The Mystery of the Merry Magician (10 page)

“Wait for me.”

His teeth chattering suddenly, Fisty followed his friend down. Together the two boys pushed away from the barge. Treading water, they looked about them.

“Where to?” Fisty asked.

“Swim over to Pier B. Don’t splash.”

“Okay. Breast stroke, nice and easy.”

“Come on.”

Gully led the way, swimming soundlessly and as quickly as he could. The flickering light, seen clearly from the water, served as a guide.

Reaching the pier, Gully entered the thick darkness underneath it. Fisty joined him a moment later and the two held on to one of the heavy timber pilings which supported the dock.

“See anything?” Fisty asked in a whisper.

“Something I can’t understand. The light flashes on and off from under the street.”

“Huh?” There was wonder in Fisty’s voice. “But that’s solid rock or concrete.”

“Take a look.”

Fisty moved around the piling and peered into the darkness. West Street ended in a straight, concrete wall at the water’s edge. Reinforced concrete and wooden pilings extended into the water, supporting the platform of the pier on which the huge shed was built.

“There must be an opening of some kind there,” Fisty said.

At that moment, there was a scraping sound, followed by several sharp blows.

“The noises?” Fisty asked.

A creaky door swung out away from the concrete wall and the sharp beam of a flashlight knifed through the darkness and swept over the water.

Gully and Fisty instinctively drew back, hiding behind the piling. Then they heard a voice speaking softly.

“It’s a good job. The door swings open nice and easy.”

A rough voice laughed in the darkness. “Didn’t you think we’d be able to knock the old brickwork out in time for you?”

“Well, you did,” said the first man. “She’ll be here tomorrow night.”

“Yeh. Remember what the boss said. The stuff doesn’t move until he has the payment right in his hand.”

“He’ll be paid, all right. Don’t worry.”

“He better be. No payment, no delivery. Don’t forget it.”

Gully edged around the piling and cautiously looked toward the shore end of the pier. There was a large, round opening in the concrete wall and two men stood just inside.

“How is the stuff going to be moved?” one of the men asked.

“Easy,” the other laughed. “Leave it to the boss to figure out all the tricks.” The man wore rubber boots that reached above his knees. He waved his flashlight, sweeping the edges of the opening with light. “We’ll bring the stuff through here. Then …”

Flashing the light ahead of him, the man suddenly stepped out on the water.

The two boys gasped, expecting the man to sink down. Instead, the man was standing ankle deep in the water.

The man in the opening of the tunnel called out, “Did you hear something?”

Gully quickly ducked back behind the piling.

“Nah! It’s just me, splashing,” was the reply.

Gully again peered around the piling. This time he suppressed the cry that rose to his lips. The man was walking on water!

“We bring it out here,” the man was saying. “And get it up through here.”

The man threw the beam of his light upward. Over his head was a square of fresh lumber set in the older planking of the pier.

That’s where the dock was being repaired!
The thought shot through Gully’s mind, but he made no sound. He wondered if Fisty had noticed it, too.

The man turned and went back to the opening. He climbed in and laughed harshly.

“Satisfied we can deliver?”

“Yeh. Lucky for all of us you found one of the old canals running under the streets.”

“Lucky nothing. The boss figured that out first, before he set this thing up.”

“All right. She’ll be here tomorrow. Be ready.”

“I’ll be ready.”

Gully watched as the man in boots pulled on a rope. The wooden gate swung away from the wall against which it had been resting and closed over the opening. For a few minutes, flashes of light came through cracks in the door. Then the lights disappeared. Fisty and Gully were alone in the darkness beneath the pier.

“Let’s get back,” Gully said, his teeth beginning to chatter though the water felt as warm as ever.

They swam to the barge slowly, neither of them saying a word. When they reached the rope ladder at the stern, Fisty grasped the lower rung and paused, looking at his friend.

“What kind of magic stuff was that? The man was walking … really walking on water!”

“Magic stuff is right,” Gully murmured as he climbed out.

B
LANKETS
over their shoulders, Gully and Fisty sat, wet and shivering, on the old sofa in the deckhouse while Peggy made hot chocolate for them.

“Ah! Nice and warm,” Fisty said through chattering teeth, as he took the hot cup from her.

“Aren’t you having some?” Gully asked.

“It’s a warm night and I’ll have a cold drink,” Peggy said. Tossing her bright red hair over her shoulder, she added scornfully, “I’m not frightened.”

“Wha—what d’you mean by that?” Fisty asked indignantly. “Who’s scared, huh? What of?”

“I’m scared,” Gully confessed, taking a sip of the hot drink.

“What happened out there under the pier? Will you tell me
now
?”

“We saw a man walking on water,” Gully said in a low voice.

“Indeed!” Peggy stared at her two friends, puzzled and angry. For a moment her eyes blazed up. Then, seeing the serious expression on their faces, she paused. “Do you really …
really
mean that?”

“Yes.”

“It’s impossible!”

“I know. But we saw it.” Gully shook his head, then went on to tell her all that he and Fisty had seen and overheard while they were under the pier.

“A magician might be able to walk on water,” Peggy said thoughtfully. “I mean as a trick of some kind.”

“We got two magicians,” Fisty groaned. “Merlin and that character Thundero. Which one was it?”

“If we knew more about them,” Gully said, “we might be able to do something …”

“I know what you are going to do.”

“Huh?” Fisty turned to the girl.

“What?” asked Gully.

“You’re both going to sleep. And right now.” Peggy went to a closet and brought out extra bedding which she spread on the deck. Then, pointing at the pillows, she commanded, “Hit the hay!”

“But Peg …” Fisty began.

“I have to write up my notes,” Gully tried to argue.

“Step lively, you landlubbers!”

Peggy switched off the light. “I’ll see you in the morning,” she said and went below to her cabin.

The two boys lay quietly in the darkness for a long time. After a while, Fisty spoke in a low voice.

“Gully?”

“Yes?”

“I was scared. I didn’t want to say anything to Peggy, but I was. Real scared, I mean.”

“I know, Fisty. I was, too.”

A few minutes of silence followed. Then Gully continued. “There was that black, shiny thing you called a space monster …”

“That’s what you called it, too.”

“I know,” Gully agreed. His voice was barely above a whisper. “Mr. Ryan was attacked and almost killed, for no reason. Anyway, no reason as far as we know.”

Again there was silence in the deckhouse. Gully found it hard to fall asleep.

“Now the man walking on water,” he said. “I can’t understand it. My notebook’s full of facts. Mr. Merlin and his tricks and his little trained dog. Then there’s Thundero … and what’s he doing here on the waterfront? And Sandro with his import and export business and his man with the tattooed hands.

“Gosh! I wish Uncle Ellery was here!”

He waited for Fisty to say something. When his friend remained silent, Gully continued, “Do you think Uncle Ellery will be able to put the facts together in the right order and get the answer?”

Gully raised his head and looked at the boy beside him. “Fisty? What do you think?”

A streak of moonlight came through the little window of the deckhouse and fell across Fisty’s black, curly hair. His eyes were closed and he was fast asleep.

Gully smiled. “For a scared kid, you certainly have no trouble falling asleep.”

He lay back and pulled the blanket snugly under his chin. Sleep did not come at once. He stared at the two little windows with their geranium plants outlined against the bright moonlight. From somewhere far away on the river came the mournful sound of a boat whistle, wailing through the night.

When Gully finally drowsed off, it was to dream of black, shiny monsters walking on rivers of ice cream, waving their hands and doing strange feats of magic.

He slept poorly and woke up tired and stiff the next morning. Fisty had already gone to work. From outside came the voices of Peggy and Captain Foster.

Gully dressed quickly and then went below to wash up. When he came out on deck, Peggy had breakfast set on the table.

“We’ve eaten already,” she said.

“Well, Gully, have a good night’s sleep?” Captain Foster chuckled.

“I’m sorry I overslept, sir.”

“Don’t matter none,’ the old man said. “Your grandfather and Sergeant Velie have been here and gone.”

“Oh? And I wanted to talk to grandpa,” Gully said, disappointed.

“Not this day, you won’t,” Captain Foster said. “He said he was going to be in Brooklyn on some case or other.”

“We can go to the hospital and visit Mr. Ryan,” Peggy suggested. She turned to her grandfather. “Are you going to the company office today?”

“Nope,” he replied, jabbing his black pipe into his mouth. “Our plans are shipshape. We’ll be picking up a cargo day after tomorrow. Then we go up river to Albany.”

“It’s all right if we go to the hospital?”

“I’ll be standing by on board all day,” the old man said. “Run along. And give my best to Mr. Ryan when you see him.” “We’ll do that, sir,” Gully promised.

“Inspector Queen said Mr. Ryan was at the downtown Medical Center,” Peggy told Gully as they went to the subway.

At the hospital a young doctor informed them that no visitors were being permitted to see the patient.

“Mr. Ryan has a slight fracture and is unconscious most of the time,” the physician said. “I’m not going to let even the police see him until he’s had more rest. He needs it. Lots of it.”

“Will he be all right, doctor?” Peggy asked.

“In a few days, yes. You can visit him then.”

“Thank you.”

They left the hospital and went on to City Hall Park. On the way, Gully bought a morning newspaper. They found an empty bench and sat. Gully opened the paper to the shipping news.

“What are you looking for?” Peggy asked curiously.

“The two men were talking about a ‘she’ that was due in today,” he said glancing up.

“Do you think they were talking about a ship?” Peggy asked.

“They could have meant a ship.”

“Well, see if there’s a ship due to dock at pier B.”

Gully pored over the page. After a while, he gave a low whistle.

“Read this, Peggy.” He held the page up for the girl to see.

C
ARGO
S
HIPS
D
UE
T
ODAY

“There’s your ship,” Peggy said, pointing to the last one in the list. “N.R. means North River, which is another name for the Hudson.”

“Well, now we know that something
is
going to happen tonight,” Gully said.

“That’s your opinion,” Peggy said, laughing. “Ellery Queen warned you against jumping to conclusions …”

Gully glanced at her quickly. His face turned a deep red.

“I guess you’re right,” he said.

“We’ll wait for the ship to dock and see what happens.”

“There’s something you said last night,” Gully frowned as he spoke. “About the man walking on water … Remember? A magician could do it, you said.”

“I remember.”

“I’d like to see Mr. Thundero’s magic tricks,” Gully said. “Want to go to a show tonight?”

“Of course.”

“Right after supper,” Gully said, jumping to his feet. “We’ll get Fisty and …”

“And permission from my grandfather,” Peggy reminded him.

Captain Foster approved heartily when he was told about it after supper.

“Just what you kids need,” he said, puffing on his pipe. “Tell you what. I’ll turn to on the dishes myself. You can go as soon as Fisty gets here.”

“He should be here now,” Gully said, glancing up from the table. “I’ll help you stack the dishes …”

“No need of that,” the old skipper chuckled. “There’s Fisty navigating down the dock now.”

“I’ll go below and get ready,” Peggy said and hurried down to her cabin.

Fisty rumpled his curly hair thoughtfully when he was told of the plan.

“We’re going to see Thundero’s act,” Gully whispered.

“Thundero!” Fisty exclaimed.

Gully turned quickly to see if Captain Foster had overheard. The old seaman was busy stacking the supper dishes and paid no attention to the two boys.

Fisty grinned. “We’re going to be detectives, huh?”

Gully shook his head. Before he could say anything, Peggy came out. She had changed her skirt, brushed her hair and put a new ribbon in her hair.

“I’m ready.”

“Then let’s hurry. I want to make the seven o’clock show.”

“Have a good time ashore.” Captain Foster waved them off.

They rode to Times Square by subway. It was early evening and still light, but the theater marquees were already blazing with thousands of flashing lights. Huge posters advertised the latest films.

They moved slowly through the crowds to Ninth Avenue where Gully pointed out a small, rather dilapidated theater. “That’s it,” he said.

“What a flea bag,” Fisty protested. “Why couldn’t Thundero be at a good place, huh?”

Gully bought tickets and the three of them went in. The main feature was drawing to its inevitable end.

“What’s the picture?” Fisty asked in a loud whisper.

From the screen came ear-splitting shrieks of police sirens, loud screeches of brakes, squealing tires as cars careened around corners wildly. The din was increased by the sharp explosions of pistols and submachine guns.

“Just like television,” Peggy laughed.