“He couldn’t fake amnesia well enough to fool an expert,” Don pointed out. “Our medical officer happens to have made a special study of brain disorders, and he says this is a genuine case. Doc thinks that Borg’s first injury changed his whole character. Recalling little except his name, the man became an obedient tool of Scorpia. He remembered no other friends, no other life; and his naturally keen brain was completely at the service of his criminal master. Now, of course, he is horrified at the idea of having been one of that crowd. He wants to make up in some way for the damage he has done as a Scorpion agent.”
“But what luck it would be, Don,” put in Mercedes, “if Count Borg should start to remember his life as one of Scorpia’s aces! He might give us enough information to clean up the entire organization in one swoop. Of course that sort of luck is too good to be real!”
“I’m afraid it is, my dear,” said Splendor. “However, I think we have a chance of getting most, if not all, of the evidence we need, thanks to this resemblance between Don Winslow and his captive. Do ye recall the code message we discovered at the submarine base—the one which Corba later stole from your stateroom, Commander? Well, I had the master-at-arms search all five of our new prisoners before ye were on deck this mornin’. And every last one of them had the same code message tucked away in his clothing! Ye see what that means?”
“Hmmm! It looks as if the Scorpion were calling all his forces together at San Francisco for some big job, if you ask me,” Don answered soberly. “That would be the very thing to get in on—a general conference of Scorpia’s operatives. If I got out of it alive, we’d have enough evidence to hamstring the organization’s power for years to come!”
“That’s all very well, gentlemen,” growled Captain Riggs, picking up his hat, “but I believe you’re going to find some pretty big difficulties in the way. Unless Borg recovers his memory and gives you the Scorpia passwords, not to mention a lot of other information, I fear your disguise won’t get you very far, Commander. You’ll excuse me if I leave you now to take my watch on deck!”
With a brusque nod the Gatoon’s master closed the cabin door behind him. Mercedes looked across at Don, her eyes dark with anxiety.
“I’m afraid Captain Riggs is right about that,” she said. “Oh, Don, I hope you’ll not attempt anything so risky as to pass yourself off for the count! There are a thousand details on which your ignorance would trip you!”
“There’s a way out of that difficulty, Skipper,” spoke up Red Pennington. “Suppose we give out a story that Borg has escaped. Actually of course, he’ll stay in plain sight dressed in your uniform. You’ll be the one who disappears and shows up in San Francisco as Count Borg. You’ll pretend that your memory is partly blacked out by your head wound and that will account for any slips you make, like forgetting people and passwords that Borg used to know.”
“Great stuff, sailor!” cried Don Winslow, leaping up to pound Red enthusiastically on the back. “That story will have enough truth in it to convince the most suspicious Scorpion operatives. What do you think of it, Mr. Splendor?”
The man in the wheel chair wagged his gray head.