The Flaming Mountain: A Rick Brant Science-Adventure Story

"Weeks," Rick supplied. "What are they talking about?"

"Ees … how you say?.. seguridad nacional. Thees ees what el comandante speaks to us."

Rick glanced at Scotty. "National security conference. Those can last a long time." He looked at the sergeant again. "We could go to San Souci, and from there to the hotel, maybe."

"Pero no, señor. That way also ees guard. Ees no way get to hotel. More good you not try, eh? Soldados at hotel, they maybe shoots."

"Now we know," Scotty said. "Nothing more to be gained here."

"Did you see the governor?" Rick asked.

"No, señor. But I saw el comandante Guevara. But eef he ees here, also el gobernador. Cómo no?"

"I guess so," Rick agreed. "Mil gracias, sergeant. Vaya con Dios. A thousand thanks. Go with God."

"Y ustedes," the sergeant returned politely. "And you, señores."

Scotty let the clutch out and the jeep moved ahead. "Now to call on Captain Montoya," he said. "Right?"

"Right," Rick agreed. "Interesting. Guevara tells the troops he and the governor are having a security conference and should not be interrupted. So guards are posted to protect the hotel. And none of the poor soldados realize that blocking the roads also keeps people away from the volcanic pipe, so Guevara and Connel can start work."

"With Guevara's own men to do the dirty work," Scotty added.

"Too true. Maybe they even have soldiers on the job. I know what else the soldiers are guarding, too. Probably without knowing it."

Scotty turned to look at him. "You thinking the same thing I am?"

"Yep. Somewhere behind that guarded perimeter is the governor. And until we get him out, we're helpless."

"Then," Scotty announced, "we'll just have to get him out."

The jeep almost flew down the road to Calor. Scotty wheeled it through the narrow streets and drew up at the police station. In a moment they were reporting to Captain Montoya.

The young officer listened, then smacked a fist into his palm. "Bueno! This is good, amigos. We will let Guevara and your Connel have the diamonds, eh? They can use the entire army to guard the mine, if they wish. I hope they do. That means we have the rest of the island in which to maneuver. I have already sent one of my most trusted men to approach the diamond pipe from the north, through Redondo. That way we will know the exact limits."

"But they've got the army," Rick objected. "Where does that leave us?"

"Free to operate in other ways," Montoya said. "The army is occupied, no? Let them stay that way."

His keen eyes examined the two critically. Rick felt a little uncomfortable at the penetrating stare. Then Montoya smiled. "I do not know you," he said flatly. "But I have certain evidence of the kind of young men you are. First, you came to this island. Why? On a mission of mercy, in answer to my uncle's call. It was unselfish, and it was also dangerous. Then, tonight, you took the chance of finding the roadblock. Also, though this may surprise you, we have heard something of the Spindrift Scientific Foundation even here on this island."

Rick was surprised. He knew the Foundation had an international reputation, but he had thought it was limited to scientists.

"So, I have some basis for what I now ask of you," Montoya added. "There is no time to collect those of my men who are completely loyal. It is because they are scattered, searching for some trace of my uncle. I do not wish to take time to wait until they report in."

"What do you want us to do?" Scotty asked.

"It is simple, and not so simple. A large party cannot invade the perimeter Guevara has established, but a very few can perhaps do it. We will be that few. We will go to Casa Guevara. And, if we are lucky, we will rescue my uncle. What do you say?"

The boys exchanged glances. Rick spoke for both of them. "We're with you."

Montoya didn't have to reply. His warm handshake said everything there was to say.

Scotty spoke up. "I've had some experience in nighttime operations. We will need dark clothes, and something to blacken our faces. We will need weapons. Not guns. If we get into a shooting scrape it will bring the whole army down on us."

"I agree." Montoya opened his desk drawer and drew out a policeman's night stick. He handed it to Scotty. "How about this?"

Scotty hefted it, grinned, and handed it to Rick. It was heavy, and perfectly balanced. Rick guessed it had been drilled and the end filled with lead. "One good thing about this," he said. "No moving parts to get out of order."

Montoya smiled. "True. We will each have one, and I will take my pistol as a last resort. Let us look at the map and memorize it. We will have to go through the jungle to reach the house, and it would be disastrous to lose our way."

"Get a compass," Scotty requested. "We can set a compass course and hit it right on the nose."

Rick looked at his pal. "Marine training?"

"Nope." Scotty grinned. "Boy Scout. But it will come in handy. I think I could take you there anyway, but we'd better have a compass to be sure."

The three bent over the map and worked out the approach to Casa Guevara. For one thing, they agreed to approach as close as possible by jeep. If they found the governor, transportation would be needed. He could not be as fast on foot as might be necessary, because of his age. Besides, they had no idea of his present physical condition.

It was dark when they rolled out of Calor, Rick driving. All three were dressed in dark clothes, and each had a night stick in his belt. Montoya's pistol was hidden in a shoulder holster.

At the officer's direction, they turned toward the airport, passed it, and headed toward the lighthouse at the extreme southern tip of the island. The road led past the light and along the southern shore, a hundred yards from the sea. Then, as they reached their first turning point, Montoya said, "Slowly. It should be about here."

After a moment he found it, a pair of ruts through the rolling farm land. Rick knew from his study of the map that it was a road on which bananas were hauled from the plantations. It cut across to the main road to San Souci. By taking this route, they would miss the check point near the hotel.

The road was bumpy but passable. Rick kept a steady speed in spite of the jouncing it gave his passengers. They could take it.

Presently there was blacktop ahead. They had reached the road to San Souci. Rick pulled a flashlight from his pocket and pointed it at the odometer, counting off the tenths of a mile as he headed toward the town. When he reached seven-tenths he stopped the jeep.

"Turnoff point," he said. "From now on, we steer our way through the boondocks. Any preferred way, Captain?"

Montoya shrugged. "There is no road, or even a path. Do what you can."

"Okay. Scotty, make sure we head due north."

"Check. Make a 90-degree turn and keep going. I'll correct you."

Rick had only one real concern, and that was that the jeep lights might be visible from the higher elevation of Casa Guevara. But it had to be risked. He thought there wasn't really much of a chance, because the thick foliage would screen them. Besides, anyone seeing the lights might assume it was soldiers making their rounds.

The ground was carpeted with fallen vegetation, but it was the dry season and the earth under the leaves was firm enough. There was little danger of the jeep bogging down, especially in four-wheel drive.

Rick picked his way through the jungle, keeping to clear spots as much as he could. Once it was necessary to butt down a huge banana plant before he could continue, but mostly it was a matter of plowing through scrub. Sometimes a palmetto leaf whipped across his face, and once a thorny bush caught painfully and drew blood.

Scotty navigated, keeping track of their direction. Now and then he spoke. "More to the right when you can. We're about a hundred yards to the left of our base line." Then, "Straighten out. We're on course again."

After what seemed to Rick an eternity of plowing through the heavy growth, Scotty said quietly, "Pick a place to turn around, then kill the lights and motor."

Rick reached a place where there was room, swung the wheels hard, backed around, and put the jeep in its own tracks facing the other way. He turned off the lights and cut the motor switch. The silence and darkness flooded in.