“Whyn’t you say so? You hadn’t ought to carry it in a camera. You make people nervous. What floor?”
“Twenty-one.”
The elevator operator took them up non-stop, ignoring other calls. “That’ll be two bucks. Special service.”
“What do you pay for the concession?” inquired Pete.
“You gotta nerve to beef-with your racket.”
They went back down a floor by stair and looked up room 2013. Pete tried the knob cautiously; the door was locked. He knocked on it-no answer. He pressed an ear to it and thought he could hear movement inside. He stepped back, frowning.
Clarence said, “I just remembered something,” and trotted away. He returned quickly, with a red fire ax. “Now?” he asked Pete.
“A lovely thought, Clarence! Not yet.” Pete pounded and yelled, “Pappy! Oh, Pappy!”
A large woman in a pink coolie coat opened the door behind them. “How do you expect a party to sleep?” she demanded.
Pete said, “Quiet, madame! We’re on the air.” He listened. This time there were sounds of struggling and then, “Pete! Pe-”
“Now!” said Pete. Clarence started swinging.
The lock gave up on the third swing. Pete poured in, with Clarence after him. He collided with someone coming out and sat down abruptly. When he got up he saw Pappy on a bed. The old man was busily trying to get rid of a towel tied around his mouth.
Pete snatched it away. “Get ’em!” yelled Pappy.
“Soon as I get you untied.”
“I ain’t tied. They took my pants. Boy, I thought you’d never come!”
“Took Kitten a while to make me understand.”
“I got ’em,” announced Clarence. “Both of ’em.”
“Where?” demanded Pete.
“Here,” said Clarence proudly, and patted his camera.
Pete restrained his answer and ran to the door. “They went thata-way,” said the large woman, pointing. He took off, skidded around the corner and saw an elevator door just closing.
Pete stopped, bewildered by the crowd just outside the hotel. He was looking uncertainly around when Pappy grabbed him. “There! That car!” The car Pappy pointed out was even then swinging out from the curb just beyond the rank of cabs in front of the hotel; with a deep growl it picked up speed, and headed away. Pete yanked open the door of the nearest cab.
“Follow that car!” he yelled. They all piled in.
“Why?” asked the hackie.
Clarence lifted the fire ax. “Now?” he asked.
The driver ducked. “Forget it,” he said. “It was just a yak.” He started after the car.
The hack driver’s skill helped them in the downtown streets, but the driver of the other car swung right on Third and headed for the river. They streamed across it, fifty yards apart, with traffic snarled behind them, and then were on the no-speed-limit freeway. The cabbie turned his head. “Is the camera truck keeping up?”
“What camera truck?”
“Ain’t this a movie?”
“Good grief, no! That car is filled with kidnappers. Faster!”
“A snatch? I don’t want no part of it.” He braked suddenly.
Pete took the ax and prodded the driver. “You catch ’em!”
The hack speeded up again but the driver protested, “Not in this wreck. They got more power than me.”
Pappy grabbed Pete’s arm. “There’s Kitten!”
“Where? Oh, never mind that now!”
“Slow down!” yelled Pappy. “Kitten, oh, Kitten- over here!”
The whirlwind swooped down and kept pace with them. Pappy called to it. “Here, baby! Go get that car! Up ahead-get it!”
Kitten seemed confused, uncertain. Pappy repeated it and she took off-like a whirlwind. She dipped and gathered a load of paper and trash as she flew.
They saw her dip and strike the car ahead, throwing paper in the face of the driver. The car wobbled. She struck again. The car veered, climbed the curb, ricocheted against the crash rail, and fetched up against a lamp post.
Five minutes later Pete, having left Kitten, Clarence, and the fire ax to hold the fort over two hoodlums suffering from abrasion, multiple contusions and shock, was feeding a dime into a pay phone at the nearest filling station. He dialed long distance. “Gimme the FBI’s kidnap number,” he demanded. “You know-the Washington, D.C., snatch number.”