Marc Brandel - An Ear for Danger

Pete did as he was told. He heard the creak of the rancher’s boots as the man got to his feet.

Dusty slipped the knife into his belt and clasped the rifle in both hands. “Now you.” He glanced down at Brit and gave him a kick in the ribs. “Get up and do what I tell you. Or you’ll lose your two new friends.”

Brit stood up. Unlike Pete and Bob, he had no training in karate. No defense against that rifle.

“Get back, Brit.”

Brit backed toward the wall where the other two guys were standing.

“Hold it. Now get this straight, Brit. I’m not going to shoot you — yet. Tell me what I want to know or the other two’ll get it in the back. Comprende , amigo?”

Brit nodded silently.

“Where’s your father?”

Brit hesitated. He saw Dusty’s finger tighten on the trigger.

“He went down to the village on the other side of the mountain.”

“When’ll he be back?”

For an instant Brit wanted to lie. But if Dusty guessed he wasn’t telling the truth, one of the guys would pay for it with his life.

“Not for a couple of days yet,” he said.

“Did you find Pancho Villa’s cave?”

“Yeah.”

“How do you know you got the right one?”

“We found the skeleton of one of Villa’s soldiers buried under the rocks.”

“Now you’re talking. Get some rope and tie up these two guys the way you tied me.”

Brit walked over to the far wall of the cave and came back with a length of heavy cord.

“You, Pete,” Dusty ordered. “Down on your knees and put your hands behind your back.”

Pete stalled for an instant. Dusty strode forward and jammed the muzzle of the rifle against the back of his neck. Pete felt the cold steel against his skin. He swallowed hard.

“Move it,” snapped Dusty.

Swearing to himself, Pete knelt on the floor. He held out his hands behind him.

Brit tried to fake it at first. But Dusty was too close to him, watching and testing every loop of the cord around Pete’s wrists and ankles, and then Bob’s.

“Now I want some answers,” Dusty told them.

“Actually, we’re all tied up at the moment,” Bob quipped.

Pete and Brit couldn’t help snorting.

“Cut the clowning.” Dusty prodded Bob sharply with the rifle. Bob’s eyes blazed with anger, but he said nothing.

“Where did your pal go? The fat one.”

“Wish we knew,” Pete answered. “Maybe he went out for some pizza.”

Brit watched Dusty’s face darken. One of the guys was going to get himself blown apart if Dusty didn’t get some real answers soon. “He went to find Mercedes,” he put in quickly.

“Who’s Mercedes?”

“We don’t know,” Brit answered truthfully. “She’s a Mexican woman.” He described her the way Bob had described her to him. “Jupe said she’s been following them for days. And this morning we saw her burro outside. So Jupe took Blondie to try to track her to her hiding place.”

“Has she got a gun?”

Brit thought quickly. He didn’t have to admit he guessed she did. “Not as far as I know,” he said.

“Okay. I’ll keep a lookout for her. Black hair and pigtails.” Dusty shifted the rifle from Bob and aimed it at Brit. “Now you’re going to take me to Villa’s cave. Go on. Move it. And don’t forget I’m right behind you.”

Pete heard the scraping of footsteps as Brit walked out through the tunnel, followed by Dusty.

As soon as the sound of footsteps died away, the two Investigators started struggling against the cords.

“Can you get your hands free?” Pete asked.

“Not without some help from Houdini,” Bob said. “How about you?”

“No way.”

“Where the heck is Jupe?” Pete asked.

“He’ll be here,” Bob promised. “You know that guy always has a scheme up his sleeve. He’ll spot Dusty before that maniac can get close enough to shoot. Besides, Jupe’s got Blondie. She can gallop a lot faster than Dusty can run.”

“Dusty’s not our only headache,” Pete said, straining at the cord again. “You smell anything?”

Bob sniffed. “Rotten eggs?”

“Something weird’s going on outside,” Pete said. “When I was just out there, I couldn’t see Jupe. I couldn’t see anything. The whole mountain’s as black as midnight. The air smells like. yeah, rotten eggs. And this huge cloud of smoke’s spreading around.”

Bob thought fast. “We saw smoke from this mountain before, remember? And that’s not eggs,” he cried, “it’s sulfur ! Like from a volcano. Holy smoke! We’re sitting under a live volcano!”

Pete’s eyes bulged. “We’ve got this cave to protect us. But Jupe’s out there in the open!”

“Get down,” Jupe whispered urgently. “quick. Get down.”

Mercedes was staring at the dark smoke that spurted from the mouth of the volcano and blanketed the mountain like fog. Jupe grabbed her by the arm and pulled her down behind a boulder.

“What is it?” she asked.

“Dusty,” he whispered. “Keep your voice low.”

Some gritty ash fell from the sky, but the wind was blowing the dark smoke away. A chemical smell hung in the air. Cautiously raising his head, Jupe watched the rancher. He was less than half a mile away, striding along the trail toward them. He wasn’t alone.

Brit was walking a few steps ahead of him. The young guy’s hands were clasped behind his neck. Dusty had his rifle aimed at his back.

“Brit.” Mercedes drew in her breath sharply. Jupe had to grab her arm again to stop her from rushing forward to help her son.

“Don’t,” he warned her softly. “It won’t help Brit if Dusty shoots you.”

Any second now, Jupe thought, Dusty would see the two burros. He would have seen them before if he hadn’t been watching Brit so closely.

Mercedes was sliding the rifle toward her. “I’ll try to get Dusty in the arm,” she whispered. She fitted the stock against her shoulder. She eased the barrel around the edge of the boulder. For a second she had a clear line of fire at the rancher.

She took careful aim. Her finger tightened on the trigger. She squeezed it.

Jupe waited for the sound of the shot. It never came. Mercedes was tugging and tugging at the trigger. She couldn’t move it.

“The safety catch!” Jupe whispered. “The safety’s on!”

Hastily Mercedes slipped it off. She aimed again. But now she was too late. Dusty had seen the two burros. He jumped forward and seized Brit from behind, shielding himself with Brit’s body.

Mercedes lowered the rifle. She swore softly in Spanish. Dusty pulled the knife from his belt. He pressed it against Brit’s back. Pushing Brit in front of him, he moved forward again.

Jupe snatched the strap of the walkie-talkie from Mercedes’ shoulder. He flipped the switch to send.

“Ascención!” He held his lips close to the mike. “Ascención. Can you hear me?” he demanded in Spanish. “Ascención. Come in. Over.”

He switched to receive. Silence. Jupe kept trying for another minute. Dusty was less than a hundred yards away now. He was still moving steadily forward, prodding Brit with the knife.

Jupe put the walkie-talkie down. He touched Mercedes’ hand.

“Put on your wig.”

She took it from her skirt pocket and quickly slipped it onto her head.

Dusty came to a stop ten yards away.

“Come out, Mercedes,” he called in Spanish. “Come out where I can see you.”

She didn’t move.

“Don’t be scared,” Dusty went on, still in Spanish.

“I know you’re there. My friend here told me all about you. I know you followed us up here. And I bet you’ve got my rifle. Okay. No sweat. Maybe we can make a deal.”