The Mystery of the Vanished Victim (12 page)

The two officers nodded grimly.

“While we’re waiting, Gully, suppose we clear up something else.” The inspector tapped a sheet of pink paper on his desk. “This is a lab report on the bullet found in Balbir’s turban. I asked for the ballistics check in the hope that the bullet might have been fired from a gun involved in some crime we have a record of. That might have given us a lead to who fired it at Balbir. With information like that we could have gotten a search warrant and legally entered and searched the premises of the man you think fired it. But the report is negative. The gun this bullet came from is clean as far as our records show.”

Gully was shaking his head, a little numb, when someone knocked on the door and the inspector barked, “Come in.” A tall young man who looked like anything but a police officer came in quickly and shut the door behind him.

“This is Detective Blake, Gully,” the inspector said. “Blake, for the benefit of my grandson, please repeat your report on Mr. Johnson.”

“Yes, sir,” the detective said. “I went to the apartment building at 1385 East Forty-eighth Street and entered the vestibule. I pressed the buzzer of Apartment 5B where the Johnson name-card was. I got no answer to four separate rings. So I buzzed the superintendent’s apartment. He came to the door and we had a little discussion, after which he decided to let me into the building. I went up to the fifth floor and knocked on the door marked 5B, which was the rear apartment. I had to knock several times, but finally a man opened the door. I identified myself and asked him if he was Mr. Johnson. He said he was. I told him we had had a complaint that he had fired a shot at a boy, and did he have a pistol permit. He said no, he had no pistol permit because he had no pistol—”

“He was lying!” Gully cried in an outraged voice.

“—at least, no pistol he needed a permit for,” Detective Blake went on, ignoring the interruption. “He showed me a toy gun, made of plastic. He said he chased two prowling kids down the fire escape with it and scared them off. I asked him if he knew who they were. He said no. I asked him who else occupied the apartment. He said no one, he lived alone. I said thank you and left. That’s it, Inspector.”

“But what about the locked room?” Gully was so indignant that the words came out all squeaky.

“I saw no locked room because I never entered the apartment,” the detective said, glancing at Gully curiously. “A police officer can’t enter private premises without the occupant’s permission, and he can’t make a search without a warrant. I had no warrant and there were no legal grounds for getting one.”

“But didn’t Mr. Johnson fit the description?” Gully pleaded. “He has a mustache—”

“Mr. Johnson had no mustache,” Detective Blake said.

Gully gaped. “No mustache? Then … then he must have shaved it off! But he couldn’t disguise his accent! He had a foreign accent, didn’t he?”

“No accent,” the detective said. “Straight American.”

“But—but then he wasn’t Mr. Johnson! He wasn’t the same man who chased us and fired at Balbir!”

Detective Blake was trying not to smile. Gully could see him trying. “I checked with the super. The super told me the man I talked to
is
the Mr. Johnson who lives there.”

“Anything else, Gully?” Inspector Queen asked quietly.

Gully said, “No, Grandpa,” and walked out.

There was something wrong. Something awfully wrong. Somewhere.

But not with what I’ve figured out, Gully thought desperately. I’ve
got
to be right about that!

He took a bus, then another, and finally got off a few blocks short of the embassy and walked the rest of the way, thinking hard. He
had
to find some way of proving that his conclusions about the assassination plot were sound … He was still cudgeling his brains when he rang the embassy bell.

“Any developments?” Prema asked eagerly.

“I’m afraid not. How’s Balbir taking things?”

“Why don’t we go to his room and see?”

“News, Gully?” Balbir asked anxiously when he saw Gully and Prema.

But before Gully could reply, another voice burst in on them.

“’Tective! ’Tective!” the mynah bird welcomed him.

The three of them laughed as Gully tapped the cage, acknowledging his greeting.

“No, Balbir, no news. But it’s good to see someone has faith in me—even if it’s only a bird.”

“What possibly could have depressed you so much, Gully?”

Gully hesitated for a moment. Was it right to frighten Prema when there might be no foundation to his conclusions?

“Gully, there’s something you aren’t telling us. I can feel it. What is it?” Prema demanded.

“Supposing Balbir’s father overheard an important plot while he was in the park. A plot to kill someone. And the men who were conspiring realized he heard them. They followed him here—”

“How could they get in? The receptionist would have noticed them,” Prema said.

“Not if they used the side door that leads into the basement,” Gully replied.

“But we inquired,” Balbir protested. “No suspicious-looking men were seen entering that day.”

“They wouldn’t look suspicious if they were Jalpuris or Indians,” Gully pointed out.

“That’s true,” Prema said slowly.

“Gully, do you think our own people kidnaped my father?” Balbir sounded sick.

“Yes! And it would fit in with my idea of the person they plotted to kill.”

“Who’s that?” Prema asked.

“That’s not important right now,” Gully said hurriedly. “First, let’s see if I’m right about the conspirators who took your father from here …” Gully paused “… and then took over his job—”

“You mean Dhavata and Srigar?” Balbir exclaimed.

“They would tie in with the rest of my conclusions—”

Balbir darted toward the wall. In a flash, he drew the sharp, curved blade of the scimitar from its ornamented scabbard.

“Put it back, Balbir! Put it back!” Gully commanded.

“If they did anything to my father—” Balbir whispered. His face was convulsed.

“I knew I shouldn’t have mentioned anything—”

“If my father’s been hurt—”

Gully grasped Balbir’s powerful wrist with two hands. He pushed hard, using the advantage of his height. Balbir dropped the weapon. Hastily Gully shoved it back into the scabbard.

“I’m sorry, Balbir. I know how you feel, but you wouldn’t stand a chance against Dhavata and Srigar, and anyway, violence never solved anything. Are you all right now?” Gully asked him anxiously.

Balbir did not reply.

“Do you really suspect them, Gully?” Prema frowned.

“We’ve got a foolproof way of checking … a witness who may be able to name them as the ones who fought with your father and took him from this room.”

“But no one saw what happened, Gully. Even I was not here,” Balbir protested.

“There
was
a witness. There he is.”

Gully was pointing to the mynah bird!

P
REMA
and Balbir stared at Gully and then looked blankly at the black bird, hopping about in its wicker cage.

“How could that bird possibly tell us anything?” Prema asked with annoyance. “We all know it can only repeat things!”

“That’s exactly what I’m counting on,” Gully replied with a mysterious smile. But he refused to say any more.

“I will get Dhavata and Srigar,” Balbir suggested, his jaw set.

“No!” Gully cried, stopping Balbir as he started for the door. “And before they come, I want you to promise that no matter what happens, you won’t do anything but listen.”

“But, Gully, if they have taken my father—”

“The police will arrest them. Do you promise?”

Balbir was silent for a long moment. Finally, he nodded in reluctant agreement.

“Just don’t lose your head, Balbir,” cautioned Gully. “We’ll let Prema bring them here. They’re more likely to do as she asks.”

“Of course they’ll listen to me. You just wait!”

Prema opened the door and scurried into the hallway. She hurried along eagerly. When she knocked on the door of the two men’s room, there was no answer. Prema tapped a bit harder, then waited, but again—silence. Shrugging, she walked down the hall and swung the garage door open.

Gully had been watching Prema’s progress by keeping Balbir’s door open a crack. Now he stealthily advanced to the open garage door. He stood against the wall to one side, unseen, but able to hear everything that was said.

Inside the garage, Dhavata was busy washing and polishing the white convertible, and Srigar was carefully dusting the back seats. As Prema came up to them, both men looked up questioningly.

“Did your father send you to fetch us, Miss Jind?” Dhavata’s voiced boomed.

“No. My friends Balbir and Gulliver want to ask you something—”

“We will talk to them later. Your father will be ready to leave for the airport shortly,” Dhavata said.

“My father won’t mind! It won’t take more than a minute,” Prema persisted.

“We still have much to do—”

“Dhavata, you could have been to Balbir’s room and back in the time we’ve wasted arguing. Please!”

The big Jalpuri dropped the wet rag into a bucket of soapy water with a splash. He looked sullen.

“I’ll go!” Dhavata grunted. “Srigar can finish up.”

“No. No, the boys want to see both of you together. Come along, Srigar,” insisted Prema.

The two embassy employees glanced at each other. Gully thought he saw Srigar nod slightly.

Gully hurried back to Balbir’s room, where he was now sure the two men would prove their innocence or guilt.

In the garage, Srigar flung his dusting rag down on a shelf. Then he and Dhavata followed Prema from the garage.

They had hardly taken a dozen steps into the hall when Dr. Jind appeared from the basement stairs.

“Prema. What are you doing here?” he asked.

“Srigar and Dhavata are coming with me for a moment,” she replied calmly. “Gully and Balbir want to show them something.”

“But my car,” protested her father. “I was just coming down to examine its appearance. We have to leave soon.”

“We tried to tell your daughter, sir,” Dhavata remarked, “but she is persistent.”

“Yes,” mused Dr. Jind, “but there may not be time.” The ambassador extended his left wrist beyond his dark blue sleeve and smiled. “Well, I’m the man the papers always call ‘collected and calm,’ but I seem to have forgotten my wrist watch in today’s excitement!”

Dhavata took a pocket watch from his trousers. “It is half-past twelve, sir.”

“Then there is sufficient time for me to go upstairs and put on my watch.” Dr. Jind hurried to the self-service elevator at the basement level. As the elevator started up, Prema beckoned to the two men. With a shrug, they obeyed.

Having heard Dr. Jind depart, Gully quietly closed Balbir’s door. A moment later, there was a tap and Prema opened the door. As the two men followed her into Balbir’s sitting room, Gully placed himself between them and the mynah bird’s cage.

“What do you want us for?” Dhavata demanded.

Before anyone replied, Gully stepped to one side. Now the mynah bird turned its head and studied the two newcomers. Its yellow beak parted and its eerie, almost human voice rang out sharply and clearly,
“Katal! Katal!”

“Katal!”
Balbir said in a choked voice. “The very word Rajah spoke after my father vanished!” His eyes shone with anger.

Gully gripped Balbir’s wrist, trying to silence him. But rage won over caution.

“Why did the bird cry out ‘Kill!’ when it saw you two?” Balbir demanded. “I will tell you! Because our mynah recognized you! You are going to kill the Prince, perhaps Ambassador Jind—perhaps my father … if you have not already killed him!”

Dhavata flung the door closed.

“They know!” he said darkly to Srigar. “They must not be allowed to talk—”

Balbir hurled himself at the huge man, his fists flailing. The suddenness of the attack shoved Dhavata back momentarily, spinning him against the wall. Then Srigar rushed in to pull the attacking boy away. Gully threw a left that caught Srigar on the shoulder, sending him staggering away from Balbir. Prema darted for the door.

“I must call my father!” she cried, turning the knob.

But before Prema could open the door wide enough to slip out of the room, Dhavata threw his weight against it. The door slammed shut! Then he turned to the boys.

“We will not harm you, but we must keep you from speaking to anyone—”

“Don’t trust them!” Prema screamed.

Balbir yanked up the desk chair. He swung it above his head, charging at Dhavata. Down came the chair with vicious fury, but the guard caught a leg, and with a tug, yanked the chair from Balbir’s grip. As he did, Gully went for the smaller man, lashing out with his right fist. But Srigar was wiry and quick. He ducked beneath the blow, striking Gully with the edge of his palm in a stinging chop. Gully sagged, dazed.

Prema tried to intervene, pulling off a shoe to strike at Srigar. With a contemptuous laugh, he knocked it from her hand. Then his fingers sought a spot on Gully’s neck. Gully sank to the floor …

Just before Gully lost consciousness, he saw Dhavata stride forward and grab Balbir. Pinning both hands behind the boy’s back, Dhavata held Balbir long enough for Srigar to touch the pressure point. Balbir sank helplessly to the floor beside Gully.

Once again, Prema dashed for the door. But Dhavata’s foot wedged against it, keeping it closed. Her mouth parted to scream, but the big man covered it with a muffling hand.

“I do not wish to harm you or your friends,” he softly advised Prema. “Be still, obey us, and all will go well.”

When Dhavata took away his huge hand, Srigar bound Prema’s mouth with a handkerchief, gagging her attempts to shout for help. Then one of Balbir’s ties was quickly wound around her wrists, tying her hands tightly behind her back.

Dhavata opened the door and peered out. No one was in the hall. He whispered for a moment to Srigar, who signaled his agreement with a nod. Then Srigar pushed the gagged and bound girl from the room. Prema limped along. Behind them, Dhavata carried the motionless boys, one tucked under each arm as easily as if they were dolls. Srigar $$pressed the elevator button, bringing down the car. All five squeezed into the small elevator. Dhavata slid the door closed and pushed the button for the top floor. As they passed the third landing, where Dr. Jind had his apartment, the two men exchanged a nervous glance. But the hall was empty. Seconds later, the elevator jarred to a halt. Srigar opened the door and shoved Prema out ahead of him. Behind him came Dhavata, with the two unconscious boys.