“You bet!” said Bob.
The boys all had their bicycles with them. In a few minutes they were on Pacific Coast Highway pedalling north towards Malibu. In less than half an hour they had passed the main shopping area of the famous beach community.
Cypress Canyon Drive was a narrow road that turned and twisted for a couple of hundred metres as it climbed up from the Coast Highway, then ran roughly parallel to the highway but some distance inland from it. As the boys rode along the drive they could hear cars and trucks on the highway, and they could glimpse the ocean between the trees that lined the drive on the left. On the right, the coast range sloped up and away, with the sky clear and blue beyond the tops of the mountains.
“I don’t think anybody really lives here,” said Bob, after they had gone some distance along the rutted, muddy road. “I don’t see a single house. Do you suppose the address on that driver’s licence is a phony?”
“The plot thickens,” said Pete. “Why would a blind man have a driver’s licence? And if that is the beggar’s licence, why would it have a fake address?”
The drive dipped into a hollow where a small stream of water ran across. Then it climbed again. On the far side of the rise the boys stopped. There was a gully in their path which might have been dry in summer, but which was now a torrent of brown water. And beside the road on the left, almost at the edge of the muddy wash, there was a shabby, barnlike old building with dormer windows in the second story. Neon tubing ran along its eaves. A sign across one end proclaimed that it was Charlie’s Place.
“A restaurant?” said Bob.
Jupe took the wallet out of his pocket and looked again at the driver’s licence. “Number 2287,” he said. “That’s the number on that new mailbox out in front.”
The boys heard a car on the road behind them. They moved aside, and a red sports car came splashing slowly through the little stream they had already forded. A thin man with greying hair and a lined, somewhat sad face passed without seeming to notice the boys. He turned into the muddy yard that was the parking lot of Charlie’s Place, stopped his car, got slowly out, and took a cane from the floor of the vehicle. Then he went slowly up sagging steps into the ramshackle building, letting a dilapidated screen door slam behind him as he disappeared.
“He’s got a limp!” exclaimed Pete. “Hey, Bob, didn’t you say that the beggar limped when he ran off last night?”
“Well, he limped after he got hit by the car. Who wouldn’t limp?”
“Could that man be the beggar?” said Jupe. “Is he at all like the beggar?”
Bob shrugged. “He’s about the same size, and I guess he’s about the same age, but there must be a million guys like that.”
“Very well,” said Jupe. Suddenly he was brisk and businesslike. “I’m going in there.”
“What are you going to do?” asked Pete. “Go in and buy a hamburger?”
“I may,” said Jupe. “Or I may simply ask for directions. But one way or another, I’ll find out who that man is. Bob, you had better keep out of sight. If that man was outside the bank in Santa Monica last night, he might recognize you–and he might get nasty.”
“I’ll wait with Bob,” said Pete. “I’m allergic to guys who might get nasty.”
“Chicken!” Bob taunted.
“I’m only ambitious,” said Pete. “My ambition is to live until I am very, very old.”
Jupe chuckled. Leaving his friends standing beside the road, he pushed his bicycle into the parking area of Charlie’s Place. He leaned the bike against the wall of the building and went up the steps. He crossed the little porch, put his hand on the screen door, and pulled. The door opened.
Jupe stepped out of the sunlight into a place that was dim. He saw polished hardwood floors and dark wood panelling. Straight ahead through a wide doorway was a large, empty room. Its front wall was made entirely of windows, which looked out through the trees to the sparkling ocean beyond. Jupe guessed this room had once been the main dining room of a restaurant. The restaurant was clearly out of business now.
Jupe was standing in a wide passageway that was really a sort of lobby outside the huge room. To the left of the lobby was an area that was a dusty jumble of coffee urns and counters and stools and booths. Jupe realized that this had once been a coffee shop. He looked to the right and saw a wall with several doors in it. There were cartons and crates piled in the coffee shop and more cartons piled up in the lobby. Several crates stood on the hardwood floor of the big room. One crate was open, and packing material overflowed and drifted down its side.
Jupe moved forward slowly. He was about to call out when he heard the sound of a telephone being lifted from its cradle. He stood still and listened. Someone out of sight in the big, bright room ahead of him dialled a number.
There was a pause, and then a man said, “This is Sebastian.”
After another pause the man spoke again. “Yes,” he said, “I know it will be expensive, but everything has its price. I’m prepared to pay for it.”
At that moment something small and hard pressed into Jupe’s back just above his belt.
“Please to reach for the sky,” said a soft voice. “If you move I make you in two pieces!”
3
A Man of Mystery
JUPITER RAISED HIS HANDS above his head. He could feel his scalp prickle.
“I only wanted . . .” he began.
“Please to be quiet!” said the person behind him.
There were footsteps on the hardwood floor. The grey-haired man who had driven up a few minutes before appeared in the doorway to the big room. He stood leaning on his cane, looking at Jupe with his head slightly to one side, as if he were puzzled.
“What is it, Don?” he said. “Who is this?”
Jupe frowned. There was something familiar about this man. Jupe could not be sure whether it was just the voice, or the tilt of the head. Had they met somewhere? If so, where? And when?
“This person breaks and enters,” said the individual who was holding Jupe at gunpoint. “He stands and listens to you talk on the telephone.”
“I only wanted to ask directions,” said Jupe. “The sign outside says this is Charlie’s Place. Isn’t it a restaurant? And I didn’t do any breaking and entering. The door was open.”
“Well, of course,” said the grey-haired man. He came towards Jupe, smiling. “It used to be a restaurant, and the door is open, isn’t it?”
Jupe saw that the man’s cheeks were ruddy, and that his high, thin nose had recently been sunburned. It was now peeling. The eyes under the thick, grey-black brows were very blue. “Relax, young friend,” said the man. “Don couldn’t shoot you even if he wanted to.”
Jupe cautiously lowered his arms. He turned to look at the person called Don.
“You think I have gun,” said the man with satisfaction. He was an Oriental, not much taller than Jupe, quite slim, with a smooth, pleasant face. He held a wooden mixing spoon with the handle pointed towards Jupe. “You see it is not really gun,” he said. “It is trick I see on television.”
“Hoang Van Don came from Vietnam recently,” said the grey-haired man. “He is presently learning English by watching late-night television. I see now that he is also learning other useful things.”
The Vietnamese man bowed. “If imprisoned in upper room, proper course to follow is to braid bedsheets into rope. If bedsheets not available, slide down drainpipe.”
The Vietnamese bowed again and disappeared into the shadows of the coffee shop. Jupe stared after him with curiosity.
“You wanted directions?” said the grey-haired man.
“Oh!” Jupe started. “Oh, yes. A river crosses the road just beyond here.” Jupe pointed. “Does the road continue on the far side? Is there any place we can cross, or should we go back to the highway again?”
“The road doesn’t go on. It dead ends just beyond the river. And don’t even try to cross that gully. It’s quite deep. You’d be swept off your feet.”
“Yes, sir,” said Jupe, who was not really listening. He was staring curiously at one of the cardboard cartons that stood in a corner of the lobby. Half a dozen books were piled on the carton, and all seemed to be copies of the same title. Jupe saw black dust jackets and brilliant scarlet lettering. The cover illustration on the top copy showed a dagger stuck through a document. Dark Legacy was the title of the book.