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Mystery of the Caribbean Pearls

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<h2>CHAPTER VI Crunch</h2> Uncle Charlie had been right about Derek. The Dutch boy had followed Keene’s instructions to the letter—up to a certain point. Derek had watched Charles Keene climb over the balcony railing and onto the ledge leading to the next room. He had held his breath as he watched the older man press close to the building wall and inch his way along the narrow ledge toward the next balcony. “Are you all right?” Derek had called softly. Charles Keene, perspiration breaking out on his face, nodded his head in reply. Derek had gone back into the room. Moments passed. Then he had slipped quietly out into the hallway and moved to the next door. Then he had knocked. He had waited a few minutes, trying to understand the muffled words coming from the other side of the door. According to the plan, he was supposed to return to his room and wait for Biff. <div class="pagenum" id="Page_38">38</div> “Should I?” Derek asked himself. He was even more confused than Biff had been by the strange turn of events. Charles Keene had seemed a pleasant enough chap. But in the ride from the airport to the hotel, he had been vague in some of the answers he had given. It was hard to distrust Keene, but his explanations had been so sketchy that Derek’s suspicions had been aroused. He had even wondered about the switch he had agreed to make with Biff. Why had Biff suggested the switch? Was it only a practical joke, or was there some deeper reason for Biff’s suggestion? What had really started Derek’s doubts had taken place at the airport. When Biff and the two men had passed in the airport, Charles Keene had restrained Derek from calling out to Biff. Derek made up his mind. He would not return to the room Keene had taken him to. If Keene wasn’t to be trusted, then Derek knew he would have a much greater chance of getting away from him in the hotel lobby than in a small room. Derek went to the elevator. Biff had missed him by only minutes when he went to find him. In the lobby of the Del Mar, Derek took a seat with a clear view of the elevator bank and the door to the street. His eyes swung from one to the other. Derek was alert, waiting for any development. Once he dug his hand into the inside pocket of his jacket. Alarm spread over his face when the object he was feeling for wasn’t there. He almost panicked. Momentary relief came to him when he remembered that he was still wearing Biff’s sports jacket. This relief was short-lived. <div class="pagenum" id="Page_39">39</div> The package he had reached for was of vital importance to Derek. But Biff had swapped coats with him. Biff now had the package containing the small object of such value. Had that been the real reason Biff had wanted to switch identifications? So that Biff could get possession of the package? It was hard for Derek to accept this theory. He had developed an instant liking for Biff. He felt that Biff had felt the same way about him. And how could Biff have known that he, Derek, was going to be in the airport in Miami? Could Biff possibly have known and arranged to be on the same plane? It was too much of a puzzle for the Dutch boy. Derek watched the floor indicator dial over one elevator move, showing an elevator descending. Would this be Biff? Or Charles Keene? The door slid open. An elderly couple emerged. He turned his glance toward the street door. A man entered alone. He looked somewhat familiar to Derek. Where had he seen him? The man glanced swiftly about the lobby. His eyes rested for a fraction of a second on Derek, then turned away. The man started for the elevator. Almost there, he stopped abruptly and swung around to look closely at Derek. Disbelief showed in his eyes. Derek recognized the man now. He had been one of the two who had walked out of the airport terminal building with Biff. The man crossed quickly to the chair where Derek was sitting. “Derek! You—you escaped! I mean—tell me, what happened?” <div class="pagenum" id="Page_40">40</div> The man seemed confused. He was obviously unable to believe what he saw. Dietz was confused. More so even than he displayed to Derek. How had Derek managed to get away from Specks? What had happened in the short space of time he had been away? He would have to play this very cagey now. Earlier, when he had been in the same room with this boy he could tell that the youth had grown suspicious of him. Dietz took a stab in the dark. “Did Keene come?” he asked. “And you got away?” That was true enough. Derek had gotten away from Keene. But how did this man know that he had been with Keene? He couldn’t know—not yet—that it had actually been Biff Brewster, not Derek Zook, who had left the airport with him. Derek’s mind spun dizzily for a moment. “Catch hold of yourself,” he said sternly to his whirling brain. Derek began thinking. Both he and Dietz held their silence for a few moments, stalling for time, each trying to think how to learn what the other actually knew. “Yes, I left Mr. Keene,” Derek finally replied. “Was there trouble? Specks—did Keene attack him? Was that when you made your escape?” The picture was becoming clearer. The “Specks” Dietz referred to must have been the other man who had been with Biff and this man at the airport. Derek had a pretty good idea now of what Dietz must be figuring had happened. Believing Specks was guarding the real Derek, Dietz must think that Keene had broken in on them and overpowered Specks, and that during the melee, he, Derek, had fled. It would be wise, Derek thought, to find out as much as he could. <div class="pagenum" id="Page_41">41</div> This man must be the one Keene had referred to as Dietz. Derek decided to find this out. “Yes, Mr. Dietz. That’s what happened.” “Thank goodness you made your escape,” Dietz replied. “Keene is a dangerous man. Dangerous to you and your father.” This was just about the same thing Keene had said to Derek about Dietz, Derek remembered. “Caution,” his brain flashed. “Which of them is lying?” “My father?” he said aloud. “It is safe for you to take me to him now?” “Oh, yes. Yes, we must leave at once. Before Keene comes down here.” Dietz’s answer was quick. A bit too quick, Derek thought. But just what or whom was he to believe? “We can go to him now. At once.” “Where is he?” Derek asked this question in Dutch. This was to be the big test as to whether he would trust this man. Derek had asked one question of Keene in Dutch. Keene hadn’t replied. At the time, Derek had thought that perhaps Keene hadn’t been listening to him, he had been so busy telling Derek why he had permitted Biff to leave the airport with the two men. “Your father is in a small hacienda to the north of Willemstad. A half hour’s drive.” Dietz had replied in Dutch. Derek decided to take a chance. “All right. Let’s go.” Derek didn’t see the look of satisfaction and relief that flashed over Dietz’s dark features. He got up and followed Dietz out of the hotel. Moments later, Biff stepped out of the elevator. He just missed seeing Dietz and Derek leave the hotel. <div class="pagenum" id="Page_42">42</div> Derek got into the same sleek, black limousine that had brought Biff to the hotel only an hour before. Dietz got behind the wheel. He wove through the crowded streets of Willemstad. The town and its houses and buildings looked very much like a small waterfront town back in Holland. The houses were the same type. Willemstad, Derek recalled, had been named for a small village back in Holland. Leaving Willemstad behind them, Dietz sped along a narrow, winding road that climbed the foothills toward the highest point in Curaçao. Suddenly he swerved off the paved road onto an unimproved, heavily rutted dirt road. Ten minutes more and Dietz nosed the car through an arched opening in a pink stone wall. Ahead, Derek could see one large, rambling house, again stone, but painted a bright yellow, and several smaller stone buildings. Dietz stopped in front of the entrance. Immediately there came out the largest man Derek had ever seen. His complexion was a light coffee-brown. He wore knee-length breeches. His legs and feet were bare. His heavy muscles bulged beneath a thin white shirt, its ends tied around his waist. Without another glance at Derek, Dietz spoke to the giant. “Take over, Crunch.” Crunch was well named. Derek learned this when the man clamped a hand on his arm, grinning down at him evilly. Derek knew now that he had placed his trust in the wrong man. But it was too late. He was powerless to resist. Crunch had the strength to match his giant size. <div class="pagenum" id="Page_43">43</div> <div style="break-after:column;"></div>

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