DOUBLE TROUBLE-6
503 Words
EZRA KARN JABBED MY elbow. “Grannie’s coming back. I thought she’d be getting sick of this blamed moon.”
It didn’t make sense. In all the years I’d known Annabella C. Flowers, never yet had I seen her desert a case until she had woven the clues and facts to a logical conclusion.
“Ezra,” I said, “we’re going to drive out and meet them. There’s something screwy here.”
Ten minutes later in another kite car we were driving at a fast clip through the powdery sands of the Baldric. And before long we saw another car approaching.
It was Grannie. As the car drew up alongside I saw her sitting in her prim way next to Antlers Park. Park said:
“We left the others at the mine. Miss Flowers is going back with me to my offices to help me improve the formula for that new antitoxin.”
He waved his hand, and the car moved off. I watched it as it sped across the desert, and a growing suspicion began to form in my mind. Then, like a knife thrust, the truth struck me.
“Ezra!” I yelled, swinging the car. “That wasn’t Grannie! That was one of those damned cockatoo images. We’ve got to catch him.”
The other car was some distance ahead now. Park looked back and saw us following. He did something to the kite wire, and his car leaped ahead.
I threw the speed indicator hard over. Our kite was a huge box affair with a steady powerful pull to the connecting wire. Park’s vehicle was drawn by a flat triangular kite that dove and fluttered with each variance of the wind. Steadily we began to close in.
The manager of Interstellar Voice turned again, and something glinted in his hand. There was a flash of purple flame, and a round hole appeared in our windscreen inches above Karn’s head.
“Heat gun!” Ezra yelled.
Now we were rocketing over the sand dunes, winding in and out between the flagpole trees. I had to catch that car I told myself. Grannie Annie’s very life might be at stake, not to mention the lives of hundreds of mine workers. Again Park took aim and again a hole shattered our windscreen.
The wind shifted and blew from another quarter. The box kite soared, but the triangular kite faltered. Taking advantage of Park’s loss of speed, I raced alongside.
The I. V. manager lifted his weapon frantically. But before he could use it a third time, Ezra Karn had whipped a lariat from his belt and sent it coiling across the intervening space.
The thong yanked tight about the manager’s throat. Park did the only thing he could do. He shut off power, and the two cars coasted to a halt. Then I was across in the other seat, wrenching the weapon free from his grasp.
“What have you done with Miss Flowers?” I demanded.
The manager’s eyes glittered with fear as he saw my finger tense on the trigger. Weakly he lifted an arm and pointed to the northwest.
“Val-ley. Thir-ty miles. Entrance hidden by wall of ... flagpole trees.”
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