The Mystery of the Deadly Double Page 2

  The three junior detectives stared out the back window. There was no mistake.

  The green Mercedes was directly behind them and was coming rapidly closer!

  “It’s the same car, all right!” Pete cried.

  “So,” Jupiter said triumphantly, “they weren’t just lost tourists! I was right!”

  “I-I guess so,” Pete admitted nervously. “Who could they be? What do they want?”

  “I don’t know, Second,” Jupiter said grimly, “and I don’t think we want to find out right now.”

  “Maybe we’re going to!” Bob cried in alarm. “They’re moving in, Jupe! Gaining on us!”

  “Worthington!” Jupiter exclaimed. “Can you lose them?”

  “I shall endeavour to do so,” Worthington said quietly.

  The gold-plated Rolls surged forward as Worthington pressed the accelerator to the floor. They were in the mountains now, and the narrow two-lane highway snaked above steep drops into rocky canyons. Worthington gripped the large steering wheel of the car, hurling the gleaming machine in sharp turns at the edges of the precipices.

  The green Mercedes leaped in pursuit. The two cars swerved and squealed around the curves, their wheels perilously close to the gaping chasms below. On a straight road the powerful old Rolls-Royce might have drawn away, but it couldn’t match the agility of the smaller, newer Mercedes. Inexorably, the green car came closer.

  “They’re gaining on us,” Pete cried in dismay.

  Worthington’s voice was calm. “It is too dangerous to try to go any faster in the mountains.” He coolly scanned the road ahead. “But perhaps—?”

  Worthington leaned forward, staring ahead. The Rolls had just come round a sharp curve and the Mercedes was momentarily out of sight. Worthington suddenly slammed on the brakes, skidded the big car almost to the edge of a sheer drop on he right, and swung back across the highway into a narrow dirt road that led off to the left. Speeding up again, the expert chauffeur drove the gleaming machine down the dusty side road and into the dense growth of live oaks and chaparral.

  Behind them the Mercedes roared on past the side road.

  “You’ve lost them!” Bob and Pete cried.

  “For the moment,” Worthington said. “But they will soon realize we have left the highway. We must drive on swiftly.”

  He pushed down the accelerator, raced the massive car along the narrow dirt road—and screeched to a jolting stop.

  “I’m sorry, boys,” Worthington said in dismay.

  The dirt road ended in an empty box canyon!

  “Drive back to the highway!” Jupiter ordered. “Quickly. Maybe they haven’t missed us yet!”

  Worthington turned the big car, and drove back towards the main road.

  The Mercedes almost hit them head on as they rounded a sharp curve!

  Worthington swerved half off the road. Before he could recover and turn, the two men jumped from the Mercedes and ran up to the Rolls-Royce. They held pistols!

  “Out! Now!” one barked. He was a stranger but Pete recognized the second man as the one who had asked him for directions the day before.

  Warily, the boys and Worthington got

  out of the Rolls.

  “Now see here, my good man,”

  Worthington protested. “We don’t know

  what—”

  “Quiet!” the first man snapped.

  The second grabbed a startled Jupiter,

  tied a gag in his mouth, dropped a heavy

  bag over his head, and dragged him into the

  Mercedes! The first man waved his pistol

  menacingly at Bob, Pete, and Worthington.

  “Don’t follow us! Not if you value your

  lives, or want to see him again.”

  The man turned and ran to the

  Mercedes. It vanished towards the highway.

  Jupiter was gone.

  Chapter 3

  A Deadly Mistake

  PETE WHIRLED towards the Rolls-Royce.

  “We’ve got to follow them!”

  “No, Pete!” Worthington and Bob both cried.

  Pete stared. “But we have to try to help Jupe!”

  “We will,” Worthington said, putting his hand on Pete’s shoulder, “but we must not follow them. In a kidnapping you must do exactly what the kidnappers say, then call the police immediately.”

  “Following them could be dangerous for Jupe,” Bob explained. “But we can try to see which direction they’re going, and tell the police! The kidnappers don’t know we have a phone in the Rolls, so they don’t think we can alert the police right away.

  Hurry, we’ll climb that hill while Worthington calls Chief Reynolds!”

  While Worthington ran to the car to telephone the police chief of Rocky Beach, Bob and Pete scrambled up the steep slope of a nearby hill. Panting, they reached a high ledge in seconds, and looked towards where the dirt road met the highway.

  “I see them!” Bob exclaimed.

  “Going south towards Rocky Beach!” Pete said. “And driving pretty slowly!”

  “They don’t want to attract any attention.”

  “If Chief Reynolds moves fast,” Pete cried, “he could get in front of them! Come on!”

  They slid and stumbled down the slope to the Rolls-Royce. Worthington was just giving the licence number of the Mercedes, and a quick description of the two men.

  “Tell the chief they’re driving south on the pass highway towards Rocky Beach,”

  Pete said. “He might be able to block them before they can turn off anywhere.”

  Worthington repeated Pete’s message, and then listened.

  “Very good, Chief. We’ll remain here until you come.” He hung up, and looked at the boys. “What could they want with Jupiter? You’re sure you have no idea who they are?”

  “We never saw them before yesterday,” Bob said.

  “We don’t know anything!” Pete wailed.

  The three of them looked at each other hopelessly.

  **

  Gagged in the darkness under the heavy bag, Jupiter was scared. The Mercedes seemed to be driving slowly, going downhill on what Jupiter guessed was the county highway. Going towards Rocky Beach. What did these men want with him? Who were they? Where were they from with their odd English accents?

  He squirmed under the bag in the back seat of the car, and a pistol poked hard in his ribs. One of the men was sitting close beside him.

  “Sit still,” the man said.

  Jupiter tried to speak, to protest, but with the gag tight in his mouth all he could do was gurgle and grunt. “Ummmmffff … grrruummmm …”

  “Keep quiet! Quiet and still, eh? Like a nice, noble little do-gooder.”

  The unseen man laughed beside him, and the nasty laugh was echoed from the front seat where the other man drove.

  But Jupiter tried to talk again, to ask what they wanted with him. Uncle Titus and Aunt Mathilda didn’t have any money! Not real money! His grunts and muffled gurglings made him feel like a fish flopping on a beach.

  “I said keep quiet! You wouldn’t want your father to lose his only son, now would you?”

  Under the bag, Jupiter froze. His father? But he had no father! His father had died when Jupe was quite small. Desperately he tried to explain that to his captors.

  “Ummmmffff … ggmmmrnmrrrrrr … nnnuuuhhhh …”

  The pistol poked harder into his ribs.

  “I won’t tell you again, boy!”

  “Ummmmffff … mmmmmdddd … mmmmssssstttt …”

  The man beside him laughed again. “He’s a regular stubborn case just like his dad, isn’t he, Fred? High and mighty, too, I shouldn’t be surprised.”

  “Maybe we better quiet him down, Walt,” the other man said from the front seat.

  “Only if we must. I don’t much take to carting around a sleeping fat one like him.”

  “Might be best, though. It’s a long trip home. We want him all nice and neat when we brace the big man.”

>   The man beside Jupiter laughed once more. “I can hardly wait to see Sir Roger’s face when we tell him we’ve got young Ian and he better change his tune fast.”

  Under the bag, Jupiter slowly sat back in the car seat.

  Sir Roger? Ian? Suddenly he realized what had happened—these men thought he was someone else! Someone whose father was an important man! It wasn’t a kidnapping for money—it was some kind of blackmail. To make this Sir Roger, whoever he was, do something these men wanted him to do. But they had made a mistake. They had kidnapped the wrong boy! He tried to tell them.

  “Ummmmfffff … ! Msssstttttkkkk … nnnnnoooo …”

  This time the man beside him didn’t poke the pistol or tell him to be quiet. The Mercedes seemed to speed up as it reached level ground below the mountains. It turned sharply, wheels squealing, and the force of the turn pushed Jupiter against the corner of the seat. Then he heard the sirens! Police cars! The wailing grew louder.

  Under the bag Jupiter held his breath. They would save him! … The sirens began to fade away behind, and were gone.

  “That was a near thing!” the man beside him exclaimed.

  “You think they were after us?” the driver said.

  “Had to be. They were heading for the mountains. How the devil did they learn about us so fast?”

  Jupiter knew at once—the telephone in the Rolls-Royce. His friends had alerted the police immediately. But the kidnappers had escaped. How would the police find him now? He had to tell the kidnappers that they had made a terrible mistake!

  “Something went wrong, Walt,” the driver said grimly. “Nothing else better go wrong. I won’t be caught.”

  Under the dark bag Jupiter felt suddenly cold. Something else had already gone wrong! The men had taken the wrong boy, but they didn’t know that yet. Jupe couldn’t tell them with the gag in his mouth. And did he want them to know their mistake after all? What would they do if they knew?

  They wanted some boy named Ian as a weapon against his father, so Ian would be safe with them. But would Jupiter Jones be safe?

  **

  A police car and a sheriff’s car roared down the dirt road and skidded to a stop in a cloud of dust. Chief Reynolds and the county sheriff ran up to Worthington and the boys beside the gleaming Rolls-Royce.

  “Did you see them?” Bob cried.

  “Did you stop them?” Pete added.

  Chief Reynolds shook his head. “We blocked the highway at the first crossroad, and then came straight on here. But we didn’t pass them, and they didn’t come to the roadblock.”

  “They must have slipped through before we set up the block,” the sheriff said.

  “Turned off on some crossroad. But they can’t have gone far yet, and we’ve got every available man and car out searching for them.”

  “This area is in the county, boys, so it’s the sheriff’s jurisdiction,” Chief Reynolds explained, “but in a case like this we all work together. We’ve already alerted the Los Angeles Police Department also.”

  “Now,” the sheriff said, “we’ll search for clues here.”

  Bob was glum. “I don’t think you’ll find anything, sir. The kidnappers weren’t here long enough to leave any clues.”

  Bob was right. The police and deputies searched every inch of the dirt road in the vicinity of the kidnapping. They found nothing.

  “All right, we’ll go back to headquarters,” Chief Reynolds decided. “It’s time we informed the FBI too.”

  “At least,” the sheriff said, “we have one big advantage this time, thanks to you folks and that Rolls-Royce. We’re right on top of the kidnappers, and everyone is searching already.”

  “Yes, sir,” Bob said, dejected, “but searching isn’t finding. One car isn’t so easy to spot, is it?”

  “No, but we’ve got the whole county covered, and all the roads out blocked.

  There’s no way they can get out of the county!”

  Bob and Pete climbed into the Rolls-Royce. Neither of them spoke as Worthington followed Chief Reynolds’ car toward Rocky Beach, but they looked at each other uneasily, and knew that they were both thinking the same thing.

  The kidnappers must have had some plan in case of roadblocks. Some way to escape, and take Jupiter with them.

  Chapter 4

  On the Trail of the Villains

  THE MERCEDES stopped.

  Jupiter, in the dark under the heavy bag, had tried to follow the progress of the car, but it had made too many twists and turns. Now he listened for any familiar sounds that might tell him where he was. But there was only an empty silence. No movement anywhere, no sounds of traffic, or people, or the sea.

  “Get him out,” the driver growled from the front seat.

  Jupiter heard the car door open, and hands pushed him on to his feet. He felt hard ground, and leaves, and grass under his shoes.

  “Take the bag off so he can see to walk.”

  The bag was pulled roughly from over his chest and head. The glare of light through thick trees almost blinded him. He opened and closed his eyes to adjust to the light while the gag was removed from his mouth. It was untied by the stocky man with the curly hair who had first talked to Pete at the salvage yard—the man named Walt who had sat beside him in the car and poked him with a pistol.

  “Now be good, eh?” Walt said. “Nice and quiet.” He waved his pistol to show he meant business.

  Jupiter nodded, but said nothing. Ever since he had realized that he could be in far more danger if the kidnappers discovered their mistake, he had hoped they wouldn’t remove the gag. The boy they thought they had was from their country, whatever it was, and would probably have the same odd English accent. If Jupe spoke, they would know at once that he was the wrong boy — unless he tried to mimic their accent. Jupe thought he could, but it was risky. The slightest mistake could give him away.

  The stocky kidnapper watched him for a moment, then turned to the driver.

  “Get the bags, Fred.”

  Jupiter breathed a little more easily. He was safe for the moment. He glanced quickly around. They were at the side of another dirt road, deep among live oaks and thick chaparral, close to the mountains. Nothing was familiar or unfamiliar. They could be anywhere in the back country within a hundred miles of Rocky Beach!

  “All right, boy, move,” the driver said. “That way.”

  He was a taller and thinner man than Walt, with dark hair and small eyes sunk deep in weather creases, but he had the same deep sunburn. Apparently both men came from a country where the sun was fierce and constant.

  They walked on the grass alongside the road for no more than fifty yards, and turned straight towards the mountains. Jupiter could see no path — only the dense, almost impenetrable brush.

  “You go first, Fred, set the pace.” Walt said. “You’ve got the bags.”

  The driver nodded set the bags down and pulled aside a thick bush to reveal the entry to a narrow trail. He pushed the two bags through and vanished into the chaparral.

  “You next, boy,” Walt ordered.

  Jupiter searched for the right bush, pulled it aside, and started through. The tough chaparral suddenly slipped out of his grasp. He threw up his hands to protect his face from the thorny branches, jumped back and flopped sprawling outside the entrance to the hidden trail. Walt grabbed him and hauled him up, pushing him ahead through the chaparral with a curse.

  “Watch that, boy, I might get nervous!”

  Jupiter gulped, and hurried along the narrow trail. Walt was close behind with his pistol. The tangled brush closed again, leaving no sign of the hidden path.

  Hurrying after the driver, Jupiter failed to see a treacherous root, caught his foot, and sprawled on the ground. He lay panting for a moment, but managed to scramble up before Walt reached him.

  The two kidnappers walked rapidly through the dense brush as if they had been there before and knew just where they were going. Jupiter tried to keep pace on the barely visible path, but stumbled and fell
twice more before he was pushed out into a narrow box canyon deep in the shadow of the mountains.

  A small stone cabin stood close under the towering cliff walls of the canyon. The kidnappers unlocked the cabin door, shoved Jupiter inside, and closed the door.

  Alone in the cabin, Jupiter heard the door lock behind him.

  **

  At police headquarters, Bob, Pete, Uncle Titus, and Aunt Mathilda sat on a bench against the wall.

  “If only we’d taken our emergency signals,” Pete moaned.

  “They’re being repaired, remember?” Bob said. “But Jupe will think of some way to get in touch with us, Second.”

  Aunt Mathilda glared at the sheriff and Chief Reynolds.

  “Are we going to sit around here all day?” she demanded. “Those kidnappers aren’t going to just walk in and give up!”

  Chief Reynolds shook his head. “We have every area of the town and county covered, Mrs. Jones, and chasing shadows won’t help. In a kidnapping all efforts must be co-ordinated.

  “Every police department in California, Nevada, Oregon, and Arizona has been alerted,” the sheriff added. “The FBI has been contacted, and so have the Mexican authorities. The licence number of the Mercedes is on the teletype to all the police, and to the Department of Motor Vehicles.

  “A team of laboratory experts has gone back to the scene of the abduction to search again,” Chief Reynolds said. “We can’t do more until we have a lead.”

  “Then there’s nothing to stop you from going out and doing some work yourselves!” Aunt Mathilda declared.

  “There’s a better chance of catching them quickly,” the sheriff said, “by having a central control ready to direct the search the moment a lead is discovered.”

  Aunt Mathilda was obviously unconvinced, and she glared at the sheriff and Chief Reynolds as they left the room. Her temper wasn’t improved by the return of the laboratory team with no results. There were still no clues to the whereabouts of the kidnappers and Jupiter.

  “What on earth do they want with Jupiter?” Aunt Mathilda fumed. “Are you boys sure you aren’t involved in one of your ridiculous investigations? Poking in other people’s business?”

  “No, ma’am,” Bob declared. “We were just going on an outing to Magic Mountain.”