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"You should never feel like that. Sometimes good old physical exercise is just
what you need."
Waghorn shook his head. "I'm afraid good old physical exercise won't get my
script written. I'm writing a spy story that takes place at a hotel."
"Oh, you mean a hotel like this one? That's a good idea. We've got an air base
right next door."
"Yeah, that's what I'm working on. But the plot just doesn't seem to be
clicking. Anyway, I won't bother you with my troubles."
"Maybe they've got some kind of secret airplane or something," suggested
Bishop helpfully. "What else does an air base do?"
Waghorn brightened. -that s not a oaa iaea. My spies could be after their
plane."
The ever-observant eye of Sidney Weston peered around the edge of the door
frame. Another hotel employee, he thought, switching the micro-camera to his
ring and snapping several pictures of the two men together. Bishop must be in
on the plot. Sidney wasn't exactly sure what they were saying, but he had
distinctly heard the words `spies' and `secret airplane.' So that was what
Waghorn was after at Trillium! A secret aircraft!
"A secret airplane," repeated Waghorn. "Thanks a lot. Hmmm, what am I going to
do with the dogs? Oh, well, thanks anyway." He started for the gymnasium door.
Unwilling to be caught eavesdropping, Sidney rushed inside a nearby utility
closet. "Hey!"
He found himself struggling with an unknown assailant. Sidney broke free of
his attacker's grip and was preparing to defend life and country when there
was a click and a light illuminated the closet.
"Mr. Kitzel!" exclaimed Sidney, helping the man to his feet. "What are you
doing in here?"
"Hiding," whispered the elderly gentleman, catching his breath. "That Fuller
woman is following me again! What does she want from my life?"
Sidney debated the wisdom of explaining about Miss Fuller's misguided spy
hunt. He decided
88
against it. Kitzel sat at the same table as Wag
horn. It would not do for the subject to come up
Waghorn was difficult enough to follow. If he
went underground, pursuit would become hope
less.
Mr. Kitzel opened the closet door and peered
both ways down the hall. "Ah, the coast is clear.
I'm getting out of here while the getting is good."
He dashed off.
Sidney remained in the closet to make sure
there was absolutely no chance of being spotted
by Waghorn. His mind was working furiously.
Waghorn was after a plane, he thought, so the
dogs could only be preliminary agents, used for scouting. It would take men to
steal an airplane. Bishop was athletic and lithe and would be good at evading
security. Was he also a pilot? Could Vishnik be a pilot? Was Waghorn himself
the pilot? And Parson. Where did Parson fit in? He made the hotel hospitable
to the spies and provided a cover for Z-2. Was that it? Or did he have a
larger role as yet undiscovered? Sidney knew he would have to warn the air
base yet again, and write some more letters. Earlier he had planted an
electronic listening device in Waghorn's wastebasket. As soon as he was off
duty he must listen to the tape that was being recorded. And he mustn't forget
that there was still Z-4 to be dealt with.
The door flew open and another figure scrambled inside.
"M;.. P-11 -l"
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ABC Amber Palm Converter, http://www.processtext.com/abcpalm.html
"Oh, it's you," she panted. "Have you seen Mr. Kitzel? I do declare, he's hard
to follow."
"Uh-Miss Fuller-uh-I really think you shouldn't-"
"He was headed in this direction when I last saw him," she insisted. "What's
new on your end of the investigation?"
"The target is a secret airplane," whispered Sidney confidentially, "but I
don't think Mr. Kitzel is-"
"What about your letters?" she interrupted. "Is help coming?"
"Not yet."
"Does the air base know about Mr. Kitzel?" "Well, no."
"Well, warn them, for goodness' sake!- That man is dangerous! Why, to look at
him you wouldn't even know he's a pilot!"
Sidney goggled. "Mr. Kitzel is a pilot?"
"Well, of course he is. He must be, if he's going to steal an airplane."
"Oh," said Sidney, subdued. "But Mr. Kitzel is innocent."
"Yes, you'd think so to look at him, wouldn't you?"
Completely overwhelmed, Sidney sighed. "I guess so."
Dear Mr. Weston, read the letter from the Department of National Defence.
90
We must say it is very nice to hear from you again on the subject of our
country's peril. We were afraid that things were too quiet since the frogman
invasion off the coast of Newfoundland. We trust you have been well and ever
on the alert, and we're eternally grateful to you for making our job so much
easier and so much more fun.
We know nothing of your Mr. Waghorn, save the ordeal which no doubt awaits
him. Perhaps he is a religious man and can find
solace in prayer. We sincerely hope so, as he brings to mind the innocent
Newfound
land fisherman, supposed mastermind of the
frogman caper, who spent eight hours in a
lobster trap while you caught up with the
rest of his gang-Girl Scouts on an excur
sion.
Yours sincerely,
Mark
Hmmm, thought Sidney as Blackie wolfed
down the filet portion of a large T-bone steak. National Defence hadn't heard
of Waghorn either.
He glanced through the other letter, the one from the Prime Minister's office.
The Prime Minister's secretary wrote that she had referred Sidney's letter to
the OPP.
Hearing his brother outside the door, Sidney stashed the letters between his
mattress and box spring and closed Blackie into the bathroom_
Tom entered the room. "Hi, Sidney. What's new?" He was hoping for a clue as to
why his brother had been sneaking around the broom closet outside the
gymnasium. Tom had been delivering towels to Dave Bishop when he had spotted
the arrivals and departures of Sidney, Mr. Kitzel and Miss Fuller. Sinkingly
aware that Sidney's investigation was in full swing, he had stayed around to
watch.
"Nothing much," said Sidney airily. "How's Z-2?"
"Shhh! Tom, don't ever let that name pass your lips. It's too dangerous."
"The only things dangerous about that mutt are his teeth!" snapped Tom.
Frustrated with his subtle attempts" to discover what Sidney was up to, he
decided to revert to more direct methods. "So how's your friend, that Mr.
Waghorn that you were taking pictures of earlier?"
"Sorry, but I'm on duty in the lounge," said Sidney, running out of the room.
Great, thought Tom, especially when he knew this was Sidney's night off. But
it did prove one thing. Waghorn was still the target of Sidney's
investigation-or at least one of the targets. Tom would have to check on his
Page 33
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