The Rising Magma
The Spindrift group held a council of war in their office-conference room. Inspection of the hotel had shown that damage was not as serious as first expected. The cornices, held only by mortar, had fallen, and the rear exterior wall had lost its brick veneer. The structural part of the wall, while cracked, was strong enough to hold up. The veneer was unsafe, however, and it was agreed that all should stay well away from the area where Connel had been imprisoned.
"We must begin another series of shots at once," Hartson Brant said. "It's apparent that the magma has moved, and rapidly. But until we get more tracings, we won't know in what direction. Meanwhile, we must find the governor!"
"How?" Rick asked. "How can we find him?"
Hartson Brant smiled at his son. "It seems to me that you and Scotty have acquired considerable reputations as detectives, Rick. I suggest you earn them. Find the governor for us. We will give you Honorario as an interpreter, but it will be up to you. The rest of us must operate as best we can short-handed."
"How about Connel?" Scotty demanded.
The scientist shrugged. "He's the least of my worries. Let him develop his diamond mine. My concern is with this island and the people on it. If our guess is right, Connel will be lucky to have a few days in which to work—scarcely enough to do much mining."
"Any ideas?" Rick asked.
"Yes. Talk to the governor's family, and to his personal staff. Stay away from Guevara. Once Connel tells him we know about the diamonds, he may become dangerous. Do what you can, boys. After all, this isn't a big island and the governor must be somewhere on it."
"If he's alive," Scotty added.
Hartson Brant looked at the boy and his face grew grim. "Yes," he agreed. "If he's alive."
Rick and Scotty had always relished the adventure and excitement of trying to solve a mystery. Sometimes the success or failure of a project had hung in the balance, but this one was different. The fate of an island and nearly 32,000 people depended on solving the riddle of the missing governor. Rick felt the weight of the responsibility.
The plan he and Scotty developed was simple and logical. They would start with the governor's movements on the morning of his disappearance and continue from there.
At the governor's residence they learned from his butler that Montoya had left the house promptly at eight o'clock, as he did every morning. He drove himself, in a small English car that he used for personal transportation. But, as they knew from the visit to the executive offices, he had never arrived.
The next stop was to determine his route. It wasn't difficult; there was only one main road from the outskirts of Calor into town, although there were many side streets.
With Honorario as interpreter, they began the time-consuming job of questioning householders along the route.
Honorario was personally interested in the job. He had learned from them of Connel's perfidy, and he said quietly, "Ruiz is my friend. We do not yet know if he will live, or, if he lives, if he will be a whole man again. I owe it to him to do my best in this matter. You may depend on me."
Not until they had reached the outskirts of Calor did they find what had happened. Through Honorario, an old lady who had seen it all through her window told them the story.
"A big military truck was across the road," Honorario reported. "It was keeping cars from passing. The little car of the governor came, and it had to stop. An officer got in with the governor. The truck moved away and the governor drove off. The old woman thinks the officer was pointing a gun at the governor. She did not know it was the governor, but her words to describe him were enough."
Rick whistled. "Military? Does that mean the governor got caught by some kind of revolutionary group?"
Honorario shrugged. "Who knows? But I have heard of no revolution. The governor is popular, and the people are satisfied. But you should know, my friends, that on this island the comandante of our small military is the lieutenant governor. I think we are not dealing here with revolution, but with Señor Jaime Guevara!"
"We're stuck," Scotty said. "I suppose we could keep on asking and try to get a line on where the governor's car went, but that's pretty hopeless. Honorario, can we possibly find someone who is loyal to the governor and who knows the island?"
Honorario thought it over. "In such a case," he replied, "there is only one way to be sure. It is, you understand, a matter of family. Among San Luzians, the family is first and all else is after. So, I think we should see the nephew of the governor. He is el capitán Ricardo Montoya, who is deputy of police for the western part of the island."
Captain Ricardo Montoya was young, capable, and alert. Honorario found him in the police headquarters in central Calor and invited him to join the boys for coffee at a nearby café.
Rick looked the officer over as he entered the restaurant, and he liked what he saw. Montoya was built like a middleweight fighter, and his white uniform was spotless. He was lighter in complexion than most San Luzians, but even the wisp of mustache on his upper lip couldn't conceal the firmness of his face.
He greeted them courteously, in good English. "A sus órdenes, señores. This Honorario says you wish to speak with me?"
"We place ourselves in your hands, Señor Capitán," Rick said quietly. "Because you are the governor's nephew and a police official, we must assume that you are completely loyal to him."
The officer's brilliant dark eyes flashed. "It would be a grave insult to assume otherwise, señor. He is the brother of my father."
"Good," Rick said. "No insult was intended. I think we had better tell you the entire story, then we can discuss what must be done." He started at the beginning, with the arrival of Balgos at Spindrift, and ended with the day's events.
"You have cast much light on what has happened," the captain stated. "I am grateful. Now, señores, you must not believe I have been idle. I had already discovered how my uncle was kidnaped. It was clear that some military element was involved, but I rejected the idea of revolution. The motive puzzled me. It is puzzling no longer, thanks to you. Also, while I suspected Guevara, there was no proof. My suspicion, you understand, was based on his character."
"Have you any idea where the governor was taken?" Scotty asked.
"I have now," Montoya said grimly. "The best possibility—and about the only place we have not looked—is Casa Guevara."
The boys exchanged glances. "Then we ought to make up a party of loyal people and invade the place," Rick stated.
"No. If I know this man Guevara, any such move would mean the death of my uncle, if he still lives. We must find some other way."
"Can you find loyal people?" Rick asked.
"A few. You must understand most people do not feel as I do about Guevara. He is popular. Who knows where the loyalty of the people lies, between individuals? One cannot be certain. So, I must use only men loyal to me. There are such."
Montoya rose. "We will be allies, since we fight for the same thing, which is San Luz. Let me see what kind of plan can be made. Go back to your hotel, and I will come for you there. We will work this thing out together." He shook hands with both boys, turned, and strode from the restaurant.
Rick paid for their coffee and the boys joined Honorario, who was waiting outside in the jeep. "He's a good, tough hombre," Rick told the San Luzian. "You made a good choice."
"I am glad," Honorario said. "Someday he will be governor, like his uncle."
While the boys were in Calor, the scientists had conducted another series of shots. The tracings were spread out on the table when they returned, and the group was engrossed in checking them over.
Rick and Scotty waited, watching. They knew from the quiet voices and tense attitudes that something serious had been found. Then Williams began to mark in the data on his sketch.
"This is where the explosion took place," he said. "Probably the magma hit a quantity of water as it entered the new channel. Notice that the channel is one we marked on here earlier as a probable path. So far, we're guessing right. Now, my estimate is that the magma will move fast, stopping only when it reaches this dike of solid basalt."
Hartson Brant wiped his face with his handkerchief. "It looks bad, Jeff. The magma will reach the solid layer before we could possibly get to it with a tunnel."
"What does that mean?" Rick asked.
Hobart Zircon answered him. "It means, Rick, that we no longer have time to dig a vent. It means the people of this island will be lucky if they can get away in time!"