  Three days later Eddie learned the nature of the trouble at Acme Aircraft Company. It was midmorning Saturday. Carrying a picnic lunch, he and Teena were hiking along the beach toward the distant U.S. Coast Guard lighthouse which stood on a high point overlooking Moon Bay. Old Captain Daniels, the lightkeeper, had been a friend of theirs for nearly two years. Every once in a while Teena and Eddie went to visit “Cap,” as they fondly called him. Teena would put up a picnic lunch which they shared with the kindly old man whose lonely vigil over the light had warned ships off the rocky coast for a good many years. Eddie wasn’t sure exactly how the conversation got around to Acme Aircraft Company. It seemed that Teena mentioned something about trouble. Eddie asked, “What trouble?” “Didn’t you read the paper this morning?” Teena asked. “We don’t take the morning paper,” Eddie said. “We take the Globe.” “The aircraft company has been keeping it quiet,” Teena said, “but somehow the news leaked out. It was all in this morning’s paper.” Actually, Eddie doubted that he would have noticed it, even if they had taken the morning paper. The big thing around his house was the disappearance of the radioisotope. No promising clues had been found. The theft of the isotope remained as much a mystery as it had been from the first day. The few times he had seen his father, he had noticed how much deeper the lines of worry on his face had become. Eddie had avoided asking questions, yet he couldn’t help wondering if his father was in danger of losing his job at the college. Some of the things his mother had said seemed to hint at the possibility. The newspapers had taken a dim view of the robbery. They protested against the carelessness which would enable the theft, in broad daylight, of such a valuable, secret, and hazardous thing as a radioactive isotope. The blame, of course, fell primarily upon Mr. Taylor’s shoulders. “Eddie,” Teena said, “you’re not even listening to me.” “I—I’m sorry,” Eddie answered. “What did you say?” “I merely said that some important blueprints are missing from my father’s department at Acme Aircraft,” Teena explained. “Maybe someone put them in the wrong drawer or something,” Eddie suggested. “They’ve looked everywhere, Eddie,” Teena said. “That’s why my father’s been getting home late every day. They’ve searched absolutely everywhere.” “Well, I guess they can always make new blueprints,” Eddie said. He really couldn’t see why it was so important, especially not if you compared it to stolen radioisotopes. “That’s not the point,” Teena said sharply. “They were top-secret blueprints—something to do with guiding a new missile Acme Aircraft is getting ready to make. If the plans were stolen—well, you know what that could mean.” The importance of what Teena was saying struck Eddie suddenly. Could there be any connection between the missing blueprints and the stolen isotope? The idea sent a chill along Eddie’s spine. Perhaps there was a whole spy ring operating around Oceanview! He mentioned it to Teena. “I thought the same thing,” she said. “But, Eddie, we’re not at war or anything. It’s silly to think there are spies and things like that running around. That’s comic-book stuff.” “Not to me, it isn’t,” Eddie said. “There’s plenty of spying going on, war or no war. Every once in a while you hear about it.” “Aw, you’re just trying to scare me,” Teena said. She stopped and picked up a shell, looked it over, then skipped it into the surf. Sandy chased it, yipping happily, but turned and scurried back just ahead of the foaming surf. Eddie smiled. “Maybe I am,” he said. “Maybe I’m scaring myself, too. Anyway, if we’re going to hike all the way to the lighthouse, we’ll have to hurry up.” As they walked on up the coast, the sandy beach gave way to rock formations which jutted out into the ocean. They picked their way carefully over the rocks. Now and then they stopped to inspect some tide pool for small crabs and other sea life left by the receding water. Sandy was beside himself with joy as he chased small crabs into rock crevices. Teena found a starfish which she dropped into a small cloth sack she had brought along. Eddie had never been very interested in gathering shells and other sea souvenirs, but Teena had quite a collection at home. They crossed over the rocks and dropped down into a sandy cove. “There’s someone with a boat,” Teena said, pointing along the curving beach. A rowboat was pulled up on the sand. Two men stood beside it. “Fishermen,” Eddie said. “Let’s see if they caught anything.” There were several other small boats out on Moon Bay. Eddie and his father had fished the bay several times themselves. Although shallow in places, there were spots in the bay where good-sized perch and bass, and occasional halibut were caught. Eddie and Teena hurried along the beach. The two men looked up as they approached. “Hi, there,” Eddie greeted. “Any luck?” The two men glanced at each other, seeming to pass a silent question back and forth. Eddie laughed. “It’s O.K.,” he said. “I know most of the fishing spots out there. You won’t be giving away any secrets.” “Hi, there,” Eddie greeted. “Any luck?” “Secrets?” one of the men said. He was tall and thin. His cheekbones pushed sharply outward against the sides of his face. His skin was strangely white for that of a fisherman in midsummer. Most week-end fishermen around Oceanview had pretty good tans by this time. Both men wore faded blue denims, white sneakers, and bright-colored sports shirts. The fact that their clothes looked new made Eddie think it might be the first time they had fished Moon Bay. The orange-and-white rowboat pulled up on the sand had been rented from Anderson’s Landing. Both Eddie and Teena knew Mr. Anderson well. “We know fishermen don’t like to give away their fishing secrets,” Teena said, “so if you caught any, you don’t need to tell us where you got them.” The other man smiled then. He looked relieved, Eddie thought. In appearance, he was almost the opposite of his companion. He was short and squat, almost fat. Despite the slight cool breeze from the ocean, the warm sun made his chubby face glisten with sweat. He seemed a little more willing to smile than the tall man. Eddie didn’t feel uncomfortable under his gaze, as he did under the stare of the tall man. “To tell you the truth,” the short man said, “we haven’t been fishing yet. So I guess you couldn’t say we’ve had any luck.” “Oh, I see,” Eddie said thoughtfully. Sandy began sniffing around the rowboat. “Get that mutt away from there,” the tall man said. “He won’t hurt anything, mister,” Eddie assured him. He went over, though, and took hold of Sandy’s collar. As he did so he glanced into the beached rowboat. There were no fish, or even signs of fish. There were a couple bamboo poles which Eddie recognized also as having been rented from Anderson’s Landing. There was a box, probably the men’s lunch. And under the plank seat stretching across the beam Eddie saw a round metal cylinder. At first he thought it was the kind of tube used as a carrying case to hold the sections of a jointed trout rod, but as he got a better look, it didn’t seem long enough for that. Besides, who would use a light trout rod for ocean fishing? It wouldn’t be any good to catch the big bass which were sometimes caught in the bay. It’d probably snap in two if you tried to horse a halibut in with it. “What are you looking at, kid?” The tall man’s harsh voice jerked Eddie out of his thoughts. “N-nothin’,” Eddie said. “Then stay away from the boat.” “Take it easy, Simms,” the short man said. “These kids don’t mean any harm. They—they’re not trying to steal our fishing secrets. Now, are you?” He smiled at Teena, displaying a mouthful of yellowish uneven teeth. Looking at those teeth made Eddie mighty glad his teeth would never look like that. What little bother his braces and the cleaning were would sure be worth it in the long run. He never wanted yellow, uneven teeth like that man had. “I should say we wouldn’t try to steal any fishing secrets,” Teena answered the fat man’s question. “You’re welcome to all the fish you can catch.” “We don’t care how you catch them, or what with,” Eddie added, “long as it’s legal.” “Anyway, we’re on our way to visit Captain Daniels at the lighthouse,” Teena said. “Come on, Eddie.” “Don’t go away mad,” the heavy-set man said. “We didn’t mean any harm.” “Let ’em go, Roy,” Simms said. “We’ve got work to do.” Eddie motioned to Teena and called Sandy. He had intended to tell the men of a good fishing spot only a few hundred yards out from the cove, but the way the men acted made him change his mind. At the far end of the cove, Eddie and Teena stopped and turned to watch the two men as they shoved the rowboat into the calm surf and climbed in clumsily over the side. “Boy, I’m glad all fishermen aren’t like that,” Teena said. “That tall man sure acted mean. I hope they don’t catch any fish.” “I don’t think they will,” Eddie said. “I saw their bait can. Know what they’re using?” “Sand crabs?” “No. That’s what they should be using. They had some old dried up mussels. The fish here in Moon Bay don’t bite on mussel. Dad and I have tried it.” “Then I wonder why Mr. Anderson sold it to them,” Teena said. “Mr. Anderson usually helps the fishermen. It’s good for his boat-rental business to sell the right bait.” “I’ll bet they didn’t even ask what kind of bait was best,” Eddie said. “They probably grabbed the first thing they came to. And Mr. Anderson always has a few mussels in his bait bins.” “I didn’t think fishing was so good in the middle of the day,” Teena said. She pointed out across the water. “See, most of the boats have gone ashore.” “That’s right,” Eddie said. “If those guys wanted to catch fish they should have been out there early this morning when the big ones were biting.” “Guess they don’t know much about fishing, huh, Eddie?” Teena said, smiling. “That’s what I figure,” Eddie agreed. “Besides, they didn’t even act like fishermen. That tall fellow really was a grouch. First time I ever ran across a grouchy fisherman.” “Anyway, let’s quit worrying about them,” Teena suggested. “It’s almost noon. We want to reach the lighthouse before Cap has lunch. He can’t very well eat his lunch and ours, too.” “O.K.,” Eddie agreed, taking one last glance at the two men rowing out on the blue water of the bay. “But something smells fishy about those two—and I don’t mean the kind you catch on a hook!” |
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