Роберт Артур - The Mystery of the Screaming Clock

THE VAN MOVED steadily along in the direction of Hollywood. Carlos was driving, and Jupiter was squeezed in between him and Jerry.

“You have those messages with you, boy?” Carlos demanded.

“Yes, sir, I have them,” Jupiter said, sounding unusually meek and humble.

“That’s good,” Jerry muttered. “Because if—what is it, Carlos?” Carlos was staring into the rear-view mirror. “I think we’re being followed. There’s been a car behind us for the last couple of miles!”

“Followed!” Jerry exclaimed. He grabbed Jupiter, hard. “Kid, if you called the cops — ”

“No, sir, I didn’t!” Jupiter sounded frightened, and only part of it was acting. They had spotted Hugenay’s car, and the whole plan with Hugenay was in danger of failing.

“Then if it isn’t the police, who is it?” Carlos demanded. “Quick, answer me! Don’t stall or I’ll know you’re lying!”

“If we’re being followed,” Jupiter said rapidly, “it might be somebody else who wants the messages, too. Somebody stole the screaming clock yesterday. If it wasn’t you, that shows somebody else is interested, and that same person might have been watching my house and seen you pick me up. Naturally he’d want to know where I was I going.”

“That’s it!” Jerry exclaimed. “That clock — Harry told Jeeters all about it. I’ll bet the kid’s right. Someone else is trying to find the loot. Carlos, you’ve got to shake them.”

“Leave it to me,” Carlos said grimly. “There’s a freeway only a mile ahead and I’ll get on to it. Then let them try to follow!”

He maintained the same speed for another couple of minutes. Then, as they approached the freeway, he put on speed, dashed up an entry ramp, and a moment later was in the midst of a stream of fast-moving traffic heading towards Hollywood.

The freeways of Los Angeles and Hollywood are a great network of concrete highways which connect the city of Los Angeles and the surrounding territory. A tremendous number of cars stream along them all day and most of the night. Now they were on a six-lane highway, and all six lanes contained cars and trucks moving at great speed, Carlos stepped on the accelerator and began to cut in and out of the traffic. In a minute or two anyone following would be hopelessly lost among the cars and huge trucks Carlos, however, was not satisfied until he had been threading in and out of the dense traffic for ten minutes. Then he cut to the outer lane and swung sharply down an exit ramp.

He slowed as he hit the city street below them and watched the rear-view mirror intently. Apparently he was satisfied, for after a few moments he relaxed.

“Nobody followed us out of that exit,” he said. “If anyone was tailing us, we’ve lost them.”

As Carlos proceeded at a normal speed, Jupiter’s spirits sank steadily lower. He had been counting on Hugenay. Now Hugenay had lost them, and could be of no help.

The van turned into a driveway between two old houses. In the rear was a large, two-car garage. Carlos beeped the horn once, and one of the sliding doors went up. The van eased inside and the door went down again.

Carlos and Jerry climbed out, hustling Jupiter along. Jupiter saw Mr. Jeeters waiting for them, and behind him Bob and Harry, tied to chairs.

“Any trouble?” Mr. Jeeters asked. “You’re a little late.”

“Someone followed us,” Carlos reported. “We had to take time to throw them off the trail. The kid swears it wasn’t cops. May have been whoever stole the screaming clock yesterday Anyway, whoever it was, we lost them.”

“Good.” Mr. Jeeters fixed hard eyes on Jupiter. “I’m sure our young friend here is too smart to have been trying any tricks. All right, boy, now the messages. Let’s have them.”

Jupiter fumbled in his pocket. He brought out a piece of paper.

“Here’s the first message, Mr. Jeeters.”

Jeeters took it and read it. “ I suggest you see the book . Yes, your friend already told us that one. What book does it mean?”

“I don’t know.”

“Well, doesn’t the second message tell us?”

“Here it is, sir. You can see what it says.”.

“Humph! Only a room where Father Time hums . What does that mean?”

“I deduce that it means Mr. Clock’s library, where all those electrified clocks hum as they work.”

“Yes, yes, of course, it has to mean that. But I’ve been all over that room, looking for sliding panels, concealed hiding places, anything, and I found nothing. Well, give me the rest of the third message. I already have half.” And he displayed a torn piece of paper.

Jupiter was fumbling in his pocket when there was an unexpected interruption. With a great breaking of glass, the windows on each side of the garage crashed in. The shades flew up.

Seconds later a blue-uniformed man was climbing in through each window, each holding a large automatic pointed at Mr. Jeeters, Carlos and Jerry.

“Up with your hands!” the first policeman snapped. “Quick! No false moves!”

“The cops!” Jerry exclaimed. Carlos muttered something in Spanish whose meaning the boys did not know but could guess.

“Stand still! Put your hands up!” the second policeman ordered. “We have you covered from both sides.”

Slowly Jerry and Carlos put up their hands. Mr. Jeeters backed up until he was against the workbench and for a moment it seemed as if he was feeling for a weapon behind him. But the first policeman covered him with his gun.

“You, too!” he snapped. “You — what’re you doing? What’s that burning?”

“He’s burned the messages!” Jupiter exclaimed. The blow-lamp was still burning on the bench with a low flame, and Mr. Jeeters had thrust all the messages into its flame. Even as they watched the bits of paper turned into curls of ash.

“Now, let’s see you try to solve anything!” Mr. Jeeters sneered.

“I can remember the first two messages,” Jupiter said. “But if the one with all the numbers is gone, I don’t know how we can ever find out what Mr. Clock was trying to tell us.”

“Try your brains on that problem!” Mr. Jeeters laughed. He turned to Jerry and Carlos. “You fools!” he hissed at the other two. “You told me you had shaken off your tail. This fat kid called the police, and you let them trail you here — ”

“But I didn’t!” Jupiter blurted out, as astonished as anyone else by this new development.

“Keep them covered, Joe,” the first policeman said.

He strode to the garage door and swung it up. A dapper-looking man stepped in, and the garage door swung down behind him. He stood smiling at the group before him.

“Well, well,” he said. “Nicely done, men. The situation seems to be under control.” Jupiter’s eyes bugged out. “Mr. Hugenay!” he gasped.

“YES, MY BOY,” Hugenay said. “It is I, the incomparable Hugenay, who has foiled the police of three continents. You did not think I would let dullards like these get ahead of me, did you?”

Mr. Jeeters and his companions seemed to recognize the name, for they looked grim and nervous. They remained silent, however, waiting for developments.

“But — but — ” Jupiter spluttered. “They lost you in the traffic. You couldn’t possibly have followed us!”

“I took precautions,” Hugenay said airily. He stepped up to Jupiter and slid a hand into the side pocket of Jupe’s jacket. He brought out a small, flat object.

“This,” he said, “is an electronic signalling device. I put it in your pocket the last time I spoke to you. In my car I have a receiver tuned to it. I simply followed the sound it emitted. Even in the traffic on the freeway I was able to follow, and I knew when the truck turned off. It took me a few minutes to trail the sound to this garage, but once I had located you, I simply sent my assistants in to take charge.”