Needle

Chapter XII. AND FALL!

THERE WAS little talk for the first half of the row, for they had been badly scared; but when Norman Hay passed a remark about his aquarium the conversation quickly blossomed full strength.

"Maybe we can find something here to get one of those cement plugs out of the pool," were his words.

"You'll need something pretty good," remarked Shorty. "That underwater cement you got is rugged stuff-at least they used it on the dock, and there's no mark yet where the tanker comes in."

"The tanker doesn't touch the dock, unless someone gets careless," pointed out Rice from the bow. "Still, Norm's right about needing some good tools. There's nothing around our house that'll do, I know."

"What'll we use, anyway-hammer and cold chisel!"

"You can't get much good out of a hammer under water. We need a long, heavy crowbar with a good point. Who knows where we can get one?" There was no answer to that, and Hay continued after a moment. "Well, we'll ask some of the dock crew, and if they don't know, the construction gang up on the hill is bound to."

"If we could snaffle a diving helmet we'd get the work done faster," Rice contributed.

"The only helmets on the bland are the rescue rigs on the dock and at the tanks, and I don't think they'd appreciate our borrowing one of those," Bob said. "We could never get the suit, and anyway probably Shorty's the only one who could wear it."

"What's wrong with that?" Malmstrom wanted to know.

"You'd be kicking about doing all the work. Anyway, they wouldn't let us take it"

"Why don't we make one? There's not much to it."

"Maybe not; but we've talked about that for four or five years and wound up holding our breath every time we worked under water." It was one of Colby's rare contributions to the exchange; as usual, no one could think of an answer.

Rice broke the short silence with another question. "What are you going to use to keep your fish in? Bob said something about wire netting, but where are you going to get any?"

"I don't know that either. If there's any on the island, it ought to be in one of the storerooms on the dock. I'll try to scrounge a piece if there is, and we'll get some heavy wire and make it if there isn't. The hole won't be very big anyway."

They tied up at the foot of a ladder on the landward side of the structure, almost under the causeway leading from the shore; Rice and Bob made both bow and stern painters fast while the others went up to the main level without waiting. Ken had a little trouble with the ladder because of his foot, but managed to conceal it fairly well. Once on the dock, the group looked around, planning.

The dock was a large structure, even as such things go. The weekly production of oil was considerable, and expansion was still going on; storage space had been designed accordingly. Four enormous cylindrical tanks were the most striking features; their auxiliary pumping and control mechanisms looked tiny by comparison. There were no fire walls; the structure was built of steel and concrete, with numerous large drains opening on the water below, and the fire-fighting apparatus consisted principally of high-pressure hoses to wash burning oil into the lagoon.

Between and around the tanks were a number of corrugated-iron sheds similar in structure and function to the storage buildings on shore; and at the end opposite the causeway was a complicated and versatile apparatus which could be used to distill gasoline, heating, or lubricating oils from the crude products of the culture tanks-it was cheaper to make the small quantities of these which were used on the island on the spot rather than to ship the crudes for refining to Tahiti and then bring them back again and store them.

It was the storage buildings which interested the boys at the moment. None of them could think offhand of any normal use for wire netting on the island, but one never could be sure, and they intended to leave no stone unturned. They headed in single file down the narrow space between the tanks.

There was a slight interruption before they reached the storeroom they sought; as they passed the corner of one of the small sheds an arm reached out, attached itself to Rice's collar, and pulled him inside the building. The boys stopped in astonishment for a moment, then grinned understanding at one another as the voice of Charlie Teroa reached their ears. He was saying something about "stowaways" and "jobs," and seemed quite emphatic; and for once a conversation lasting several minutes took place in Rice's neighborhood without his voice being audible. Bob had wondered whether he ought to give him a hint about Teroa's intentions but had been pretty sure no damage would be done-the older boy was too pleased with himself. Nevertheless, it was a very sheepish-looking redhead who rejoined the group. Teroa was behind him, with a faint grin on his face; he winked as he caught Bob's eye.

"You kids aren't supposed to be out here, are you?" he asked.

"As much as you," retorted Hay, who had no intention of leaving while there was a chance of getting what he wanted. "You don't work here, either."

"You can ask about that," returned Teroa severely. "At least I'm helping. I suppose you're after something." It was a statement, but there was a faint suggestion of question at the end.

"Nothing that anyone will miss," replied Hay defensively. He was going to enlarge upon this theme when a new voice cut in.

"Just how sure can we be of that?" The boys whirled to see the speaker, and discovered Bob's father standing behind them. "We're always glad to lend things," he went on, "as long as we know where they're going. What were you needing this trip?"

Hay explained without reluctance-his conscience was clear, as he had every intention of asking for the wire, though he had hoped to exercise a little selection of his own in deciding whom to ask.

Mr. Kinnaird nodded in understanding. "You'll probably have to go up to the new tank car for a crowbar or anything like it," he said. "I think we can do something about your grating, though. Let's look."

Everybody, including Teroa, trailed him across the somewhat slippery steel plates. As they went, Hay explained what had happened to his pool and the way in which they had discovered the cause of the trouble. Mr. Kinnaird was a good listener, but he shot a glance at his son, which that young man fortunately missed, when he heard about the question of entering the possibly disease-laden water. The conversation reminded Bob of the book he wanted, and he asked Hay about it when the latter stopped talking for a moment. Mr. Kinnaird could not restrain a comment.

"My word, are you going to be a doctor now? You don't seem to have been acting like one!"

"No-it's just something I wanted to find out," Bob said lamely (the Hunter's troubles were coming thick and fast; he wondered when he would get a chance to talk to his host-the present background was impossible).

Mr. Kinnaird smiled and turned to the door of one of the sheds they had reached. "There may be something in here, Norman," he said, and unlocked the door. It was dark inside, but a switch in the doorframe lighted a single bulb in the center of the ceiling. All eyes focused on the same thing immediately-a large roll of quarter-inch mesh galvanized wire that might have been made to order for Norman's needs. Hay made a rush for it, while Bob's father stood back looking as though he had invented the stuff.

"How much will you need?"

"A piece eighteen inches square will be plenty," was the reply. Mr. Kinnaird took a pair of cutters from a bench at one side of the shed and went to work on the roll. It was awkward driving the cutters too far, but he handed Norman the desired piece after a few seconds' work and they went outside together.

"I didn't know that stuff was used anywhere on the island," Bob remarked as his father relocked the door behind them.

"Really?" asked the latter. "I thought you'd poked around here enough to rebuild the place if you had to." He led the way to the nearest of the storage tanks and indicated one of the safety drains beside it. "There," he said, pointing down the four-foot-square unguarded opening. The boys crowded around and looked down. A couple of feet below the opening, between them and the water a dozen feet farther down, was a protective net of the mesh that Norman was carrying.

"I shouldn't think that would be strong enough to hold a person who fell down there," remarked Bob.

"People aren't supposed to fall down there," retorted his father. "Or, if they do, they're expected to be able to swim. That's to catch tools, which do skitter around on these plates a good deal. People aren't allowed anywhere near these openings." He turned away from the drain as the boys drew back thoughtfully, and promptly demonstrated the truth of his own words.

He slipped; at least Malmstrom insisted that it was Mr. Kinnaird who slipped first, but no one was really sure. The group acted like a well-struck set of pins in a bowling alley; the only one to keep his feet was Teroa, and he was forced to move with remarkable speed to do so. Malmstrom was knocked against Hay, whose feet went out from under him and caught the ankles of Bob and Colby. Their shoes, in turn, failed to grip on the somewhat oily metal, and Bob gave a yell as he realized he was about to put the strength of the netting to practical test.

His reaction speed had earned him his position on the school hockey team, and that was what saved him now. He fell feet first; and his toes touched the mesh, he spread his arms wide and forward, reaching as far onto the solid part of the dock as he could. The edge of the plating caught his painfully across the ribs, but enough of his weight came on his arms so that the mesh was not overloaded, and it held.

His father, on hands and knees, made a lunge for Bob's hand, but he slipped again and missed his aim. It was Malmstrom and Colby, who had both fallen within reach, who seized his wrists without attempting to rise from their prone positions and gave bun enough anchorage to let him work himself back onto solid footing.

Bob wiped sweat from his forehead, and his father appeared to brush something from his eyes as they looked at each other; then the man gave a rather forced smile. "You see what I mean," he said. Then, recovering himself a little, "I think one of us is going to be late for supper. I take it that that boat I saw tied up is yours and has to go back to the creek." The boys admitted that this was the case. "All right, you'd better charge along before something else happens. I'll be going home myself shortly, Bob. Had we better tell your mother? I thought not." There was no pause between question and answer, and they parted almost laughing.

The Hunter was not laughing, however, and could scarcely have felt less like it. He wanted to talk to Bob but had so much to say that he could hardly decide where to begin. He was intensely relieved when his young host took up his station in the bow of the boat rather than at an oar; and the instant Bob was looking away from his friends, the Hunter attracted his attention.

"Bob!" The projected letters were thick, slanted, and underlined. They would have been colored if there had been any way to do it; as it was, the boy got the desired impression of urgency and promptly directed his gaze toward the horizon.

"We will pass over," the Hunter began, "for the moment, at least, your tendency to expose yourself to minor injury because you know I will take care of it The tendency itself is bad enough, but you have been practically broadcasting your confidence in your immunity. You offered publicly to go into that water this morning without the least hesitation; you have been announcing your new interest in biology in general and viruses in particular to all and sundry. Several times today I felt like forgetting my upbringing and paralyzing your tongue. At first I merely thought you might scare our quarry into a better hiding place; now I am not sure that the matter may not be even more serious."

"But what else could it do?" Bob muttered the question so that none of the others could hear.

"I am not certain, of course, but it seems odd that your near accident should follow so closely all that talk-particularly when the talk was in the hearing of some of our likeliest suspects." Bob absorbed that thought in silence for a minute or two. He had not previously considered that there might be personal danger in this mission. Before he could think of anything to say the Hunter added a point. "Even your examining that dead fish as closely as you did could easily attract the attention of a person as suspicious as our friend is likely to be."

"But Norm was examining the skate as much as I was," pointed out Bob.

"So I noticed." The Hunter did not enlarge upon that point, leaving his young hostto derive any implications he might like from it.

"But anyway, what could he do? How could he have caused that fall-you said yourself that you couldn't make me do anything. Is he different from you?"

"No. It is quite true that he could not have forced any of those people to push you, or anything like it. However, he might have persuaded them; you have done much for me, remember."

"But you said he would not have made himself known."

"I didn't think he would-it would be risky for him. Still, he might have decided to chance it, and enlist his host's aid by some story or other-that would not be hard. How could the host prove he was living?"

"I don't see, offhand; but what good would it have done him if I had gone into the drink back there? I can swim, and everyone there knows it; and if I couldn't, and got drowned, that wouldn't stop you for long."

'True; but he may have intended that you be slightly hurt, so that I would betray myself by repair activities. After all, no matter what story he told his host, he would be unlikely to persuade one of your friends to do you serious or permanent harm."

"You think, then, that maybe Charlie Teroa is trying to get that job off the island to suit our friend? I thought he was covering up that story about sleeping on the job because he really wanted to start working."

"The possibility exists, certainly. We definitely must find means of checking him before he goes-or keeping him from going." Bob did not pay too much attention to this statement. Not only had he heard it before, but another thought came swelling up into his mind-one that affected him quite enough to have been noticed by his friends had he been facing any of them.

The thought had been started by one of the Hunter's sentences a little earlier and had taken a little while to form; but now it sat there in his mind, glaringly clear. The Hunter had said his quarry would be able to deceive his host by a story and that there would be no way for the host to prove its falsehood. Bob suddenly realized that he had no means of checking the Hunter's own tale. For all he knew, the being now ensconced in his own body might be a fleeing criminal seeking to rid itself of legitimate pursuit.

He almost said something, but his natural common sense saved him at the last instant. This was something he must check himself; and until it was checked, he must appear to be as trustful and co-operative as ever.

He did not really doubt the Hunter seriously. In spite of communication limitations, the alien's very attitude and behavior had given the boy a remarkably good picture of his personality-as was evidenced by the fact that this was the first time Bob had thought to question his motives. Still, the doubt was there now and would have to be resolved in some way.

He was preoccupied when the boat reached the creek and said little while they were pulling it up and stowing the oars. The fact did not cause remark; all the boys were fairly tired and not a little subdued by two accidents in one afternoon. They splashed up the creek to the culvert, retrieved their bicycles from the bushes, and went their various ways, after agreeing to meet at the same place after breakfast.

Alone at last, Bob could speak more freely to the little detective.

"Hunter," he asked, "if you think my talking and investigating are likely to make our friend suspicious of me, why do they worry you? If he tries anything, it will give us a clue to him! That might be the best way to find him-use me as bait. After all, the only smart way to hunt for a needle in a haystack is to use a magnet. How about it?"

"I thought of that. It is too dangerous."

"How can he hurt you?"

"I don't suppose he can. The danger that bothers me is yours. I don't know whether you are showing the bravery of maturity or the foolhardiness of youth, but understand, once and for all, that I will not expose you to any danger as long as I can see an alternative course of action."

Bob made no answer for a moment, and if the Hunter interpreted correctly the tightening of the muscles as the boy strove to suppress a smile of satisfaction he did not mention the fact There was one other thing Bob wanted settled, however, so he put the question as he turned up the drive to his home-he had walked the bicycle from Rice's drive, so there would be no danger in the Hunter's talking to him.

"In the boat you said something about paralyzing my tongue. Could you do it, or were you simply shooting off?"

The Hunter was not familiar with that bit of slang, but was able to guess correctly at its meaning. "I could paralyze any muscle in your body by pressing on the controlling nerve. How long the state would last after I stopped I cannot say, as I haven't tried it with you or any of your people."

"Show me." Bob stopped and kicked down the stand of the bike and stood expectantly.

"Go indoors and eat your supper and stop asking foolish questions!"

Bob went, grinning openly now.