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"Woozy," Rick said honestly. "Help me up, somebody." Scotty lifted him, then guided him to a lawn chair. "Sit down. You're too weak to stand." Rick subsided gratefully. He could see better now, although it was nearly dark. There were other people seated in chairs on the Calvert's Favor lawn. Camillion, his electronics expert, and two others. At full length, covered by a blanket, was the guard.
He took one look and asked what I was doing with a snapshot of Lefty Camillion. The hair is white and the mustache is gone, but it's Lefty." Rick gasped. "My sainted aunt! Of course! I should have known it myself." "There's more. Sandy recognized Lefty's small friend too. This is an odd one, Rick. The man is Dr. Elbert K. Drews. He was fired six months ago by Space Electronics Industries.
In three days Camillion had become a television personality, of sorts, when it became clear that he apparently was responsible for a number of murders and a thousand lesser crimes, although he himself had not done the actual killings. There was insufficient evidence to jail him, but enough to deport him. He dropped out of sight while his lawyers were fighting the deportation proceedings.
He looked up at Rick, his eyes dull and malevolent, but he said nothing. "What happened?" Rick asked. Joe Vitalli stood behind Camillion and company, his riot gun ready. The JANIG agent was wet up to his armpits. Chuck Howard came into sight from behind Rick, and he carried an open first-aid kit. "You jumped for the balloon," Steve reminded him. He motioned to the bodyguard.
Rick kept careful watch, but he knew the girls would see the first sign of a ray before he did, because of their higher vantage point. Steve would enjoy this, he thought. The JANIG agent was back in Washington, his vacation interrupted again because of the work that remained on the case of Lefty Camillion. Lefty was in jail, too, along with his friends. Rick shook his head.
But would Brant ever let go of evidence? Not you, ol' buddy. There you dangled, limp as a wilted banana while the balloon drifted along with you. I started toward you as fast as I could go, which wasn't very fast with water up to my waist." "Wish I could have seen it," Rick said with a grin. "So do I," Scotty assured him. "Camillion and his friends were also somewhat interested in you.
That was how Camillion and company knew when to release the balloon, and when to trigger the rocket! Camillion's bodyguard was manning the rope holding the balloon. It was attached to a ring on the truck. As Rick watched, the bodyguard let out more line and the balloon rose slightly, tugging at the rope, and moving toward Rick.
Rick hung up and stared at the phone thoughtfully, trying to fit this new information into the scheme of things. Scotty had been sitting on the edge of his chair since the conversation started. He said, with some exasperation, "Well? Out with it!" "Mr. Merlin is Lefty Camillion.
They're not common in historic mansions, far from large population centers, so one doesn't expect to find them there. My reasons for not recognizing Camillion, without Allen's identification, are exactly the same as yours." "It's just that we expect you to know everything," Scotty said half-seriously. "Then I'm glad you're learning better.
Joking aside, it's interesting that Camillion should be here. It's even more interesting that his sidekick is a crooked electronics engineer or scientist. When you add flying stingarees to that combination, it totals up to something novel in criminal ideas. But what?" "We thought you might have an idea," Rick prodded. "Yes and no," Steve said ambiguously. "What ideas do you have?"
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