupped his chin in one hand and stared at them thoughtfully.

Kelly complimented them. "Sounds as if you took care of things like real professionals, both in the water and in the hotel. And I must say, I wish my people would learn to give reports like that."

The boys thanked him, and Scotty added, "I don't suppose you can tell us anything about what you do?"

"Sure I can. I'm not one of Steve's hush-hush crew. I'm a simple Navy lieutenant."

Rick chuckled. "In other words, you can't tell us."

Steve said, "He's executive officer of the UDT group here. And he's group intelligence officer. I might also add that he's brighter than he looks."

"Then what do you make of this business?" Scotty inquired.

"I'm not that bright," Kelly replied. "Seriously, this one has me stumped. First of all, it's easy to understand why a shadow picked you up. After all, it must have been obvious that you knocked Steve's tail off. So they simply picked you up instead, hoping that you'd lead them back to Steve, or that you might be important in some way they couldn't understand."

"It's nice to have someone do my thinking for me," Steve said. "Carry on, Lieutenant."

"Aye, aye, Sir. The tail stuck with you. When your party split in two, he decided to stay with you instead of Zircon and Briotti. There could be two reasons: First, you were the ones who contacted Steve on the street. Second, you stayed at the waterfront while the others went off in a taxi. I like the second reason better because of what happened later. How about you, Steve?"

"I'm with you. Go ahead."

"Well, at this point I get lost. You put on your gear and swam out, not with any particular destination in mind, but looking for a rock or a coral head or something of the kind where you could see fish. The shadow watched you. Suddenly he got excited, grabbed a boat, and tried to run you down."

Steve grinned at the boys. "In fact, he got so excited that he stole a boat right out from under the owner's nose. What do you think of that?"

Rick scratched his head. "We'd about decided he was either desperate or stupid. I guess he was both."

Kelly continued. "The big point is, what made him desperate? It could only have been one thing, as I see it. You were getting close to something, and he was afraid you'd find it. So he lost his head. That's borne out by the remark his pal made last night, that he'd pulled enough stupid stunts for one day."

"But what could we have been getting close to?"

"I don't know. Whatever it was, it isn't there now."

Scotty and Rick sat up straight. Scotty demanded, "How do you know?"

Steve smiled. "Because a team of Navy frogmen went over the entire area inch by inch this morning."

At the boys' surprised looks, Kelly explained, "You told the Shore Patrol enough to get us interested. We put teams in the water at daylight. There's nothing there."

"But there could have been," Scotty pointed out. "If they suspected we knew about it, they could have removed it yesterday afternoon or last night."

"Correct," Steve agreed. "They were worried, too. Otherwise why the call on you last night? And the questions?" Steve paused while the waiter served them. "The conclusion is this: Something they value was in the water near where you swam. You met me yesterday morning, and they had already identified me. Which means that they must have agents in Washington who warned them JANIG was moving in on the case. Since it's no secret that I'm with the outfit, they could peg me easily. When you swam out toward this object, whatever it was, they were convinced that somehow JANIG had learned about it. The tail got desperate and tried to knock you off. Then, last night, they tried to find out what you knew, and how."

"Who are 'they'?" Rick asked.

"If I knew that, I'd wrap the case up and go home. Jimmy has been working on it for a week, but he hasn't any answers yet. I've been here twenty-four hours, and I know even less."

"Could you identify the two men?" Scotty queried.

"Yes. Both small fry, both local. And both are obviously green at this kind of business, otherwise you'd be a pair of real cold turkeys by now."

That was true, Rick knew. Experienced agents wouldn't have given him and Scotty the chances that they'd seized.

"The men must know what was under the water," Scotty said.

"Not necessarily. They just knew it was important, and they may have been ordered to protect it. But your former shadow was on the griddle all night, and told all he knew. It wasn't much. He didn't even know who had hired him. He wasn't stalling, either."

"What's the next step?" Rick wanted to know.

"Jimmy and I will drive you to the plane. Then you take off for Clipper Cay. And stay there until your vacation is over. Have you a short-wave radio, by the way?"

"Yes. Why?" Rick had an all-wave battery portable.

"Monitor the Navy command frequency. Here, I'll write it down for you. Listen every night at six for five minutes. If I want you, I'll send a message. I don't think I will, but it won't do any harm to set up a schedule."

Steve lowered his voice. "Now listen to me. This thing is big. The two you ran up against yesterday were not good samples. We're dealing with some tough professionals. I don't know who they are, but from what I've seen I can tell you they're dangerous. So you two are to stay out of this case. That is an order. Stay on Clipper Cay and have fun."

"I can add a small note to that," Lieutenant Kelly said. "I'm new here. I was ordered down from Norfolk only a week ago. A first-class intelligence officer had my job. He turned up in a hospital in the British Virgins after being missing for two days. He had a fractured skull. He still doesn't know what happened to him, and neither do we."

"Okay," Steve said flatly. "I appreciate the way you handled things yesterday, but that's the end so far as you are concerned. Get out, and stay out! And that's final!"

CHAPTER VI
The Deadly Tank

The Sky Wagon droned smoothly through a series of figure eights as Rick and Scotty inspected every inch of Clipper Cay and its surrounding waters. While Rick flew, Scotty marked off landmarks on the chart of the island that Dr. Ernst had provided.

"I wish we could spot the wreck of the Maiden Hand," Scotty remarked.

"Too deep," Rick said. "We can't see bottom at twenty fathoms even in water as clear as this."

"I've got everything important marked. What say we land and look over our property?"

"Okay. I'll shoot the beach while you look for coral heads. We don't want to snag a pontoon."

The boys had already identified their house. It was set at the edge of the palms, about fifty yards inland from the beach. It looked fine. There was a small dock to which the Water Witch could be tied up when the scientists arrived.

Rick estimated that Tony and Zircon would arrive about sundown, two hours hence. The boys had flown over the Water Witch en route from St. Thomas. Apparently the scientists were enjoying the trip. Zircon had been sprawled in the cockpit while Tony trolled for fish.

"I'm a little surprised there wasn't something wrong with the plane," Rick observed. He and Scotty had gone over the Sky Wagon from propeller hub to rudder, fearful that the unknown enemy might have sabotaged the plane. But there was no sign of any tampering. However, the inspection had taken so long that it was late afternoon before they got away. It was significant and perhaps a little ominous that Steve and Jimmy Kelly had assigned a pair of husky Shore Patrol men with .45-caliber sidearms to stay with them until the plane actually took off.

"Maybe the two men who came after us were acting without orders," Scotty replied. "Maybe the real brains of the gang aren't even interested in us."

"I hope that you're right. See any coral heads?"

Although most coral growth was limited to the reef area, outcroppings of coral called "heads" had grown up toward the surface in some places. There were none in the stretch of water before the beach house where Rick planned to land.

"The water's clear. Pick your direction. There's not enough wind to make any difference."

"I'll land parallel to the beach."

Rick turned south down the center of the island. When he had reached the right position he cut the throttle, and the nose of the Sky Wagon dropped. He banked tightly, reversing course, until the plane was headed north a hundred yards out from the beach. He let the plane feel its way toward the water, then felt the first bump as the pontoons touched. In a moment they were down, and Rick swung the plane to taxi in toward their new home.

Scotty was already stripping off his shoes and socks. As the pontoons touched bottom a few yards from shore, Scotty climbed out. Rick cut the gun while his pal pulled the plane up on the beach.

Rick got out and waited until Scotty slipped his shoes on again, then they walked to the cottage.

The door was unlocked. Few people came to Clipper Cay, and locks weren't considered necessary. The boys pushed open the front door and walked in.

There was a large living room and three bedrooms, each with twin beds. In the rear of the cottage was a kitchen with kerosene stove and kerosene refrigerator. A fifty-gallon drum out back provided the fuel supply, which was piped in through copper tubing. Rick checked the fuel. The tank was full. He read the simple instructions tacked to the wall over the refrigerator, then lighted the burner. There were frozen foods and soft drinks as well as dairy products among their supplies, packed in dry ice in the Water Witch's food locker; the refrigerator would be cold enough for the supplies by the time the boat arrived.

For bathing in fresh water there was an outdoor shower, a shower head rigged to a five-gallon drum and supported on a frame of two-by-four wooden members. A canvas curtain gave privacy. Other sanitary facilities were equally primitive but effective.

Scotty opened the door of a lean-to shed on the rear of the house. "We can stow our diving gear in here. There's a bench, too. Looks as though the owner used the place for cleaning fish and stowing his fishing equipment."

They walked around to the front of the house where there was a small porch. A few wicker chairs were upended against the wall. The boys righted them and sat down.

"This is the life," Rick observed. "Look at that view."

They looked from the porch down to the sandy beach, past the pier and the Sky Wagon to water that was almost glassy calm. The water continued in a smooth stretch for about five hundred yards out to the reef. Light breakers foamed along the reef, and beyond, the water was a blue waste to the horizon. A quarter mile south, a break in the reef marked a passage where boats could enter.

Somewhere, out beyond the reef, was the wreck of the Maiden Hand. In his mind, Rick planned how they would go about finding it. The first step was to rig some kind of underwater towing boards. Then he and Scotty, equipped with their aqualungs, would be towed behind the Water Witch, scanning the bottom as they went.

He wasn't worried about finding material for the towing boards. Any kind of planks would do, or they could even make a tow board out of a fallen log, although that would be harder to control.

"Come on," he invited. "Let's walk through the palms. We need a few planks, and we might as well get them now."

By the time the scientists approached the pier, the boys had explored the central part of the island and had returned to the cottage lugging planks found in the ruin of a cottage apparently blown down by some long-past hurricane. They dropped the planks beside the house and hurried to catch the line that Zircon threw, then they warped the Water Witch in to the dock.

All hands turned to, and in a short time supplies were unloaded and stored, beds were made with linen and blankets loaned by Dr. Ernst, and the cottage began to take on an inhabited look.

While Tony Briotti began preparations for dinner, the boys carried their aqualung equipment to the shed at the rear of the cottage and began to check it over. Since their lives would depend on proper functioning of the equipment, they inspected the regulators carefully, checking the condition of the neoprene flaps. Once checked, the regulators were hung on nails on the shed walls, out of harm's way.

The next step was to inspect the tanks. Rick had already looked them over, but for the sake of safety the boys did it again. There were six of them, each of seventy-cubic-feet capacity. There was an advantage to this particular capacity at the depth where they expected to dive; a diver could work only fifteen minutes at 120 feet without requiring decompression, and seventy cubic feet of air would last just long enough. Double tanks would have meant the boys would be able to stay down nearly twice as long, but would also have meant the nuisance of waiting through the decompression period of about thirteen minutes ten feet below the surface on the ascent. For this reason, the boys planned to dive with single tanks, leaving the spares on the surface.

Of course, to get even fifteen minutes of diving at twenty fathoms the tanks had to be filled to capacity. When full, they were under enormous internal pressure of over two thousand pounds per square inch. The tanks had been filled at Spindrift, but the boys decided to check them again, in case there had been some leakage through the valves during shipment.

Scotty swung one tank upright and prepared to attach the pressure gauge. Rick, inspecting another tank for bumps that might have weakened the tank wall, saw him do it.

For a moment Rick continued his inspection, then what he had seen suddenly registered. He yelled, "Scotty! The valve!"

In that instant, as Scotty attached the pressure gauge, the valve blew out!

The entire valve assembly and the pressure gauge, propelled by the tremendous pressure in the tank, blew straight upward, ripping clear of Scotty's hand and taking a patch of skin along. The ascending assembly, traveling with bullet speed, clipped a lock of hair from his bent head.

Scotty yelled, "Run!"

The tank, its air free to escape, writhed and turned, then fell over on its side. It was like an inflated balloon, turned loose to fly around a room. Air jetted from it with terrific velocity, so that the tank was, for the period while its air lasted, a true rocket.

It struck the wall of the shed and went through it like paper, smashed into a stud and caromed slightly, so that its trajectory was altered enough to drive it directly at Rick. He fell flat and it went over, just grazing him, then flew into the palm grove. It hit a palm a slanting blow and turned upward, shooting high in the air, clipping off the top of another palm as it went.

As the boys watched, horrified, it climbed straight up. Then, its high pressure nearly exhausted, it turned leisurely and plunged back into the grove, almost burying itself in the sandy soil.

The boys sat down and stared weakly at each other. For the first time, Rick noted that Scotty's hand was bleeding. He said shakily, "Here, let me look at that."

The scientists rushed out of the house and demanded to know what had happened. The tank had blown through its devastating course so fast that they had not even had time to get outdoors.

Zircon bandaged Scotty's hand with supplies from the first-aid kit while the boys told them what had happened. Tony said, "Very careless, leaving a valve loose like that."

Rick told him positively, "It wasn't left unscrewed, Tony. We always use a wrench on those valves because high pressure is so dangerous. And it wasn't like that yesterday. I checked the tanks when we stowed them on the boat."

Scotty gestured toward the other tanks. "Better take a look."

Rick did so, and gave a low whistle. The valves had all been loosened. They were in place only by a turn or two of the threads.

"They could have come out any time," he said grimly. "Any rough handling could have knocked a valve out. And if it had happened on the boat, the tank would have gone right through the bottom or side. It was just luck Scotty and I weren't killed."

Zircon wordlessly found the valve wrench and got to work screwing the assemblies back in place. The others watched silently, until Scotty said, "Well, at least we're out of St. Thomas. There won't be any more sabotage!"