  Biff wasted no time in getting back down to the lobby of the hotel. He told his father about the message written in soap. “Just the letters, you say—JW for CS?” Mr. Brewster exclaimed. “Let’s go back to my room. I want to see them for myself.” The Brewsters and the Mahenilis went up the stairs. As they neared Mr. Brewster’s room, they noticed its door was open. “Now what can that mean? More trouble? That door was closed.” The question flashed through Biff’s mind, but he did not speak. The door, it developed, had been left ajar by the maid, but it was what she was doing that upset Thomas Brewster. They entered the room just in time to see the maid wipe the soap message off the mirror. Thomas Brewster started to speak, but he realized that she was only doing her job. When the maid left the room, Mr. Brewster questioned his son closely. “Now this is important, Biff,” he said. “Can you remember exactly how those letters were written? I mean, were they all capitals? Or was one or more of them in lower case?” “Lower case?” Li looked puzzled. “He means small letters, Li. Now let’s see, Dad. I’m almost positive that the J and the W were capitals. How about you, Li? Is that how you remember it?” The Hawaiian lad nodded his head. “And I think I’m sure about the C. It was a capital letter, too. Right, Li?” “Gee, I think so, Biff.” “But what about the s, Biff? This is important,” his father said. Biff frowned. He closed his eyes trying to recreate a mental picture of the soap scrawl. “Dad, I can’t be absolutely sure, but I think the s was a small letter.” Biff looked at Li. Li could only shrug his shoulders. “I think your memory is probably right, Biff. You have a pretty good one, and besides, it fits,” Mr. Brewster declared. “I’m completely mystified,” Hank Mahenili put in. “All this talk about letters, capitals, and small letters. What do they mean, Tom?” “Well, first, I think—I hope—they mean that Dr. Weber is definitely alive. That’s good news. They must also mean that he’s being held prisoner. Not so good. The doctor is old, you know, and just how much he can stand at his age is doubtful.” “If he’s alive, we’ll find him,” Biff cut in. “But the letters, what do they mean?” Hank repeated his question. “The J and the W, I’m sure, stand for Johann Weber. The C—capital C—and the small s, is the chemical symbol for cesium.” “Cesium!” Understanding came to Hank Mahenili. Any informed engineer knew the importance of this element. “Just what is cesium, Dad? And what is it used for?” “Technically, son, its atomic number is 55, and its atomic weight is 132.91. Its use?” Mr. Brewster smiled. “I’ll tell you this, we’ll never get to the moon without it.” “You mean it’s used in rocket propulsion?” Biff asked. “That’s right, Biff. It’s a high-thrust, long-life rocket propulsion fuel. Most costly.” “More than gold?” Li asked eagerly. “Much more, Li. If you and Biff had about ten pounds of it between you, you’d have your education paid at any college you wanted to go to—M.I.T., Cal Tech—any of them.” “Wow! Must be worth more than a thousand dollars a pound, then,” Biff said, his voice filled with amazement. “It is, Biff. The refining process is what makes it so expensive. Scientists and explorers—like Jim Huntington—have carried on extensive searches to locate a field where the purity of the ore is high—higher than in those fields we now know about.” “And Mr. Huntington—he thought he had made such a strike?” Biff asked. Before answering, Tom Brewster went to the door. He opened it cautiously and looked up and down the hall. “I don’t want any eavesdroppers or spies lurking around.” He had lowered his voice until it was little more than a whisper. “Now I’ll fill you in so you will all know what we’re up against.” Hank Mahenili, Li, and Biff crowded close to Mr. Brewster. They didn’t want to miss a word. “That letter you found the other night, boys, is important. Not as important as Dr. Weber’s abductors think it is, but it does tell of a cesium find Huntington made in New Zealand. He felt it to be a sensational discovery.” “High-grade ore?” Biff asked. “Yes. In his letter to Dr. Weber, Huntington told of the find, of his belief in its high degree of purity. He was bringing a sample, and a map of the location, to Honolulu. Dr. Weber was to assay it. Then, if it proved out as expected, Ajax Mining was to move in on the deal and exploit the field.” “And Mr. Huntington never got here,” Biff said. “That’s right. That call I received from Dr. Weber—you remember, Biff. The doctor had just arrived in Honolulu when word of Huntington’s loss at sea became known. There was an extensive sea and air search, but nothing was found, no sign of the sloop’s wreckage, and, even more unfortunately, no slightest sign of Huntington.” “How could that be, Mr. Brewster?” Li wanted to know. “It is thought that Jim Huntington’s sloop must have split its seams open in a heavy squall, Li. Huntington apparently stuck by his boat and went down with it.” “Isn’t it supposed to have gone down somewhere off Ka Lae, Dad?” “That’s right. But there’s a lot of ocean off the southern tip of the Island of Hawaii.” Biff was frowning with concentration. “Ka Lae,” he said. “Those are the two words Tokawto mumbled to us this morning.” “And that’s where we’re going,” his father said. “You think Dr. Weber is being held somewhere near there, while somebody tries to locate the sunken sloop?” “I’m sure of it now, Biff.” “Who do you think his abductors might be, Dad?” Thomas Brewster looked at Hank Mahenili. “Any doubt in your mind, Hank?” “Not one bit,” the Hawaiian answered, shaking his head. “Perez Soto.” “He’ll make contact with us again,” Biff’s father said. “He doesn’t know exactly what is in this letter Biff found. His message—the one written on that mirror, is telling me that if we want to see Dr. Weber alive again, then I’ll have to tell him where the cesium strike is located.” “And that information is at the bottom of the sea,” Biff said soberly. “Yes,” Mr. Brewster said. “We’ve got to do everything we can to try and spot that sunken sloop. Dr. Weber’s life depends on it.” |
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