A Symphony in Blue
Chapter 12
The search for the Dawson brothers proved
inconclusive when Captain Scarlet and Colonel White investigated Los Lobos’
only bar. So, following Rosa’s
information, they took the car and drove all the way to the Bull’s Horn Bar, some hundred miles
away. Scarlet had recalled that it was
from there that Adam had called him, the preceding day, to let him know that he
and Symphony would be arriving late at Las Vegas.
Even before entering the bar, both men realized that
it was exactly as Rosa had described it.
There were at least thirty bikes parked in front of the door, beautiful,
well maintained machines, gleaming in the sun, contrasting with the neglected
façade of the bar. Paint was coming off
the wall, roughly scoured away by the windborne desert sand. The sign over the door was damaged, riddled
with holes, with the name of the place half-erased. From the interior, sounds of country music, loud laughter and
animated conversation could be heard.
It was a dump, in every sense of the word. Yet the two men didn’t hesitate to
enter. The inside was just a little
better than the outside. Very dark
atmosphere, with tobacco smoke floating in the air, its smell pervading the
place along with the smell of cheap alcohol, sweat and dust. There were men all dressed in black leather
and jeans everywhere, most of them wearing on their back a big badge sporting
the name “Road Rovers”, and the logo of a very nasty-looking dog, a dagger
clenched in its sharp teeth. Others
looked like misplaced cowboys from another time, and there were only a handful
of women, whose morality, judging by the way they were dressed and how they
were acting around the men, was questionable.
All of them seemed like tough people, some of the men clearly to be
avoided. There were a few of them who
gave just one glance toward Scarlet and White as they walked in the direction
of the bar, but no-one paid any real attention to them.
“You said Adam made a stop here yesterday?” White
grumbled as they stopped at the counter, waiting for the bartender to come to
them.
Scarlet nodded.
“Yes, to tell me he was going to be late.” He looked around, wrinkling his nose at the smell. “According to Karen, this is where he first
ran into Grover.”
“I HOPE he didn’t let the young lady come in here,”
White muttered. Scarlet gave the
faintest of smiles, remembering that he had had the same reaction himself the
day before. He wasn’t really surprised
by the colonel’s comment. He knew he
was rather fond of his Angel pilots.
They found an empty space at the counter, just large
enough for the two of them to stand.
They waited until the bartender, a tall, bulky, overweight man with a
big black moustache, came over, and glared at them with impatient and
intolerant eyes.
“Excuse me, my good man,” Colonel White started, “but
we’re looking for the Dawson brothers and…”
“You gonna order something?” the bartender suddenly
cut in. Seeing the puzzled gaze White
gave him, he grumbled and shook his head.
“You can’t stay at the bar if you ain’t ordering…”
“Oh!” White checked the man standing at his right,
and saw the big glass of beer he had in front of him. “Same as this gentleman, then,” he finally answered. “For my friend too.”
The bartender nodded. It took mere seconds for the two beer glasses to appear on the
counter. Meanwhile, White had searched
his wallet; he put three bills next to the glass, keeping them half-covered, as
the bartender reached to take them.
Scarlet had seen the sum of money the colonel was offering the man – and
the latter saw it too; a flicker passed through his eyes as he raised them to
meet the white-haired man’s.
“You can keep the change,” White declared
matter-of-factly.
He removed his hand and the bartender took the money,
quietly, and put it into his shirt pocket.
He nodded to White. “You said
you were looking for the Dawson brothers?” he said. White answered with a nod of his head. The bartender pointed to a table, in a far corner of his
establishment. Both Scarlet and White
turned around to see a young man sitting there, playing solitaire with a deck
of cards, a cigarette dangling from his lips, a small glass of some alcoholic
beverage in front of him. “Billy’s over
there. Don’t know where his brothers
are.”
“Billy will do perfectly,” White declared. “Thank you for your co-operation, sir.” That said, he left the counter, with
Scarlet, leaving the two beer glasses where they were, without even touching
them. Scarlet glanced around. It didn’t take two seconds before somebody
took them as their own.
“That was three hundred dollars you passed to the
barman,” the perplexed Spectrum captain noted to his commander.
“Yes. So?”
“That’s a lot of money for so little information.”
“Do you want to find your friend, or not?” White
remarked, as they walked toward the table occupied by Billy Dawson. “Don’t tell me you wouldn’t have given as
much for the same information!”
“Yes, of course, but…”
“Oh, sorry. I
forgot. Beating up informers is more
your style.”
Scarlet scowled.
He realized he had lost his temper earlier, when he had interrogated the
Dawsons. White was aware of that, as he
also knew of his junior officer’s hot temper.
Scarlet had a feeling his commander would not allow him to forget that
soon.
They had reached the table where young Billy Dawson
sat smoking and playing cards. They
stopped in front of him; it took Billy a little while to notice them and
finally lift his eyes to look at them.
As soon as he saw Scarlet’s stern face staring straight at him, he went
suddenly pale; the cards in his hand fell on the table.
“Remember me, Billy?” Scarlet noted, keeping a
straight, accusing tone.
Billy nervously tried to stand up. White put a hand on his shoulder, drawing
the man’s attention to him. “We would
like a word with you, Mister Dawson,” he said, in a level, almost excessively
polite tone.
Billy shook his head, staring at the older man’s
impassive features. “Ain’t got nothing
to tell you,” he answered nervously.
“Oh, but I’m sure you have.” White took the man by the arm, squeezing the
muscles and forcing him to stand, without any apparent effort, or having to
insist. By the look on his face, it was
obvious that Billy was too afraid to resist.
Somehow, he had the feeling he was in deep trouble. The older man didn’t look like a broadminded
fellow. “Now, if you would follow us,
please?”
“This way.”
Scarlet had discovered the men’s bathroom, just next to where they were
standing. Checking inside, it appeared
that it was empty. White nodded his
consent and pushed Billy that way. The
young man nearly stumbled inside the dirty, moderately large room when the
Spectrum commander finally released his arm and pushed him in. He turned around furiously, to see that the
two grim-looking men had stepped inside too, and that the door had closed
behind them. Scarlet was checking
around to see if any of the cubicles were occupied.
“Nobody in here,” he declared, after a brief
moment. “We won’t be disturbed.”
“Thank you, Mister Metcalfe,” White declared, keeping
stern and gleaming eyes on Billy. “Now,
Mister Dawson… We would very much like you to talk to us.”
“What do you think you’re doing?” Dawson exploded,
his face livid. “I got friends the
other side of this door! In a minute,
they’ll come here and take care of you two!”
“You’ve got friends,” Scarlet repeated, with
disdain. “Is that why you were sitting
all alone at that table, playing solitaire?”
“I’m warning you, pal…” Billy growled. “You’d better let me go, before I call some
reinforcements!”
“You hear that, Mister Dawson?” White thumbed toward the closed door,
through which sounds of laughter were almost drowned by loud country
music. “I doubt very much that anybody
would hear your calls.”
“Or your screams,” Scarlet deadpanned, cracking his
knuckles.
White nearly rolled his eyes, over the melodramatics
displayed by the captain. He knew he
was playing the tough guy, presenting a falsely brutal appearance just to
impress the young Dawson enough to make him talk. White wasn’t fooled, as he knew Scarlet and doubted that he would
go that far, even considering his earlier performance. And maybe it was a cynical answer to his
commander’s crack, some minutes ago.
Nonetheless, seeing Billy’s face, now as white as a sheet, it was
working, and the young man believed his safety was in jeopardy. White decided to go along with it. He had not played ‘good cop, bad cop’ for a
long time.
“Mister Dawson,” he said, eyeing Billy with
attention, “I believe you may be able to help us. Mister Metcalfe and I are looking for a friend of ours – Adam
Svenson. Mister Metcalfe is convinced
you know where we can find him.”
“I don’t know nothing!” Billy snapped with anger,
defiantly glaring daggers, despite his evident fear.
“Now, Mister Dawson,” White replied casually. “I’d advise you to answer the
question.” He nodded toward
Scarlet. “My friend here doesn’t have
much patience.”
“You wouldn’t DARE hurt me in here!”
“How’s your brother’s arm, Billy?” Scarlet reminded
him, his eyes turning very cold. “I’m sure
it’s still sore. I went easy on
him. Much easier than I’ll be on you,
if you don’t tell us what we want to know.
Especially now that our friend Karen Wainwright has also disappeared!”
“I know nothing about where the lady’s gone!” Billy
protested.
“But you know about Adam Svenson, don’t you?” White
asked.
Billy nervously shifted on his feet; his hand reached
for his pocket, and a knife suddenly appeared in it, aimed toward the two
men. White addressed an annoyed look at
Billy and shook his head, as Scarlet tensed and stepped forward.
“That ISN’T a very bright move, Mister Dawson.”
“Keep away from me!” Billy lashed out savagely. “I swear, if you come any closer, I’ll kill
you!”
“You’ll just have ONE chance, mate,” Scarlet growled,
his eyes fixed on the younger man. “And
that won’t do you any good. So you’d
better drop that knife, right now!”
“I’m getting outta here. I’m warning you… You try to stop me and I won’t hesitate!”
Billy edged toward the door, carefully keeping the
two men at bay. He was more wary of
Scarlet, having already seen what he was capable of. He wasn’t expecting any trouble from the older, more poised man,
casually standing there. He should have
suspected he could be as dangerous, just by the gleam in his eyes, but Billy
didn’t notice. He was too busy keeping
his eyes on Scarlet; so when the dark-haired Englishman took an ominous step in
his direction, Billy flashed his knife at him; White, however, surprised him by
swiftly taking hold of his arm. It was
simple child’s play for the two Spectrum men to disarm the young ruffian. Panicking, Billy tried to punch Scarlet in
the face, but the latter sidestepped and the fist never landed. Colonel White’s however, connected, and sent
Billy sprawling on the floor, stunned.
Scarlet turned to his commander, a look of
disapproval on his face. “You should
have left me to handle it.”
“And let you have all the fun?” White replied,
scowling.
“Sir… he had a knife. He could have hurt you.”
“Drop it, Metcalfe.
I’m not helpless, and you should know very well that I’m quite capable
of taking care of myself.”
Scarlet frowned, not having anticipated that bitter
reply. Obviously, his commander was
still annoyed with him. The captain
couldn’t blame him, considering all that had happened. He couldn’t see any reason, however, for the
colonel to take unnecessary risks, other than the fact that he probably had to
let off some steam.
Better Dawson than me, then.
Billy was trying to get back on his feet, groaning in
pain following the punch that had hit him squarely in the mouth. Scarlet took him by his collar, and hauled
him up, before pushing him against the nearest wall. Billy’s back collided roughly with it; feeling a bitter taste in
his mouth, Billy spat out some blood onto the floor. He looked down at it with incredulity, then reached for his
bloody mouth.
"You crazy old man," he moaned, "I
think you broke one of my teeth..."
He suddenly felt two hands grabbing him by the front
of his shirt, pushing him further against the wall. He blinked and looked up, staring right into two angry faces
leaning close to him. The older
Englishman seemed now as angry as his compatriot, who was holding him so
tightly. His eyes were simply cold and
ruthless.
Truth to tell, Colonel White had now had enough. He wanted some answers to his questions, and
if resorting to intimidation was the only way to extract information from Billy
Dawson, that’s what he was ready to do.
“Now, Mister Dawson,” he said, with an ominous tone
to his voice, “I have even LESS patience than Mister Metcalfe. You shouldn’t have tried it. Because when I lose my temper, BAD things
can happen.”
Scarlet winced.
Okay, the old man has really got
into character, he mused. Billy
noticed his reaction and took it as a bad sign. He blinked again, staring into the older man's eyes with a mix of
incredulity and fear.
“You’re not serious, right?”
White shook his head. “Do you want me to ask my friend to break anything more useful to
you than a tooth?”
Billy blanched.
It became painfully plain to him that the man wasn't kidding at
all. He was deadly serious. He became increasingly worried when he saw
White putting a hand on Scarlet’s shoulder.
“Show this young man how serious we are, Paul.”
The smile crossing Scarlet’s face was like the snarl
of a tiger. He roughly pushed Billy
around, twisting one of his arms behind his back and directing him toward the
nearest cubicle.
“Hey!” Billy protested, struggling in vain in
Scarlet’s clutches. “What do you think
you’re doing, man?”
“You’re a bright boy, try to work it out!”
Scarlet pushed opened the door of the cubicle; eyes
wide with horror, Billy stared down at the dirtiest, most unsanitary and
disgusting toilet he had ever seen.
“Can you swim, Billy?” Scarlet said icily to the
horrified man.
“Hey, no!”
Billy struggled even more when Scarlet tried to shove him inside the
cubicle, now knowing far too well what the Spectrum agent had in mind for
him. Surprisingly, he found that he was
unable to break Scarlet’s grip even a little.
“You’re crazy!
You don’t really intend to…”
“Take a deep breath, Billy.”
Even though he was thrashing about wildly, it was
evident to Billy that the man holding him was stronger than he was and would
eventually succeed in forcing him into the cubicle. He was already one step inside.
“No, please, don’t do that!”
Dawson was suddenly out of the cubicle with his back
against the sink on the opposing wall.
He winced, feeling the sink pressing between his ribs, sending a wave of
pain up his spine. Scarlet had taken
him by the collar again, leaning over him, his eyes flashing with sinister
intent.
“If you want me to leave you alone, you’d better tell
us where we can find Adam Svenson!” Scarlet barked furiously at him. “Because if you don’t, I promise you, you’ll
get a dip in the crapper!”
“I don’t know where he is!” Billy yelled in panic.
“But Grover has him, right?” White asked calmly from
behind Scarlet.
“Yes! Yes, he
has him!”
White drew a deep breath. “He’s alive, then.”
“Yes, he’s alive!
At least, the last I heard of him, he was…”
“What does Grover want from him?”
“I don’t know…”
“Dawson,” Scarlet growled, “my patience is reaching
its limits!”
Billy swallowed hard, looking into the Brit’s icy
blue eyes. One look over at White told
him that he couldn’t count on any intervention from him. He shivered. He was still very afraid to open his mouth, Scarlet realized,
wondering what kind of influence was being held over the man. At the present moment, however, Billy was
even more worried about what would happen to him.
“Will said… he said that he wanted to cash in big
with Svenson,” Billy finally conceded, nervously. “He said that he owed him a lot, and that he intended to get
every last penny of that debt.” His
eyes moved from White to the hard features of Scarlet, and then back. “He said that if we helped him get his hands
on Svenson, we would have our share of the deal.”
“We?”
Billy nervously shook his head. “My brothers and me… and the other
guys. I swear, that’s all I know…”
“What about Karen Wainwright?” White asked again.
"I told you, I don't know where the lady’s
gone. I admit my me and my brothers
went after her," he added quickly.
"But I don't know how, she disappeared suddenly...”
“She escaped, then?" White remarked.
Billy nodded.
"And we haven't been able to find her since then..."
"Why were you after her to begin with?"
Scarlet asked. Billy didn’t answer; he
simply averted his eyes. It was that
obvious he was still reluctant to give a response because he was afraid. Scarlet’s face hardened even more. “What did Grover want from her?”
“I don’t know… I – I think he wanted to put some
pressure on Svenson, somehow… But I don’t know where she is, I promise!”
He’s too frightened to lie, Scarlet mused grimly. At
least, Karen isn’t in the hands of that Grover scum… Now WHERE she could
be, that was another question…
“A last question, Mister Dawson,” White then said
quietly. “We would like to know what
the relationship between Wilson Grover and Pietro Gardenia is.”
Billy’s eyes trembled suddenly, before opening
wide. He stared incredulously at the
two Englishmen; apparently, he didn’t expect them to ever mention that name.
“Please,” he pleaded in a whisper, wincing. “Let me go… My back is hurting me. I’ll tell you anything you want after.”
Scarlet hesitated.
He glanced at White who briefly nodded an order, then he released
Dawson. Drawing a deep breath, Billy
straightened up, trying to relax.
“Now, Dawson,” White demanded, “about Mister
Gardenia…”
No sooner had the name escaped the Colonel’s lips
that Billy suddenly rammed into Scarlet, sending him backward, colliding right
into his commander. Then Billy took
advantage of the moment and swiftly took off toward the door and then out of
the bathroom. Getting over their surprise,
both Scarlet and White rushed to the now closing door. By the time they had opened it, Billy was
running through the tables and perplexed clients of the Bull’s Horn Bar, toward
the exit. He didn’t even look over his
shoulder as he ran. Scarlet went after
him, crossing the room swiftly, pushing people out of his way, vaguely hearing
grumbled protests in his wake, and aware that White was following close behind.
“Let him go, for now. I think we got everything we could out of him, anyway.”
Scarlet slapped the doorframe with his open hand in
frustration. “I’m such a fool! I’m sorry, sir, I should have suspected that
he would try something like that.”
“It’s as much my fault as yours. I didn’t realize how afraid Dawson was. Now, whether it’s of Grover or Gardenia, is
another question.”
“You think he’ll go to Grover and tell him what
happened?”
“I doubt our young Mister Dawson would confess to him
what he told us,” White said in a low tone.
“It’s still a possibility, though.”
“In the meantime,” Scarlet added grumpily. “We still haven’t found either Adam or
Karen.”
“At least we know two things: Symphony escaped those
ruffians. We just don’t know where she
is now.”
“And Adam is alive.”
White nodded.
“Of course, provided that Dawson didn’t lie to us. I don’t think he would have dared,
though.” He paused a second. "What do you make of all this? About Grover wanting to 'cash in big' on
Adam?"
Scarlet scowled.
"In view of what you told me of their relationship, I think that
should be obvious. Grover is up to the
same thing as twenty-five years ago."
"You mean he’s going to ransom him."
"It looks that way, yes."
"Right.
That's what I suspect, too.”
White looked over his shoulder, making sure there wasn't anybody around
listening to their conversation.
"Of course, we still can't be sure of anything. We only have the word of a two-time ruffian
to back that theory."
"We can easily check. If Grover’s made contact with the Svenson family..."
"Already?
Well, it’s possible... I'll
contact Green, and ask him to make a call to Boston to..."
Scarlet stopped his commander suddenly, drawing his
attention to a car that was presently pulling out of the highway and coming
toward the gas pumps. It was a police
vehicle, and the outlines of at least three passengers, including the driver,
were apparent through the windows.
"Why do I have the feeling that this car may be
here for us?" Scarlet noted grimly.
"You may be right," White agreed. "We'd better get back inside. We haven't been spotted yet."
They went back into the bar, and Scarlet gave a puzzled stare at his
commander. “Don’t tell me you’re afraid
to face the sheriff or one of his deputies, sir,” he noted quietly. “That wouldn’t be like you at all.”
“Afraid? No. I just think that we might want to avoid
them for the moment. Just in case, and
until we find out their role in this affair.”
He conspicuously eyed his junior officer. “And seeing your disposition of late, I don’t think it would be
in your best interests to face the local law.
You had me worried for a while, in there.”
“Come on, you didn’t really think I was going to seriously hurt Dawson?”
“Seriously hurt him, no. Push
his head down that nauseating toilet, maybe.”
White gave the faintest of smiles.
“Not that he wouldn’t have deserved it.” He looked around, checking on their surroundings. “Now I’ll try to find a quiet place to make
that call to Green. In the meantime,
try to keep a low profile.”
“Are you worried that I might get into trouble, sir?”
White narrowed his eyes, asking himself if Scarlet was somehow mocking
him. “Constantly. Especially in a place like this.” He nodded slowly. “I won’t be long. Wait
for me.”
He left the younger man where he was standing and went towards the
bathroom he had left some minutes ago.
Scarlet watched him disappear through the door, wondering if it was such
a good idea for them to separate like this, even for a short time. Seeing as how everybody kept disappearing,
every time they were left alone…
Shrugging the concern aside, he went to the nearest window to look
outside. Through the dirty panes, he
had a good view of his rented car. The
police vehicle had stopped right next to it, and he could see one of the
uniformed officers checking it thoroughly.
Two other policemen were standing nearby. Damn, Scarlet thought,
scowling with discontent, they’re really
here to check on us… What is it this time?
“Still having trouble with the authorities, are you, Paul?”
Scarlet turned around, hearing the mocking voice
that had boomed out behind him. In the
smoky environment of the bar, he narrowed his eyes, scanning the area. He saw a big man, with dark sunglasses,
casually seated at a table, some ten feet from him, and looking in his
direction with a bemused smile. The man
raised an arm, covered with tattoos, and saluted the Spectrum officer with a
half-filled beer glass.
Scarlet’s eyes widened. “Jake?”
The man’s smile broadened, and he nodded with satisfaction, as Scarlet
approached. “Nice to see you again, buddy!”
“You’re out of jail?” Scarlet asked with puzzlement, stopping in front
of the man. He eyed the sleeveless vest
he was wearing, with the Road Rovers logo
on the back.
“Yeah, I was just s’posed to be there for the
night,” Jake answered quietly. “I left
about an hour after you, actually. So I
came here, to join up with my buddies.
We’re s’posed to hit the road shortly.”
He pulled up a chair. “Sit down
a little, make yourself comfortable, and have a beer with me.”
“I don’t know if I’ll have the time for a beer, but…”
“What’s pressing you? Ain’t like
you can go anywhere at the moment!” Jake thumbed through the window next to
which he was seated, and outdoors, where Scarlet could still see his car and
the interested policemen around it. “I
think the sheriff’s deputies are keeping their eyes on you and your pal.”
“I don’t see any reason why,” Scarlet noted, finally accepting Jake’s
offer of a seat, and looking out.
“I don’t think that creep McNamara needs any reason. You should have heard him screaming at his
boys at the station! Oh, he was
furious, all right! I think he will be
looking for any reason to put you back in the joint, along with your friend.”
Why, I wonder… Scarlet was becoming more and more convinced that
McNamara had something to do with Blue’s kidnapping – maybe even had a direct
hand in it – and that he was trying to stop him or Colonel White interfering.
“I’d advise you to keep your head down,” Jake pursued. “Avoid McNamara and his boys. Especially that scum Ringward. That one is a nasty back-stabbing heel.”
“Thanks,” Scarlet grumbled, remembering how the man had crept up on him
to hit him from behind the first time.
“I’d already noticed that.”
“I saw that wimp Billy Dawson coming out of the bathroom, running like a
scared rabbit,” Jake continued. “He
looked like he had a real bad time in there.
Then I saw you coming out of there as well, with that white-haired guy
that got you out of jail. So I figured
out what could have frightened Dawson that way.” He chuckled. “You were
trying to get information out of him?”
Scarlet simply nodded, not wanting to debate the subject fully with
Jake; after all, he didn’t know where the man stood in this whole affair. Jake didn’t seem to notice the suspicion in
the Spectrum agent’s eyes.
“So, you still haven’t found your friend Svenson?”
“No, not yet.”
Jake grunted. “Ah, that’s bad…
That’s really bad. Listen… You need
help, any kind of it… You just ask, y’hear?”
A perplexed Scarlet furrowed his brow.
Now that was a curious offer… “Tell me, Jake… Why would you want to help
me? I fail to see your motive.”
“My motive?” Jake laughed out loud.
He leaned forward in his chair, toward the Spectrum officer, and removed
his glasses, to show the black eye he was sporting. There was no resentment in his expression, only a kind of
amusement. “Anybody able to do this to me deserves my respect,
buddy. Furthermore, anything that would
bug the police, especially that bastard of a sheriff, McNamara, would be an
intense pleasure, for me and my buds…”
“I have a feeling it’s not only because he threw you in jail for the
night.”
Jake snorted derisively. “I was
caught off guard. I was drunk
brainless, and couldn’t put a foot in front of the other. I got into a scrap with somebody for a
reason I don’t even remember… And I was alone in town. You can be sure that if some of my buddies
had been with me, McNamara would never even DARE arrest me!”
A faint smile crossed Scarlet’s face.
Somehow, he had no doubt about that…
“So you’re a tough guy, eh, Jake?”
“Of course I am!” Jake almost snorted.
“I’m a Road Rover! Ain’t nobody tougher than us guys this side
of the States!”
Scarlet nodded again. He didn’t
have the heart to tell Jake that he had no idea what the Road Rovers were, and that Jake’s obvious pride in the name didn’t
mean anything to him. He leaned over
the table toward the man, and Jake, feeling that he had something to tell him
in confidence, did the same in his direction.
“So if you’re so tough,” Scarlet murmured quietly, “maybe you can give
me the information I need that might help me locate my friend.”
“What is it you want to know?” Jake asked in the same tone.
“I’d like to have further information on Pietro Gardenia.”
Jake grumbled, and sat back in his seat. “You don’t know what you’re asking, bud,” he growled.
“I thought you were a tough guy,” Scarlet replied.
“That’s a very touchy subject, Paul.”
“Right, maybe I was wrong, then.”
Scarlet let out a frustrated sigh and straightened up, staring coldly at
Jake. “You’re not as tough as I thought
you were. If you’re that frightened of
this Gardenia chap, than I guess you’re no better than that wimp Dawson.”
“Hey!” Jake warned him, pointing a finger at him. “Watch it!
Comparing me to Dawson, you’re insulting me!”
“What am I to think, then?” Scarlet continued without changing his tone.
“I ain’t afraid of nobody, bud.
I ain’t no stoolie, that’s all.
You imagine the kind of trouble I’d be in if word got out?”
“I don’t want you to give me confidential information,” Scarlet
protested. “You told me a good deal
already in prison. Now I only need one
last detail out of you. And it wouldn’t
cost you much.”
“What detail?” Jake mumbled.
“I’d like to know where I can get in touch with Pietro Gardenia.”
Jake shot him a perplexed stare.
Then he laughed and took a swig from his glass. “Why didn’t you say so before? Yeah, that wouldn’t cost me that much,
you’re right. It’s common knowledge, in
fact. Gardenia has a lot of businesses
in Las Vegas. But most of the time, you
can find him at his casino, the First
Base, it’s called. Apparently, a
good, honest gambling establishment, where you can play roulette, blackjack and
such. But also the front for some
illegal operations. You want a good big
time poker game, you go there.”
“Thank you, Jake. That’s all I
wanted to know.”
“You plan on going there to threaten Gardenia?” Jake shook his
head. “Didn’t I tell you he was in
league with the Vegas mob? You know
what you’ll be getting yourself into?”
“I would risk anything to get my friend back, Jake,” Scarlet replied
with blazing eyes.
Jake shrugged. “Your funeral,
bud. I must admit, either you don’t
understand the danger, or you’ve got even more guts than I first thought!”
Colonel White
had come out of the bathroom, and was searching the bar with his eyes,
obviously looking for his officer, and finally spotted him. Seeing him come his way, Scarlet excused
himself to Jake and got up to approach his commanding officer. The latter pointed toward the still seated
Jake.
“Isn’t that your
friend from jail?” he asked with a frown.
“Yes, that’s
him,” Scarlet concurred. “He gave me
some more information about that Gardenia character I already told you
about. Of course, I don’t know how
reliable the information is, and we’ll have to check it, but I don’t think
we’ll have any trouble confirming it. I
don’t think Jake has any reason to lie to me.”
“You think
Gardenia is mixed up in this affair?”
“It’s possible,
considering what we’ve found out about his involvement so far.”
White nodded
slowly. Scarlet looked at him
closely. He could see, by the hard
expression on his face, that something was afoot.
"What is it?" Scarlet asked.
"Did you contact Cloudbase?"
"Yes, I did.” White swiftly
checked around, and took his junior officer into a corner, to talk to him in
confidence, without risking any prying ear hearing their conversation. "Green called Boston. He reached the Svenson estate, and the
company offices owned by the family. He
talked to Adam’s sister, Katherine.
Well, for starters, it doesn’t seem as if anybody out there is aware of
what’s happened just yet. Everything
seems normal enough, except…”
“Except?”
“It seems John Svenson left the city today, soon after lunch, following
an important phone call. He's gone to
the West Coast."
"The West Coast?" Scarlet murmured with suspicion. "Nothing more specific?"
“Apparently, he didn’t say that much to his secretary. Just that he had some important business to
attend to there, and that he'd be gone for a couple of days. Green did the necessary research,
though. It was rather easy to find out,
as Svenson didn't take the Company jet and booked an airline ticket for the
next available commercial flight... For
Las Vegas.”
"Vegas.” Scarlet nodded,
his suspicion taking form. "So
Grover might have already contacted him."
"That's quite possible.
Svenson left in a hurry. He
didn't even tell his wife he was going, which makes his leaving Boston like
that even more curious.”
“Could be he was instructed not to say anything to anyone.”
White nodded slowly. “Kidnappers
usually operate under the same modus operandi – they instruct their victim’s
relatives not to talk to anybody, especially the police, and then order them to
go to a meeting point for them to either be contacted again, or deliver the
ransom. If Grover has contacted
Svenson, it’s probable that he was given the same kind of instructions.” White grumbled with annoyance. “I’d wish Svenson had contacted
Spectrum. Surely, he must be aware that
we’re more than capable of handling these situations. I can’t believe he agreed to any kind of demand from Grover, and
go to face him alone.”
"If John Svenson took the first plane after lunch," Scarlet
mused, "it's quite possible he hasn’t reached Vegas yet?"
“According to Green’s research, his plane hasn’t landed in Las Vegas,
yet,” White agreed. “We may still be
able to intercept him, and stop him from walking right into the lion’s den.”
“What do you suggest we do, sir?”
White was about to answer, when his eyes caught Jake who, rising from
his chair, was making large movements in their direction, beckoning them to
join him. “I think your friend wants to
tell us something.”
Scarlet noticed Jake’s gestures in turn; the biker was looking out the
dirty window next to which he was standing.
Curious to know what he wanted from them, both Spectrum officers went
over to him. He motioned them to keep
clear of the window.
“What is it, Jake? Is there some
kind of trouble?” Scarlet asked.
“Don’t know exactly,” Jake grumbled.
“You tell me. I thought you
should SEE this.”
Scarlet and White looked through the window. A few feet in front of the bar, where they had left their car,
they could see the three deputy sheriffs, as if they were standing guard next
to it. One of them was listening with
attention to Billy Dawson, who seemed to be explaining something to him with
great agitation, and large gestures. He
was showing his damaged and bruised face, and was pointing toward the bar. Scarlet recognized the policeman listening
to Dawson’s declaration as Harvey Ringward.
His face was set enough, but he was taking lengthy notes in a small
notebook.
“Told you I wasn’t a stoolie, Paul,” Jake noted with a tone of disgust
in his voice. “But as you can see,
Billy Dawson doesn’t have the same kind of scruples!”
“He’s probably complaining about what’s been
done to him,” White replied dryly.
“You can be sure those deputies will take advantage of this to arrest
both of you,” Jake agreed.
“It’s probably the sheriff’s instructions, too,” Scarlet added with a
grim enough tone. “Or he wouldn’t have
assigned three deputies to follow us around.
He certainly want us out of circulation.” He sighed in frustration.
“I suppose that’s partly my fault.”
“Not entirely,” White replied.
“I think I may have some responsibility for that too. I came down rather harshly on McNamara.”
“How harshly?” Scarlet asked with curiosity.
“I don’t think it’s important for now.
We must find a way to avoid arrest.”
Scarlet nodded. Evidently, under
the circumstances, telling the local authorities about Spectrum was out of the
question. Colonel White wasn’t even
considering it, not knowing where the sheriff and the rest of his men
stood. He didn’t want to take that
risk. And neither did Scarlet. There was no telling what impact it might
have for Blue.
"Well, as long as you stay in here, you've got nothing to fear,”
Jake then said with a broad grin of satisfaction, sitting down quietly
again. "They won't come in here to
take you."
"And why's that?" Scarlet asked, puzzled.
"Why?" Jake scowled loudly.
"Because they're too yellow to come into a place full of Road Rovers!" He took his glass and
raised it high in the air. "Isn't
that right, boys?" he called loudly.
"You think the police will come to bother us on our own turf?"
Cheers of joy and derisive snorts made themselves heard all around the
barroom, along with whistles, laughter and applause. Both Captain Scarlet and Colonel White looked around with some
perplexity – and certainly amusement, as glasses and bottles were raised in
answer to Jake's invective. Jake sat
back comfortably, waving casually through the window.
"Consider yourselves under our protection, gentlemen," he added, in an assured voice.
White nodded. "Well, that's
all very kind of you, Mister... er..."
"Just call me Jake."
"But we can't stay in here forever," White continue.
"Well, the minute you show your nose outside, those deputies out
there will fall on you."
"All the same, we must go back to Las Vegas," White
insisted. "As soon as possible. As corny as it may sound... it could be a matter of life or death."
“Matter of life or death, eh?” Jake stroked his chin, apparently
pondering something. After a few
seconds, a thought seemed to cross his mind, and he looked up at the two Englishmen
standing in front of him. “Maybe I can
help you out, guys…”
“We’re not asking you to risk confronting the police, Jake,” White
responded. “You or any of your
friends.”
The biker scoffed loudly.
“You’re kidding, right? Any Road Rover would jump at the chance to
screw those guys up!”
“We appreciate it, Jake… I think.”
“Okay, then. I’ll get you out of
this place. Getting to Las Vegas will
be up to you after that.”
White nodded. “Whatever you have
in mind, I’ll just ask you for a few minutes. I need to make a call.” He
looked at Scarlet, who had turned an interrogative stare at him. “There is someone I want to contact in Las
Vegas,” he explained, more for the benefit of his officer than for Jake. “Concerning meeting with… a friend, if we happen
not to be there to do it ourselves.”
Scarlet nodded his understanding.
As for Jake, he simply shrugged.
“Of course. Go make your
call. That’ll give me time to make
preparations.”
“Preparations for what exactly?” Scarlet asked, frowning in puzzlement.
“Oh, yeah. Got to tell you that,
haven’t I?” Jake chuckled softly, as if he had made some kind of a joke only he
could understand. “Either of you know
how to ride a bike?”
Scarlet and White exchanged puzzled, interrogative stares.
“Why do you ask?” Scarlet asked with a frown, addressing Jake.
Without answering, the biker raised his head. “Rios, Sharkey!” he called loudly. “Come over here a minute!”
Both Scarlet and White turned around as two other bikers approached them from behind. The men were tall, impressive fellows,
dressed in jeans and leather jackets festooned in badges and chains. One of them wore a bandana on his head.
Neither Scarlet
nor White were really sure if these men were not some kind of threat to
them. They were intimidating enough,
staring at them, with their eyes hidden behind dark sunglasses, making it
impossible to read their intentions.
For all they knew, all of the Road
Rovers could gang up on them at any moment.
Their concerns disappeared when Jake spoke next, waving toward the two
other men, a faint smile crossing his lips.
“Meet my buddies, gentlemen.
Fellow Road Rovers. It will be a pleasure for them to help
you.” His smile broadened. “They’re your tickets out of this dump!”
* * *
Upon arriving at the Las Vegas MacCarran
International Airport, John Svenson nervously checked his watch for the nth
time. The trip had seemed to last an
eternity for him; an endless time of worry that he knew could only be far worse
for Adam. He was just certain that Grover,
now having Adam in his clutches, would be able to do anything he wanted with
him. That wasn’t a very reassuring
thought. During those long hours in the
plane, for all Svenson knew, Grover could have been slowly killing his son.
Svenson felt physically and morally drained, and it was showing, to the
point that a clerk at the information booth asked him if he was all right. Svenson simply shrugged it off, saying the
trip had been very tiring, and only asked where he could find a good
hotel. The clerk instructed him to go
to the hotel check-in counters, south of the baggage claim area, where somebody
would take his reservation for a room in ‘one of the best hotels in Las Vegas’.
Frankly, John Svenson couldn’t care less if the hotel was that
good. He just wanted to keep a low
profile, and he was rather doubtful that the hotel check-in counters would be
able to find him a place that would give him just that. He picked up his portable computer, hoisted
his travel bag on his shoulder and directed his steps there anyway, hoping they
could help him.
After having made a reservation for an hotel
room at the Las Vegas Hilton, Svenson reflected on how to get to his
hotel. Limo or cab… He had one last
stop to make on the way – one that would need the discretion a limo wouldn’t be
able to provide. So he settled his
choice on a taxi.
Walking out of the building, Svenson looked around for the first
available cab. He had to wait ten
minutes, before finally losing the first one to a young woman who seemed in a hurry. She apologized profusely, explaining quickly
that ‘she was to be the maid of honour at a wedding, that she was late, that
the ceremony would not start without her and that her best friend would
probably be mad at her for the rest of her days if she was to ruin this
beautiful day.’ Svenson stayed standing on the sidewalk, looking aghast as the
cab sped away, for a good few seconds before realizing he had been lied to.
“You seem lost, Mister. Want any
help?”
Svenson turned around to see a very young man behind him, casually
leaning on a wall. He couldn’t be more
than seventeen. Seeing the way he was
dressed, and the insolence clearly evident in his eyes, Svenson decided that he
wasn’t of much interest to him, so he paid no further attention to him and
turned back, looking for his taxi.
“Sorry,” the young man snorted.
“Didn’t mean to bother you. I
just thought I might be of help to you.”
“If you’re a cab driver, then yes, you can help me,” Svenson answered
rather bluntly. He knew he wasn’t being
very civil, but he didn’t care. He had
too much on his mind to bother showing any courtesy to someone who wouldn’t
mind his own business.
“No, I don’t own a cab,” the young man answered, chuckling, leaving the
wall and approaching beside Svenson.
“But maybe I can call you one.”
“No, thank you.” Svenson took
some steps away from the youth. Years
of doing business with different kinds of people had sharpened his judgement of
character. He didn’t know why, but he
felt that he shouldn’t trust this one.
“Oh, come on, I’m good at it.”
Svenson felt the young man approaching again and grabbing his arm. He turned in anger to face him and to tell
him to get his hands off him, when he heard an ominous click, and felt a nudge
against his side. Lowering his gaze, he
saw a very small, but deadly pistol in the hand of the other man. So small was the weapon that it was almost
entirely hidden by the folds of Svenson’s vest. He stared in incredulity at the young man.
“You’re a cab,” the youth deadpanned, with an evil smile. He then nodded, taking a very cold
tone. “Walk with me and be
careful. This thing can go off on its
own!”
Svenson nodded nervously. The
young man dragged him along the sidewalk, driving him away from the taxi
area. Svenson had no choice but to follow
him docilely; he was feeling for certain at the moment that Grover was now
making his move, before he would be allowed to find a way to stop him from
hurting his son or the rest of his family.
The youth pulled him into a dark corner, where another young man was
apparently waiting. This new one took
Svenson by his collar and threw him against the wall. Svenson’s shoulders connected roughly, driving the air out of his
lungs. His portable computer and bag
were jerked out of his hands, and at the same time, he stared right into the
barrel of the small gun.
“Okay, pops! Time to give us
your wallet!”
Svenson blinked in surprise.
“W-what?”
“Your wallet,” the youth with the gun repeated insistently, while his
companion briefly checked around for any witnesses. “Give it to us quickly.
Don’t force us to be rough!”
Svenson’s frown furrowed.
“You’re not sent by Grover?” he murmured.
The second youth came closer; he drew a knife and Svenson stiffened
nervously. “Who’s this Grover?” he
growled, his eyes flashing. “Come on,
don’t waste our time! Give us your
wallet, your watch, that ring on your finger, and anything else you’ve got on
you. Then we’ll go and leave you
alone.”
Svenson swallowed hard. So these
guys were only petty thieves. They
weren’t accomplices to Will Grover, as he had first thought. “Listen, boys, I don’t have time for
this. I’ll give you anything you want,
but you’ve got to leave me my portable.
I need it.”
The knife flashed dangerously close to his face. “Who do you take us for, pops?” he said
between his teeth. “You’re giving us
everything, and I suggest you cooperate!
You’re in no position to make ANY demands!”
Svenson felt his heart sink, seeing how badly things were turning out
for him. If he was left without his
computer, and all the precious data he needed within in, how would he be able
to buy back Adam’s freedom? Without any
money left, how would he be able to even buy a new one? And how would Grover be able to contact him,
if he didn’t have his cell phone with him?
He wouldn’t even be able to report the robbery to the police, without
going against Grover’s instructions and seeing his son die!
“Please,” he whispered. “It’s a
question of life and death. I can give
you much more money than…”
“You’re wasting our time!” the youth with the knife interrupted him
suddenly, without hearing him out. He
was obviously nervous that somebody might finally see what was going on in that
dark corner. “Now GIVE us your wallet,
man! Or I’ll swear I’ll slit your
throat from ear to ear!”
“You will do no such thing.”
That was an ominous tone if ever the two youths had ever heard one,
coming from behind them. They turned
around, to see a strikingly beautiful blonde woman, not very tall, staring at
them with a hard and cold glare. They
frowned in disbelief, and Svenson, who did not know who the small person coming
to his rescue could be, did too.
“Well, look at this!” the boy with the knife laughed with contempt. “Seems like your girlfriend is coming to
your rescue, pops!”
“I mean it, punks,” the young
woman warned, the heavy French accent they had heard earlier now even more
evident. “Let that gentleman go, or…”
“Or WHAT?” the boy with the gun snorted. He didn’t even think of raising his own weapon and simply made a
threatening step toward the woman. If
he had expected her to draw back, he was mistaken. She swiftly raised her arm, and put a gun – a little bit bigger
than his own – right under his nose. He
froze into place and went pale.
“Don’t push it, punks,” she warned again, her golden eyes flashing with
righteous anger. “You’d better drop
your weapons right now, before I get nasty!”
“You wouldn’t use that!” the boy holding the knife retorted
insolently. He had let go of Svenson,
but was keeping the knife close to him.
“How about I stick your friend here?”
“You do that, and you’ll be dead at my feet the very next second,” the
woman replied coldly. “And don’t think
I wouldn’t do it either. I’ve had a
VERY bad day, today. You have NO
idea. So all I’m asking is to drop the
two of you like the skunks you are!”
She cocked the hammer of her gun, sending a shiver down the boys’
spines. “So go ahead, it’ll be my
pleasure!”
Gun and knife fell from her opponents’ hands
and dropped on the ground. The boys
could see the woman was itching to shoot at them, so they didn’t dare take any
chance.
Destiny Angel nodded her satisfaction.
Her free hand searched the pocket of her coat, and drew out a pair of
handcuffs that she tossed to Svenson.
He caught them with one hand. “Monsieur, would you care to lock one end
of these bracelets onto one of these gentlemen? Don’t worry, I’m keeping them in my sights. If they try anything funny, I’ll shoot.”
Svenson snapped the handcuff onto the closer punk’s wrist. Destiny motioned the three of them to come
out of the corner and onto the sidewalk, closer to the side of the street. There was a taxi waiting there, with its
driver reading the newspaper at the wheel.
Svenson scowled with frustration.
Why wasn’t there one available
just five minutes ago, he reflected.
That would have spared me all that
anxiety!
Destiny looped the handcuff through the handle
of the passenger door and snapped the other end around the other boy’s hand,
squeezing it tight. The two boys
protested vehemently. “Hey! What do you think you’re doing?”
“I’m just making sure you won’t get away,
boys,” she explained casually. “I’m
sure the Airport authorities will have a lot of questions to ask you. This gentleman here certainly isn’t your
first victim, right?”
“You’ve got no right… Let us go!”
The taxi driver, hearing the ruckus near his
vehicle, stepped out of it and walked around.
He saw the two young men shackled to his door and his eyes opened wide
with surprise and disbelief.
“What’s going on, here?” he asked the group, especially
addressing the well-dressed young woman and the older gentleman standing next
to her, looking about as confused as himself.
“Monsieur,”
Destiny said quietly, “I suggest you use the radio in your taxi to call the
police. These two punks here will surely
interest them. They tried to rob this
gentleman.”
“You had to shackle them to my cab?!”
“I had to make sure they wouldn’t escape. Now, please? Would you…?” She
addressed the man with her most charming of smiles and, still fairly confused,
he found himself only able to nod his agreement. He returned to his seat to use his onboard radio. Meanwhile, Destiny took an uneasy John
Svenson by the arm and dragged him away from the cab and the two quarrelling
youths handcuffed to it. Each one of
them was accusing the other of the bad idea of mugging apparently rich persons
at the very doors of the airport.
Another taxi was pulling in to the kerb at that
moment, and Destiny, opening the back door wide, pushed Svenson inside and
climbed into it. “Drive away, quickly,”
she called to the driver with urgency, before a stunned Svenson’s eyes.
The driver didn’t need to be told twice, and
pushed the accelerator down hard.
Destiny looked over her shoulder; she could see the other taxi’s driver
getting out of his vehicle, looking even more puzzled than before and staring
hopelessly, as they sped away.
“The police will be arriving soon to take care
of those punks,” Destiny explained to a gaping Svenson. “But I suspect you don’t want contact with
them yourself, do you, monsieur?”
“Who are you?” asked Svenson, perplexed that
she should make such an assumption – and be right about it.
“A friend, don’t worry. Do you have a place to stay?”
“I… I took a room at the Hilton,” he answered,
not really sure if he should confide in her.
She rolled her eyes. “That would not do. You
could be too easily spotted there. I’m
taking you to my hotel. It’s far more
discreet.”
“Beg your pardon?” Svenson was rolling eyes of
surprise now. This young woman’s
behaviour was becoming more and more confusing. Not to mention suspect.
He shrugged, trying to regain a little of his past confidence. “I’m sorry, young lady, but I have VERY
pressing business to attend to here, and I’m not sure where you stand in all
this. Now I’m very grateful that you
came to my rescue, but if you don’t explain yourself properly…”
“You’re John Svenson, right?”
“Yes, I am.
Now, who are you and WHERE are you taking me?”
“I’m simply following orders, monsieur Svenson.”
“Orders?” Svenson nodded slowly. Now he thought he was beginning to
understand. “You’ve been sent by Wilson
Grover?” he asked tentatively.
She shook her head to the negative, looking at
him gravely. “Non,
monsieur Svenson. I wasn’t sent by Wilson Grover. I told you, I am a friend. We all are.
All we want to do is to help you, you and your son.”
“What do you know about me and my son?” Svenson
asked, suddenly defensive, feeling uneasy about this and unsure whether he
should trust the woman or not. “For the
last time, who are you, and who sent you to help me? Who are you talking about?”
Destiny looked squarely at him, her face very
calm. Then she carefully drew a
cardholder from her purse, and, with a reassuring gesture gave it to him, and
watched as he opened it nervously.
“You don’t have to worry about us, monsieur Svenson,” she then declared, as
he looked at the card, his brow furrowed.
“We only want to help you. And
help your son. Spectrum takes care of
its own.”